#Ken Holland | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ken-dom · 7 months

Text

A Long Time

Holland March x afab!reader

Summary: Holland wants you, but he's scared to move on.

Warnings/content: nsfw, reader has a vagina, fingering, hand job, angst, mentions of Holland's wife, crying, praise, alcohol and smoking mention

The record comes to a crackling end, but Holland carries on swaying with you, snaking his lithe arms ever tighter around your waist, holding you impossibly closer.

He presses your bodies flush as though he's worried that the end of the last song means the end of your arms around him, but he wants to stay here forever, head dropped to bury his face against your neck, your arms reaching up around his shoulders.

'Mmh. You feel so fucking good,' he mumbles against your shoulder, his voice weak and cracking halfway.

He shifts his hips and you feel his hard cock brushing against your stomach through the layers of your clothing.

'Holland...' you breathe, pulling back to encourage him to face you.

Your gaze flicks down to his lips and back up to meet his eyes. They’re shining, full of adoration and sleepiness and just a touch too much alcohol. And something else. A sadness you can't quite place.

His shaky breath fills the inch between you.

'It's been a long time... I-' he hesitates, almost too whispered to hear.

His eyes follow the same pattern yours just did, and he doesn't flinch when you edge toward his lips, testing the waters.

He pushes forward too, lips crashing onto yours, and it's tingly and soft and hot, and he’s overcome with a sensation of drowning in you. He hasn't felt like this since... well, since-

All the wonder he felt from slow dancing with you amplifies until an all-encompassing wave engulfs him in the most comforting way, pulling his soul clean from his body and proceeding to carefully piece it back together until he feels almost whole again.

Your tongue slips between his lips for a moment and you taste the liquor he’s been sipping all night and the cigarette he smoked immediately after dinner.

His tongue brushes against yours, playful and excited.

When the kiss slows to a natural end, you drop back.

'Jesus!' He exclaims through a heavy exhale. 'Can we do that again?!'

You chuckle as your hand slides down from his shoulder, biting your lip mischievously when your fingers reach the waistband of his trousers.

Holland freezes. 'Oh, I- uh-'

You drop your hand to your side while your heart sinks, heavy and . You think he'll ask you to leave so he can wallow in unhappiness all while you taste him for days, feel him pressed against you for days, wishing he would finally open up to you.

But he hasn't let go yet.

'When I said it had been a long time... I meant, it's been a really long time... Jesus, I’ll probably cum before you even touch me.'

You take a deep breath and smile up at him, core clenching at hearing him talk about cumming so openly, watching the way his long eyelashes close over his eyes and his cheeks glow with the prickling heat of shame he feels at admitting it.

'I'm trying to be romantic and I already said the word cum,' he huffs, annoyed with himself.

'You have been romantic. All night.' Your hand comes back up, softly cupping his cheek this time so your thumb can stroke gently at the corner of his moustache.

'And I don't care when you cum.' - His eyes widen in surprose at hearing you say it - 'We can just carry on dancing, or we could kiss again, if you'd like.'

'No, no, I want to- I... fuck-' he growls in frustration.

'It's alright,' you soothe, gesturing to the sofa.

He loosens his arms and drops down onto it, spinning the both of you around and unintentionally pulling you on top of him in the process, so that you end up sitting sideways in his lap, legs stretched across the seats and Holland’s arms still around you, as if he's carried you here bridal style.

He gasps when you shift to get comfortable and unintentionally rub against his aching length, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment to compose himself.

'It's ok if you want to take it slow. I can wait for you, as long as you need... Dinner with me was a big step… why don't we aim to start off with something you feel comfortable doing?'

Your simple suggestion seems to spark something in him; his face lights up and he licks his lips in thought. It's kind of silly and yet somehow seductive, and it makes your core clench.

'Well... my wife always said I was good with my hands...' he drawls, considering the tattoo across the top of his right hand and wondering if perhaps it would be an untrue statement tonight. He felt happy when you ate dinner by candlelight, and then while he was dancing with you. He was sure of it.

'She used to say a lot of shit I didn't understand. You know she was British? But I know one thing I could start with that she used to really like... something that drove her wild. Maybe you'll like it too?'

There's a touch of heartbreak in his voice and it crushes the fluttering butterflies in your stomach for a moment. You're overcome with wanting to hold him, to help him through his pain, but even he doesn't know where to begin with that.

Whatever he wants right now, though, you know you'll do for him. That would be a start, at least.

'Show me,' you request simply, expecting him to hold your hand while he kisses you, push his fingers up to bunch in your hair, maybe even massage your shoulders a little.

But as the arm beneath you moves to cradle your neck, his other hand slides down, cupping your slightly bent knee.

'Spread your legs for me,' he says softly, pulling at the knee he's caressing.

It's so unexpected, so throwaway, that you almost miss what he's asking of you.

'Holland? Are you sur-ohhh- mmh...'

His fingertips trail up your thigh as he watches your face intently, sparks shooting up to your core as his fingers drag ever closer. It already feels electric, and he hasn't even started touching you yet. At least, not where you're already aching for him to.

'H-Holland, are you sure you- w-want to-' you try again, breathless.

'Shhh,' he smiles, fingers finally toying with the elastic of your underwear. 'I want to do this more than anything... god I've missed this...'

He slides your underwear aside with ease, dipping his middle finger inside to collect your slick, spreading it through your folds and up to massage your throbbing clit.

You jolt upward as he circles your sensitive nub with incredibly delicate precision, his elegant fingers dancing in perfect time with the needs your body, as though he can read your mind and predict what you'll need next.

As much as you've daydreamed about his long fingers playing with you just like this, you never thought he'd actually be any good at it. Holland isn't elegant, precise, delicate... he's klutzy, kind of dumb... often drunk. You half expected he would rub at you fiercely without skill or thought, but this? This feels like he knows your body better than you know your own.

'Jesus, you're so wet...' he coos delightedly through smirking lips, pushing his finger back inside and curling it perfectly against your sweet spot while you moan and writhe in his lap.

Your back arches and he pumps faster, holding you tight with his other arm to keep you from sliding off his long legs in your throes of ecstasy.

His own arousal is killing him, simmering beneath his desire to bring you off spectacularly. He needs to see your pleasure before he can focus on his own, needs something to think about instead of how his wife used to feel.

He can hold off, he's sure of it, but it's getting harder to ignore now that precum is steadily leaking from his throbbing tip, and you're squirming across his lap with your legs spread wide, eyes squeezed shut, mouth dropped open, a never-ending string of desperate cries echoing around his house from the pleasure he's bringing you.

You wrap your fingers around his tie, pulling him down, and scream his name as your climax finally hits, his finger buried inside you and his thumb pressed to your clit, fucking you mercilessly with his unexpectedly clever fingers.

When you come to, blurred vision clearing and the ringing of pleasure in your ears subsiding, you look up to see him sucking his fingers clean. You almost pass out at the sight.

'Fuck, Holland. I wasn't expecting that... I can see why your wife was such a fan.'

You slide yourself up to straddle him, adjusting your underwear as you settle above him.

'I think I'm pretty good with my hands too, you know... do you think you're ready for me to show you?'

Holland's face crinkles in confusion. 'Aren't you spent?' he asks incredulously.

'No, Holland, I mean on you.'

His eyes widen in realisation, and he nods.

Without hesitation, you pop his trousers open and slip a hand inside, humming at the copious amount of precum coating his thick, throbbing length.

'I don't know how your wife would do it,' you whisper carefully, 'but I hope you like it the way I do.'

Holland whines and buries his face into the crook of your neck, a tear slipping from his glistening eyes, wetting your cool flesh. You wrap your other arm around his shoulders when you feel it, holding him close to you.

'Just relax, ok? Focus on my touch, on my voice. I've got you... you're so hard... you need this, baby. It doesn't matter if you cum-'

'UGH! Jesus! Fuck!' he cries, muffled against your throat, voice cracking into a high pitched whine.

He shudders through his release, safe in your arms, trembling as the last of his seed spills inside his underwear and over your hand, thick and hot. There's so much of it you wonder when was the last time he came.

You lean forward to place him against the back of the sofa again, and he shakes, tears pouring down his face. You brush his mussed hair away from his forehead and loosen his tie enough to remove it, tossing it behind you.

'Shhh, baby, it's alright.' You wipe the tears from his cheeks with your clean hand, and he leans into your touch. 'You did so well for me. I know it's been a while.'

'Please... kiss me again,' he breathes helplessly, reaching up to push his fingers into your hair and pull you closer.

It's not as heated as your last kiss. It's slow, languid, needy but without the sexual tension. A different kind of need.

You feel him relax beneath you and pull away to catch your breath, opening your eyes to see Holland fast asleep. Smiling.

#not s f w 💀#holland march #holland march x reader #holland march x you #holland march x y/n #holland march smut #holland march fic #the nice guys #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling #the nice guys 2016 #the nice guys fic #ken-dom writes

323 notes · View notes