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eagerforhoney · 8 months

Text

SOOOOOO GOOD

What to Expect - Ch. 13

Adam Sackler x F (+she/her) Reader

Words: 2.3k

Tags/CW: BABY DADDY SACKLER AU!, pregnancy fic, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, she/her pronouns, pregnancy/impregnation kink, breeding kink, PIV sex, creampies, failed pregnancy attempt, reader has a regular menstruation cycle which is a unicorn thing imho lolz, cockwarming, spanking, dirty talk, hair-pulling, hurt/comfort, gendered pet names, angst with a happy ending I promise, PREGNANT SEX OMG, childbirth, lactation kink, mention of birth control

Notes: You’ve been wanting to have a baby and finally decide you’re ready–you make an appointment with a fertility doctor to choose a donor. To your great surprise, your friend from across the hall offers to help you out the ~old-fashioned way~.

I know pregnancy fic isn’t everyone’s jam, so feel free to block the #what to expect fic tag to pass on this one! xo

Your hair damp with sweat, your eyes bright and focused—Adam thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful as you do now with Sage bundled into your chest. Something inside him aches at the thought of how brave you were, how brave you had to be to carry this child and bring her into the world. How proud he is to call you his partner. The nurses and OB bustle about the room but his entire universe has narrowed down to you and the little human now resting just above your heart. He places one palm on your cheek and reverently spreads the other over Sage’s back. His lips part with awe as he feels the rise and fall of her breaths—so tiny, but so strong.

He’s always known what love feels like, what it means to truly connect with another person, to see them in all their complexity and not look away. He knows how it feels to love you, to see you in your joy and grief and hope and longing, to know you in both your strength and vulnerability. But when he looks at Sage, it’s different. It’s as if a very piece of his soul is living outside of his body. His entire being thrums with the need to keep her safe, to nurture and protect her. And nothing, nothing, has ever felt so right to him.

You lean into his touch, smiling at his pensive expression.

“You okay?” you ask softly, covering his hand with your own.

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly, blinking as if to clear the intensity of his thoughts. “Never better.”

“I was thinking,” you say, eyes searching his, “for the birth certificate… that she’d have both our last names.”

“I’d…” He lets out a shaky breath, eyes shining with wetness once again. “I’d be honored.” His eyes flit between you and the baby and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Sage [Y/L/N] Sackler,” he says, voice filled with pride. He can’t help but think how much he’d like to give you his last name, too.

“Hey,” you ask, voice low and conspiratorial. “You wanna get out of here?” You wink, and his smile turns into a full-blown grin.

_____

The early days pass like a dream, Sage’s presence filling every nook and cranny of the space you share together. He worried before this, worried about whether he’d be a good dad, but those thoughts faded into the reverence and repetition of his new routine: watching her suckle at your breast, changing diapers, rocking her to sleep in the cradle of his arms. Sometimes when she nods off he traces the contours of her face with a calloused fingertip as if to memorize the shape of her.

He tends to you as you regain your strength, too, cooking you meals and ensuring you stay hydrated. He knows you want to spend every waking moment with Sage, but that you need time to take care of yourself, so he tends to her while you take hot showers and enjoy afternoon naps. As much as he loves seeing you together, there’s something special about the time he spends alone with her. He sings show tunes from musicals he’s been in when she fusses, going through the dance steps as he holds her to his chest. He makes faces and kisses her round cheeks till she’s humming happily, tiny hands reaching to grasp at his nose and chin.

She has your eyes and his ears. The two of you give her baths in the kitchen sink, sudsing up her dark, wispy hair that seems to get a little thicker every day. The teddy bear onesie Adam bought for her is part of the regular rotation, and every time you see her in it, you think of how sure Adam was that you could make this future a reality. He believed in you then and he still believes in you now, marveling at your ability to be a mother.

You feel like you’re beginning to find your flow as parents, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy. There are late nights and early mornings, there are days when your interrupted sleep schedule leaves you with frayed nerves and heavy eyelids—but you and Adam have each other’s backs through it all. There are times when Sage will cry and cry and cry, unable to fall asleep when you try to put her down for a nap. You try singing to her and rocking her and playing music all with limited success, but it never seems to fully calm her. You cycle through strategies until one afternoon Adam walks into the room in his running shorts and shoes and simply says “I’ve got this.”

Crying baby tucked into one arm and stroller suspended in the other, he trots down the apartment stairs and emerges onto the Brooklyn streets. He bundles her up in her blankets and settles her into the stroller. Gripping the handle firmly, he takes a deep breath and sets off at a run. She’s still wailing at the end of the first city block, but her cries are farther apart come the second block. Sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, he looks down at her little face and gives her a smile. By the third block, she’s quieted down. By the fourth, she’s sound asleep, lulled by the gentle jostling of the stroller over pavement and Adam’s consistent breathing. Adam steers her toward the park and vows to run until she’s awake again.

Being a father grew Adam up fast, but some things never change. You swat at his arm as he lets the breast pump suction onto the side of his face, cackling like a madman.

“Oh my god, stop it,” you laugh, pulling the pump off his cheek.

“It’s a titty sucking machine!” he gasps, breath short from giggling.

“This is gonna help us out a lot,” you assure him, barely keeping the amusement off your face.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, just say I’m obsolete now,” he says. “My services are no longer necessary.”

You roll your eyes mightily as you shrug off one strap of your tank top and affix the pump to your left breast.

Despite his recent laughter, his mouth goes dry at the sight of the pump pulling creamy white liquid from your swollen nipple. Taking a deep, slow breath through his nose, his jaw works from side to side. He shifts uncomfortably as his cock starts to ache.

“What?” you ask, noticing his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

“Nothing,” he says perhaps too quickly. “I’m, uh, gonna go check on Sage.”

He pushes himself to stand and walks out of the living room, pausing out of sight in the hallway. Leaning back, his head drops back to make a quiet thud against the wall behind him, and he opens and closes his hands, trying to dissipate some of the unexpected arousal building in his body. Slowly, reticently, he allows himself to palm his hardening cock through the fabric of his jeans.

“Fucking creep,” he breathes to himself, hips shifting forward to rut into his hand. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

He indulges in a brief moment of imagining his mouth wrapped around your nipple, squeezing and sucking and…

He pulls his hand away from his length, shaking his head to clear the thought. He makes straight for the bathroom, ready to splash his face with cold water and get his shit together.

_____

Around six weeks after taking Sage home, she smiles for the first time. The same dimples that Adam has pop on her chubby cheeks. It’s also when your OB told you you’d be cleared to have sex again, not that Adam would admit to counting down the days or anything. That first night, he fucks you slow and deep, your foreheads pressed together as he rolls his hips into you. He keeps his hands on your face, your neck, your hips, your thighs, not letting himself wonder too long if he could coax a trickle of milk from your nipple if he pinched and kneaded just right.

Adam read in one of your parenting books that skin-on-skin is best for bonding. He reclines shirtless on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and hands wrapped around Sage’s tiny body where she rests on his chest. It had taken some time to ease her into sleep this afternoon—lots of kisses and soft songs and gentle strokes along her back. She now sleeps so soundly that Adam can’t help but drift off too.

You awake from your nap and pad down the hallway to the living room where you see them together: Sage rising and falling a couple of inches with each of Adam’s deep inhales and exhales. You linger in the doorway, warmth glowing in your chest at the sight of them—your little family. They look so peaceful, but it’s been a long week and you’re loath to miss out on a little alone time with Adam, so you gently scoop Sage off his chest, careful not to disturb her slumber. You walk down the hall to the nursery, smiling at the soft green walls, and nestle her into the crib Adam built.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, then startles at finding Sage no longer in his hands.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, returning to the living room. “I just put her down.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and your heart squeezes at how protective he is of your little one.

“Thanks,” he says softly, stretching his arms above his head and shifting up to a seat. He turns to look at you and that’s when he sees them—the dark, wet marks on your thin gray tank top, just above your nipples. “Ohhh, fuck,” he groans.

“What?” you ask, following his gaze down to your breasts and realizing that you’ve leaked into your shirt. “Ah, shit, let me go change.”

Adam grabs you by the wrist and pulls you down to the couch before you can turn to leave. You’re confused by his dilated pupils and the look of hunger on his face until his large hands grab your swollen breasts and he lowers his head to suck at the wet spots on your tank.

His tongue laves at your nipples through the damp fabric and you swear you hear him whimper when a fresh trickle of milk leaks out at his squeezing.

“I know it’s not for me,” he grates out, leaning you back on the sofa and grinding his clothed cock into your hips, “but I just want a little taste.”

Smiling devilishly, you hook your fingers in the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head, letting your full, heavy tits fall right in Adam’s face. He stills, looking up at you with dinnerplate eyes and softly parted lips as if to ask your permission.

“Go ahead,” you coo, lifting up one of your breasts in an offering. “You can try a little.” You can’t help the rush of wetness between your thighs when he latches onto your nipple and hollows his cheeks.

He moans rich and low when the first rush of creamy sweetness floods his tongue, so forbidden yet so irresistible.

“Someone’s a greedy boy,” you say, carding your hands through his hair as he continues to suck and squeeze.

He looks up, practically begging with his eyes, and you take the opportunity to push him back against the couch cushions, separating him from your nipple with a wet pop. You make quick work of tugging off your bottoms as he scrambles to push his jeans down his thighs.

His hands crush at your waist as he hauls you onto his lap, pausing to let you line up his thick, hard cock at your freshly slicked entrance. Any other time he’d go slow with you, letting you stretch to accommodate him like this, but he needs you right now. He slams you down to his hips, your plump tits right at face level, and latches onto the other nipple as he starts to drag you back and forth on his length. He hits you deep like this—he always does—but something about the feel of his lips and tongue on your swollen nipples makes even more heat pool in your core.

“How do I taste?” you whisper, kissing his forehead.

“So fucking good,” he gasps as he pulls off you. “So fucking sweet.” He drops his thumb to your clit to rub you rough and fast. “Wanna feel you cum, mama.”

He buries his face in your tits as you mewl with pleasure, feeling your release building with every stroke. You can tell how close he is by the way his hips start to stutter as he drives up into you, so you yank his head back by the hair and catch his lips with your own. He moans when your tongue slides against his and that’s all it takes for you to snap, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The way your cunt squeezes him pulls him over the edge, too, and he ruts up into you desperately as he paints your walls white.

You hold each other tight, panting and vibrating with shared energy. As Adam’s breathing slows he pulls back so he can press his lips all over your neck and chest, peppering your tits with soft kisses.

Your eyes meet and he drags a finger from the center of your chest all the way down to where the two of you connect.

“I fucking love cumming in you,” he says, “but I don’t know much I like knowing you’re on birth control now.”

It’s true—your doctor got you started on a contraceptive around three weeks after giving birth to Sage.

“Is that so?” you ask, raising a brow as you drag your hands through his hair.

“Yes,” he says, baring his teeth slightly as he squeezes at your lower belly.

“Well maybe that’s something we could talk about,” you say with a small smile.

“Then let’s talk about it,” he rasps, pulling you in for a kiss.

. . .

}

ALL ABOARD THE SINWAGON!

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eagerforhoney · 9 months

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Devotion

Regency!Charlie Barber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pining, friends to lovers, smut, vaginal fingering, the smallest angst ever i swear

Word Count: 3.6K

Notes: I haven't written in forever but this idea has been in my head for about a year now and i just had to get it out. i miss you all, i hope you enjoy my crappy writing and never ending love for all things charlie barber <3

The light glimmered through the glass windows and reflected off the gold-rimmed tea cup sitting upon the pristinely decorated wooden table. Charlie sat in his reading chair in the corner of the otherwise quiet room as he turned the page in the ragged book in his hand when he felt something fall from one of the pages at the far end of it. A flattened, parched rose petal landed on his lap, etchings sketched onto it worn over time—your initials. And there it was. Yet another piece of you slipping between his fingers, Charlie's breath hitched in his throat. The brief memory of your tendency to leave small reminders in scattered books across his library when you were young for him to find as he advanced in his readings—something he carried so fondly in his heart, now a painful reminder of your absence.

You were more than merely a childhood acquaintance to Charlie Barber. You'd formed a bond amid the constant suit alterations and meetings between your fathers. Pacing and making your way through the large corridors of his estate, causing mischief, the joyous remembrances from his youth were those Charlie often recalled and pondered on in times when he sought comfort.

As you grew older, Charlie had to bear more responsibilities giving you far less time to spend on frequent visits and more time enclosed in his office, assembling his theater business from the inside out. While Charlie went above and beyond to secure his future in his theatrical endeavors, you'd spend your days on the opposite end of town assisting your parents in daily deliverances of gowns, suits, and more exquisite fabrics than you knew what to do with. You were taught to sew as your mother did; what once was an infinite amount of time to spend with Charlie as children now became fleeting moments of closeness when you altered his neckline or stitched hearts onto the sleeves of his finest suits, hoping he would one day notice any glimpse of your silent devotions. Soon, the division between your families became more apparent and impossible to ignore. You, the daughter of a seamstress to the wealthy, and him reaping the benefits of a lustrous family name. He seemed to pay less and less mind to you until you were nothing more than another servant among him. At least, that's how it appeared. On the inside, Charlie was tormented, to say the least. Irritation and bitterness festered in the depths of his heart, aching to feel the comfort he once had with you. His father's words echoed in his head; the girl will not advance your endeavors, my son. You must choose a wife wisely that will bring honor to our family. Perfectly placed strands of hair fell loosely over his face as Charlie shook his head in an attempt to compose himself. He hated himself for being blinded from the little good he had in his life with you in it and leading you astray from him.

Although he tried, Charlie could never forget you. In fact, he admired you greatly—clashing feelings when he was younger blurred and blind-sighted him as he reflected on the moment he felt a shift between you. Friendly tussles among friends became lingering touches and affectionate glimpses when the both of you were sure no one was looking. A chaste kiss you once shared, knowing it would be your only and your last. A brief moment lasted mere seconds, yet he found himself wishing to stay there for an eternity.

As time passed, Charlie soon realized what it was and what it would always be, that familiar feeling creeping in and nestling in his heart. The four-letter word he could never bring himself to speak out loud. And as much as he tried to push the thoughts indoctrinated into him as dishonorable into the depths of his subconscious, he couldn't. There was no denying it; as much as he was taught to loathe himself for it, he loved you, and loving you was like chasing the clouds; impossible as it seemed, he yearned for it. The unattainable idea that somehow you would someday be his haunted him. All he had to fall back on were the memories of what once was, and they were just that. Memories.

Rumors swirled of Charlie's highly respected status around town, how he eventually married and even took a child. As content as he seemed to the beaming eyes of the world at first, no one could even begin to envision the darkness that ensued behind the lavish walls of his estate. Altercations where neither he nor his wife Nicole could reach an agreement, whether it be on family matters or the simplest tasks. Thus began his downfall, as he called it. Charlie could feel the distance expanding, the tension dictating every cruel words spewed in her direction, all while secretly hoping Henry would be tucked off into bed, not hearing a single word of it. It wasn't long before rumors of Charlie's troubled marriage and whispered affairs circulated even amongst your circles. Their split became inevitable, Nicole moving further into the city, leaving Charlie behind to sulk over the consequences of his self-destructive behavior, forever longing for the person he could never have.

Charlie often wondered where life had taken you. But he was too ashamed to ever reveal himself to you again. No. He'd burdened far too many with his presence as of late; he wouldn't do that to you too. After the separation from Nicole, he found himself collapsing under the pressures of day-to-day life, needing a leave more often than not. Wandering the London streets in the late night hours, his mind raced faster than his feet could carry him. Charlie wasn't exactly sure how he suddenly found himself at your doorstep one night, but he longed to see you. Just one glance and he was convinced the problems churning in his head would vanish. He had to try.

-----------------------------

You were strolling along the entryway when the sound of shuffling footsteps alerted you to a presence at your door. You'd been ready to turn in for the night and briefly considered ignoring the unexpected visitor, but what awaited you on the other side of the door would be the most surprising thing of all. Charlie Barber. It had been years since you were in the presence of one another, yet, once your eyes locked on his, it was as if not a second had passed. Neither of you spoke, too taken back by one another to think of anything suitable to say.

"Charl-My lord." You quickly corrected yourself and curtsied before him. This definitely wasn't the Charlie Barber you remembered. Referring to him so casually felt wrong as you cursed yourself for the habit. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, something he often did when he thought no one was looking, and his nerves took over. You noticed. You noticed everything about Charlie; your mind wandered to a time when you'd lay your hand on his in a soothing manner but shook your head, not letting yourself get lost in him, not anymore.

"I apologize for my intrusion. I don't know what came over me; I should-" Charlie stuttered; his distraught manner alarmed you, a pang in your chest aching for him.

"Please come inside. It is late; the least I can do is offer you a warm beverage" You offered him a kind smile and gestured for him to come inside. Charlie remained uncertain, but when you didn't delay for a response, he found himself mindlessly following you into your quaint home. He was sure he wreaked of desperation as he strained to restrain his nerves around you. He stood near the kitchen table as you put a kettle on the stove and set two mismatched tea cups on the counter before you.

"You seem to be doing quite well." His deep voice startled you slightly. His mere presence was enough to unsettle you. Everything about being around Charlie set every nerve in your body ablaze. You were convinced he saw right through you, seeing each of the broken pieces he left behind while you'd worked so hard to put them back together. Letting Charlie go was never a choice; it was best for the both of you. Or at least that's what you told yourself when wishing things would've ended differently. Time heals all wounds; your mama's words rang in your ears. Perhaps she was right.

"It has been far too long." Charlie cleared his throat. "We left off in " He took in the sight before him, your nightgown falling perfectly over your figure, the delicate lace decorating the supple skin of your neck and chest. Your simplicity, the simplicity of your beauty, was something he knew he would never get over. He recalled a time when you'd take down that wall you'd built around your heart for so many other people. A time he had access to all of you.

"Time has passed; we moved on. Nothing more." You cut him off, hands trembling as you set the tea on the table. Tears threatened to well in your eyes, making Charlie's breath hitch. He could not bear to see you like this. He fought every instinct in his body that burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped his lips.

"Nothing more? Why is it that you distanced yourself from me then, hm? Why is it that whenever I make an attempt to go near you, you do everything in your power to stray further away?" Charlie pressed the unknown that had haunted him all this time, bubbling up uncontrollably to the surface before he could suppress it to the back of his mind where it belonged. He couldn't contain himself any longer; he had to know if your feelings for him plagued you all these years, as they did to him.

"Forgive me, my lord, but if I am not mistaken, it is you that distanced himself from me." You scowled in a hushed tone while taking a step closer to him. You weren't sure what to make of this. The newfound closeness between you fogged your mind more than you cared to admit. Every hateful word you'd cultivated over the last couple of years on the tip of your tongue dissipated, having Charlie within reach once more, taking in the weakened version of him standing before you. The color seemed to have drained from his face, bags solemn and profound laid under his doe eyes, new lines tracing around his face etched in by sleepless nights and whatever stresses plagued his every waking moment. His shoulders slumped in defeat, his clothes far from the pristine condition you knew them to be once; you had to fight the urge to take him in your arms and console him until this pain that burdened him was a distant memory. You took a breath to steady yourself before speaking.

"You want to know what I see?" Charlie studied your words, taking in your stern gaze. He tipped his chin down slightly to look at you fully, not yet answering your question.

"I see the boy I once knew evolved into a man I do not recognize before me. A mind corrupted and a heart once filled with such tenderness and exceptional curiosity for life now darkened by life's cruel intentions." You continued. "Thoughts and ideas once flourishing now damaged by broken promises, lies, and a world of hurt. But most of all, I see a heart that chooses to not feel and a mind that prefers to ignore what is right in front of him."

The words sank into his heart like an unsuspecting sword. Ever since Nicole, he'd closed himself off, a lesson learned that yearning for love was time wasted. But he could never entirely forget you. He could pinpoint that day all those years ago when you captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Charlie knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"That is not true." His ton was harsher than before. "You have no possible way of knowing what is in my heart. Perhaps these feelings you speak of are a projection of your own. Perhaps they do not exist." Venom dripped from him, the stern exterior of the man you loved now nothing but a hollow shell.

"You mean to tell me you feel nothing for me? That I do not cross your mind or your heart for that matter." Charlie's expression was unwavering except for a whisper of a 'no' he couldn't bear to say any louder.

"I do not believe you." You sneered at him, venom dripping from your words. "There is love in your eyes for me, Charlie. I know it."

"I shall not stain you with my burdens as I have to others." Charlie tentatively reached out, his fingers ghosting over yours. His delicate touch sending shivers down your spine. "They are my burdens to bear, not yours."

"That is not your decision to make." Your voice strained, tears welling and threatening to spill over. "Tell me you do not care for me. Tell me there is no love in your heart where I am concerned, and you will never hear from me again."

"Do-do not care for you? It is as if your very being consumes me. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought and dictating my every move. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second." Charlie stepped toward you, grazing a hand along your cheek. "I spend every day wishing your heart feels as fiercely as mine does for you." He sighed, focusing his gaze downward and taking a step backward. You could practically feel his walls rising, icing you out once again. "It does not matter. It wasn't supposed to be like this; I wasn't supposed to feel this...I wish I never knew of this...of you." Charlie's words stung in your chest so profoundly you had to make sure there wasn't actually a wound there. Your lower lip trembled, sentiment breaking through. Even through the hurtful words, he still ached for you. And he hated himself for it. It was pointless; what was the point of going after something entirely out of his reach? Charlie felt as though he couldn't do this anymore. He stood before you, trembling as he collected whatever ounce of courage he had left and asked.

"Do you hate me?" His voice was barely a whisper seeking a validation he knew he had no right to ask of you after everything.

"Of course not." You responded without hesitation. Charlie scanned your face for any trace of deceit, but there was none. Instead, he found all of the devotion and tenderness you could not convey into words. It was as if you indeed saw the broken pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. "Charlie, I loved you."

Loved. There it was. Part of him felt relief hearing the long-awaited assurance that maybe he wasn't insane for feeling this much for you for so long. But the grief quickly washed over him, the realization that you said loved, not love. It sunk in painfully and rapidly at the possibility that you had moved on, forgotten him amongst perhaps a possible newfound happiness in your new life without him.

"I see." Charlie cleared his throat and straightened out his coat, avoiding your gaze. Afraid he would no longer be able to keep his emotions at bay if he did.

"Charlie.." You brought a hand to his cheek cautiously as if not to frighten him. He flinched but then leaned into your touch. It felt natural, the warmth of your skin on his; it felt like home. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know and everything neither of you could bring yourselves to say aloud. "I never stopped loving you." Charlie's jaw opened slightly, unsure if he heard you correctly over the sound of his heart hammering through his chest. "I love you, Charlie." A sob wracked your chest as you held him close. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you." Charlie enveloped your face in his hands, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Charlie unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed.

He pulled you close again, continuing his ministrations. His lips lavished kisses along your neckline and down to your chest as your hands tangled in his hair. His hands worked tirelessly to remove as many barriers between your bodies as quickly as possible as he gently guided you to lean on the wall behind you. Charlie hastily bunched up your dress, groaning when his hands slid along your dampened underwear. You panted under him, his lips never leaving your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises as a reminder of his love for you.

The way you looked, how your body responded to his every touch. Every captivating sound he was able to pull from you, it drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to have you now, whichever way you'll let him. Charlie abruptly lifted your leg around his hip and caged you between him against the wall, your fingers tugging at his hair and desperately nipping at his lower lip, pulling an animalistic moan from his chest.

"Charlie, please." You practically whimpered when you felt his finger prod at your entrance, clenching around nothing as he gently worked your sensitive clit. He pressed his lips against yours to swallow any sounds you made as he gently pushed inside you. You moaned into each other in unison as he began to plunge in and out of you, easily slipping through your folds, feeling your warm cunt eager to swallow him whole. He cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, kneading it in his hands while breathing heavily as he pushed another finger inside of you, holding you there for a moment, reveling in how impossibly soft and warm you felt around him, your slick making an impossible mess of his hand. You could feel his stiff cock grinding against your thigh, realizing the effect you were having on him.

A low grunt rumbled from his chest when he felt you fluttering around him. His hand outlined from the swell of your breasts all the way down beneath your hips, memorizing every curve, feeling the way your chest was rising and falling with every breath of pleasure that surged through you; even the way your hips instinctively moved to meet his own drove him insane. Charlie craved and wanted nothing more than to be close to you; even with every inch of your body pressed against his, it was never close enough for him. He began to stroke your clit, already throbbing for attention. Your hips moved and rode his fingers, desperate for relief when he stroked a particular spot inside you. Charlie felt you whine quietly as your orgasm crashed into you. Waves of heat overwhelmed your body as you pulsed around him.

He pulled away from you after a moment of stolen kisses and delicate touches. Moving quickly to assist you in fixing your dress and ensuring everything else was in order before tenderly cupping your face in his palm.

"I wanted all of you." A sated smile graced your face as you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes trained on his trousers. You wanted this man inside of you in every way possible. Not that you were complaining. He'd managed to have you succumbing to a mind-numbing orgasm from just his hands in a matter of minutes. But you needed more.

A knowing smirk graced Charlie's flushed face as his thumb stroked your cheek, capturing you in a kiss once again. Gently moving his lips against yours, filling your heart with all the intent and promise he had to offer. He'd divulged so much of himself already; the awaiting question was on the tip of his tongue. But Charlie held himself back. No. He knew when the moment was right; he would make you his the way he'd always intended. Until then, the engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket would stay hidden...for now. "Soon, my love. Soon."

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