Dieter Bravo x F!Reader
Word Count: 7.7k
Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) brief mentions of drugs and drug use, alcohol consumption, flirty Dieter, lost puppy Dieter (I’m feral), slightly sub Dieter, slightly dom reader, dirty talk, size kink, tiny voice kink, praise kink (Dieter likes it, I just know my baby does), hair pulling (baby boy receiving), unprotected vaginal sex.
A/N: holy shit I have been WAITING to write a Dieter fic oh my godddd babbyyyyy!!!!!!!
This one-shot takes place at the end of the movie “The Bubble”, when the Cliff Beasts 6 cast is walking the red carpet. In this fic, Dieter does not end up with Anika, you’re more like his Anika (;
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The flashing lights, the loud cheers, the vibrant colors and booming microphones, all of it incredibly overwhelming but in the very best of ways. And although there are cameras and co-stars and actors everywhere, you can’t help but feel like the center of attention. You weren’t even in the movie, just part of the production, a lead designer for the production, actually. Regardless, you still shined when you walked down that carpet.
You chose a trumpet evening dress for the occasion, which was floor length and cinched around your waistline to accentuate your hips. The attire was made of silk and sparkling beads which followed the outline of its sweetheart neckline. A high slit followed your left leg all the way up to your hip, and both of your short sleeves hung off your shoulders. It was by far the most expensive dress you owned, and with your success as part of the “Cliff Beasts 6” production team, you have high hopes to buy more in the near future. And while you admire your dress and the surrounding scenery, you hear your name called through the crowd.
“We have a few questions for you and the designs you put together for Cliff Beasts 6!”
With a bright smile on your face, you stride over to the interviewer, more than happy to give your expertise and insight. And while on your way over to them, only a mere few steps, you catch a glimpse of him in your peripheral.
He’s like a lost puppy, following you with his eyes as if he can’t even help it. They fixate on you, those deeply brown eyes, watching you walk across the carpet. It makes you smile a little brighter, makes your confidence bloom a little bigger, knowing that you have his attention without even trying. So, before reaching the interviewer, you turn your head to the left, flashing him a smile and a quick wink.
Inside, Dieter burns with a flustered sense of embarrassment. Not only was he just caught staring at you, but… you winked, too? Was that friendly? Was it flirty? The beat steadily thumping in his chest is now picking up its previously steady pace, a feeling of heat suddenly washing over him. With a quick lick of his lower lip, he turns away, trying to find something else – anything else, to distract him.
But after two shots and a few puffs from his co-star’s joint, he still can’t bring himself to take his eyes off of you. And people notice, too, how could they not? He’s had a thing for you ever since the second night on set. He’d be roaming around looking for anyone as desperate as him for a few minutes in bed. He hadn’t met you before then, laying his eyes on you as he barged into the dining hall. You shocked him, mesmerized him, and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to ask you to join him in his bed. Rejection wasn’t something that phased him, not in the slightest, but the abrupt pang of worry he felt at the possibility of receiving your rejection suddenly and unwelcomingly filled his veins on that second night.
On the third night, he saw you on the set, realizing your role as production designer. And on that third night, he worked up the courage to find you, but found no luck. On the fourth night though, it was like he struck gold, finding you on a spiral staircase toward the back of the hotel. You’d been smoking a blunt, sitting by yourself and pondering life. Each day that passed slowly became more and more difficult, what with the pompous actors and incredibly ridiculous directors, and you needed some sense of reprieve. And somehow, Dieter ended up joining you. You shared what was left of the joint you’d rolled and ended up talking about life, your conversation eventually growing into something much deeper than originally intended. And since then, you considered yourselves friends.
“Oh!” Dieter slightly chokes, jumping back and moving his hand up to wipe his mouth. “H – hey, uh… hey.”
He turns to look at you, now seeing your amused expression as you raise a single brow high above your smirk.
“You okay?” you ask, sliding into the empty seat beside him at the bar.
“Yeah,” he replies with a rough sigh and a quick smile. He gives you a nod, moving to lean his arm against the countertop. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He’s trying to play it off but god damn, he could not be more flustered. That first conversation between the two of you got him hooked – you had so much in common. Of course, you were beautiful beyond reason, but you had so much more to offer than just that. It was your sense of humor, the way you viewed the world and the way you could make him laugh, really laugh. You had an elegant air about you, and because of this, your more humorous side truly shocked him. But in the best way he could’ve ever known.
“How’re you doing?” you ask with a smile before turning your attention to the man behind the counter. You order yourself a drink, something that Dieter memorizes.
“Good! It’s been… eventful.”
“I know, crazy busy.” You reply, thanking the bartender as he hands you your drink. “I’m surprised I’ve been asked to do so many interviews. I’m not even one of the actors.” You give a flustered laugh, a small sense of warmth creeping into your cheeks. This night has been more than you’d even hoped for.
“Of course they want to interview you.”
His comment makes you look up, tilting your head in wonder.
“Your designs are beautiful, they’re brilliant.” He shrugs, speaking casually even though he’s burning up inside.
Jesus Christ, he’s trying not to make it obvious, but the way that dress hugs your body is filling his own with need. The color looks perfect on you, and the shape of the overall piece compliments you in the very best of ways. He can also see more cleavage on you than he’s ever seen before. He knew you had more to show than those turtle-neck shirts had to offer.
“Hm,” you sigh, giving him a once-over as he briefly glances away. “Thanks, hun.”
That nickname makes his head shoot to the side, now looking right back at you. The tilt of your head is still there, but it’s not giving the air of innocent wonder that it did before. This time, it is flirty, your smirk and the slight nibble on the corner of your lip finally doing him in.
The suit Dieter is currently dressed in, well… it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever seen him in. And although you’ve only known him for a few months, you literally saw him every day for more than sixty days, and he never wore anything close to this. His beard is dark and still as scruffy as ever, his hair thick and pulled upwards in a way that suits him.
As your mind is running circles about the man in front of you, a thought wiggles its way in. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the mark of your lipstick left on your glass.
“Would you mind keeping an eye on this for me?” you ask, holding your drink out to him. “Just for a sec.”
“Sure,” he mumbles, looking down at the liquor as he takes your glass. His gaze then flickers up, his jaw nearly dropping, though he quickly catches it.
Your hands rise to your sweetheart neckline, tugging the middle of it down just a tad and exposing more of your chest to him. In one slow motion, you slide out your tube of lipstick. It’s a nude shade, a color that goes perfectly with that of your dress. But what you don’t realize is part of your bandeau bra became noticeable to him when you swiped your small piece of makeup out, and he’s doing his best not to fucking drool. He can’t help himself – he’s staring directly at your chest, openly, helplessly, shamelessly. And when you see him, your smirk only grows wider.
“Like what you see, handsome?”
“Hm?” he asks, raising his brows as he returns his eyeline to your own.
Both Dieter’s top and bottom lips fold inward, trying to appear innocent although he knows he was caught in the act.
“Hm…” you hum playfully before him, gently taking your drink back into your own hand before you stand.
“You know,” you say to him, glancing down before looking back up. Even in heels, he’s taller than you. Fuck. “I heard you asking around a few times, during the production, for people to go back to your room with you. And, for some reason, I’m starting to wonder what it looks like inside…”
Dieter swallows, pushing down his nerves. “Probably, I mean, most of them are the same. It’s a hotel, I mean, that’s usually how it goes.” He shrugs, glancing at his feet as he pushes his sunglasses further up on the bridge of his nose.
Does… does he not understand what you’re saying? Whatever. Just… try again.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But you never know, sometimes they put stars in more lavish suites. I bet it’s nicer than mine…”
“Um, uh, yeah. Maybe.” He sighs out, looking back up to your gorgeously mesmerizing face, and taking his time as he does it.
Dieter’s dark chocolate orbs trail up your figure, still completely oblivious to the hints you’re putting out. He doesn’t think you’d want him; not like that. Not in general, to be honest.
“I’d like to see it.” you’re trying to be more and more obvious with this, but it’s almost like he’s refusing to accept it.
“Um, r – really?” he asks, his voice slightly softer as it cracks a bit. No way, there’s no fucking way she’s interested in me.
“Mm-hm,” you nod with a smile, watching his lips reunite as he swallows. “Do you want to come with me?”
Oh my fucking god. Cum? Cum with her? She wants me to cum with her?
In his slightly buzzed state, Dieter’s center sends a shockingly powerful pound through his system, slightly misinterpreting your words. But when he finally realizes it’s his heartbeat, it nearly drops to his stomach when he witnesses your next move.
“Dieter,” you coo to him, taking the hand twice as big as yours from hanging by his side, now guiding it to the slit of your dress. Gently, you place his palm onto your skin, and it makes him gasp. He can feel how soft you are, and you can feel how warm he is. “Do you want me in your room? In your bed… with you?”
“I… fuck.” He breathes out, his eyes not once leaving your own. Then, he nods. All he can do is nod.
“Baby,” you then say, keeping your hand over his and moving to hold your other out, palm-side up. “Give me your key card.”
Again, he gulps, reaching into his back pocket with his free hand and retrieving the card for you. He places it in your palm, again, without breaking your eye contact.
“Good,” is the next word that slips softly from your lips. “Now,” you whisper, taking his hand in yours as you stand. “Follow me.”
Like the soft baby Dieter Bravo truly is, he trails behind you, allowing you to lead him out of the ballroom where the carpet is set, and down the hall to the elevators that lead to your rooms. You press the button carefully, glancing over at him while still holding his hand. And when he feels your gaze, he looks back down at you, a look of pleasant surprise still on his face. All you do is chuckle lightly, hearing the soft ding and now moving to step inside.
Once inside, you turn to face him, sliding his keycard into your bra close to where your lipstick is. He watches with intent, completely gawking at the small show you’re once again giving him. When it’s fixed into your clothes, you look up at him, reaching out and placing both of your palms on his chest.
“Dieter…” you begin, trailing a finger down the center of his upper torso. “You look so good tonight, baby.”
Baby. You’ve never called him baby before. It makes his mouth fall open. And you take advantage of that, running your pointer finger over his incredibly soft bottom lip, the simple touch making him quiver inside.
“So handsome… I like seeing you in a suit.”
“Really?” he asks, his voice gruff as he stares down at you.
With a sure smile, your hands rise, lifting to hold either side of his face while you lean into him. Your eyes fixate on his mouth, his lips still parted in awe. You give him a small nod, slowly rising to meet him.
Before he can even fully register it, his body takes over, both of Dieter’s strong hands falling to your hips and squeezing when your lips meet. The firmness of his hold makes you moan, your hands moving to the back of his neck to press him into you. But you don’t really have to do that much, because in a few steps, he’s backing you against the elevator wall.
“Fuck,” he mumbles against you, his lips meeting yours repeatedly and fervently.
Without even looking, you guide his hand down to the slit of your dress again, returning his warm skin to where you had placed it all but ten minutes ago. Only this time, he acts of his own accord, rising higher when your much smaller hand leaves. It’s delicate and slow, almost experimental. He smiles when you gasp quietly into the kiss, feeling Dieter’s thicker digits trace the outline of your panties as they rest snug on your hip. Almost naturally, you roll your hips forward, forcing a small sigh from his lips. He doesn’t explore any further though; he isn’t sure how far you’re willing to go. For all he knows, you could just want to makeout with him and go. But hey, he’ll take it.
“Oh,” your mouth opens fully this time as you gasp before him, feeling his hips rub firmly against you. And when he does it, you can hear him groan.
“Hm…” you giggle quietly. “I knew I’d like that.”
“Hm?” he mumbles against you, feeling your lips curl while pressing against his.
Your right hand floats to the back of his neck, urging him down to yours so you can speak. Happily, he complies, breathlessly following your cues and attaching his lips to your skin. You expect him to be gentle like he has been so far, but his teeth immediately scrape across your throat, his lips already sucking marks onto your skin. He’s pressing himself against you, rolling his body over yours as much as you’ll allow him to, for as long as you’ll allow him to.
You sigh happily when you feel the damp heat of his tongue, his small whimpers and moans. All these pretty noises, and you haven’t even truly touched him yet. Did no one go back to his room with him? Has he not had sex in so long? Or are his reactions purely due to the fact that this is happening with you?
“I knew I’d like the sound of it,” you whisper to him, continuing to hold the back of his neck, your other hand falling to his hip and curling around to land on his ass. “Knew I’d like how you sound when you moan.”
Before Dieter can respond, the doors open off to the side, prompting him to pull back from you. His glasses still on, he looks to the doors, then down at you, releasing you from his hold as you do the same. With an excited sigh, you smile, taking his hand once again as you lead him out of the lift and into the hall. And, once again, like a puppy on a leash, he follows your lead. When you took his keycard, a quick glance told you the number of his room. And it happens to only be a few doors down from yours.
“Why don’t you open the door, baby?” you ask, turning to him once you’re in front of his room.
Your palms return to Dieter’s broad chest, watching his lips come together with another nervous gulp. Blatantly, his eyes drop to your chest.
“You, um…” he closes his mouth while breathing out through his nose, his fingers flexing at his sides. “You have it.”
“I know,” you nod, staring at his gorgeous face while he continues eyeing your breasts. “Don’t you want to go inside?”
Dieter nods, completely fixated on the flesh spilling over the neckline of your dress. Hesitantly, he reaches up, but then he stops, taking a glance backward and around him.
“Are, are you sure? Here?”
“Yes, Dieter.” You coo to him, grabbing both of his hands and placing them directly on your breasts. “Touch me.”
A helpless breath chokes its way out of his throat as his fingers curl ever so slightly around your curves. His jaw drops, those smooth and pouty lips only inches from your own. Those same digits creep up to the hem of your dress, dipping just below your neckline to grab his room’s keycard. You smirk as he does it, doing your best to breathe steadily as you feel his bare fingers on your skin, on your chest. He pulls the metallic card out, doing so languidly and holding it with both hands when he’s fully removed it from the fabric.
He looks so cute, standing there like a lost puppy. His chest shakes as he breathes in, reminiscing in the feeling of your smooth tits as he dragged his digits across your skin.
“Oh,” you sigh, reaching up to place your palm on his cheek and stroke him softly. “You’re such a baby, Dieter. Do you want me to take care of you… baby?”
Quicker than the last few times, he nods, watching as you guide his hand up to slide the card through the slit above the doorknob, now unlocking the room’s entrance for you.
Keeping your eyes on his, you walk through the door, Dieter following closely behind you. Simultaneously, you tap the door shut with your feet while the rest of your body returns to him. He welcomes you more openly this time, still surprised by your advances but now choosing to take it and fucking run with it.
“Dee,” you breathe out, your fingers running up the sides of his head through his hair. It’s a small nickname, almost small enough to be insignificant. But no one else calls him that, he’s never had anyone call him that. It’s simple and cute, and from the first time you said it, the single syllable makes him melt into a puddle at your shoes.
More than aware of his slightly intoxicated state, you decide to be up front with him. Thinking back to the words you so often heard him speak, do you want to have sex with me?, you decide to reciprocate that growing need.
“I want to have sex with you.”
“Oh… god,” he breathes out, his hands returning to your hips and backing you against the nearest wall. “Finally.”
His mouth isn’t simply connecting with yours or even moving with yours, it’s now molding to yours. The two of you move in unison, reciprocating the other’s internal emotions and needs. And with those very needs in mind, Dieter’s hands move to your lower back, sliding down with firm pressure as he now cups your ass.
“Mm,” he expresses, the vocalization something between a moan and a grunt. “This is soft.”
“My dress?” you ask, turning your head and watching his mouth slide along your jaw and down your neck.
“Mhm,” Dieter mumbles against you, the small vibrations of it mixing with the scratch of his stubble, both sensations intertwining as they rumble across your skin. “You look good in it too; it fits you so good…”
“You think so, baby?”
“Yeah,” he answers gruffly, moving his head against you. “I do, I think you look fucking gorgeous in it.”
And just like that, he’s filling your ears with praise. The words tingle up your spine and spread to every nerve ending in your body, filling you with a sense of bliss and satisfaction. It’s like something unleashes in him, or rather, something breaks. His restraint snapping in half now that you’ve revealed your feelings and intentions to him. He’s going on about how sweet you smell, how good your body feels under his hands, how soft your skin is and how eloquently you can speak.
“Hearing you speak to all those people tonight… baby, I liked it. I liked it a lot, I like you a lot.”
You giggle at his somewhat boyish admission but feel an incredible sense of joy bloom inside when he returns the affectionate nickname. Something he hasn’t called you before, either.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, whispering into your ear.
“Love how small you are.” he tells you, hands squeezing both your hips.
“I want you… really want you.” he mumbles, nuzzling against your throat.
And because of his loving words, that smile he apparently loves so much reveals its bright shine. Dieter continues kissing your neck as he says it, mumbling over your skin while he presses his body into you, not allowing you to move away from the wall. Not that you want to – you’re holding onto him just as much as he is to you. Your hands roam his glorious body, roam the muscles you’d wanted to touch for so long, running up his biceps, tracing his shoulders, curling around his neck. Eventually, as his kisses grow more fervent, your right leg slides up, hooking around his hip and encouraging him to continue the motion of his hips.
“Dieter,” you’re still whispering, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s simply because of the atmosphere surrounding you, the night being late and the room lit by the simple hue of the only lamp on his nightstand. “Can you take this off for me? Please?” you ask him, hands gently shoving off his outer jacket.
Immediately, he does it, arms looping around his back to pull at the cuffs before completely shucking it off. You’d assumed, due to the intricate patterns and expensive fabric of the garment, that he’d hang it up. But no, he tosses it right on the ground. Then you figure, he probably has a million others just like it, that one likely isn’t even that special to him. And while Dieter keeps kissing your skin, your head lolls to the side, following the drop of his jacket and finally taking in the state of his room.
“You’re messy.” you giggle, eyeing the clutter scattered on the floor, his bed, desk, and couch.
There are clothes everywhere, his bed unmade and with two empty liquor bottles laying on top of the ruffled sheets. There are papers thrown throughout the room, too, all over his desk and couch with some even on the ground; likely scripts he’d been memorizing. There are also trays of drugs on his couch, joints and powders laid out on small, mirrored plates. Some sit on his coffee table, one on his desk. Huh, he really must’ve been partying it up in here.
“I’m sorry.” he tells you genuinely. Dieter lifts his head, those puppy dog eyes staring down at you as he tries to catch his breath. “If I knew you were coming I would’ve cleaned.”
“Really?” you ask, eyes unwavering from his. Suddenly, he looks so sad.
“Yeah,” he nods, speaking quietly.
“Baby,” you pout, both hands grabbing his face. “You’re so freaking cute.”
Dieter’s lips smoosh against yours as you bring him in; he didn’t expect this reaction from you at all. He expected you to be turned off by the state of his room, maybe even a little grossed out. And to be honest, he didn’t even really think about it until you said something about it. But he’s glad you don’t seem to care, because he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if his stupid clutter was what got in the way of you finally connecting with him tonight.
“I really like you.” he grumbles against your lips, his brows folding up in the center and a small whine slipping past his lips. He makes the noise when he feels your hand slide down, fingers hooking gently over the edge of his belt.
“I know, baby.” you coo to him, thumbs stroking the scruff along his cheeks. “I like you, too. Come over here with me.”
Dieter lifts his body weight from you, eyes trained on your beautiful frame as you move. Once again, you grab his hand, leading him toward his bed.
“I, um…” he stutters, letting go of your hand to swipe some of the mess off of his bed. At least you know the maids have changed the sheets recently.
He reaches out, setting the empty bottles on his nightstand and pulling the covers up over the top of his bed. Nervously, he swipes his hands down the fronts of his legs.
“I uh, I don’t have people in here very often.”
“Do you want me in here more often?” you ask in return, smirking up at him.
At this, his head snaps to the side, looking down at you.
“Yeah,” he whispers, nodding.
Happy with his response, you lean in, murmuring to him, “Then lay down on the bed.”
Dieter’s eyes widen innocently at this, backing up only two steps and clumsily holding his hands out behind him. You walk forward as he moves, his upper thighs hitting the edge of the bed and prompting him to sit. He shuffles back, palms firmly on the bedspread as he watches you begin to climb on his lap.
“Oh…” he sighs out, the sound quiet and breathy.
You situate yourself on his lap, knees on either side of his hips as you settle in with your feet still hanging off the bed. You lean forward, prompting him to lay down on his back as you connect his lips with yours again. To your utter delight, Dieter’s hands decide to hesitantly roam. He moves them to your hips, sliding up along your waist until they come to rest just below your bust. You’re holding his face in both your hands, heads rolling in unison as you taste his lips with your own. And when you feel his fingers fumble along the under curve of your chest, you reach up, pulling on the hem of your neckline. With a firm tug, your breasts fully spill out, the soft flesh of them falling into his hands.
“Holy fucking shit.” he breathes out, glancing down to gawk at your naked skin.
Keeping yourself upon your left hand, your other reaches down, finding his and guiding him to cup your chest once again. He whimpers, seeing and feeling your bare skin. Dieter’s palms are soft, but his fingers feel rough, his thumbs swiping gently over your hardened nipples and offering the slightest stimulation. Your lips curl against his, eyes dipping down to his parted lips. Gently, you lean forward, grabbing and tugging that pouty lower lip between your teeth. He moans quietly through his open mouth, eyes finding yours once again. Your small gasp makes him return the small sound, feeling him twitch between your legs.
Inside, his heart is racing, pulse pounding in his ears with blood rushing to heat his skin. He’s painfully hard, feeling himself throb every time you sway your hips against him. And you’ve felt him since the moment you sat on him, too. Honestly, you have little to no doubt he’s been like this since you put his hand on your thigh downstairs at the bar.
“Oh my god,” his gruff voice says, hands now moving to press his fingers firmly into your soft skin. He finally begins to fondle you in the way you’ve wordlessly requested, his hands massaging over your curves and grabbing you with fervor. The amount of passion and pressure he applies grows with each passing second, your head rolling to the side as you sigh.
“Baby, that feels so good.” your head snaps up quickly though, feeling his thumb and forefinger pinch you gently. “I like that.”
At this, he does it again, staring up into your eyes as he pinches you even harder, watching your jaw drop for him. He feels so firm and strong and steady beneath you, his mouth returning to yours due to the tug you give on his hair. And he likes the feeling of that, he wants more of that.
“I like that,” he tells you, hoping you’ll remember. “Want you to do that again.”
He’s speaking against your lips, but you don’t answer. Easily, you slide your tongue inside his mouth, feeling his moan as it floats from his lips. Your tongues meet tenderly, the wet muscles sliding across one another as you give his hair another harsh pull. His groan echoes into your throat, his hands suddenly leaving you as he starts to haphazardly fumble with his belt.
“Ugh,” he suddenly groans, eyes snapping up to yours as your fingers curl sharply into his hair.
“You like when I pull on your hair?” you ask, smirking above him.
You’ve never been with a man who liked for his hair to be pulled in bed, and for some reason, you’re finding it incredibly hot. It fits him, strangely enough, finding pleasure in being handled this way.
“Uh-huh,” he grunts, lazily pulling himself out as he nods his head. “Can I put it inside you?” he asks in the same breath, head hazy with lust to the point where he doesn’t even realize he’s just said it. He thought it, that’s for damn sure, and his buzzed body decided it might as well just come out.
“Yeah…” comes your gentle whine, one of your hands reaching between the two of you to cover his.
Your fingers wrap around his own, your legs adjusting on either side of him while getting ready to lower yourself down. You figure, if you won’t get the chance to see him tonight, you want to at least feel him before he’s inside. And what you feel is not at all a surprise.
You’d be embarrassed to admit it, but you’ve snuck more than a couple glances at Dieter’s crotch. When he wore those sweatpants and loose pj pants, they left little to the imagination. And when he walked around in his boxers, dancing and making TikToks in them, that left almost nothing to the imagination. He felt thick, firm and full. It makes your insides tingle, your hips quivering slightly as you release a shaky breath, a small wetness forming between your legs.
“Do you want, a… uh…” he’s holding his head up, staring down as you slide your panties to the side. The sight of your sex makes him drool; he never thought he’d get to see that.
Subconsciously, his hands slide up your outer thighs, fingers just barely sliding over your backside. His one hand has now left yours, leaving yours to wrap tighter around his girth. It’s not a harsh grip, but is much firmer than before, and you can see the veins in his neck protrude when you do it.
“Do you want a condom?” he finally gets out, muttering beneath you.
“I don’t if you don’t.” comes your cooed response, glancing back up at him.
Dieter instantly shakes his head, moving it quickly side to side as he continues to stare. “I don’t want one.” he sputters out, knowing it’ll feel ethereal being inside you without a barrier in between. But again, even if you wanted one, he’d take whatever he could get.
The slight rub of him over your sensitive lips makes you grin, timidly licking your top lip. He watches with intent as you begin to move, lowering yourself down onto him. And when his head slides in, his grip on your hips tightens.
“Dieter…” you breathe out, both your palms finding their place on his chest once you’re halfway down.
It’s a slow drag, and when you finally sink down onto him, he can’t help but whine. And at first, you contemplate if he’ll fit without proper foreplay.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans languidly, gutturally, feeling your hips begin to move.
Dieter’s head falls back, mouth dropping open with his eyes drifting closed. Both of your hands slide over his still-clothed chest, your dress falling over the sides of his hips and thighs as you experiment with him. At first, your pace is soft, slow, so gentle and delicate that his hands nearly go limp to fall at his side. His fingers slide down, landing on the tops of your thighs as you move back and forth over him, feeling the full thickness of him sliding in and out. You only let him slip about halfway out before you’re sinking back down again, steadying your breaths as you find your stride.
He already feels light-headed and dizzy, the fact that he has you on top of his body and currently riding him almost too much for his tipsy mind. The thought of it alone was enough to get himself off in his hand on a multitude of nights. But now that it’s actually happening, he’s wondering if he’ll last long.
“Dee,” you breath out, your voice slightly scratchy and you moan.
Dieter’s warm eyes open, his head staying on the bed as he looks up at you. You’re moving a bit faster now, starting to lift and lower yourself inside of rolling back and forth.
“You feel so good.” your eyes are closed, but he wishes they weren’t. He wants to see you, wants you to see him. He’s not sure what this is to you, but this isn’t just about sex for him.
“Really?” comes his whine of a response, genuinely surprised to hear you say that. He didn’t often find himself in bed with vocal women.
His brows fold up in the middle, that innocent look that you love all too much once again forming on his face. He’s staring up at you, breathless beneath your heavenly body. And when you do hear his response, hear his ragged breaths and the rapid movement of his chest, you look down.
“Baby boy,” you sigh, smiling as you continue riding him. You reach out, your hand cupping his face, thumb falling to stroke his lower lip. “You don’t know how adorably sexy you are, do you?”
In his peripheral vision, he can see your naked skin, your chest swaying along with the rhythm of your hips. And he wants to look, wants to feel, but he only sees you. You’re all he ever sees. And in his ramble of drunken, lovey thoughts, he just nods. It’s like that’s all he can do.
“You’re so fucking sexy, baby.” you lean down quickly with your sighed-out words, hands finding either side of his face. Your fingers pet and scratch his scruff, your nose just barely brushing over his. “So fucking cute, and sweet, too.”
Dieter’s lips remain parted, head swirling with bliss. He’s never had someone compliment him so much in bed, he’s also never been with a woman who took the lead like this. Usually, he was expected to be the one to decide how things would go, but honestly, it’s so nice that he doesn’t have to for once. Maybe he won’t have to from now on; maybe this could be a regular occurrence with you…
Closing the tiniest of gaps between the two of you, Dieter lifts his chin, connecting your lips. Your one hand stays on his face, your other palm planting itself beside his head. Both of his hands return to your hips, his kiss laced with passion as he urges you to continue to bounce on him.
Grazing the curves of your breast are the tips of his fingers and the turns of his knuckles, his rough sin sliding along your much softer outer layer. When he feels your tits bounce in his hands, he cups you much firmer before squeezing you with fervor. The sudden pressure makes you gasp and whine into his mouth, feeling a smile curl on his relentless lips.
“Tell me what you like.” he then asks, his mesmerizing voice low and rough. One of his hands slides down to your side, curving around to your lower back. There, he grips your lower curves in hand, moving with your motions and applying even more pressure when you come back down. At this pace, you’re slapping your hips down onto him, feeling him touch you in all the right places.
“Baby,” you begin, huffing out your breaths against his lips.
“Tell me,” he repeats before you can say any more. “Tell me so I can do this right.”
Your heart beats with affection for him, hearing his soft-spoken words as you experience his genuine care. You wonder if you should shove this away, or embrace it. Do you think you’ll ever be able to do this with him again?
“I like,” tentatively, you lick your lower lip, resting your forehead on his. “I like when I can feel your body, when I can feel you move.”
“Like this?” he asks, he’s trained on you as his hands move.
Both return to your hips, gripping you firmly as he suddenly rolls his hips. With force, he thrusts upward in the same motion that you come down, making the arm supporting you buckle beside him. Your hand slides forward on the bed, now resting on your forearm as you become much closer to him.
“Yes,” you cry out in response, feeling the continuous push of his hips.
“What, oh…” he sighs out, intending to ask you more but becoming breathless when he feels your lips.
You’d dropped your head beside his, your mouth finding his ear as your tongue flicks the small piece of jewelry on his left lobe. You then kiss it, nipping at it gently before you move down to suck on his skin.
“Mm,” he grunts out in response, eyes pinching shut with one hand shooting up. He holds the back of your head, just barely pressing you further into the crook of his neck. He loves feeling your mouth on his neck, loves feeling your mouth suck on his skin and your tongue lick the discolorations before you go on to bless him with more.
“What else, baby? How can I make you cum on me?”
Jesus Christ, you could listen to his voice for hours. You may or may not have binged his previous movies while sitting in quarantine for that very reason. It was low and raspy, yet sweet and kind; to you, Dieter was unique in so many ways. And the fact that he’s asking what you like and how to make you cum also makes him stand out when considering your prior sexual partners. You’ve never had anyone ask you that.
“Mm, Dieter…” is all you manage to mutter out, and it honestly feels pathetic.
The hand you once had on the bed slides to the side of his neck, your body fully laying over his own while still continuing to move in unison.
“Can I see more?” he asks you, turning his head to the side to kiss you. “Can I please see more of you?”
At his request, you lean back up, sitting back on him as your hands move to the back of your dress. As soon as you get the zipper down, you lift it upwards and off your body, tossing it next to you on the bed. And while you’re at it, you also take off the bandea you had on, too. All you’re left in are your thin panties, still pulled to the side, while he’s still nearly completely dressed.
“Can I see more of you?” you ask him, running your hands up his front as you slow down and catch your breath.
You can feel him throb inside you, and in return, he feels the tight pulse of your walls around him. He’s almost glad you decided to slow down to catch your breath, because honestly, he needs a minute to gather his bearings. Fuck, he can’t believe his night is going like this.
Again, he just nods, jaw open like a fucking guppy as he watches you start to undo his buttons. Your small fingers undo the front of his dress shirt, a smirk on your face as your hips continue to roll over his. He stutters slightly when you give him an extra sway of your hips, feeling your fingers finally make contact with his skin. You open his shirt, and when you do, he leans up to fully take it off. When he does so, you release a quick breath, both hands wrapping around his shoulder and neck. He hadn’t exactly intended to be in this position but now that he finally is, he feels something change inside him. His hands fall to your back, the two of you staring into the other’s eyes.
Within seconds, Dieter’s mouth crashes to yours, his hands holding you steady against him as he completely changes your position. He turns to the side, laying you on your back while he now stands next to the bed. He slides out about halfway during the process of this, his hips immediately pushing himself back inside once your back hits the bed.
“Dieter,” you moan, your fingernails scraping down his shoulders and back.
Immediately, he face finds your neck, his body rolling into yours as he fucks himself into you. Both of your legs wrap around his waist, feeling his chest and stomach rest on you with his hands looped snugly around your back. He couldn’t be closer to you, and yet he wants to be.
“Jesus, fuck…” he groans out, the vibrations of the sound and the heat of his breaths felt through your neck. “Tell me,” he repeats again, fully begging because now that you’re in this new position, he knows he won’t last. “Tell me how to make you cum. What’s it take, baby? I want you to cum.”
Dieter’s hips ram into the space between your legs, over and over and at a pace much quicker than yours. He’s kissing along your neck and jaw, the sloppy drag of his lips and tongue making your skin wet. Abruptly, he nudges your head to the side with his nose, giving himself better access to your throat. Fiercely, you cling to him, your legs tightening whenever he pulls away so you can bring him back in. The firm plunge of him inside you makes your eyes roll back, makes you shriek and moan.
“Like this,” you finally tell him, his cock now driving into the very spot that makes your limbs shake. “Like, like this…”
“Can I… please? W - where?” He’s stuttering against you, his restrain crumbling to absolutely nothing once he hears your words. If he makes you cum, he’ll be the happiest man alive.
“Baby, wherev-ver, wherever you want.” it’s a high whimper, your nails clawing at his shoulders as you begin to feel your peak. “I’m going to… Dee…”
“Are you gonna cum?” he whispers, his quick breaths and graying whiskers tickling your ear.
He presses his lips against your ear, his brows furrowing together as he feels his muscles tighten, feels his scrotum draw up as he begins to pulse inside you.
“Please,” you beg, and you don’t know what you’re begging for, because he’s going to make you do it. “Make me.”
“I, huh-uh…” comes his forceful, blissful groan.
You hold onto him like you’ve known him your entire life, like he’s all you need, and in this very moment that is true. He shatters above you, lungs desperately trying to take in air as his hips jut against you, repeatedly forcing himself into you. The intense punch of Dieter’s tip against your small, fleshy spot makes your head spin, finally allowing you to shudder beneath him. Involuntarily, your walls tighten around him, his length now resting inside as he finally experiences his high. Dieter’s eyes close firmly as he cums, releasing himself inside.
“Yes…” you cry, one hand sliding up into his hair and pulling hard.
It only makes him groan louder, only makes his high last longer, feeling you pull his hair and pulse around him. Feeling your body writhe passionately beneath his fills his body with an incredible sense of satisfaction, of genuine happiness. He can feel the bliss buzzing in his chest, his body pinning yours down as your hips jerk underneath his.
“Baby,” he sighs, his left hand reaching up to hold the side of your face.
He turns his head, breathing out a heavy sigh while he rests above you. With the strength and composure he has left, he holds himself up just enough so he doesn’t crush you; he’s not exactly the same weight or height as you.
Gently, he kisses your cheek, then your temple, resting his forehead against the side of your own.
“Baby,” he says again, closing his eyes as he sighs. “You… you’re amazing at that.” Dieter chuckles at his own words, and you smile, too.
“Does that mean you want to do it more often?” you laugh, completely joking. You’re joking, right?
In a sarcastically truthful tone, he replies, “I’ll do that as many times as you’ll let me.”