kath!

You slip out of bed before the first light of dawn creeps through the window. The cool air of the room brushes against your skin as you kneel beside Logan. He’s asleep on his back, his chest rising and falling with a calm that contrasts with the fire burning inside you.

You watch him for a second longer, memorizing the way his dark hair tangles in the pillow, how his slightly parted lips look dry from the night. His body is a map you already know, but this time, you’d explore it without rush, without interruptions. With a sigh, you lean toward him. Your fingers graze the waistband of his boxers before slowly pulling them down.

His cock is already semi-hard, as if his body knows what’s coming even before his mind wakes up. You settle between his legs, pushing the comforter aside so it doesn’t tangle around you. You take him in one hand, feeling his weight, his warmth, the way he pulses beneath your fingers. You lick your lips, anticipating the taste, and lean in. Your hot breath brushes the tip before your tongue darts out to lick the pre-cum already glistening there.

Logan lets out a sound between a moan and a growl, a guttural noise that makes you smile against his skin. His hips lift instinctively, seeking more contact, but you pull back just enough for him to feel the loss. You tease him, licking the vein running along his length, tracing circles with the tip of your tongue around the head, savoring every ragged breath that escapes his lips.

"Fuck…" His voice is rough, sleepy, but already thick with desire. His hands reach for your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide you, but you control the pace.

You take him into your mouth, slowly at first, letting him feel every inch of your tongue, every press of your lips. His thighs tense, and a louder moan escapes his throat when you take him all the way in. Your throat relaxes to receive him, though not completely, and you feel his hand tighten at the nape of your neck—not to force you, but to guide you. You pull back with the same slowness, letting the cold air make him shiver, before diving back down, this time with more force, more depth.

"Shit, baby…" Logan is fully awake now, his hips lifting to meet you, his hands gripping your hair with an urgency that betrays how much he’s missed this. You’ve woken him up the way only you know how: with hunger, with need.

Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing just enough for him to feel the contrast between the softness of your mouth and the firmness of your grip. You work him with one hand while your tongue keeps its rhythm, licking, sucking, teasing him until his moans fill the room and his thighs tremble beneath your hands.

"More…" he pleads, his voice breaking, and you obey, speeding up the pace, pushing him to the edge with every movement of your head. But it’s not enough. It never is with him. You want more. You want him to come in your mouth, to feel you swallow every last drop, to remember this morning every time he closes his eyes.

His hips start moving with more force, thrusting into you, seeking more, deeper, faster. You let him take control for a moment, enjoying the way his body tenses, the way his moans grow more desperate. But then, you stop. You pull away completely, letting the cold air make him gasp. His eyes snap open, looking at you with a mix of frustration and lust.

"Don’t stop…" he growls, his hand trying to guide you back to him, but you smile, savoring the power you hold over him in this moment.

"Shhh" you whisper, running your tongue over your lips before taking him again, this time with more intensity, with a determination that makes him moan your name like a prayer.

His fingers dig into your hair, his breathing grows faster, shallower, and you know he’s close. You can feel it in the way his body tenses, in how his cock throbs in your mouth. You push him to the limit, sucking harder, using your tongue to stimulate every sensitive spot. His thighs tense, and his hips lift in a sharp movement. With a groan, Logan comes in your mouth. His hot release slides down your throat, and you swallow it all, tasting the saltiness and the warmth filling you.

But you’re not done yet. You keep licking him, cleaning every last trace of him with deliberate slowness, enjoying the way his body still trembles beneath your hands. When you finally pull away, Logan looks at you with dark eyes, his chest rising and falling as if he’s just run a marathon.

"Fuck…" he murmurs, his voice hoarse, his hands still tangled in your hair, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. He pulls you toward him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tastes like him, like you, like what just happened.

"Good morning" you whisper against his lips, your smile tasting of victory.

Percy could be considered a submissive person, dominated by his girlfriend. If it meant leaving a trail of blood for you, he’d do it without hesitation. But the moment you touched him, even just with the tip of your nails, Percy turned into a drooling, needy mess. And you loved it. You wouldn’t deny it: you loved how you could use him however you pleased, whenever you pleased.

But damn, Percy, without a doubt ,could make you feel like you were on Mount Olympus, having breakfast with Aphrodite herself. You could use his entire body and feel like a goddess. But what you loved most was how he used his tongue. As if everything he did with it was better than anything else in the world.

Percy’s hands slid slowly up your abdomen toward your breasts, massaging your erect nipples with a slowness that made you moan, regardless of whether any camper could hear you. Meanwhile, his tongue caressed your clit with exquisite precision, slow, as if savoring a lollipop, but just fast enough to make you beg for more.

"Percy..." you pleaded, your voice breaking.

You didn’t know if Percy could even hear you. Your thighs were pressed so tightly against his ears that he probably only heard the pounding of his own blood, but he didn’t care. His full attention was on your clit. A jolt of pleasure shot up your nerves, and you arched your back, pressing his head closer to your pussy with your hand tangled in his hair. Your other hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sounds escaping your lips.

Percy pulled back from your pussy just enough to look at you. His eyes, usually as blue as the sea, were dark, almost black, with desire. His hair was tousled from your hands, and his cheeks, chin, and nose glistened with your arousal. He looked like a god destroyed by pleasure. You let out a small moan at the sight, but before you could speak, Percy did, his voice rough and sending a shiver through you:

"I want to hear you."

You removed your hand from your mouth, and with that, Percy returned to your pussy like a man possessed. His tongue gathered all your arousal before sliding inside you, moving with a skill that made you tremble. Your hands returned to his hair, and his to your nipples.

Percy moved his tongue, pulling it out to tease your entrance, pushing it in to caress your walls, and repeated the process over and over. Every time he returned to your clit, he kissed it with a passion that made you moan against your hand. But then, he pulled away again:

"Your hand."

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, moving your hand away from your mouth. With that, Percy returned to his favorite place.

Suddenly, Percy lowered both hands to lift your legs, pressing them together in front of him against your abdomen. To keep you from covering your mouth again, he took both your hands and wrapped them around your own legs. At Percy’s dominance, you moaned into the open air. But he didn’t stop.

His tongue kept moving, slow and fast at the same time, occasionally sliding inside your dripping hole. The new position brought your orgasm closer and closer, like a wave about to crash.

"Percy..." you tried to warn him, but he pulled back and, with his free hand, pried your lips open. He stuck out his tongue so the tip could play with your pussy.

You moaned loudly.

Percy dove back into your pussy, and you moved your hips to make him go faster. But Percy, with his hands bound to yours, applied pressure to your legs to make you stop moving. However, his tongue started working faster, and suddenly, he slid three fingers into your dripping hole. You clenched around them with a gasp of surprise.

With that, he began to tease your G-spot while kissing your clit messily. You wanted to speak, wanted to warn him you were close, but your words wouldn’t come out. Only moans and gasps escaped your mouth.

Then, without warning, you came. Your arousal stained the lower half of Percy’s face as he tried to swallow it all. He helped you ride out your orgasm, and when you finished, he pulled his fingers out, but his mouth never left your pussy. He was cleaning up the mess with a slowness that made you gasp from overstimulation.

"Percy, stop" you said, trying to push his hands away, but Percy’s strength wouldn’t allow it.

You tried to pull your hips away from his mouth, but you couldn’t. Percy, frustrated by your attempts to escape, pulled back and flipped you over, positioning you on all fours with your head pressed against his pillow.

Percy placed his mouth back on your pussy.

You moaned at the new position but tried to pull away again. You placed your hands on the mattress to crawl forward, but Percy’s hands settled on your waist and pulled you back toward him. Percy bit one of your lips softly, drawing a cry from you that echoed through the room.

"Percy" you gasped afterward.

You’d liked it more than you wanted to admit. But Percy had already noticed: he’d felt how more arousal had gushed from you, so he licked it up and slid his tongue into your pussy, licking your walls with a devotion that made you tremble.

You didn’t know if it was the overstimulation, Percy’s new behavior, his obsession with your pussy, or the new position, but your second orgasm came faster than expected.

"Fuck..." you let out when Percy lightly bit your clit.

Percy’s hands moved to your ass and spread you open to get a better view of your pussy, which was practically winking at him, inviting him to continue. So he leaned in and slid his tongue as deep as he could.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Every movement of his tongue, every lick, every soft bite brought you to the edge. Percy had no intention of stopping, and you had no intention of resisting.

"I can’t..." you gasped, feeling another orgasm approaching, stronger than the ones before. Percy didn’t stop. His tongue kept working, his fingers kept exploring, and you kept moaning, lost in the pleasure only he could give you.

When you finally came again, it was with a choked scream, your body trembling as Percy kept licking, as if your pussy were the most delicious delicacy in the world.

"Gods..." you murmured, exhausted, as Percy finally pulled away, a satisfied smile on his face, which was smeared with you.

Percy never thought a daughter of Ares would so much as glance his way twice. Let alone want him. After all, daughters of Ares were always angry, at the world, at the gods, at the sheer audacity of anyone daring to exist without their permission. And you, his girlfriend, were no exception. But there was something about you that made it all even more intoxicating: you weren’t just angry. You were hungry. Hungry for him, for his body, for the way his muscles tensed when you touched him, as if he still didn’t fully grasp the power you held over him.

That night, as always, the initial anger was just the prelude. You’d argued over something trivial, his messy cabin? His inability to keep his mouth shut? But Percy knew the game. He recognized the way your eyes, usually cold as steel, darkened differently when anger turned to desire. And damn, did they ever. The glint of lust in your gaze was sharper than any blade, and Percy, though exhausted, couldn’t, wouldn’t, escape it.

He lay beneath you like a defeated warrior on the battlefield: muscles trembling, skin slick with sweat, lips parted as he panted like the very air cost him. This was the fifth round, and that excited you more than any caress. Seeing him like this, weak, submissive, at the mercy of your body, filled you with an intoxicating power, as if Ares himself had granted you the gift of breaking heroes with your hips.

You leaned over him, your nipples grazing his chest as you whispered in his ear with a voice pure provocation:

"Look at you, my little demigod." Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, feeling the way he trembled under your touch. "All sweaty. All mine."

His cock, once proud and hard, now lay limp between his thighs, but that wouldn’t stop you. On the contrary, the idea of having to force him back to life made you even wetter. You slid a hand between your legs and moaned at how soaked you were. His exhaustion was your aphrodisiac.

"Don’t tell me you’re done," you murmured, your other hand closing around his shaft, massaging it with a pressure that bordered on pain. "I’m not done with you yet."

Percy tried to pull away, but his arms didn’t respond. All he managed was a choked moan when your nails dug into his thigh, marking him. That made you smile. You loved seeing how your body destroyed him, how you reduced him to a trembling mass of muscle and broken moans.

"Come on, hero," you whispered as your mouth descended toward his cock, licking the tip with deliberate slowness. "Show me you’re still good for something."

The salty taste of his skin, mixed with the remnants of his release, made you shiver. You closed your eyes for a second, savoring his submission, before taking him fully into your mouth with a sharp movement. Percy gasped, his hips lifting instinctively, as if his body remembered what his mind had forgotten.

"There it is," you purred, your free hand sliding toward your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. Every moan from him was a lash of pleasure for you. "I knew you could give me more."

Percy couldn’t speak. He only moaned, his body tensing between pain and desire as you worked him with your mouth and hand, forcing him back to life. And when you finally felt his cock beginning to harden again, you pulled away with a triumphant smile.

"Good boy," you said, climbing onto his lap and guiding him to your entrance with one hand. "But this time, I’m going to ride you like you deserve."

You sank onto him in one swift motion, and Percy cried out, not in pleasure, but from the overload of sensation. But you didn’t stop. You began to move on top of him with a slow, torturous rhythm, savoring every moan you wrung from his throat.

"Look at me," you ordered, gripping his chin so his glazed, exhausted eyes met yours. "Look at me while I use you."

Percy obeyed, and the sight of his dilated pupils, his face contorted with effort, pushed you to the edge. Your hips moved faster, harder, while your fingers kept working your clit. The sound of your bodies slapping together, the scent of sweat and sex, the taste of his submission on your tongue, it all drove you toward the abyss.

"I’m going to come because of you," you moaned as the orgasm crashed over you with a force that left you breathless.

But you didn’t stop. You kept moving, forcing him to keep going, even as his body struggled to respond with the same strength. When Percy finally came again, with a broken moan and his seed filling you from within, you only smiled, feeling his body collapse beneath yours.

You pulled off him slowly, letting his release trickle down your thighs, and knelt beside him, observing his state with a mix of satisfaction and lust.

"Poor thing," you said, dragging a finger across his chest, where his heart pounded. "Did you really think you could keep up with a daughter of Ares?"

Percy didn’t answer. He couldn’t. But you’d already decided this wasn’t over. You licked your lips, savoring the last remnants of him in your mouth, and stood slowly, letting his eyes follow your every movement as you dressed.

"Rest a little," you whispered, your smile promising more torment. "Because when you wake up... we’re starting all over again."

Everyone knew how the Gallaghers and the Milkovichs were: families that hated each other to the bone, neighbors who eyed each other with suspicion, histories of fights, theft, and betrayal. But seeing you and Carl together was like witnessing an eclipse in the South Side, something that shouldn’t happen, yet suddenly lit everything up in a different way.

And yet, there you were. Back pressed against the cold wall of the alley behind the Gallaghers’ house, Carl’s legs on either side of your hips, his large, calloused hands gripping your wrists above your head. It wasn’t an embrace, it was a warning: Don’t move. And fuck, you didn’t want to move. Not when his mouth was on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as if he wanted to mark you, his hot breath burning every time you gasped.

"We shouldn’t be doing this," you murmured, though it didn’t sound like a protest. It sounded like more.

Carl didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pushed you harder against the wall, his solid body crushing you, and you felt his erection, hard as steel, grinding against you through the fabric of his jeans. His eyes, those Gallagher eyes that always seemed to be scheming, looked at you with a mix of challenge and lust.

"Shut up," he growled, and his rough voice sent a jolt down your spine.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You closed your eyes when his lips found yours, but it wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was a Gallagher kiss: with teeth, with urgency, with the desperation of someone who knew this was wrong but didn’t give a damn. His hands moved from your wrists to your hips, and suddenly, he lifted you as if you weighed nothing. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the cold metal of his belt buckle brush against your thigh.

"Fuck, Carl..." you moaned when his fingers slipped under your underwear, finding the heat between your legs. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t careful. He was Carl, direct, no bullshit, as if he knew exactly what you needed.

"You’re wet," he murmured against your ear, his tone laced with satisfaction that made you blush. "And I haven’t even started yet."

Before you could respond, he was already unbuckling his belt with one hand while the other kept exploring you, his fingers moving in circles that made you bite your lip. The sound of the metal clinking as the buckle came undone echoed in the alley, followed by the rasp of his zipper. There was no time to undress completely. Not when you were both this desperate.

He pulled your pants down just enough to expose you, and then you felt it: his cock, thick and hot, pressing against you. There were no preliminaries. No sweetness. Just Carl, pushing inside you with a single thrust that left you breathless.

"Shit..." he hissed, as if he were surprised by how well you fit together.

And damn, you did fit. Every thrust was a punch, his hips slamming into yours with a force that made you see stars. The alley smelled of cheap beer, trampled grass, and sweat, but all you could feel was him, his skin, his breath, the way his fingers dug into your ass to lift and lower you onto him, again and again.

"Harder," you demanded, and it wasn’t a plea. It was an order.

Carl didn’t need to be told twice. He turned you to face the wall, his hand on the back of your neck pushing you forward while the other gripped your hip. The angle changed, and suddenly, you felt him deeper, as if he could reach places no one else ever had.

His thrusts became faster, more brutal, and you could feel the pleasure coiling in your core like a wave about to crash. His rough moans in your ear, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together, the scent of sex and sweat, it all mixed into a cocktail that had you on the edge.

"There... fuck, there..." you managed to gasp, feeling his cock brush that spot inside you that made you see stars.

Carl didn’t stop. If anything, he sped up, his hips slamming into you with a force that made you dig your nails into the wall. And then you felt it: that knot in your stomach tightening, tightening, and snapping.

"Carl!" you screamed, and your body shook with the orgasm, your walls clenching around him as if trying to keep him from escaping. Waves of pleasure crashed over you from head to toe, and for a moment, all you could focus on was the sound of your own ragged breathing and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

But Carl wasn’t done. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, and you could feel his body tensing, his breath hitching. With one final, deep, brutal push, you felt his release fill you, hot and thick.

For a moment, there was only silence. Just the sound of your ragged breathing and the pounding of your heart in your ears. Carl stayed inside you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, as if he needed a second to catch his breath.

"This isn’t happening again," he muttered, but it didn’t sound convincing. Not to him, not to you.

You laughed, though the sound caught in your throat. You knew he was lying. You knew that despite everything, the last names, the families, the years of hatred, this would happen again. Because Carl Gallagher was fucking you to your soul. And fuck, you’d just come harder than ever before.

You knew Ethan was a virgin, but that only turned you on more. You didn’t want to force him into anything he didn’t want, but when you sat in his lap and his hands settled on your hips, gripping you with a strength you didn’t expect from someone so inexperienced, something inside you ignited. His fingers dug into your skin, as if he feared you might slip away, and that made you smile. You couldn’t resist tempting him.

You moved your hips slowly, just a little, to test his reaction. And what a reaction it was. With every small movement, you felt his erection growing beneath you, harder, more urgent. His broken, ragged moans interrupted the stolen kisses between you, and his eyes, fixed on your hips, betrayed how lost he was. You didn’t need anything else to know it: Ethan was undone, and you were to blame.

"Ethan..." you moaned, testing how he’d react. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your lips parted, completely turned on by the sight of this shy, wrecked boy beneath you.

Ethan moaned audibly at the sound of his name on your lips, and his hips moved unconsciously, as if his body were acting on instinct. His grip on your hips tightened, as if he were trying to control you, but he had no idea what he was doing. That only made him more irresistible.

"Say it again," he begged, his voice rough and breathless, so low that if you hadn’t felt the warmth of his breath on your lips, you wouldn’t have understood him.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You moaned his name again, this time with more intensity, and Ethan’s grip tightened so much it forced you to stop moving your hips. His fingers sank into your flesh, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, as if he were about to break.

"Ethan," you whispered again, this time closer to his ear, and you felt a shiver run through his body.

His hips lifted again, this time with more determination, as if he’d found a bit of confidence. His moans became more frequent, more desperate, and his eyes, once full of uncertainty, now shone with a mix of lust and surprise. You knew he was on the edge, and that made you move again, this time with more force, grinding against him in circular motions that drove him wild.

"Fuck..." Ethan muttered, his voice breaking, as his hands slid up your back, as if searching for something to hold onto. His nails dug into your shoulders, and you couldn’t help but moan again, this time louder.

The heat between you was unbearable. You could feel the sweat on his forehead, how his breathing grew faster and shallower. His hips moved now with more urgency, as if he could no longer control the rhythm. And then you felt it: a spasm, a tremor that ran through his body, and suddenly, something warm and wet spread beneath you.

Ethan had come.

But you didn’t stop. You kept moving, though slower, savoring the sensation of his trembling body beneath yours, the way his breath hitched and his hands, now gentler, tried to recover from the orgasm. You looked into his eyes, and in them, you saw a mix of embarrassment and awe, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

"Don’t stop," you whispered with a mischievous smile, leaning in to kiss him again. His lips tasted of salt and pleasure, and you couldn’t help but want more.

Ethan, still trembling, nodded, as if he understood that this wasn’t over. And when his hands settled on your hips again, this time with more confidence, you knew the night had only just begun.

You were so desperate for him that, when you saw Pop’s was empty, you didn’t hesitate to drag him into the diner’s bathroom. Your hands shook with haste as you unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants, not caring about the place or the consequences. The only thing that mattered was feeling him.

FP didn’t protest. On the contrary, his breathing grew heavier as you leaned against the sink, the cold, hard edge digging into your back. But you didn’t care. Not when his cock, already hard and throbbing, slid inside you with a single thrust, rearranging your insides as if it were its natural place.

"Fuck..." FP muttered, his voice rough, as his hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly to adjust the angle.

The sink creaked under your weight, but the sound was lost among the muffled moans escaping your throat every time he buried himself inside you. The mirror behind you was fogged from the steam of your hot bodies. His thrusts were fast, almost brutal, and every time his hips slammed into yours, you felt the pleasure coiling in your core like a knot about to snap.

"Harder," you demanded, digging your nails into his shoulders, needing to feel him deeper, further inside.

FP didn’t need to be told twice. He turned you to face the sink, pushing you forward until your chest was pressed against the cold porcelain. His hands held your waist, and then you felt it: a thrust so powerful it nearly lifted you off the ground. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoed in the small bathroom, mixed with the water dripping from the faucet you hadn’t turned off completely.

"This is how I want you, fuck," FP growled, his hot breath in your ear as his hips kept moving without mercy.

Each thrust made you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The sink dug into your hips, but the pain only served to intensify the pleasure. You could feel his cock filling you completely, each movement bringing you closer to the edge. One of your hands slid down to your clit, and at the first touch, a shiver ran down your spine.

"I’m gonna come," you managed to gasp, feeling the orgasm start to overwhelm you.

FP didn’t stop. Instead, he sped up, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. His fingers dug into your flesh, and then you felt it: his body tensed, a guttural moan escaped his throat, and his hot release filled you from within.

The orgasm hit you with a force that left you breathless. Your legs trembled, and only FP’s grip kept you standing. You closed your eyes, feeling the waves of pleasure still shaking you, even as he had already stopped, panting against your back.

For a moment, there was only silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady drip of the faucet. FP slowly pulled away from you, and you felt his seed begin to trickle down your thighs.

"Shit..." he muttered, running a hand through his hair, as if trying to regain his senses.

You just smiled, still trembling, as you straightened up and turned to face him. You knew someone could walk in at any moment, but in that instant, you didn’t care. You only wanted to do it again.

The sounds of saliva echoed against the walls of Jeremy’s room. Your head bobbed up and down at the pace you set, but his soft, broken moans escaped his lips every time you took him all the way in. The wet sound of your mouth working on him filled the air, mixed with his ragged breathing.

You lowered your head completely, relaxing your cheeks and throat to take him deeper, until the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. You felt the gag, but you breathed through your nose, swallowed, and forced yourself to relax. Jeremy’s hand tangled in your hair, gently but firmly pushing you down. You frowned, fighting your body’s reflex, until his grip loosened. You took the chance to lift your head completely, leaving only a silver thread of saliva connecting your bodies.

You looked into his eyes, tears welling at the corners. Jeremy stared back, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath, desire painted across his face. You smirked arrogantly, knowing the effect you had on him, and wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. Before he could react, you stuck out your tongue and teased the tip, licking up the pre-cum already glistening there.

"Shit..." Jeremy forced the word out in a rough voice, as if forming syllables was a struggle.

You slid a hand down between your legs, feeling how wet you were, how the heat pooled between your thighs. You lightly touched your clit, and a moan escaped your lips, but you didn’t stop. To distract him from your own masturbation, you flicked your tongue out again and dragged it down his entire length, licking slowly up the shaft before reaching his balls. You teased them with the tip of your tongue, feeling them tighten under your touch, then slid back up, returning to the sensitive head of his cock.

You started sucking just the tip, with soft but firm movements, while slipping two fingers inside yourself. The contrast between Jeremy’s salty taste in your mouth and the pleasure of your own fingers made you moan again. His hips lifted instinctively, seeking more contact, and you allowed it, letting his cock slide a little deeper into your mouth.

"Fuck, like that..." Jeremy gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair again, guiding you with more urgency.

You sped up the rhythm of your fingers inside you, feeling the orgasm begin to build in your core. But you weren’t about to let him come first. With a quick movement, you pulled away from his cock, letting the cold air make him shiver, and smirked at his frustrated expression.

"Don’t stop..." he begged, but you already had other plans.

You went back down on him, this time with more force, taking almost all of him into your mouth while your fingers kept working on yourself. The sound of your saliva, the creak of the bed, and both of your moans filled the room.

The involuntary gestures and moans that escape Stiles as you ride him are pure glory. He can’t stay quiet not when your hips move like this: every lift, every drop, every circular motion drives him wild. His head tilts back, lips parted, and a rough moan escapes him every time you sink down onto him. His fingers dig into your thighs, as if he’s trying to anchor himself to this world before pleasure drags him under completely.

His brain is mush. You know it by the way he blinks, confused, as if he doesn’t even remember his own name. He wants to warn you that he’s about to come, but the words get stuck, coming out in broken, incoherent stutters:

"I... I... fuck..."

"I know, Stiles", you murmur, trying to catch your breath, but seeing him like this, undone, panting, eyes glazed over, sends electric shocks down your spine. Every spasm of his body, every time his hips lift to meet yours, brings you closer to your own orgasm. The wet sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, mixed with his moans and your gasps.

You go faster. Stiles can only grip your hips, and you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow, if you weren’t a werewolf. His nails dig into your skin, but the pain blends with the pleasure, and it only makes you move harder, with more determination. Sweat slides down your bodies, and the scent of sex and hot skin fills the air.

You make one last slow, torturous circular motion before slamming down hard. Stiles’ grip tightens, his fingers sinking into your flesh, and then you feel it: his body tenses, a deep spasm, and his hot release paints your walls. A guttural moan tears from his throat, and the sound of his pleasure pushes you to the edge.

You pause for a second, feeling him pulse inside you, feeling his seed slowly drip out. But it’s not enough. Not when you still feel him hard, when his hips still twitch in small, desperate movements, as if he can’t, or won’t, let go of the rhythm. You lean forward, brushing your nipples against his chest, and whisper in his ear:

"Again?"

Being pinned down by Jim Hopper was a blessing: feeling how he opened you up with every thrust of his hips, the weight of his robust body pressing you into the mattress, his hot, shallow breath filling your ear. It was something you begged for every night.

Despite his age, the man had enviable stamina, not just from his twenty-year partner keeping him in shape, but from the pleasure of manipulating you at will, as if you were his favorite toy.

The thickness of his cock filled you to the brink, each thrust making you see stars, brushing that spot that made your eyes roll back. With your legs draped over his shoulders, you felt the rhythm of his hips, the rough whispers in your ear, dirty words, breathless commands, that pushed you to the edge without mercy.

"Jim..." you gasped, barely able to breathe.

He picked up the pace, the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies filling the room. The thick hair at his base grazed your clit with every thrust, pulling you closer to the abyss.

"There... right there..."

His cock pounded that soft spot that made you beg for more, as if he knew exactly how to ruin you.

"Come to me, girl" he growled, adjusting the angle to sink even deeper.

You moaned again and again, breathless gasps. You closed your eyes as that knot in your stomach unraveled, and with a muffled cry, you came. For a moment, you thought you might pass out: pleasure surged through you in waves, but Jim didn’t stop. He kept moving, drawing out your orgasm, chasing his own with brutal determination.

His thrusts became erratic, his breathing ragged. With one final push, he filled you, his hot cum flooding your walls. You moaned at the sensation, overstimulated, and felt the liquid slowly escape, as if every drop could bring you to another orgasm.