Night sweats - explicit
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Tim was not having a good night. He was tossing and turning and he needed sleep.
But every time he closed his eyes, the fantasies would start - his mind creating wilder and more outlandish and wickedly erotic fantasies.
Fantasies that did not star his Swedish bikini model girlfriend - who was hot for him, but the sex was impersonal and not satisfying in the least. He felt nothing when fucking Ashley - they fucked. He never made love to her. She was wild and uninhibited and adventurous in bed, but he was not connected to her at all. He wasn’t even sure he liked her any more. He didn’t desire her, he wasn’t turned on by her, and he certainly didn’t crave her.
During the day, he could mostly keep his desires in check, settling for stolen glances at the way sunshine filtered through his one desires’ hair, or watching her fingers brush her exposed clavicle when she scratched a bug bite, or the way she pouted her lips when making a point. He thinks he’s blacked out once or twice when he’s accidentally skimmed her skin with his finger tips and felt all his nerves go on high alert when she casually touches him.
Tonight as his defenses fall, the fantasy is different… he hears her voice whispering over and over, “ do you want me like I want you? Do you crave me like I crave you? Will you touch me like I touch you? Will you taste me like I taste you?”
As he hovers between sleep and consciousness where everything feels possible and real. He’s bound to the bed in some way, he cannot move his arms - but his hips and legs are free… of course he’s naked… there is little light…. candles most likely and sandalwood mixed with jasmine wafting on the air. He knows she’s nearby, but can’t see her… then he feels a very light caress on his inner thigh and then another long caress on the other inner thigh, back and forth between the two. Three caresses in and he’s hard as a rock and throbbing… he starts murmuring her name… but he has no concept of anything but two fingers barely touching him…he imagines her hanging upside down like a ninja above him.. and she lower herself to take all of him deep inside her mouth and throat.. she somehow moves up and down him licking and humming. So all he feels is her mouth encircling him, her wet tongue swirling unknown patterns on him, her saliva dripping down him. His body starts spasming from the imagined sensations… and then in his mind’s eye- she lets down her hair just enough so it grazes his midsection and upper thighs and she starts to slowly spin. She’s spinning and licking and touching and sucking and her hair is teasing him… do you crave me like I crave you? Will you touch me like I touch you?
Tim’s losing his mind and his body starts shaking and his hips are thrusting up into his imagination of her mouth and throat taking all of him in and loving it.. and before he starts coming, the images change..
He suddenly finds himself on that horrible double date - and he’s remembering the first time he blacked out from her touch…. She accidentally dropped something in his lap and casually reached down to grab it and grazed her fingers along his cock through his pants…His senses had gone into overdrive… and while he appears to be nodding along to some conversation he’s imagining her under the table, stroking his thighs and sucking him off - moaning his name… cupping and squeezing his base that while he’s so deliriously lost in the sensation of her, he falls off the chair and violently bucks and explodes coming in her mouth, screaming her name….
He jolts awake covered in sweat, his sheets undone and tangled between his legs, his muscles are still clenching and releasing and his body is still spasming, cum still spurting out of him as his hips thrust again and again…..
And all he can think while gasping for air is ………. LUCY.
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Thank goodness… that’s been rattling around in my brain for a month…
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Prompt 237
“Wait, so, Captain Marvel is like, three?”
Said hero pauses as he nearly passes by a cracked door, creeping slightly closer despite it being more than a little rude to eavesdrop. All of the gods were insistent, which he could say no to, but Billy was giving him the equivalent of puppy eyes, which they all knew he was weak to.
He? They? Marvel was technically an amalgamation of the past champions, currently split between six beings, though nowhere near equally. Billy was and would be the chosen champion- pure of heart to be able to resist the Gods’ bullshit- but he had chosen a team himself, which honestly Marvel approved.
“What the fuck do you mean by that, Hal?”
He didn’t move from the corner, head tilting slightly at Green Lantern’s and Green Arrow’s words. Billy, not physically there, not really, wiggled down from his shoulder, passing through the wall like a ghost invisible to all but him.
Well, him and the Gods, but Mercury’s words were muffled, nearly silenced by Solomon at the moment, so he was probably attempting to wax poetic about Flash again in a way that little ears shouldn’t hear.
“I mean, Marvel mentioned he was created three years ago, right?”
Ah. Marvel had meant that the newest Champion had been chosen, but well, he supposed that the team didn’t have all the information, as Solomon pointed out. And he was pretty sure that Billy was mostly in control at that point- it could get confusing with the hive-mind but not-hive-mind. It was hard to explain to those not apart of it.
But they had to go now, Fawcett called, and it wasn’t like Billy could leave it for long. Chances were nothing would come from this anyway.
…
Why does this feel like the intervention videos Billy showed them all.
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Hellooo! I'm not sure if the prompts are still open, but if so, maybe #61 for Vincent? 🙈
“Say it.”
As Vincent falls onto the bed, his eyes widen in surprise, his body tensing for a moment before relinquishing control to you.
“Say it,” you breathe, your voice husky with desire, your eyes simmering with intent. This time, you’ve decided to take charge, assert your desires, and make him beg for your touch. It’s a departure from your usually shy and submissive nature, but the power that surges through your veins at this moment is intoxicating.
You straddle him, your thighs spreading on either side of his hips, and hold his gaze with unwavering confidence. Leaning closer, your lips hovering just above his, you tease him, testing his limits. “Beg for it, Vincent. Tell me how much you want me.”
His breathing quickens, his lips parting to speak, but you can see the struggle within him. Pride and vulnerability wage war on his face, tugging at his desire and restraint. His eyes, filled with yearning, search yours for a moment before he finally succumbs to the delicious temptation.
“Please,” he rasps, his voice thick with need. “I want to feel your touch, to taste your lips. I crave you like nothing else.”
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