Pillow Talk, You Say?

“Oh, fuck. H-honey, I can’t —“

He cuts himself off, pearly white teeth sinking into the swollen skin of his stubble bitten, top lip. Your sclera is shrouded in tears, the crystal liquid overflowing, spilling down your lash-line. He almost has to check in with you, but as your fingers find your nipples and give them that extra stimulation — he ceases, his abdomen muscles crunching beneath the tremors. He’s about to speak and you beat him to it, bearing the tendons in your throat.

“Yeah… s’ fucking good. Love it.”

He has to drop his head to crest into focus, bowed between defined shoulder blades, his large hand reaching to cradle your cheek. He nearly blows his load right then and there, a wince crackling across his features like an electric shock. Your fingertips are the pulsing magnets, his body your dynamite to explode. His mouth feels chapped and dry, but he knows that it's his throat that’s raspy, brimmed with velvet arousal, stroking the flames that lick below his navel everytime you work your heat back onto his cock, using him.

And he tries another turn at coherency. “You love what, baby?”

You’re without pause, humming, feet planted into the mattress, toes curled into his baby blue bed sheets. Mingling scents of your soft perfume, his cologne, laundry detergent that littered the laundered sheets, and sex — it’s fanned with your possessive rhythm. Still, you sound more capable of speech — albeit — drenched in a honey wrapped heat, capable of destroying you both in the most aching burns. “Love having my cunt filled with your big cock, Steve.”

“That right?” It’s through clenched teeth that it separates itself free of his throat. His calloused thumb pad finds your cheekbone, pathing a way only he can ever know, one that slithers across your jaw and presses into the corner of your mouth, prying open your lips to hear you beg just a little more. “You know that you take it better than anyone else ever has, honey? Like you were made for it.”

Those words ignite your blazing inferno, your hips raising off the mattress and pushing, retracting into a rough bounce, an encouragement, a plea. Steve has never seen you like this before. A goddess amongst his broken knighthood (he needs to stop hanging around Eddie when the dude has Hellfire and goes all nerdy on him with metaphors), summoning his body for your sole pleasure, bringing him to the brink and shattering the release before he can even begin to sample a taste. Everything stings, prickling his tongue, locking his muscles into submission, his hair constantly swaying in his sweaty forehead and matting there, leaving him to blink rapidly. He isn’t sure what time it is, aware that he’s been bouncing you in a painstakingly, agonizing rhythm over his swollen cock, no one cumming, left to graze that high with fingertips.

Steve can barely take it anymore, his balls throbbing with unshed release, posture growing sloppy with choppy exhaustion. But damn it feels so fucking good, with his bones satiated and melting, fusing into his overworked muscles. And then you run your fingers through his chest hair, your digits stretching to splay across his jugular, arm elongating to assist. Steve wraps a limb around your back, using his forearm to propel you forward, your pussy taking him the rest of the way with a slick squelch, an immediate press of your milky white cream seeping out around where you’re joined, soaking him. His fingertips press into the meat of your back, tapping idly, squeezing.

“My dick is fucking soaked, honey. You’ve just been using me up for the last hour, huh?” His plush mouth finds the skin behind your ear, your breasts smashing into his chest and sticking.

He nibbles a little, alternating with that diabolical swipe of his tongue along the side of your neck, seizing your salty exertion — your body dusted in layers upon layers of it. It’s Steve who takes this movement, falling back onto his haunches and raising a bit to tighten his hold around your lower back, the other lacing your hands together and wiggling them between your thighs, making them part further, your limbs still wrapped around his waist, now draping over top his hips. He uses his nose to nudge your gaze, redirecting it to where he slides out enough for you to see his cock shining with a mess of you. “Look, honey. You see all this mess?”

If you weren’t totally in love with this man, you would’ve been flooded with shame. You’ve gotten yourself so fucking wet from simply riding him at a cruelly, leisurely pace, that your thick essence has patched itself around the public hair at the base of his shaft, slicking it back and bubbling away with a peeling squish — one that drizzles down and strings across his full balls. He can’t take it anymore, his hand sliding up your back and fisting into the back of your hair. You surrender, almost letting yourself get swept out to sea once more, but Steve brings you back into the moment. “Watch this with me, baby.”

Finding that overwhelming scene between your legs, Steve uses the strength in his hips to bounce you, your cream dripping onto his thigh, and — what’s at his base, sticking to your skin, the hair tickling your clit in ways that have your eyes rolling back. Everything inside of you shouts and tightens, taking hold and bolting you to him. He already feels it inside of your warmth, your walls fluttering, squeezing, pulling him impossibly deeper inside. “Fuck, I’m cumming, Steve. Baby, I can’t hold it, please —“

“Shh, shh. I know, honey. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He buzzes through a partial hiss, jaw agape as he feels it right on through with you. The pressure is almost too much, enough to knock him onto his ass.

You’re a whimpering, quivering heap of bones and flesh, body stuck so tightly to him that he’s holding you in his lap, fucking you on his cock as you take it now, Steve in charge of capturing the high. Another squelch in the quiet of the room, a warmth of arousal that’s accumulated below your ass, Steve’s palm shoving into yours, and his lips pry yours apart, tongue rudely licking its way into your mouth and you completely come undone, drenching him into his orgasm. If pulling out was on the table, the forsaken table is in shambles at the moment, Steve’s thick, hot release sinking into your insides, body welcoming him home.

By the time the prolonged highs end, Steve piles onto his back and takes you with him, silence blanketing the room as his hand finds the flesh of your tummy and massages. Aftercare will come soon, as your limits were damn near overpowered by your cock hungry need for your boyfriend and that monster he keeps in his pants. It makes you giggle as he smiles breathlessly, welcoming your cheek onto his hairy chest.

“Never seen you like that before,” he mumbles.

Your hair is a mess when you raise to answer. “It’s not my fault you wear those tight little jeans, Harrington.”

The Scene 

The Harrington back yard/pool OR Lover’s Lake

Props to include/or mention in passing.

Sun tan lotion, Watermelon, Flowers, Lemonade

Dialogue Prompts (can be changed slightly to fit, and can be placed anywhere, and in any order in your story)

“Are you checking me out?”

“Come on, you have to admit, it is a little funny.”

“You just can’t stay away from me, can you?”