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absurdthirst · 1 year

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The Carnal Checklist {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20k

Warnings: FWB, talk of safewords, sexual exploration, bondage, bdsm, power dynamics, sub/dom undertones, semi-public sex, sex toys, anal play, pegging, oral sex (male and female receiving) somnophilia,

Comments: Marcus Pike isn’t really a one night stand kind of guy. When his need for sex becomes unbearable, he asks you if you want to explore some things that he’s always wanted to try.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Marcus sighs, tapping his pen against his desk. He’s frustrated. Not about a case or a coworker. No, he’s horny. No other way to put it. He wants to have sex. He’s not a one night stand kind of guy though. To go out and find someone to take back home and barely remember her name. He did that back in college a few times and regretted it, wanting more than something completely meaningless. He at least wants to know how she takes her coffee in the morning. He rubs his forehead, knowing he could jerk off again but he’s sick of it. His wrist hurts and it’s laborious and boring. He wants a woman under him, pliable and soft. He thinks about what he can do to fix his dilemma when you walk past his office. He calls your name, more out of instinct than anything.

It takes a few seconds to register that your boss was calling your name. Forcing you to stop in your tracks and immediately back up, the file in your hand forgotten while you had been on your way to take it back to the file room. Norris was a stickler for making sure that the files were brought back if you needed to make a copy of something and you didn’t want to get on his bad side. Sticking your head in, you flash him a smile. Marcus PIke was gorgeous and friendly - if completely unavailable. Still, you enjoyed the atmosphere he created in the department and respected him, having grown close to him since his transfer here six months ago. “What’s up?” You ask. “Need a refill of sludge?” Nodding towards his mug, you wonder if he thought you were on your way to the break room.

He shakes his head, admiring you in your professional attire. You’re a good agent, amazing really. Competent and a team player. You don’t let your ego get in the way like so many others. You smile at him and his heart thumps a little. You’re so beautiful, way out of his league after he’s done so much to fuck up his life. Teresa left him because he was too intense and he knows most women would think the same thing. He bites his lip, knowing what he wants is out of the question but he likes your company. “No. No. I, uh, I wondered if you wanted to get a drink after work.” He asks casually, knowing he can’t voice his idea here.

It’s probably a little sad how easily and bright your smile lights up your face. “Sure!” You agree quickly, wondering if it’s more of a team thing or if Marcus just wanted to perhaps have a shoulder to lean on. He had kept the majority of his past to himself but one night he had confessed how his last relationship had ended and why he had been so eager to go undercover when he got here. “As long as you buy the first round.” You joke, pointing a finger gun at him playfully.

“Always.” He winks at you, an easy smile on his face despite the nerves twisting his stomach. You stride off after agreeing a time, and Marcus is a bundle of nerves when he meets you by the elevator to make your way to the bar down the street, a regular for the alphabet workers. “So, uh, how was work?” Marcus asks once you are both seated and have the beers he bought.

You snort playfully and pick up your beer bottle. “Well, boss….” You emphasize his title, grinning at him. “Work was great of course.” You throw in as much sarcasm as you can muster. “Johnson managed to lose the case file again and I had to go pull everything from archives to put a new one together. I swear that man eats them.”

Marcus watches you, shaking his head as he thinks of Johnson and how much he fucks up. The yearly reviews are coming up soon so he will take that into account. “I’m sorry it was a hard day.” He tells you, knowing that shit happens at work and he can only control so much. “I, um, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He says, making you frown as you look at him. You nod, waiting for him to continue. “You can absolutely say no and I don’t want you to think that I am asking you to do this because I’m your boss and you can’t say no and I - I really don’t want you to do this because you feel sorry for me.” He rambles and you shake your head.

“Marcus. What is it?” You ask, wanting him to spit it out.

He decides to just blurt it out, “I want to fuck you.”

Of all the things that Marcus could have said, you never expected that. “I, um-” You take a deep breath and chuckle for a moment, thinking that he’s joking with you, but he doesn’t laugh with you. Instead he squirms in his seat and looks uncomfortable, like he’s made a mistake. You realize he’s serious. “I- are you for real?” You ask, looking around and leaning in. “You want what exactly? Friends with benefits?” You can’t believe that you are asking that, but you need to know where this is coming from.

He bites his lip, picking up the falling apart coaster on the table to spin it around as he tries to summon some courage. “I want - I want sex.” He confesses, “I just - I’m not a one night stand kind of guy. So I guess…friends with benefits?” He shrugs, “I just - I want to be able to explore. I’ve never really done that before now. I’m-” He lowers his voice, “a little vanilla and I want someone I trust to help me explore.”

“Okay.” You nod, showing that you understand. It’s incredibly flattering that he would trust you with something like that. You know that Marcus doesn’t really talk about personal stuff. “What kind of things?” You ask, interest piqued. Someone’s vanilla was another person’s spicy.

He blushes, “I- I want to try, uh, BDSM. Both sides of it. I want to tie up and be tied up. Use my handcuffs. My exes, they never - they always said no if I mentioned anything different and I didn’t want to upset them. I want to try…” He leans closer, “I want to use toys. Both on my partner and on - on me. Like, uh, pegging.” He swears he is red as a tomato right now. “I want to try role playing too.” He lays all of his cards out on the table, wanting you to know what he wants before you take this any further.

Your brow shoots up but you don’t say anything. Just humming in contemplation as you look into his nervous face and wide brown eyes. He’s handsome, lord knows you’ve had a few errant fantasies about your boss. “I don’t see anything wrong with any of that.” You say after another mouthful of your sudsy beer. “Although, it would need to be something outside of work.” You caution, although you are sure he knows this. “I don’t want to get in trouble at the bureau.”

Marcus nods, still furiously blushing. “I wouldn’t - I would never jeopardize your position. Or mine. I just- it will purely be between us. In private. Either your house or mine.” He tells you, not wanting you to feel pressured because he’s your boss.

You nod, knowing that Marcus is a man of his word, that is something that you can trust. It’s not that relationships between agents are frowned upon, it’s just that it could lead to a shift in dynamics in the team and you didn’t want to risk that, everything was running smoothly as it was. “Alright.” You agree after another moment. “When do you want to start this?” You ask with a small smirk.

Marcus shifts, his cock twitching in delight that you aren’t slapping him, telling him to fuck off. He is desperate to cum but he also imagines making you moan his name. That makes his cock harden a little more. “Tonight?” He asks, biting his lip.

You finish your beer, setting down the bottle and looking over at the waitress as she starts walking over to the two of you to check on you. “Get the check.” You tell him, deciding that you will tease him slightly. “We’ll see how good your handcuffing technique is, Pike.”

Marcus is eager, scrambling to grab some cash from his wallet and he hands the waitress far too much in his rush to get out of this fucking bar. Once he’s paid and you’re heading outside, he wraps his arm around your waist. “Wait…who’s being cuffed? You or me?” He teases, his semi hopefully not visible to others after he adjusted himself.

You chuckle and relax at the warm weight of his hand on your waist. Soon he would be touching much more. “Whatever you want to start.” You tell him, knowing he wants to try it all. “My hard limit is fisting. That’s a hell no. Do not attempt.” You tell him. “With those thick ass fingers of yours, three is the maximum.”

Marcus takes the compliment and notes the hard limit. It’s never been something he’s been into either. “Three fingers max.” He promises, sliding his hand a little lower to rest in your hip. “I’ll let you drive to my place. Save suspicion in the morning.” He notes when you enter the garage for the Hoover building.

“Sounds like a plan.” You tell him and he walks you to your car. Before you can get in, he presses you against the side, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to - to be with me because I’m your boss.” He knows how fucked men can be to pressure their female employees and he vowed to never be remotely like those assholes.

Your cunt clenches at the way he traps you against the car. It’s not meant to be threatening but it’s kind of sexy. At least your pussy thinks so. “I’ve had plenty of x-rated thoughts about my handsome boss over the past few months.” You admit, smirking at him. “You didn’t coerce me.”

He offers you a boyish grin upon hearing you’ve had thoughts about him. He knows there are cameras around so he doesn’t do what he wants, which is to just press his lips to yours and make out like a teenager against your car. Instead, he leans closer so his breath mingles with yours. “Good. I’ll see you at my place.” You’ve been to his place lots of times for team cookouts and late nights going over files. This time is different though. Unable to stop himself, he kisses the side of your mouth before he pulls back, opening your door for you.

You have to calm your nerves on the drive over to his house, playing some music to try to keep from working yourself up. Your stomach is jumpy and excited, it’s been awhile since you’ve gotten laid and this sounds like it’s going to be fun. Toys, bondage, edging are all things you love and it was rare to find a partner who just didn’t want to fuck as quickly as possible and go to sleep. Pulling up into the spot beside him, you flash him a grin as you climb out. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Marcus chuckles, his stomach churning with nerves but he reminds himself that this is supposed to be fun. He exhales shakily and grabs his keys, guiding you to his front door before he unlocks it and disarms the alarm. “You want a drink? Beer? Wine? Whiskey? Water?” He offers several options, trying to show that he isn’t in a rush.

“Some water will be fine.” You don’t want to drink too much the first time you do this. You look around his living room, noticing that it’s neat, just like it has been every time you’ve been here. “So I guess we can talk more about what you are looking for.” You decide to shuck your jacket and hang it up, your holster and weapon locked in your glove compartment already. “Establish safe words, warning queues. That kind of thing.”

Marcus grabs you both a bottle of water, sitting down on the sofa and patting the space beside him. "Um, yeah. I just- I want to try new things with someone I trust that isn't going to reject me or make fun of me." He admits, biting his lip. "My exes...they just wanted missionary. Doggy or spooning. Rarely did a girlfriend ride me. Claimed their thighs hurt so, uh, I guess I just want a woman who wants to experiment with me that I know and trust. I'm clean by the way. I just had my medical. Can show you the results." He says, reaching for his phone.

You shake your head. “I trust you. I’m clean too. And I have an IUD if cum play is something you are into.” You inform him. “I promise I won’t make fun of anything you want to try. Even if it’s not something I like.” You don’t mind the idea of this at all. “My safe word is blueberry.” You admit with a smile. “Have you ever thought of what you would use as one?”

He reaches out to squeeze your hand in appreciation. “Safeword? I’d say ‘pancakes’ and I, uh, I wouldn’t mind cum play. I might…” He exhales shakily, blushing furiously at the fact that he’s gonna tell anyone this. “I might have a breeding kink.” He confesses, knowing that he often gets off on the thought of knocking his partner up, watching his cum drip from her and knowing there’s a small chance it took. It’s dumb, all of his partners have had birth control but the idea just turns him on.

“Okay.” You nod, wanting to put him at ease. “It’s pretty common. I have a breeding kink too, even if I’m nowhere near having kids.” You give a small laugh. “So me begging you to put a baby in me would be top tier dirty talk?” You just want to make sure you are giving him what he wants. And since this is a mutual kink, that wouldn’t be hard. Plenty of ex’s had been weirded out even when you explained you didn’t want kids right then.

His cock hardens even more at the revelation that you also have a breeding kink and aren’t laughing at him. “Jesus.” He exhales sharply, “yes. God, I think you’d make me cum right away.” He chuckles softly, wiping his hands on his pants. He wants you, God, he wants you. “So, uh, should we…” He trails off, not wanting to push you. You nod and he swallows harshly, shifting over to you and he tentatively reaches out to cup your cheek. His dark eyes meet yours for a moment until he gently moves closer until he can press his lips to yours.

The first kiss is tentative, explorative. When you don’t hesitate or push him away, he gets a little more comfortable, moving closer. Sparks sizzle in your belly and your mouth opens, inviting him in with a soft moan as your hands drift up his arms to rest on his shoulders. His tongue immediately slides inside your mouth and the kiss turns slightly needy, Marcus pressing closer and your mutual groans getting louder.

Marcus loves that he knows you. The awkward dissipates almost instantly, and he caresses your back as he slides his tongue against yours. He might be a little clumsy but honestly, he’s so fucking eager to please. He’s decided he wants to handcuff you. Show you how good a lover he can be before you decide to go further into his sexual exploration. His hands grab your ass and he shifts to lean back, bringing you with him until you are straddling him. He kisses along your jaw, allowing you a moment, “you’re so beautiful.” He coos, wanting you to know that he truly believes that. He’s always thought that.

Flattery will get him everywhere with you. You wiggling into his lap, moaning when you feel his hard cock poking against your core and start grinding down on it. Slowly moving your hips in a circle eight pattern while your fingers comb through his hair. “And you’re sexy.” You pant out breathlessly, squealing softly when he bites down gently. “Fuck, do that again.” You beg.

He does as he is told, biting down again before he soothes the skin with his tongue. His cock throbs as you grind onto him and his hands slide up to squeeze your tits through your blouse. “Can I take this off?” He asks.

“Please.” Comes your breathless reply and he untucks it from your pants before pulling it over your head to expose your sensible white bra. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Your tits encased in the white silk makes him surge forward to kiss along the swell of your breast until he takes your nipple into his mouth through the material.

You whine, loving the feeling of his hot mouth soaking the material and the scrape of his teeth against the sensitive skin. “I- you can bite.” You tell him breathlessly, your fingers curled into his hair and you push him a little closer to your breasts. “I like that.” He groans, his cock twitching and throbbing underneath you, making you grind down against it a little more. You wish you had worn a skirt today, so it could already be pushed up to your hips, but you had worn a pantsuit. Feeling the pressure of his teeth makes your body jolt in surprise and you can’t help but moan again. “Mar-Marcus.”

His hands slide up your back, unclasping your bra as he bites down on your nipple again. Reluctantly pulling back so he can drag your bra down before he tosses it aside to resume his actions. Biting down on your other nipple, his hand squeezes your free breast, unable to believe how good you already feel pressed against him. His cock throbs but he’s not in a rush. “Lemme - lemme take my shirt off.” He murmurs, pulling back so he can tug on his tie, the material suddenly suffocating.

He works on his tie while your greedy fingers already start working on his lower buttons, eager to get to his skin. You’ve often wondered how he would look and feel, during those moments of naughty thoughts. You huff, finding a soft white cotton blend t-shirt underneath his once crisp dress shirt. Tugging on the ends to try to pull them from where they are tucked into his pants. You know you don’t have to rush, but excitement has you working frantically to get him just as exposed as you are.

Marcus loves how eager you are to get to his skin, tossing the tie aside as he helps you untuck his shirts before he shrugs off the button down. “Too many damn clothes.” You tease and he chuckles, “professional attire.” Eventually, you are pulling off his t-shirt, exposing his bare chest and he feels a little self conscious. He’s not built, he is fit enough to pass all the FBI requirements but he’s never had a six pack. A fit dad bod was how Teresa described him. He just hopes you like how he looks.

Your hands caress his skin and you lean in, pressing your breasts against his chest with a soft moan. “Fuck, you’re hot.” You praise, lips pressing against his neck before you start kissing down it and along his shoulder. You have always believed that men deserve just as much praise as women do when you are intimate. It makes the entire thing better, makes you more eager to be with that person again. You love that his chest is smooth and relatively hairless, your fingers mapping his skin.

Marcus’s chest tightens at your praise and eager kisses, making him feel like the most handsome man in the world. He loves it. His hands grab your ass, grinding you onto his throbbing covered cock. “You’re so fucking hot. Always thought it.” He confesses, “wanted to fuck you.” He reaches for the button of your pants, making quick work of them before he slides his hand into your panties. It’s awkward but he manages to rub your clit.

You whimper against his collar bone, tongue sliding along the thin skin there when you feel his thumb press against your clit. Right now this is what the two of you need. An introduction to one another. Your own hand snakes down and you squeeze his thick cock through his pants and moan when he twitches against it. “Lean back, baby.” You order him softly. “I want to get your cock out.”

He leans back, chuckling softly when you curse his belt but soon enough it is being tossed across the room with a clang. You then unbutton his smart dress pants, pulling the zipper down before reaching in to grip his cock. He hisses, unable to stop himself as he realizes how damn good your hand feels, he knows he’s gonna lose his mind when your cunt grips him.

“Fuck.” You whimper when you feel the hot weight of him in your hands. He’s thick, not overly girthy, but he will stretch and fill you deliciously. Your lips find his jaw and you can’t help but nip his skin as you slowly start to stroke him. “I’ve got my boss’s dick in my hand.” You moan breathlessly. “Wonder how many roleplay scenarios we can come up with?” You tease. “Please sir, I’ll do anything for a raise.”

He moans, continuing to rub your clit. “You’ve already got a raise.” He teases, twitching in your grip. You giggle, rolling your eyes, and he chuckles before you pump him, taking his breath away. “Jesus baby.” He grunts, “want to see all of you.” He gently pushes you off of him, making you stand so he can pull your pants down.

You don’t have any issue standing naked in front of him. Your body, with all of its imperfections, is your body. If he didn’t like it, he could just end things here. Although from the way that his eyes darken and he reaches for you again, you don’t think that it’s going to be an issue. “Show me your bedroom Marcus.” You tell him, pulling away from his reaching hands and picking up your pair of handcuffs, holding them up with one finger. “Easier to play there.”

He gulps, a drop of pre-cum soaking his boxers as he stands up, kicking off his sensible work loafers before he shoves down his pants, eager to be naked alongside you. He stumbles slightly in his excitement to get you to his bedroom but he’s soon opening the door for you.

Even though you’ve been inside his home several times, you’ve never been in his bedroom. It’s neat, just like the rest of the house and you smile when you see that his bed is even made, not just covers thrown haphazardly back into place. His bed is a nice size, queen, since he doesn’t need a larger bed living alone. “So what do you want to do, Marcus?” You ask, looking at the bed and then back to him. “Do you want to be in handcuffs or use the handcuffs on me?”

He eyes the handcuffs, knowing he wants to experience being tied up but tonight should be about you. He wants to show you how good he can be. Make you feel like you’re in heaven so you will want to fuck him again. He does feel like he has to prove himself since he is the one who wanted this. “You. I want you handcuffed to my bed so I can make you scream my name while my tongue is buried in your pussy.” He may be sweet but Marcus can be direct and dirty. He knows what he wants.

Your eyes widen in surprise but you can’t help but smirk. You have no issue being handcuffed by him to the bed and your cunt clenches at the thought of looking down and seeing his head between your thighs. “Yes sir.” You sass, swaying your hips as you walk by him and make sure you stick your ass out as you climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle of it. He had wanted to be able to explore things with you and you were going to give him that.

Marcus groans as you lay down on the bed, arms stretched towards the headboard and your legs spread to display your dripping folds. He grabs the handcuffs, leaning over you. “Are you sure? You want out, you say the word.” He orders, his voice authoritative.

“Blueberries.” You remind him of your safe word and watch as the muscles under his skin flex and ripple as he wraps the cold steel of your handcuffs around one wrist and clicks them closed before winding it behind the slats and takes your other wrist in his hand. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t stay silent if I want out.” You pause. “Spanking is also on the table. If you’re into that.”

His cock twitches violently at the thought as he cuffs your other hand. “Yeah? You like being spanked like a naughty little girl?” He coos, a sudden dominant vibe surging inside of him now that you are cuffed to his bed. He shuffles, kneeling between your thighs and he playfully slaps the inside of your thigh.

“God.” Your moan is loud and your cunt clenches, slightly shocked that he had slapped your thigh. You should have known better, but men far less chivalrous than Marcus had not liked spanking. He rubs your skin even though the slap hadn’t stung for more than a second, there hadn’t been any force behind it. “Yes.” You admit shamelessly. “Love it.”

Marcus smirks, loving how eager you are. He shifts to lay between your thighs, groaning at how wet you are. He inhales your heady scent before he leans closer, sliding his tongue through your folds.

You let out a strangled groan, closing your eyes and letting your head flop back against the pillows while he licks at your cunt. You never imagined an after work drink would have led to this. “Oh fuck, Marcus.” You whimper, body jolting when he flicks his tongue over your clit.

He just hums in delight, loving the tang of your arousal as he flicks your clit, your hips bucking into his mouth. His arm slings over your stomach to keep you still while he slides his tongue through your folds. “You prefer your clit sucked or flicked?” He asks, wanting to communicate about what you like.

Your eyes open and you look down at him, his dark eyes fixed on you. “Flicked.” You pant out, whimpering when he does just that and your instinct is to pull your hands down. The clank of the handcuffs makes you moan, realizing you can’t touch him. “Fuck.”

He smiles into your folds. “Gotta be a good girl. Keep your hands there. Otherwise, I gotta spank you.” He warns, knowing you’d like the punishment. It’s so much fun to try a different part of his sexual personality, enjoying being a little more dominant. He flicks your clit while his hand slides along your thigh. Pressing two fingers into your cunt, he groans at how wet you are. “Dripping for me like a filthy girl. You like being handcuffed to my bed? I can do what I want to you. I could make you cum on my fingers…or leave you high and dry.” He hums, curling his fingers inside of you before removing them.

The whimper you let out is sinful. Gasping and lifting your hips to chase his fingers. It’s fucking sexy to hear that fall from your bosses lips. How the hell could someone not want Marcus like this? “I- I’ll be good.” You promise, biting your lips and moaning again as your cunt throbs. “Please.”

He hums again, leaning in to kiss your thigh before he slides two fingers back inside of you, pumping his digits with a groan at the way your walls grip him as if to stop him from pulling them out again. He leans in to flick his tongue over your clit, wanting to hear you cum for the first time.

It doesn’t that you long. A few minutes of perfectly curled fingers combined with clever, strong flicks of his tongue against your clit has your toes curling and your arms straining at the handcuffs. That knot of tension building in your stomach busting and making you cry out. “Ohhh fuuuuuuck!” You gasp as your cunt gushes over his fingers and your entire body lights up in bliss.

He fucking loves the way you cum. Your thighs pressed against his head and the gush of juices on his digits until there’s a squelching sound as he works you through it. He groans, kissing your clit as he waits for you to relax from your orgasm. “You good?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re okay with the handcuffs and aren’t uncomfortable before he continues making you feel good.

Your body relaxes and your chest heaves while you try to catch your breath. “Fuck, I’m great.” You chuckle, tilting your head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Marcus. You are talented with that mouth of yours.” You praise. “How the fuck are you single? A man who eats pussy like that is a fucking prize.”

He sighs, kissing your inner thigh. “I’m too much too soon. Always dive in and end up scaring them away.” He confesses, knowing his desire for a wife and family has led to him seeming a little desperate and intense. He wants you to cum one more time on his tongue, wants you to be eager to fuck him next time. He kisses along your thigh before he flicks his tongue over your clit again, loving your whimper of sensitivity.

Forgetting about his words, you just let yourself experience his tongue. It’s all you can do. There is a helpless aspect to bondage that you enjoy, being unable to do anything but what your partner wants you to do appeals to the woman that is always independent and in charge of her life. Your legs lift and you drape them over Marcus’s broad shoulders while he continues to lick into you like you are a sweet.

He slides his tongue into your cunt, curling it as he groans at how wet you are. His nose presses against your clit, loving how sweet your cum tastes as he works you up again. His hands slide up to squeeze your tits, pinching your nipples to hear your sweet cry of his name again.

Oftentimes, you get one orgasm with lovers, so this is a treat. You love the ache of his fingers rolling your nipples between them and the groans that vibrate against your folds. Even if this wasn’t exactly what you had been expecting tonight, you feel like just the handcuffs being used is giving Marcus a new experience. Your hips lift and you cry out his name when your second orgasm steamrolls over you, making you choke out another cry and shake under his touch.

He fucking loves it. Already addicted, he laps up every drop of your cum as you shake beneath him, heels digging into his shoulders as you ride your orgasm. He groans, lapping at your folds to work you through it until you relax and he rests his chin on your lower stomach. "Damn. You taste good." He licks his lips as he looks at you.

You give him a lazy smile, still blissed out and soft from your orgasm. “That was really good.” You hum happily. “What do you want now? Do you want to fuck me? Feel how soft and wet I am? How tight I feel around your cock?”

Marcus nods, wanting to feel you around him. “You, uh, want to use a condom?” He asks, wanting to know before he slides inside of you. His cock is throbbing so he shifts to kneel, wrapping his fingers around his cock to give him some relief.

“Only if you want to.” You shoot him a grin and one foot comes up to slide along his thigh. “I trust you are safe and there’s that IUD, remember?” You tease. “So I am yours to turn into a Twinkie if you want.”

He groans, cock twitching in his grip before he lets go, grabbing your calf and bringing your foot up to his mouth. He wraps his lips around your toe, sucking as he shuffles closer to you. His cock sliding between your folds as he covers his length in your cum.

You squeal, surprised by that move, and you giggle when he bites down on your toe playfully. Only to moan a second later when starts to slide his cock up against your entrance teasingly before letting his move to push against your clit. Teasing you as he wets himself with your juices. “Marcus.” You pant, eager to feel him inside you. “Are you going to make me beg?”

He hums, releasing your toe before placing your calf on his shoulder. “Now there’s an idea.” He nudges your clit with the head before pulling away. “Beg for my cock. Beg me to fuck you. I could pull away now, leave you here to think about how good my cock would feel inside of you.”

You pout at him, whining at the threat. “Fuck me, Marcus.” You beg quietly. “I want to feel your cock inside me, I want to feel you when I’m sitting at my desk tomorrow and know they you fucked me tonight.” You bite your lip. “I want to feel your cum inside me.”

He pulls away from you. "That's not good enough." He quips, removing his cock from your folds. He hums and shuffles off of the bed. "I think you need a few minutes to think about how much you want my cock inside of you." He slaps your thigh before he strides out of the room. Leaning against the wall in the hallway, his cock is throbbing but he wants to hear your sweet begs for him. He wants to feel in control after all the bullshit with Teresa.

“Oh fuck.” You bite your lip, whimpering with your eyes still on the doorway where Marcus disappeared. You had never expected him to actually leave you. “Please, please fuck me.” You beg, your voice pleading. “I need your cock inside me. God, you can’t tease me like this baby.” You squirm on the bed, restless and tug on the handcuffs to clatter against the slats of his headboard. “Come back and fuck me, please.”

He bites his lip, deciding to go and get you a bottle of water. He desperately wants to go in there and sink into you but he also wants to hear you beg a little more. “Sorry. Did you say something?” He calls out, a smirk on his lips as he sets the bottle down before wrapping his fingers around his cock, trying to stop himself from jerking off.

Huffing, your whimper is frustrated. “Marcus, please. God, stop teasing me. I want to feel you inside me. I want - fuck uncuff me and I’ll ride you.” You try to bargain. “I just want your cock inside me, filling me up.” Your legs shift impatiently and your cunt is throbbing. “Please, please, please fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me.” You beg, chanting your plea over and over again.

Marcus can’t deny you when you beg so sweetly. He lets go of his cock and makes his way into the bedroom. Your whine of relief makes pre-cum drip onto his carpet and he doesn’t give a fuck. When he is hovering over you, your legs spread as you buck up into thin air, it releases something inside of him. He grabs your hips, spinning you so your arms cross and you are on your stomach. He straddles your thighs and grips his cock, not even wasting a second before he is pushing into you, his hips pressed against your ass.

Your shriek of pleasure is loud, making sure that anyone nearby hears it. His cock stretches you, pushes up against your walls in the most fantastic way that leaves you breathless. He’s groaning behind you, maybe growling and your cunt can’t help but react, clenching down around him while he grinds deeper into your body. His hips pushing against your ass and pushing you into the bed. “Oh- oh fuck.”

“That’s it. Take all of it. Take all of my cock.” He growls, loving the way your arms are crossed, his cock pushing inside of you as he begins a fast pace, wanting to hear you scream his name and remember him tomorrow when you walk.

You can’t do anything but take it. Moaning and gasping out every time he pushes deep, feeling like he’s burying himself in your guts. You instinctively know that this isn’t his normal pace. All you can do is ball your hands into fists and try to push your ass up as he thrusts down into you. “Oh fuck- shit- Marcus!”

He leans down, pressing all of his body over yours so he can bite down on your shoulder. He rocks into you, his hips slamming against yours as he roughly fucks you. He isn’t usually like this but he wants to indulge in his more animalistic side. “You feel so fucking good. So tight. God baby.” He groans, kissing your neck.

Your toes curl and you moan nearly every thrust, being able to take a breath when he pulls his hips back only to have it push back out when his hips snap forward again. “Yes.” You hiss, bowing your back as much as you can until it hurts. “Use me.” You beg. “Take what you need.”

He grunts, wanting you to cum first before he feels you up. “I’m gonna - I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna get you - fuck - get you pregnant. Knock you up and watch your belly grow. Want to watch my cum drip out of you knowing - knowing that it took.” He knows you are okay with it, knowing you have an IUD. It’s just pretend, but fuck if it doesn’t make his cock throb inside of you.

You whine, nodding with your face against the cool pillow. “Fuck yes.” You gasp, clenching down around him. “Fuck, breed me baby.” You feel positively wicked just saying it out loud, always thinking it during sex but never having a partner be comfortable with it. The last guy you had tried that with went limp. “Please, fill me up.”

“Going to.” He promises. Shit, this is his fucking dream. A hidden part of him wants to do it for real, but that’s just his desire for a family. You and him aren’t like that. You aren’t together. “Gonna fill you up. Get you pregnant. Coat your walls with my cum. Just want you to cum.” He groans.

Whimpering, you feel him speed up. The slap of his hips against your ass loud and his cock is shredding up inside you. Striking against pure heaven and making you race towards another orgasm. “Go-going to.” You pant out. “Yo-your cock is going to make me cum. Fuck- so good.” You feel him push deep and it unleashes a wave of pleasure inside you. “Ohhhhh Marcusssssssss!” You cry out loudly as you soak his cock.

Marcus fucking loves it, burying his cock deep inside of you as he struggles to even thrust because of how tight you’re gripping him. “Good girl. God, I love this.” He chokes, thrusting his hips a few more times before he cums, pushing deep as he paints your walls with his hot seed.

You moan as he fills you up. Feeling the flood of heat from his cum and basking in the way that you feel even fuller than you did just a moment before. The rocking thrusts of his hips makes it squelch, pushing it out around his length as he rides out his high. You sigh, closing your eyes and smiling at the way you feel completely relaxed and sated as he collapses on top of you.

Marcus exhales deeply until he is kissing along your shoulder as he enjoys the buzz of his orgasm. He loves how you seem boneless beneath him and he is happy to have fucked you to that point. He kisses your cheek before he pulls out of you. He gently turns you over, groaning when you spread your thighs and he can see his cum dripping out of you. "Jesus. That's a pretty sight." He murmurs, unable to stop himself from reaching out to push his cum back inside of you.

You whimper in delight and your eyes flutter closed as his fingers plug your cunt, keeping his cum trapped inside you. “Fuck Marcus.” You pants. “Gotta make sure it stays in there.” You murmur, continuing the small little breeding fantasy. You open your eyes and find him staring down at your cunt and his fingers. “How do you feel about plugs?”

He smirks, blushing despite everything he just did to you. “Damn. That would be sexy as hell.” He pulls his fingers away, bringing them up to your mouth and you wrap your lips around them, sucking his cum off of his digits. He groans, spent cock twitching, and withdraws his fingers, grabbing the key so he can unlock the cuffs. After removing them, he gently rubs your wrists, leaning down to kiss your lips. “I’ll get you some water.” He murmurs, pulling back before making his way to the kitchen.

Sitting up, you slide off the bed, needing to use the bathroom. Marcus had just spent countless minutes pushing against your bladder and you are eager to relieve it. Slipping into his en-suite, you use the toilet and clean up quickly, flushing and washing your hands before you walk back out just as Marcus comes back in from the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind, I had to pee.” You explain with a small grin.

He rolls his eyes at you, “as if I’d be bothered about that sweetheart.” He shifts to lay down beside you, handing you the bottle of water. “Drink. You need to hydrate.” He orders, not wanting you to feel ill. He wants to ask you to stay for some takeout but he doesn’t want to push it.

“Yes sir.” You send him a cheeky smile and twist the cap off to take a long drink of the cold water. Moaning quietly when you realize how thirsty you actually were, downing half the bottle before you pull it away from your lips. “Here.” You offer him the rest of the water. “You need some too. You did all the work.”

He downs it, tossing the bottle onto his nightstand. He reaches out to cup your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “So…did I pass the friends with benefits audition?” He asks, smiling as he settles back against the headboard.

You smirk and raise a brow at him in amusement. “It all depends on if feeding me is a part of Mr. Pike’s aftercare routine.” You tell him playfully before you nod. “It was good, seriously good.” You promise him. “Was it- was it what you were imagining? Or no?”

He chuckles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. “What do you want?” He asks, “your choice. Thai? Pizza? Chinese? Or McDonalds?” He asks, wanting to give you options. He swallows after a moment, looking at you. “It was…it was incredible. Seriously, thank you. I never - I’ve never been like that before. Never been so…so animalistic.” He admits, blushing even more.

You smile, happy that he has been able to experience something new with you. “Good.” You lean in and press your lips to his, hoping that he doesn’t mind since the two of you are done having sex. You keep it quick, pulling back and biting your lip. “Is Chinese okay?” You ask, wanting egg rolls all of a sudden.

“Sure. Lemme grab my phone and you can order whatever you want.” He says, shifting off of the bed and he reaches for his boxers before he moves to grab his phone from his jeans. “Here babe.” He says, handing you the phone. This feels so domestic but he reminds himself that this isn’t anything more than friendship with sex sprinkled in.

You pull up the UberEats app and select the restaurant that it looks like Marcus has ordered from before. You pick your favorite meal and hand the phone back to him, making sure to get extra egg rolls. “I’ve picked out what I want.” You tell him with a grin. “I guess I better get dressed, huh?”

He bites his lip, “we are friends. If you wanna wear one of my shirts and boxers until you go, that’s cool. Or you can get dressed. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.” He offers, wanting to cuddle but he won’t let his damn clingy nature ruin this.

“That will work.” You smile at him and nod. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by being naked when we aren’t- you know.” You feel your cheeks heat up and you give a small shrug. “This is new, so I don’t want to overstep.”

He kisses your cheek, “you wouldn’t make me uncomfortable. Communication is key so you tell me what you’re comfortable with and I’ll do the same. We are friends, not just coworkers. This is supposed to be fun so I want you to be happy and relaxed.” He shifts off of the bed again, grabbing a clean t-shirt and pair of boxers from his dresser for you.

“Thank you.” You stand and take the clothes when he hands them to you. Slipping on the boxers and shirt before you lay back down. “So I guess we should talk about aftercare and cuddling and things like that.” You venture. “And what else you want to have happen.”

He leans back against his pillows. “I’d like cuddles, if you’re cool with that. And I would like to look after you. I think aftercare is key. Especially after a hard session. Water, food, lotion. Relaxation. You never have to leave here if you don’t feel like it. I’m good with you staying over. You can even stay in my guest room. I want…I want you to dominate me next. Edge me. I’ve never had a lover do that.” He admits, biting his lip.

“Okay so on days we are planning on meeting up, I would say that we just sleep over.” You propose. “I’ll sleep wherever you want, but I know it’s draining after some things.” You smirk at him. “How do you feel about cock rings?” You ask playfully.

“I’ve never used one. I’m open to it. Do you- I never asked you what you’d like to try. This is about you too. What’s your biggest fantasy? I want to make your fantasies come true too.”

You give him an embarrassed grin. “Well, the breeding kink is a very big one and a plug.” You admit. “Making me keep your cum inside me for however long.” You give a small chuckle. “Um, and I- I like when someone cums on my face.” Your cheeks heat up again as you tell your boss your desires.

His cock twitches at that thought. “Really?” He asks, jaw dropped when you nod. “Well, I’m sure we can arrange that sweetheart. Jesus, you’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you? What about roleplay? Any fantasies? I, uh, I want to roleplay an interrogation. Where, uh, I'm the perp.”

“Hmmmm that’s a good one.” You curl into his side easily and wrap your hand around his stomach. “I have to…break…my suspect.” You purr. “I’ve got some fantasies that are- no, I don’t have anything.” You can’t bring yourself to admit that, it’s too dark and you don’t want to scare him or make him think you are fucked up.

He frowns, wanting you to feel secure and safe enough to tell him what you want. You’re here for a good time and he wants to make sure you both enjoy it. “You don’t have to tell me but I won’t judge. This is supposed to be fun. If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you but I won't make fun of you.” He promises, cuddling into you.

“I - God, I’ve had a fantasy about- being taken advantage of while I sleep since I was - fuck, 17?” You admit. “A stranger sliding into bed and fucking me while I’m asleep.” You can’t look over at him, knowing you would see disgust on his face. After telling one boyfriend about it and having him break up with you, you had never told anyone else about your fantasy.

Marcus can’t stop his cock from hardening even if he tries. “You mean-” He clears his throat, “you want - you want to be fucked while you’re asleep?” You nod, biting your lip from mortification and he leans closer to rest his forehead against yours. “As long as you give me consent, I can make it happen. You have to be sure though. Consent. Consent. Consent.” He repeats, knowing he will need you to be certain before he ever takes you like that.

You exhale loudly, amazed that he would even consider it. “Yes- fuck, you’ll do it?” You ask, eyes wide and hopeful. “I mean, you don’t have to, I’ve just- that’s my one thing that I’ve always wanted.”

“I will if you give me consent. I won’t do it unless you are comfortable.” He tells you, knowing he wants to fulfill your fantasies as well as his own. “Anything else you want?” He asks, curious as his phone dings that the food is on the way.

“Standard stuff.” You give a small shrug. “Anal is okay, I like it.” You tell him. “But yes, I give you consent. Alllll the consent.” You giggle quietly. “What’s your deepest fantasy?” You ask, wanting to know.

He bites his lip again, blushing furiously as he imagines his deepest fantasy. “I, uh, I don’t know if you’ll like it, considering our jobs.” He confesses, looking over at you with flushed cheeks. “I- I want to - to have sex in public. Somewhere we can be caught and I’m trying to keep you quiet but also trying to make you cum.”

Your brow wings up and you nearly choke in surprise. This man claims that he’s vanilla and he wants public sex? “I - wow.” You don’t hate the idea though. “We would have to find the right spot to make that happen.” You tell him quickly, not wanting him to think you are saying no.

He nods, knowing it would involve planning because of your jobs. The fact that you aren’t saying no has him smiling softly. “Where have you been all my life?” He teases.

“In an office down the hall from you.” You joke and he leans in to rest his head on top of yours. “Let’s have some good food, sleep and then we can figure out our next fantasy.”

****

You bite your lip as you glance at the clock again, willing the numbers to be closer to the time where you can leave and go home. It’s been a few days since the first time that you had gone home with Marcus, both of you deciding that it didn’t need to be an everyday thing. It’s Friday, the weekend free and clear and the two of you can indulge without being interrupted with work. This time you are going to be in control over Marcus and edge him - at your apartment.

Marcus is nervous and excited. This time you’re in control and going over to your apartment gives more of that illusion. When the day ends, he watches you walk past his office without a glance in his direction, making his palms sweaty. He is already half hard just thinking about this, has been all day, and soon, he is in his car driving over to your place. When he arrives, he grabs the overnight bag from the car and makes his way to your door.

You smirk when you hear the doorbell ring, making your way over to it and opening it quickly to find Marcus standing there with his bag. “Come inside and leave your bag by the door.” You order him, watching his eyes widen when he sees what you have changed into. “Then you are to strip down to your boxers.”

Marcus's jaw drops at your outfit. Tight leather and lace that has his cock instantly hard. Plus your voice, full of authority has him ready to fucking cum. He nods, setting his bag down by the door and he is rock hard, body practically vibrating with excitement. "Jesus baby. You-" He closes his mouth when you look at him, showing him that he shouldn't talk.

He likes your nod to the classic idea of a dominant looks like, you had thought he would love it when you had picked it out after work the other day. Watching as he eagerly sets his bag down and starts shucking off his clothes, haphazardly throwing them on the floor. “Ah ah ahhhh.” You purse your lips in disappointment and look at the pile pointedly. “Don’t be a messy boy.” You purr. “Make sure you fold them neatly.”

His cock twitches as he picks up his pants, carefully folding them up like he used to in the army, and he shrugs off the rest of his clothes, carefully placing the pile down on the floor. He stands up straight in his boxers, awaiting your next command with his cock bulging in the thin material.

“Hmmm.” You bite your lip as you see that he’s already hard, obviously enjoying you ordering him around. “I’m not going to use handcuffs on you.” You announce with a smirk. “I have straps for your hands and feet to tie you to my bed. Is that okay with you?” You ask, wanting to make sure he is comfortable with that idea. “Spread out and vulnerable, waiting for me to touch you?”

Marcus whimpers, actually whimpers at the idea. Swearing he could cum just from you telling him about what you are going to do to him. He nods and you shake your head. "Words." You order, making him shiver.

"It's okay - more than okay - with me." He responds, wringing his hands together as he becomes fidgety.

Smiling, you crook your finger and beckon him to follow you through your apartment to your bedroom. Marcus has never been over here and you wonder if he’s looking around, or if his eyes are focused on your ass, your cheeks completely bare as the back of your outfit is a thong. You open the door and show him the queen sized bed that have black padded cuffs waiting at every corner, already tied to the frame and a cock ring, plug and anal beads sitting on the bedside table with lube.

Marcus honestly feels like he has died and gone to heaven, a soft groan escaping his lips as he eyes the set up. It's everything he has fantasized about and more. "Shit." He hisses under his breath, unsure of what to look at since you look like a damn snack and he is starving. He hopes you let him eat you out again. "Where do you want me...ma'am?" He tests the waters, wanting to please you.

“On the bed.” You order, walking over to the bed to start opening the cuffs. “Remind me of your safe word.” You know that it’s pancakes, but you want it to be fresh in his mind.

“Pancakes.” Marcus rushes over to lay down and you smirk as you start with his ankle, wrapping the cuffs around one firmly and tugging on it.

“Good boy.” You purposely haven’t removed his underwear, wondering if he will question you on it or if he will stay silent.

He grows more desperate for your touch with each cuff that is placed on his wrists and ankles. Groaning, he watches you finish the last cuff and he is soaking his boxers with pre-cum. He bucks his hips, able to move too much, and a whine escapes his lips. "Please. Please. I need - I need you."

You shush him, leaning over and pressing your lips to his firmly, feeling him strain to kiss you back. His tongue slides against your lips and you pull back with a grin. “Naughty boy.” You chide lightly. “I’ll take care of you, you just relax, hm?”

He tries to relax, breathing out as he waits for you to touch him, do anything with him. Closing his eyes, he forces himself to relax into the mattress, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Yes ma’am.” He murmurs, opening his eyes to watch you.

You hun in approval and lean down to swirl your tongue around his flat nipple, making him gasp as you climb up on the bed and straddle one of his thighs as you reach down and cup his cock through his boxer. “When was the last time someone worshiped your cock baby?” You ask softly. “Licked it and sucked it, nuzzled it? Sucked on your balls while they stroked your cock?”

Marcus looks at you, realizing how fucking perfect you are for this. He’s never been so turned on and you haven’t even touched his cock. “It’s been a while. Not since - pre-Teresa. She never - I didn’t push her because she - she didn’t like giving blowjobs.” He reveals, feeling like he’s about to combust.

You smirk and hook your fingers under the band of his briefs. They are plain, standard boxers. Not name brand so you have no guilt when you grab the seam of them and start ripping them apart. “Good thing I love having a cock in my mouth.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He hisses when you rip his boxers, reach down to grip his cock and waste no time in taking him into your mouth. “Oh fuck baby.” He groans in relief, fingers twitching before curling into a fist as he remembers that he can’t touch you.

You hum around his length, loving how he twitches and rewards you with a small spurt of pre-cum when you press your tongue against the tip. Pulling off of him to flatten your tongue along the sensitive skin that is salty and slightly musky. “Do you want the toys now or when you are squirming, baby?” You coo, having every intention of turning him into a needy pile of goo by the time you climb onto his cock.

“Now, please.” Marcus begs, trying now to pull against restraints. All his wildest dreams are coming true and he can’t wait to see how it feels.

“Good boy.” You coo, happy he’s giving himself over to you like this. He said he wanted it, but so many men have a hard time giving up control. You lean over, reaching for the toys and your fingers let go of his cock and slide down to massage the taunt skin around his puckered hole.

He gasps, thighs shaking a little as you rub the sensitive skin and he swears he could cum just from that. A moan escaping his lips and he is completely at your mercy, nails digging into his palms. “Please.” He begs, needing more.

“You’re being so good.” You praise him, removing your fingers so you can coat them in a squirt of lube. “I’m going to work you open, okay? Tell me if you want to stop.” This is all about consent and fun, wanting him to love everything you do, or it doesn’t happen. You circle his sphincter again before you start to slowly push two fingers into him, leaning down and taking his cock back into your mouth.

He groans, loving the way your fingers are stretching him out. He has always wanted this but just couldn’t find anyone to do it for him. He hisses when you suck on his cock, making him whine your name and the cuffs pull on the bed frame. “Oh it’s good.” He pants, whining when you scissor your fingers to work him open.

He’s leaking into your mouth, making it water as your tongue twirls around the head and he groans your name again. You work him open slowly, not wanting to hurt him when you eventually use the toys on him. “You taste divine, baby.” You purr, pulling off his cock and crooking your fingers up inside him.

“What - what are you going to use?” He asks, curious and turned on. He wants to know what you’re gonna do to him. He’s at your mercy and he fucking loves it.

You hum, smiling up at the already wrecked look on his face. “Beads.” You decide. “Want the plug inside you when I sit on your cock and use it to make me cum.”

The choked noise he lets out is almost inhuman. He is so turned on, even hearing you say it has his cock leaking. When you grab the beads with your free hand, his muscles clamp down on your digits, his entire body practically vibrating with excitement.

Chucking at his eagerness, you withdraw your fingers and coat the beads very liberally in the lube. His hole is pulsing, anticipating the penetration and you sit and admire it for just a second before you press the smallest bead against the gasping flesh and watch his body basically try to pull it inside. “Shameless boy, I love it.” You coo as you stroke his thigh with your free hand and start to push the beads inside him.

He inhales deeply, gulping for air as you push the beads one by one inside of his ass. He has never felt like this and fuck, it just feels so good. He groans your name as you caress his thigh, his cock leaking onto his stomach.

You love how he looks, overwhelmed and blissed out at the same time. Pleasure looks fantastic on Marcus Pike and you are happy you are the one giving it to him. “It’s going to feel weird.” You caution, knowing how startling it can be when someone starts to pull the bead out. “Just let me know if I need to pause.” You order as you tug on the beads, reaching up and squeezing the base of his cock while you do.

He frowns slightly at the pressure, the way his body stretches around the bead, and he groans when you pump his cock, making him hiss in response. “Yes. Oh. Oh, I like that.” He pants, hips bucking up slightly since he’s restrained.

He’s so fucking good for you. You swear he would let you do anything to him and that is such a thrilling idea. Your cunt is dripping, soaking the tiny liner of your little outfit and you can’t help but grind down on his thigh while you work the beads back into him. “You are doing so good, baby.” You pant. “Such a good boy. You tell me when you are getting close to cumming okay?”

He whines out a "yes ma'am" and your praise has him on the fucking edge. He can feel your arousal slicking up his thigh as you rock your hips and the beads are pushed back into his ass while you pump his cock. He couldn't hold off if he wanted to. "I'm gonna cum." He pants just before he explodes, hot seed spurting out onto his lower stomach and chest, nearly hitting him in the face with how fucking hard he cums.

You hum, surprised that he’s cum so quickly but then again you aren’t, not with how new all of this is for him. “Naughty boy.” You stroke him through it, keeping the pressure up on his cock until you work every drop from his length until he is panting and whining in overstimulation. You let go of him and bring your hand up to your lips, licking off his cum from your skin while pants below you. “You couldn’t wait, could you?” You tease, winking at him as you lick up his spend.

He shakes his head, eyes closed as his entire body vibrates from his orgasm. "Fuck. I'm - I'm so sorry. I couldn't - it felt too good." He pants, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. "I - I am sorry ma'am." He barely manages to open his eyes to look at you.

“It's okay, baby.” You aren’t the hard dom type of girl. There wasn’t going to be any punishment for him cumming from you. You loved that you made him feel good enough that he couldn’t hold back. You ease the beads out from inside him and set them off the side and lean forward and press your lips to his. “Do you want to keep going, or are you done?” You murmur softly.

He smiles, lazy and lusty as he looks at you. “I want to keep going. You haven’t cum yet. I want to make you cum. You want to sit on my face?” He asks, wanting to hear you cry out his name as you soak his face again.

You grin, leaning and patting his cheek gently. “You are such a pleaser, Marcus.” You hum, intrigued by the idea of riding his face. “If I do that, I’m going to push your plug inside you, it vibrates.” You tell him. “And I’m going to let your right hand go so you can tap my hip if you need me to get off of you.”

He nods, eager to please and to feel something else inside of him. “Please baby. Whatever you want. I’m yours to use.” He tells you, his voice needy as his cum starts to dry on his skin.

The plug is coated in a thin layer of lube and you feel him tilt his hips up as you start to press it into him. Loving the way that he moans when it is fully seated and the base is flush with his cheeks. “Okay baby, tell me how you like this.” You turn it on and smirk when his mouth drops open and his eyes close, spent cock twitching.

“Holy fucking shit. I - Jesus. It’s - it’s so good.” He groans, his heart pounding at the stretch and he fucking loves it. God, this is incredible. Everything he’s ever wanted. “Please baby. Sit on my face.”

You reach up and peel the velcro around one of his wrist and guide his hand to your waist while you work your way up his chest. “Squeeze my hip twice if you want me to move off your face.” You order him, facing him so you can look down into his eyes while you ride his face. Reaching down and moving the thin panties to the side to reveal your folds.

He watches your cunt as you lower it towards his face and he nearly sprains his neck trying to lap his tongue through your folds before you settle on top of him. “Oh fuck yes.” He hisses, flattening his tongue through your folds before he begins to suck on your clit. You are surrounding him and he loves it, loves how you control him, control your pleasure.

Gripping your headboard, you don’t let Marcus move his head. Instead you start rolling your hips, rubbing your cunt over his mouth and using his lips and tongue to drag against your clit. Moaning softly you reach down and adjust the edge of your thong further out of the way, letting him reach all of you as you grind against him.

His fingers dig into your hip as he lets you ride his face, his tongue stiffened for you to get your pleasure from him. His cock is semi hard again, resting against his thigh as he just loves how you taste. His chin coated in your arousal and he hums into your folds.

You take your time, keeping your pace slow and steady as you use him. Not wanting to gallop towards an orgasm when his body is still recovering from his own pleasure. Tonight is about being in control and you set the pace. “Of fuck baby.” You reach down and tangle your fingers into his hair. “You’re doing so good letting me ride that tongue of yours.”

He grunts into your flesh in response, his blunt nails scratching your skin as he urges you to take what you need from him. He loves how you keep your pace controlled and use him for your pleasure. His cock is hard now, leaking pre-cum onto his stomach as you ride his face.

“You’re gonna make me cum.” You pant out breathlessly, thighs quivering around his cheeks as you try to keep your pace steady but your body is starting to react to the way that his tongue drags against your nerves. “You’re gonna be a good boy and let me cum all over your face, aren’t you?”

He manages to shift his head so he can talk to you. “Yes. Yes. I’ll be a good boy. Please, just cum for me. Cum all over my face.” He pleads before he sucks your clit into his mouth, his hand shifting to squeeze your ass cheek and help you rock on his face.

You moan, that little bit pushing you over the edge. Making your thighs tighten and your hips grind down onto him even more while your cunt starts to pulse around nothing. Your juices pouring out of you to soak his chin and mouth. “Oh, oh fuck baby, oh!” You cry out, tossing your head back in pleasure.

He hums in delight, never getting enough of hearing you cum. Even better to feel it as it drips onto his face, soaking his chin. The way you shake above him has him ready to cum, especially when he thrusts his hips against midair and the plug hits deeper inside of him, making him groan.

Chuckling breathlessly as you swing your leg over his face so you can get off of him, you lean down and press a kiss to his still wet lips. “Now I’m going to suck your cock and you can’t cum baby.” You warn him. “You cum and I won’t ride your cock.”

He exhales shakily, nodding as you slide down his body. His cock aches but he wants to feel your cunt surrounding his cock more than your mouth so he braces himself. “I- I can do that.” He tells himself more than you. “Good.” You smile and reach up to cuff his hand once more. When you wrap your fingers around his cock, he hisses, a dribble of pre-cum displaying how turned on he is.

“Someone liked having their face used as a seat.” You coo, lapping at the head of his cock where the pre-cum and cooled cum from his first orgasm is built up. His moan makes you smile and you kiss down the shaft to mouth at one of the soft balls beneath his cock and your chin pushes against the toy that is still vibrating at the lowest setting inside him.

“Oh fuck.” He chokes, cock twitching in your grip. He’s never been so turned on, absolutely enthralled with everything you do. This is what he has longed for. A woman to just take control and make him feel good. He’s always been a giver, never complained about that, but it’s nice to get something in return, to feel wanted and desired too. “So good baby. You’re too good to me.”

You twist your wrist, slowly stroking him while you roll the tender flesh around in your mouth and suck on it, making him moan again. Popping it out of your mouth so you drag your tongue over to the other one, giving it the same treatment as you had the first, wanting to show him how he should be treated. He said that no one had gone down on him in a while and you wanted it to be good. Humming, your grin when he flexes his hips up, pushing his cock into your grip.

“Jesus baby. It’s so good. You’re so good. I love it. It’s - shit. Not so fast. Gonna make me cum.” He groans, feeling like he’s about to combust and he is desperate to feel your walls around him. “Please. I need - I want you to sink down onto my cock. Want to feel you around me.” He begs, his voice needy as he whines.

“Good boy.” You stop moving your hand and pull off of his balls with a soft pop. Peppering kisses up his hips, you can’t help but take him back into your mouth once more to make him gasp out your name before you take mercy on him and straddle his hips. “Okay, I’m going to keep the toy inside you and ride you.” You reach between you and grip his cock to hold it up so you can position yourself and start to sink down on him, panties pulled to the side again. Groaning his name while you take him inside you. “Fuck, Marcuuuuus.”

He closes his eyes, knowing that if he looks at you, he will cum. You’re so damn tight around him and to see you above him, wearing that outfit, and the plug inside of him, has him on the fucking edge. “Oh God.” He whimpers, his fingers curling into fists, and he finally opens his eyes to look at you. “Fuck baby. Look at you. So damn beautiful.” He groans, watching you as you begin to ride him.

His cock was made for riding. That you are completely sure about. He fills you perfectly and his hips try to follow you as you lift and lower yourself onto his length. He can’t move too much, still strapped to the bed, but you can tell that he is loving every single second of it. “So good baby. Fuck you feel so big inside me.” You pant. “Like you're in my guts.”

He preens at the praise, happy that you love how he feels inside of you. “It’s cos you’re so damn tight.” He hisses when your walls flutter around him. The plug in his ass combined with your wet cunt has him on cloud nine. “Fuck baby. Rub your clit for me.” He orders, wanting to see it.

You should tell him no, but you don’t want to. Reaching down, your fingers spread your lips wide so that he has a good look and you rub your finger around in a slow circle as you grind down on his cock. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, mouth dropping open and you force yourself to keep moving. “I- God, I’m going to cum all over your cock, baby.”

“Do it. Please. Fucking do it. Please.” He begs, needing to watch you cum before he cums inside of you. “Please baby.” He whines. Your mouth falls open as you rock on his cock, rubbing your clit, and he watches you, enthralled as you cum. Crying out his name, you shake above him and he bites his lip. “Tell me I can cum.” He pleads.

Your nails scratch lightly down his chest and you nod quickly. “Cum.” You order him. “Fill me up baby. I need you to fill me up.” Your walls clench down around him. You keep your eyes trained on him and watch as his mouth drops open.

The combination of your words, soaking cunt, the plug in his ass, and the sight of your beautiful body above him all send him over the edge. With a loud enough groan that his neighbors can hear, he thrusts up into you, unable to stop himself as he paints your walls with his cum. His body shakes beneath you with pleasure as he cries out your name.

You whine, loving the way the heat of his cum floods your womb and you close your eyes. Leaning forward, you press your lips to his again and again. “That was- oh God that was so good.” You murmur. “Did you like it? You did so well.”

Marcus can barely speak, the haze of his orgasm rendering him speechless as his body just melts into the mattress beneath you. “Baby. I - fuck. Did I like it? That was - that was the best sex of my life.” He smiles, feeling giddy as he opens his eyes to look at you, almost certain he could fall in love with you but he reminds himself that this is just fun. Just casual.

You grin, happy that he had fun. Kissing him one more time. You reach up and start unstrapping him from the bed. Both of you groan when you pull off his cock and you quickly move to turn off the toy so he doesn’t get overstimulated. “Let me get your feet undone and we’ll take out the plug.” You promise. “Then we can shower and order some food.”

He nods, boneless and unable to do anything. He watches you as you uncuff him and his heart lurches when you rub his wrists. His spent cock twitches when you pull the plug from his ass. He feels empty but he’s ready to rest and relax. He sighs, closing his eyes again when you shift off of the bed to get a wet rag for him. “Seriously, so amazing.” He smiles, unable to believe how good it was.

“Good.” You carefully wipe the cum from his body, but both of you are going to need a shower. “I would be mad at myself if I couldn’t give you a good time.” You murmur. “Especially since you fucked me so good last time.” You wink at him and kiss him once more now you are done cleaning him up.

He grins, happy you are enjoying this too. “Baby. I want you to pick what you want next time. I want to thank you for this.” He sits up with a groan, shifting to lean against your headboard. “And I’m buying the food. What do you want? Pizza? Indian? Tacos?” He asks, knowing his phone is in the other room.

You snort and roll your eyes at him. You swear he would pay for every meal you had with him if you let him. “You bought the Chinese. And I picked that out.” You point out, leaning over and running your finger down his jaw. “It’s my turn to take care of you.”

He kisses your fingertip, knowing you are going to do what you want. Something he admires about you. “Okay baby.” He relents, knowing he will get you lunch tomorrow or coffee. “Pizza?” He asks, knowing he wants to eat and pizza is easy and simple.

“That sounds good.” You know what he likes on his pizza and you grin at him. “I’ll go order the pizza, why don’t you get in the shower and I’ll slip in there with you when I get done?” You offer, sending him a small wink.

Marcus nods, stumbling slightly as he shuffles off of the bed so he can enter your bathroom. He manages to turn on the shower, deciding to pee quickly before stepping under the warm stream, groaning at how good it feels against his muscles.

You pick up your phone and order the pizza, knowing that it will be at least an hour before they deliver, so you have plenty of time to shower before they come. You make your way into the bathroom and start stripping out of your outfit while Marcus is still groaning under the spray of the water. “Sore?” You ask.

He nods, “yes but in a good way. It’s been a long day and tonight was the perfect ending. I can’t thank you enough.” He reaches for the body wash, squirting some into his hand before he begins to gently wash you.

You don’t understand why this man is single. Even though tonight was supposed to be about him, he is still trying to take care of you every chance he gets. It is making your traitorous heart flip and flop. You remind yourself that a relationship isn’t what he wants. He just wants to have some sex, have some fun and blow off some steam before this little thing between you ends with this hopeless romantic eventually finds someone else. “No need to thank me.” You murmur softly. “I had a lot of fun too.”

Marcus washes you off before he washes himself off. He wants to kiss you, pull you close and tell you how amazing he thinks you are, but he knows that’s just the sex haze and he can’t get things mixed up between you. “Next time, you get to pick what you want us to do.” He tells you, wanting you to feel like this isn’t all about him.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” You turn off the shower and open the door so you can hand Marcus a towel. “You are already here tonight….so…if you’re up for it.-“ you bite your lip, feeling vulnerable. “If you wanted sex later on, I wouldn’t mind you touching me while I was asleep.”

He bites his lip, “I, uh, I’ll think about it. I just - I’m kinda boneless tonight.” He tells you. Your lower lip pokes out in disappointment and he feels guilty but you nod, offering him a small smile of understanding. Marcus dries off, eager to eat and get some sleep, his stomach twisting with something unknown. After drying off, the doorbell rings and before he can protest, you’re paying for the pizza.

The two of you eat, talking about the case that had come in but wasn’t a priority since it was mostly an Interpol investigation. Both of you are tired by the time that you are full and you pick up the plates to take them into the kitchen. “Maybe we should call it a night.” You offer, knowing he’s tired and you want to sleep too. “What do you think?”

Marcus nods, “yes. I’m tired.” He yawns despite his stomach churning with anticipation. Once you’re both settled in bed, he closes his eyes, feigning sleep and listening until he hears your heavy breathing as you curl into a ball, fast asleep. He shuffles closer, pushing down his boxers, his cock already hard with anticipation of fulfilling your fantasy.

You shift in your sleep, grunting slightly as you are pulled away from your position. You huff and turn your head, your eyes still closed and your breathing evens out.

Marcus is grateful you are wearing an oversized t-shirt and nothing else as he slides his hand under the material, squeezing your tit. He loves the sleepy whimper that escapes your lips as he shifts to curl around you, grinding against your ass after pulling your shirt up to your chest.

You sigh, feeling someone curling around you, but you feel like it’s a part of your dream. Moaning softly when your breast is squeezed and there’s a hardness against your ass. Even though you know you sleep alone.

He reaches out to grip his cock, pressing it up against your folds. He groans at how wet you are, no doubt you’re dreaming about something. He loves it. He rubs your clit with the head of his cock, wanting you to be wet enough to take him.

You moan, squirming in your sleep and still not waking up. Someone is rubbing your clit in your dream and you are just laying there, letting them pleasure you. Arching your back and pushing your cunt closer into their touch.

Marcus can feel how wet you are and he can’t believe he’s about to do this. He slides his cock lower, slowly pushing into you with a hiss at how tight you are. He loves it. Christ, he loves how you feel around him and once he’s pushed inside of you, he is pulling back to begin fucking you, his hand squeezing your tit.

It takes a couple of thrusts before you break out of sleep. Consciousness intrudes into your dreams and you realize that Marcus is buried deep inside your cunt and grinding into you. Your cunt clamps down around him and all you can do is gasp out a moan. “Oh fuck! Marcus…” It’s dark and you are reaching back to clutch at him, unable to believe that he is giving you what you wanted,

“You feel so good baby. You awake?” He coos, kissing your neck as he thrusts into you, slowly rocking his hips as he lazily fucks you. You moan and he chuckles, “didn’t want - didn’t want you to know I was gonna do it. Wanted it to be a surprise.” He confesses, rocking into you so his hips press against your ass.

You whimper, clenching down around him again. “Love it.” You pant, grabbing onto his hip and pull him into you on the next thrust. “Fuck- I love it. Do it whenever you want.” You can’t believe that he is so giving making this fantasy come true for you. It’s so much better than you ever imagined.

“Whenever I want? You want me to fuck this tight little pussy whenever I want baby? Just slide into it whenever you are asleep and I’m feeling horny? God, gonna fill this little cunt up with my cum until it takes. Fuck you until you’re full of my baby. Gonna make it happen every goddamn night.” He plays into another one of your fantasies, “won’t ask for permission, will just fuck you full of my seed whenever I want.”

You whine his name again, wall clenching down around him. “Do it, oh please fuck- do it.” You beg. It’s so fucking hot to hear him talk like that, it takes a minute to remember that he doesn’t mean it. “I want that. Just use me and fuck me until you knock me up.”

“Yes baby. Fuck, yes. Going to.” He allows himself to believe the fantasy, imagining you knocked up, walking around the office and everyone knowing it was him. “God, need you to cum first.” He reaches down to rub your clit, biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts into you, completely pressed against you.

“Fuuuuuuuuckkkk” You cry out here he starts rubbing your clit. It feels amazing and you love every single thing about what he is doing. “Marc- I- Im gonna-“ you cut yourself off and give out a loud, wordless cry of pleasure as you soak his cock.

“That’s it baby. Shit. Feels - feels so fucking good. So tight.” He groans as you clamp down on his cock. He works you through it, grinding up into you until he is burying his cock deep inside of you, biting down on your shoulder again as he paints your walls with his cum.

You shudder at the feeling of his teeth and his cum. Gasping and moaning softly while he rocks into you and rides out his high. “Oh God.” You give a little giggle after you catch your breath. “Now that’s how I should always be woken up.” You murmur, twisting your head to kiss his lips softly. “Thank you.”

He kisses you again, “you’re welcome. I just - I hope you’re not mad at me for earlier when I dismissed it. I just didn’t want you to know beforehand.” He blushes even though you can’t see him.

“You are so sweet.” You hum softly. When Marcus doesn’t pull out of you, you just snuggle back into his arms. “I wasn’t mad. If you weren’t up for it tonight that would have been okay too.” You murmur in the dark. “But I love that you surprised me. It was- it was everything I’ve wanted for so long.”

He smiles, kissing your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “I’m glad. Thank you for experiencing all this with me. I love that it’s you. You’re my best friend.” He murmurs, brave under the cover of darkness. He hates his traitorous heart that thumps when you snuggle back into his chest, in no rush for him to pull out of you.

“You’re my best friend too.” You know that if you talk any more, you will say something stupid and ruin this. Instead, you clench around his softening cock and feign a yawn. “Do you want to sleep inside me?” You ask, sounding sleepy on purpose. “Cock warming?”

He hums, already half asleep from the orgasm. “Yes. I’d love that.” He murmurs sleepily, kissing your neck again before he passes out, snoring softly against your ear as his cock softens but remains inside of you.

****

You’re breaking your own rule but you can’t seem to find it in you to care. It’s been a month of sex with Marcus and you swear it’s been the best month of your life. Prompting you to risk this. You had been careful, making sure everyone knew you were headed out to lunch and then looped around to sneak into Marcus’s office. Surprising him with sex in the office was the perfect way to fulfill that little public sex itch he has. Plus you love the idea of him covering your mouth so you don’t moan.

Marcus looks up as you enter his office, a smile on his face while he sets his pen down. “Hey sweetheart. What’s up?” He asks, wondering why you shut the door and close the blind. “Everything okay?” He frowns, concerned that something is wrong.

“Everything’s good.” You promise, giving him a small smirk. “I just came in here to tell you that I’m not wearing any panties under my skirt.” You start pulling up your skirt until he just sees the barest glimpse of your cunt. “I was wondering if you’d fuck me over your desk.”

His eyes widen, flustered by the sudden invitation, especially since you’re at work, but he won’t deny that his cock instantly hardens. “Fuck. Pull your skirt up and sit on my desk.” He orders, reaching down to squeeze himself through his slacks. He loves this naughty side of you, the side only he gets to see during your rendezvous.

You smirk and rush forward, already dripping from just the idea of him fucking you in his office. Your skirt slides up your hips and he pushes back to give you room to get between him and the desk as he stands up. “Cover my mouth too.” You order softly. “I don’t want to moan too loudly.”

He nods, unable to resist you when you sit down on the desk and spread your legs to expose your already dripping folds. He shifts to sit down in his chair again, surging forward to bury his face in your cunt. He can’t seem to get enough of you, groaning into your flesh.

“Marcus!” You bite your lip to keep from whimpering too loudly. You hadn’t expected him to use his mouth on you. Grinding your hips down onto his face and reaching down and tangling your fingers into his hair. “So good.” You whimper.

He flicks his tongue over your clit, loving the way you bite your lip to keep quiet. It’s fucking intoxicating and he loves it. “Good girl. Keep quiet.” He orders, enjoying continuing to explore his more dominant side as well as the sub inside of him. You both switch, leaving you both breathless to what is gonna happen next. He sucks on your fold, looking up at you before he stands up, fumbling with his belt to undo his pants.

You whimper, working with him to pull his cock out so he can line up with you. “God baby, hurry.” You beg, wanting to feel him stretch you out. He slides his cock through your folds and you slap a hand over your mouth to make sure you don’t cry out.

Marcus grins at your reaction until he notches his cock at your entrance and pushes in, a soft groan escaping his lips as his mouth falls open. You always feel so good. So damn good. He hisses, closing his eyes when your walls grip him and he replaces your hand with his, “shhh. Don’t want anyone to know.” He whispers.

You nod, your eyes wide on his as he fills you. It’s always amazing and your legs wrap around him and you lock them behind his ass. It’s wicked and fun, fucking your boss on his desk while the entire team is outside the door.

He sets a quick pace knowing you won't have a lot of time before people start knocking on his door to ask him questions and ask for paperwork. "Fuck." He hisses, "you feel so damn good baby." He murmurs, keeping his palm over your mouth but he can feel the vibrations from your moans.

You can tell he loves this. The quiet pants and the way his eyes darken tells you that he fucking loves fucking you right here where you could get caught. It’s thrilling, working you both up as his cock drills into you.

He grips your jaw, looking you in the eyes. “Stay quiet otherwise I stop.” He warns, growling when you clamp down on his cock, clearly enjoying the way his fingers dig into your jaw. “Come on baby, want you to cum for me. Keep quiet. Don’t want anyone walking in here and seeing what a slut you are for me.”

You hiss out a breath, your cunt getting even tighter around him. You’ve discovered that Marcus likes a little bit of degradation, both giving and receiving. While you probably would have slapped any other man, Marcus respects you so much that it’s fucking hot when you hear him call you a slut.

“That’s it sweetheart. Cum for me. Shit. I’m gonna fill you up.” He promises, his cock twitching and he reaches between you so he can rub your clit, wanting you to soak his cock before he cums. “Please baby. Cum for me.” He grunts softly, desperately trying to keep quiet.

With a small gasp, you follow his order. Tilting your head back and closing your eyes as the pleasure crashes over you and threatens to overwhelm you. Your body goes taunt and your walls grip him like a vice as you shake.

He bites his lip to smother his groan of pleasure before he surges forward to press his lips to yours, thrusting into you frantically enough that his desk is squeaking and he is so close. A few more thrusts and he’s sent over the edge, crying into your mouth as he paints your walls with his hot cum, his fingers now gently wrapped around your neck.

There is nothing sexier than when Marcus cums. Absorbing his sounds and watching him ride out his high is probably the best thing you’ve done all day. Kissing him softly as he finally gives a small groan at the last pump of cum into you and stops moving. “Fun?” You whisper with a grin.

He chuckles, kissing your nose. “Always. It always is with you.” He thinks back for a moment to the times you’ve blown his mind over the past month. The fantasies you’ve indulged and the ones he’s helped you fulfill. It’s been the best month of his life. “What fantasy is next on the list?” He asks once he’s pulled out of you. He can’t spend too long inside of your body, he finds he ends up feeling things he shouldn’t when he looks at you in the aftermath of his orgasm. Words he wants to say but absolutely can’t.

“Well…” You stand up straight and start pulling your skirt down, feeling his cum start to spill out of you. It’s a feeling you love and you will have to go put your panties back on. “I think the only one we really haven’t done is pegging.” You tell him, having wanted him to get more comfortable with toys and anal play first.

He inhales sharply, knowing that it was on the list but he never wanted to push you if it was something you didn’t want to do. “Are you- are you sure?” He whispers, his cock softening so he quickly tucks himself away, buckling his belt as he waits for your answer.

“If you are.” You straighten your blouse and after that, you don’t look like you were in here getting fucked by your boss. “I thought that we could look online at some harnesses and toys and figure out what you wanted.”

He bites his lip, blushing furiously despite the lust resurfacing inside of him. “I'd love that.” He nods, reaching out to grab your waist as he leans in to kiss you again. “You’re a dream come true. I, uh, I can bring dinner if you wanna get some new toys and the, uh, harness.”

You are a little surprised that he wants to do this tonight but you can’t help but smile. “Of course.” You purr. “Seven sound okay?” Honestly, you miss him on the days he doesn’t come over or you don’t go over to his house. It’s starting to become a problem.

He nods, “I’ll bring some wine too.” He promises, pecking your lips against them he pulls back. “Better go back out there before anyone sees you. Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” He teases, excited for tonight.

You wink and sneak out the door, making it back to your desk without anyone noticing that you had come from Marcus’s office. When you went home, you stopped by the toy store and may have gone a little overboard in picking out toys. Wanting him to have options for this experience.

****

Marcus knocks on your door, bag of takeout in his free hand and a bottle of wine tucked into his armpit. He’s nervous but so excited. Half hard just thinking about what could happen tonight. His ultimate fantasy with the girl of his dreams. Yeah, he’s accepted that he is in love with you. Has been for longer than he knew, and he has decided to not push anything. He is in love with you and if you love him too, or even like him, things will work out. If not, he will force himself to get over it. He can’t just jump in and push the girl to feel as much as he does. It hasn’t worked and he vowed to be different after Teresa.

You open your door with a grin, reaching for him to help with some of the stuff. He doesn’t have a bag with him. The two of you had just decided that you would keep items at each other’s house. Sets of boxers and t-shirts and a casual outfit that stayed and got washed alongside your clothes. It makes you fully domestic to see his clothes beside yours. “I should just give you a key.” You tell him, pulling the bottle of wine away from him since he would argue over the larger bag of takeout. “Let you come and go as you please.”

It is dangerously close to being a relationship. Both of you are so comfortable around each other. You laugh and bitch about work and family. It’s easy, way too easy, and Marcus has to remind himself to relax every time he thinks about you. This is casual, it’s supposed to be fun. Nothing serious. Yet, you mentioning he can have a key has his heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah? You, uh, you want me to - come in in the middle of the night and just fuck you?” He teases, knowing how much you love that.

“Yes.” Your eyes blow wide at the thought even though that hadn’t been what you were thinking of. “That’s- I hadn’t thought about that, but yes.” You wave him inside your place and close the door behind him. “Do you want to eat first?” You ask. “Open this up and relax a bit?”

Marcus nods, suddenly nervous and excited, but he is hungry. "Let's eat first and then we can figure it out." He tells you, kissing your forehead once you're in the kitchen. He knows where you keep your plates, he knows where you keep your glasses and cutlery, he knows your home and it's strangely intimate.

“You know where everything is.” You hum, impressed with how easily he moves in your home. How well he seems to just fit in your space.

He nods, “kinda like having a husband without the commitment.” He jokes, despite his stomach twisting and his heart thumping. You’re too beautiful for your own good: inside and out. It’s getting harder for him to keep denying how he feels.

You chuckle although the words make your heart clench. He doesn’t want anything more from you than just friends with benefits, that’s clear. “I guess so.” You reach for your wine glass. “Just like the sex without commitment. Pure fun.”

He chews on his food to avoid answering, not wanting to blurt out how he feels. He swallows harshly and stares blankly at the TV, Golden Girls playing mindlessly as you both eat. "Yeah." He finally says, "no commitment. Best of both worlds, right?"

Finishing up dinner is quiet, both of you in your own little worlds after the awkward conversation. When you finish, Marcus takes your plate to put it in the kitchen while you go to grab the bags of things you had bought to show him. “Okay, so anything you don’t like, we don’t have to use. I probably went overboard.” You admit with a grin.

Marcus's eyes widen as he looks at the array of toys. "Wow. I - wow. This is - wow baby." He immediately gravitates to a dildo, thinner in girth but long. His cock twitches as he feels the rubber, excited and nervous to try this. "Are you sure you're comfortable?" He double checks, knowing this is a lot to ask.

You nod, holding up the harness. “I- the set up I got will allow me to have a toy too.” You admit with a small smirk. “So we can both have stimulation.” It’s sweet that he keeps making sure you are okay with this, but it’s not necessary. You wonder if he was expecting you to think less of him because of it, because you don’t.

He groans at the thought of you fucking him while getting off yourself. It's perfect. "Good. I want you to cum too. I want you to enjoy this. God baby, I - shit. I am so turned on." He confesses, now fully hard and he grabs your free hand to bring it to his crotch.

You moan when you feel his cock is already hard and you give him a good squeeze. “Why don’t you go into the bedroom and get ready?” You ask him huskily. “I’ll put on the harness in here so you can see it all ready for you.”

Marcus nods, mouth suddenly dry, and he steps back before rushing to your bedroom. He strips off, laying down on the bed with his cock leaking pre-cum in anticipation of your entrance. Jesus, this is beyond his wildest dreams and you haven’t even started.

You strip down and figure out how to get the harness on and adjusted comfortably. Washing the toy he had picked out and your own before getting those clicked into place and moaning quietly when the toy slides inside you. It’s slightly unusual, walking with the dildo bouncing and you grin as you walk into the bedroom, naked except for the harness and you.

Marcus’s eyes widen as he watches you stride into the bedroom. A choked noise escaping his lips as he sees you enter with the dildo bouncing. His ultimate fantasy come true and he swears he could cum then and there. “Oh fuck baby. I- Jesus Christ. You - come here. Please. I need to kiss you.” He begs, shifting to sit up.

You giggle and make your way over to him. “I don’t know how you walk when you are hard.” You joke, letting him pull you into his arms and the toy is pressed between you next to his hard cock when his mouth fuses with yours. Making both of you moan in anticipation of what was to come.

Marcus’s hands caress your body, his tongue sliding against yours as he throbs against your stomach. “Baby. I can’t believe you’re doing this for me. I- I love it.” He nearly admits he loves you but he bites that back. You need to prep him and he is nearly ready to cum just at the idea.

You press your lips to his again. “You know I will do almost anything for you.” You don’t tell him why that is, but you pull back slightly. “How do you want to do this? Do you want to be on your back or on your hands and knees?”

"I want to be on my back. I want to watch you, be able to kiss you." He says, knowing that you will be hovering over him and he wants to watch you as you fuck him, wants to touch you and look into your eyes.

You had honestly thought that might be how he wanted to be. Kissing during all of your rendezvous was paramount for him. “Okay, pretty boy.” You’ve learned Marcus loves praise and he’s not gotten enough of it. “Lay back and I’m going to get you ready. I want to finger you and suck your cock a little.”

Marcus groans and eagerly lays down, waiting for you to touch him. When you shift to kneel between his legs, the dildo pushing up against his thigh, he knows he is in heaven. Spreading his legs, he grants you access while you lube up your fingers. When you circle his puckered hole, his eyes roll into the back of his head.

This isn’t unusual, fingering him. Marcus loves it and you encourage him to enjoy anything that brings him pleasure shamelessly. Slowly starting to stretch him open so you don’t hurt him, you scissor your fingers slightly as you lean down and take his hard cock into your mouth.

“Oh fuck.” He groans, hips bucking into your mouth when you take him deeper, pressing your tongue against the frenulum as you hum around him. “Shit. Oh God. Baby, you are always so good. Always so fucking good to me.” He rambles, lost in the pleasure even though you’ve only just begun.

You keep it light, your tongue and palette soft against his cock and your sucks gentle. Making sure that you are working your fingers in and out of him at a steady pace to get him ready for what is to come. His eyes are watching you, making you smile around his cock and hum again as you push a third finger inside him.

He watches you, hissing in delight at the stretch and he doesn’t want to cum down your throat so he gently grips your chin, pulling you off of him. “Baby. I want - I want you to fuck me.” He pleads, wanting to feel something new and this is something he has wanted for a long time. “Please baby.” He begs, a whine escaping his lips.

You smile up at him and nod, making sure that there is no hesitation. He looks eager and excited. Withdrawing your fingers, you reach for the lube so you can coat his puckered hole and the dildo in a liberal amount. “I- let me know how it feels, okay?” You ask as you shuffle forward and he lifts his legs up onto your hips while you grip the dildo and guide it towards his grasping hole.

He watches you as you push the toy against the ring of muscles, pushing in an inch and the sensation is so different from your fingers. He gasps, mouth open as you frown. “No. No. It feels good.” He promises breathlessly. A groan escaping his lip when you continue, pushing in deeper.

You rock your hips slowly, working the toy into him as gently as you can. You don’t want to accidentally hurt him so you keep a watchful eye out for changing facial expressions or gasps as you stroke his thighs. Working it deeper under the harness hits his ass and the toy is buried deep inside Marcus.

He can’t breathe, it feels so fucking good. He’s speechless, looking up at you, with the toy buried deep in his ass and his cock leaking onto his stomach. He knows he looks shameless but this is his biggest fantasy come true. “So- so good.” He chokes once he finds his voice.

“You look so good like this.” You coo, reaching out, stroking his cock with one finger and making it jerk up. “Spread out so shamelessly and ready to be fucked.” Leaning down to kiss him is harder than you imagined but you make it happen. “Is my pretty boy ready to fucked by me?”

The praise makes his cock twitch again. “Yes ma’am. Please. I need - I need you to fuck me.” He whines, “please fuck me. I’ll be a good boy.” His promise makes you smile and he strains his neck so he can kiss you again.

Your lips press against his once more before you pull back, drawing your hips back slowly and listening to him whine. When the toy was only halfway inside him, you snap your hips forward to thrust back into him again, making the toy inside you move and you moan.

“Oh my fucking God.” He chokes at the sensation, hitting his prostate perfectly to make him cry out your name. “So good. It’s so good.” He feels like he could sob but he controls himself, his thighs shaking on your hips, “is the - the toy inside of you good?” He asks, always concerned about your pleasure.

“So -so good.” You promise, eager to make him feel like that again. “It’s gonna make me cum as I fuck you.” You promise, your next thrust a little bolder and you slowly start working yourself up to a decent rhythm. You can tell you’ve never pegged anyone before, but from the moans from Marcus, you think you are doing alright.

“It’s so good. So fucking good baby. Christ, gonna make me cum. Never - never felt like this before.” He admits, bucking his hips, and he groans, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his cock.

“That’s it baby.” Your cunt clenches around the toy and you rock your hips a little harder, enjoying the way that your thighs slap against the back of his ass. “Want you to cum. Want this to feel so good you have to cum for me.” You are panting, not expecting to be as much of a workout as it is, but he is gorgeous underneath you and you want him to keep whining and moaning.

Marcus’s chest heaves as his heart pounds, the pleasure is too much and when you reach out to take over pumping his cock, he’s gone. The way you expertly twist your wrist has him crying out. “Oh fuck. Fuck baby. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” He chokes, eyes closing before his cock throbs in your grip. Painting his chest with his hot seed as he cums hard.

You moan as he cums, falling apart so beautifully as ropes of cum spurts out to cover his chest while you work him through his orgasm, still rocking your hips and fucking the toy into him. Wanting him to get as much pleasure as possible. “Want to see if you can cum again?” You ask, smirking at the way his eyes shoot open.

He groans, “I don’t - I don’t know if I can. I’ve never - I’ve never tried. Baby, oh God.” He hisses, feeling himself being pushed to the edge and it’s almost painful but he fucking loves it.

You smirk and keep rolling your hips, the cum on your hand adding extra lubrication as you keep stroking him, feeling the throbbing and the way that he softens slightly but then he groans and jerks his hips up with another rush of blood to his cock. “Remember to use your safe word baby.” You remind him. You want to push him, but you don’t want to push him too far.

He doesn’t want to use his safe word. This is more than he could ever imagine and he doesn’t want to stop. “Please. Keep going.” He begs, a raspy growl escaping his chest as he rocks up into your grip, his cock hardening once more as he passes the overstimulation into pleasure.

You groan at how good he is for you. Smirking down at him while you continue to fuck into him. “Good boy.” You purr, moaning when the toy moves up against your g-spot. “I want to see you like this again. You love it and I love that you love it.”

He hisses when your fingers grip his cock a little harder. “I- I want to be good for you. I love - I love it.” He wants to say he loves you but he can’t. He chokes when you hit deep again and he moans your name, his cock pulsing again. “I’m gonna - oh baby I’m gonna cum.” He pants, so close to the edge.

Rocking on the toy has you biting your lip, close to the brink of cumming after so long. “Do it.” You pant out, rocking your hips faster as you chase your own pleasure. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cry out, shuddering and cumming around the toy.

Watching you as you cum, your grip slacking around his cock actually sends him over the edge. “Oh fuck. Baby. Baby.” He cries, cum painting his chest as he reaches out to squeeze your hand around his cock with his own, working himself through his orgasm.

You whine, watching him fall apart as you continue to ride your own orgasm out until you finally stop rocking your hips and give a breathless giggle. Not caring that his chest is covered in cum, you lean down and kiss him, needing to feel connected to him at this moment.

He pulls his hand away from his cock, reaching up to cup the back of your head to keep your lips pressed against his. He is lost, his heart thumping in his chest and he is desperate to tell you how he feels. “God, it’s so good. You’re so good. You’re amazing. Fucking amazing.”

You smile against his lips, kissing him back earnestly and reaching up to stroke the hair that needed a trim back. “You’re amazing too.” You promise. “How do you feel?” You know that he’s saying that because of what you had just done to him, for him. It was a big fantasy and you wonder, with no small fear, if he will call things off now that he’s gone through his wish list - ready to get back into the world of dating. Your heart clenches because you know that would be the end of your friendship. You can’t go back to what you were with Marcus, you know that now.

“I feel relaxed and I just - thank you so much for doing this for me. No one else would even consider it and I - I want to say you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.” He strokes your cheek, his dark eyes focused on you as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

You scoff and shake your head. “And they were all idiots.” You promise him. Unable to resist leaning into his touch and stealing another kiss. “Now, let me help you get cleaned up.”

Marcus groans softly when you pull out of him, his puckered hole fluttering at the emptiness, and he watches as you shuffle off of the bed and walk into your bathroom. He can’t move, he feels boneless and he can’t even get up to get you some water.

You quickly slip off the harness and toss the toys in the sink to wash and wet a rag so that you can clean Marcus up. Smiling when you see him still sprawled on the bed, you stride over to kiss him again before you start cleaning the cum off his chest. “As soon as I get you cleaned up, I’ll get you some water, babe.” You tell him, wiping away the streaks of pearlescent liquid from his skin.

Marcus looks up at you, watching as you clean him off and he can’t hold back. He blurts out, “I love you. I’m in love with you.” He rushes out before he even has a chance to think about it.

Your mouth drops open and you freeze for a moment, his declaration bouncing around in your head. You want to deny it, to tell him it’s just the post coitus high, but you know it’s not. Not with the way that he’s looking at you. You bite your lip and set the rag on your nightstand. “I love you too.” You whisper, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I love you too.”

Marcus’s eyes widen as he processes your response and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, smiling in joy. You love him too. “I think I loved you before we started all of this but now, I know I love you. You’re all I think about. When we aren’t together, I want to see you. I just - I’m cursed with relationships and that’s why I didn’t want to push for anything else but baby, I love you. I can’t keep it to myself anymore. You’re everything I have ever wanted and more.” He wraps his arm around you, keeping you close.

“Thank God.” You give a small giggle of relief. “I was dreading the idea of you meeting someone and this ending.” You confess, tilting your head up from your position on the bed and kissing his jaw. “I knew I couldn’t go back to just being your friend, and whoever you were with would never allow you to stay friends with someone you slept with.”

He nods, “I know. I couldn’t even think about you being with someone else. I couldn’t even imagine this ending. Baby, I want you. All of you. As my lover, as my girlfriend and one day…my wife.” He knows that he could possibly scare you off but he has never been one to beat around the bush. He always puts his heart on the line and he prays you keep it safe and secure.

Your grin is wide and happy. Cupping his cheek and kissing him again. “You’re just saying that because I pegged you.” You tease playfully. “But I’m not going to let you take it back.” You kiss him again. “After all, I wanted to give you a key to my apartment. It wasn’t just so you could come in and fuck me.”

“I want to take you on a proper date and then we are going to disclose our relationship to HR so I can tell the world about the beautiful woman I’m in love with…if you’re okay with that. If not, we can keep it secret for a while longer.” He offers, not wanting you to feel pressured.

Shaking your head, you send him a small pout. “I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore.” You tell him. “It’s been hard enough not being able to kiss you as much as I’ve wanted.” You do just that right now because you can. “I don’t want to be friends with benefits with you anymore.” You grin. “I want to be your girlfriend and then one day soon, your wife.”

#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike imagine

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capricornlevi · 1 year

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In Close Proximity, Part 2 - Jean Kirstein x F!Reader

summary: jean's silent treatment lasts a bit longer than you anticipated. thankfully, you're both able to address it together, thanks to some very unexpected circumstances

cw: explicit sexual content, consumption of alcohol, semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink, mild tw for claustrophobia (two characters get stuck in an elevator)

NSFW, 18+ - MDNI - MINORS and AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

taglist from part 1: @tacobellfreshavocado @moonandflowersfairy @reiners-milkbiddies @andivvs @nothisispatrick300

wc: 11.2k

This is the final part of the series. Part 1 is available here

“Beer pong in the kitchen in five!”

You don’t even need to turn around to know who’s shouting. Reiner’s voice is loud, audible even over the chaotic noises of the party, which is likely why he was sent out to deliver the message — that, plus the fact that he was probably the one who suggested it in the first place. As co-host, his request is pretty hard to refuse.

You choose avoidance instead. Staying put in the quiet corner of the room you’ve been lingering in, you allow the rest of your friends to scramble to the kitchen and hopefully make so much noise that nobody notices your absence.

You’re not trying to be unsociable, you’re just exhausted.

It’s just after two a.m. now, which wouldn’t be so bad were it not for the fact that finals begin in a few days. Questionable timing for a party, sure, but it serves as one last celebration before the chaos of exam season and because of that, you didn’t want to turn down the invite.

Now, with hindsight, you realise you probably should have.

You slip your phone out of your pocket and unlock it, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram in the hopes of distracting yourself (and staying awake). With your other hand, you give your half-finished can of beer a little squeeze, feeling the metal flex under your fingers as you suppress a yawn.

Maybe you should have lied about being sick or said you had other plans. It would have been more sensible to just make up an excuse. You’ve had to pull three all-nighters this past week alone just to get your assignments submitted in time, and your sleep cycle hasn’t fully recovered since.

Though, in your defence, you didn’t think the party would lastthis long . Foolish and naive as it might have been, you thought this whole thing would just be a few casual beers with friends, not … this.

This is a big party. Again, if you had stopped to actually think things through before accepting the invite, you might have been able to guess that Reiner’s position on the football team would mean that he’d be inviting the entire team, some supporters, significant others, drinking buddies …

How could you even be surprised that well over a hundred people showed up?

Eight hours have passed since people started drinking and it’s still busy now. Although quite a few people have gone their separate ways over the course of the evening, either heading out to other parties or to nightclubs in town, you’d guess there are still thirty people at the house, give or take.

So far, you’ve spoken to approximately twenty-nine of them.

Number 30 is sitting in the kitchen tapping a keg, last you heard, though you definitely don’t care — to be honest, Number 30 is pissing you off. You’re well and truly sick of having to avoid Jean Kirstein everywhere you go.

He hasn’t spoken to you since that time you ran into him at the café after winter break, and to make things worse, you’ve been running into each other a lot since then.

Remember back when you justified hooking up with him because you didn’t have the same friend group? It seems as though your university is a bit too small for that to have ever been the case.

He is just … he’s always there, and whether it’s at parties, Reiner’s football games, even just bumping into him on campus, it’s always awkward.

To make matters worse, your mutual friends are usually there too — the weighted silence between you and Jean is incredibly obvious to anyone in the vicinity.

It’s annoying for many reasons, mostly because it’s unfair. It’s difficult to accept Jean’s sudden silent treatment since you’re really not sure what actually went wrong between the two of you.

Things were fine, and then they weren’t.

That night at the party was a reasonably successful hook-up by your standards and so you can’t imagine it has anything to do with that. You both got to finish, made sure to use protection, and the fact that he left immediately afterwards meant you didn’t have to reckon with the awkwardness of the following morning. All-in-all, a great experience. Ten out of ten.

So when Historia pointed out his frosty attitude towards you at the cafe after winter break, you had assumed Jean was just having a bad day. You reasoned that he might have been in a rush to get to class, or maybe he hadn’t been sleeping well, or maybe it was one of another thousand possible excuses for his rushed exit.

It was the following week that your optimism started to wane, when he pretended to not hear you greet him when you bumped into each other on campus.

And again in the supermarket a week later.

In the queue at the local pizza place, as well.

But it was only when you and your roommates met with him at the college bar on Valentine’s Day that you knew it definitely wasn’t a fluke.

Jean was there with his friends and you arrived with yours, but when he spotted Annie and Porco and went to greet them, he did not look at you once. Not once, and even Annie noticed it. He never made eye contact with you, never replied to your questions, and slipped away to order a drink at the bar when he saw you approach to confront him about it.

All the excuses in the world couldn’t explain his behaviour, except for one thing — Jean was mad at you.

Well, it would be more accurate to say that he is mad at you. Currently. This is a present-tense situation, tragically.

You knock back the last of your beer with a grimace.

“Hey, whatcha still doing here?”

Before you can turn to face Reiner, he’s practically on top of you. You don’t even have time to lift your head from your phone when a large, muscular arm gets thrown around your shoulder, nearly knocking the air from your chest.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to him with a smile and feigning ignorance.

“Everyone’s in the kitchen! Beer pong!”

You’re painfully aware of that. You were hoping to lay low for another while so as to avoid the crowd - specifically one person in that very crowd - but you can’t really think of another excuse on the spot.

“Yeah?” you ask half-heartedly.

He seems to take your defeated exhale as a sign of surrender, his face breaking into a beaming smile as he grabs you by the arm (with considerably less force than earlier, thankfully), guiding you out to the kitchen.

“Come on! And if Porco asks, you’re on my fuckin’ team. He’s trying to poach people when he thinks I’m not looking.”

The journey isn’t the smoothest. You nearly stumble over a pile of crushed beer cans and have to push past a lot of sweaty football players, finally making it to the kitchen a few moments later. Reiner only releases his grip on your arm once you’re safely inside and not at risk of catching a stray elbow to the head.

Once you’ve taken a moment to adjust to the stuffy and beer-scented atmosphere in this part of the house, you glance around the packed kitchen.

Reiner was right in that pretty much everyone’s here - as many as can fit in, anyway - and you see Porco and Annie across the room by the fridge. They wave, and you return it with a forced smile.

There’s a big table in the centre of the room with a keg underneath it, as well as a few chairs pulled out against the walls to make space. Most of them are being used to hold stacks of empty cups, jackets, purses, and, weirdly, a singular bright-pink cowboy hat with flashing lights around the brim.

Jean is sitting on one of the other chairs. You spot him far too quickly, seeing him chat to a group of girls you recognise from somewhere (Historia’s housemates, maybe?). He’s talking to them all with that lop-sided grin on his face, one that sends a weird feeling through you; a bizarre mix of fondness and resentment.

Resentment wins out, and so you stare at him with absolutely no subtlety, willing him to look your way. He doesn’t budge, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead of him. One of the girls starts laughing loudly at some story he’s told.

Reiner sees you staring and chuckles, clapping a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. Your friends are aware of Jean’s grudge - it’s hard not to be aware of it, considering neither of you tries to hide it - though they’re just as confused as to the cause.

You haven’t told any of them about your night with Jean. Some carefully-placed questions over the past few months have shown, to your relief, that nobody has any suspicions that something happened between the two of you.

Unfortunately, that means they’re of absolutely no help when it comes to figuring out this mystery.

“He hates me,” you groan despairingly, still looking in Jean’s direction as Reiner hands you another beer that he grabbed from the cooler. “He actually hates me.”

Reiner scoffs. “He doesn’t hate you.”

Well, that gives you some hope. Reiner plays on the same team as Jean’s roommate Eren, so maybe he’s finally heard something?

“And how do you know that?” you ask, trying to keep the curiosity from leeching into your tone.

“Because it’s Jean,” Reiner answers with a laugh. “Jean likes everyone!”

Your hopes are crushed into a fine powder. Apparently Reiner is the only one of your friends not to pick up on Jean’s grudge, and not only that, but his words also make you feel even more irritated by this whole situation.

Because Jean, who likes everyone, does not like you at all.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow. It would be so much easier if you could hate him. But you don’t, because the most irritating thing is that he's being relatively civil. Petty, but civil.

He hasn’t been spreading rumours or insulting you — Historia, Porco, and Annie intercept most of the gossip at your college, so the fact they haven’t heard anything untoward proves that Jean’s been keeping his mouth shut.

… which is funny, because that’s kind of the whole problem.

As strange as it seems, part of you wishes that he’d just act like the asshole you always assumed he was. It might make things a little easier if he was being outright rude or hostile.

But he doesn’t. Part of you wonders if he’s waiting for you to be the aggressor, to lose it on him publicly and embarrass yourself.

Because of that, you don’t break. He’s the one who started this, so he can be the one to finish it.

At least … you think he’s the one who started this.

“You’re right, Reiner,” you say, glancing over at Jean one more time. He averts his eyes when you try to meet them. “It’s probably nothing.”

At Reiner’s prompting, you pick up the little plastic ping-pong ball resting on the countertop and head over to the table. You toss it without thinking, and it manages to land with a small splash in one of the red cups lined up on the other side.

You’re so caught up in the excitement of victory - and the fact you’ve successfully found a good distraction - that you don’t even realise you haven’t formed teams yet. As the others rush into place, setting their cups aside and trying to push past to reach the ends of the table, you notice Jean stays seated.

Probably for the best, you figure. It would be awkward no matter which side he picked.

It’s fine. This is fine. If he’s happy to pretend you don’t exist, then maybe you should try the same thing with him.

You successfully land your next throw as well.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of beer and obnoxious football chants, vodka and poorly-curated Spotify playlists, and the party ends only when Annie drags you and Porco out the door to get pizza.

You never thought thatyou would be the one wanting to stay longer, but it was a fun night. You’re glad you went in the end. You got to see friends you hadn't met in a while, performed admirably in three separate rounds of beer pong, and it was nice to have a proper send-off before everyone goes their separate ways over the summer.

But when you arrive home, chewing on some suspiciously cold pizza and forcing yourself to drink a pint of water before bed, you realise that you’re left feeling unsettled.

Like something, somewhere, went wrong, and you know it’s not the hangover talking.

… yet.

Unsurprisingly, you wake with a pounding headache and a stale, bitter taste in your mouth that makes every breath feel more disgusting than the last. An empty pizza box sits on your desk and your clothes from last night are strewn across the floor, obscuring the tote bag that contains stacks of notecards you’ve prepared for this week’s finals.

You sit up in bed and rub your eyes. When you glance down at your hands, you see streaks of mascara that you didn’t properly remove when drunkenly taking off your makeup last night.

Ugh. Your stomach is lurching.

And it’s the Monday of exam week.

And everything feels off.

You’re not completely unprepared for finals, but this is still not an ideal start to the week. Your hungover brain throbs against your skull at the very thought of opening a textbook.

Thankfully, your first exam isn’t until tomorrow afternoon, meaning you can work from your bed for most of the day. The library is a no-go until the evening; you figure that the other students would appreciate you staying home until the scent of beer stops leaching from your pores.

It’s not the worst prospect. Over the years, you’ve discovered that you actually prefer going to the library much later than most. Campus is disgustingly busy during business hours, plus there’s never a queue for the library printers at night — it just makes sense to go when the distractions are most limited.

These late-night library visits are probably not the best move for your ailing sleep cycle, but you don’t care. It’s a short-term sacrifice.

After a half-hour spent in bed trawling through TikTok, you finally feel like you’re able to stand upright without having your legs give out underneath you. You pad out to the kitchen to make some dry toast and black coffee with the hopes that it will cure your ailments.

It doesn’t. Taking ibuprofen washed down with a glass of ice-cold water doesn't provide much help, either.

By the time you get back to your room and set up at your desk, it takes you nearly an hour to find the willpower to open up your laptop.

When you do manage to open it, it takes you twice as long as usual to even remember your password.

Fuck it — you need a nap.

It goes against every college student's survival instinct in your body, but you give up after forty-five minutes of half-assed studying.

The nap helps, but you wake in a cold sweat. After blinking slowly, trying to piece together why you’re so suddenly stressed, a peek over at the clock on your wall tells you exactly why.

Most of the day is wasted , you haven’t studied a single notecard, and you have an exam in less than twenty-four hours.

Yes, you had allowed yourself some time to recover — but not this much time. You overslept alot .

You scramble to get changed and gather your things, managing to calm yourself down enough to leave at around seven p.m.

After saying a quick goodbye to Annie and Porco, you set off for the library, armed with a couple of energy drinks, these weird vitamin gummies your roommates swear cure all hangovers, and your headphones. It’ll be another all-nighter, so you pick up a sandwich in the campus café just before it closes.

Your stomach twists when you get to the library at around eight and see that it’s still as busy as ever.

How annoying. It’s cold, too, which makes you wish you wore jeans and a sweatshirt instead of a skirt and blouse, but you’ve been too busy to do laundry and so had to settle for what you had available.

You find a seat eventually and settle in for a long night. Setting up your laptop and notes, you stick in your headphone and turn the volume up to the highest setting - again, not the best for your health, but it should help to keep you awake.

After an hour, you’ve covered one chapter. Slower progress than you’d have liked, but it’s still better than nothing.

Another ninety minutes and the second chapter is finished, plus the others at your table have started to pack up and leave — finally. It’s just you in this row now.

More time passes and even more students start to call it a night. As the pile of finished notecards on your desk grows, the more empty chairs start appearing on the floor. By midnight, only a handful of people are left.

It’s a relief. You didn’t want to be rude, but the girl across from you had the loudest laptop keyboard ever created, and the guy two rows back had hayfever so strong that you were tempted to go pick up some antihistamines yourself if it would help him stop sniffling. You’re grateful for the peace and quiet now.

Scanning the rows, you try to count the remaining students.

You spot a girl you recognise from your Thursday morning seminar - that’s one - then there’ssomeone across from her who has a stack of books so high it looks like a Jenga tower - that’s two.

You spot a guy who you think is on the basketball team - three - and …

Oh no.

You squint to make sure you’re seeing things correctly, but once you catch sight of that distinctive hazel-brown hair, you know you’re not mistaken.

Jean.

He’s sitting about five rows across from you and over to the left, his brows furrowed in concentration as he works, seemingly unaware of your presence as he studies late into the night.

Damn it.

You hadn’t seen him before now, probably because your line of sight was obscured by the many people sitting between you.

In a complete shift, you now wish the library was a little busier again. If that were the case, you can pretend to have not noticed him and he would be none the wiser, but there’s only a handful of people left sitting here. Running into Jean now seems inevitable.

Could you get up and move to another row?

No, you shut down that thought immediately — if he’s so uncomfortable with you, then he can be the one to move. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way to avoid someone who won’t even tell you why he’s upset in the first place.

You force your gaze back to the open book in front of you. To fully ensure that your attention is focused on your studies and not Jean, you take your headphones out of your bag and put them on, hitting ‘play’ on your tried-and-tested study playlist. You take a sip of your energy drink and get back to work.

Another few hours pass and, thankfully, the pile of unread books has begun to shrink as your stack of notecards grows taller. Suppressing a yawn, you glance at the time. Two a.m. again.

You could stay longer. You have a protein bar in your bag that could keep you sustained for another while, plus the sugar and caffeine from your selection of beverages mean you’re not completely exhausted.

You rub your eyes, noticing that your vision has gone blurry. You blink heavily to try to clear it, and when you open your eyes, you know for certain that it’s time to head home …

Because you’re the only person left on this floor.

It’s not that there’s a risk of you being kicked out - the library is open all night long in the run-up to exams - it’s just sort of eerie being here all by yourself. Your body is also starting to tap out despite your best efforts, and you’d rather not accidentally doze off here and wake up in a worse state than this morning.

You shove your notes and laptop in your bag and stretch, your aching muscles grateful for the change in posture. Scanning your desk to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything, you stand up to leave.

This is progress. You remained focused, got some work done, and absolutely did not think about how Jean was there. You did such a good job that you didn’t even see him leave, come to think of it, and that’s fine — he wouldn’t have noticed if you left, after all.

Heading over to the closest elevators, you see the doors start to shut. You quicken your pace to a jog; normally you wouldn’t bother rushing, but you’re on the fourth floor and don’t fancy walking all the way down those stairs. You call out a quick, “hold the elevator!”, hoping that whoever is inside hears you in time.

They do.

A hand reaches out to stop the door from closing, and when the elevator opens fully, you see who stopped it for you.

Jean, again .

He must have known it was you running to catch it — you were unable to see through the opening in the doors, but he had a better view from where he’s standing.

He knew it was you, so you’re not sure why he decided to do this. It’s the closest he’s come to acknowledging your existence in months.

You think for a moment about taking the stairs but decide against it. It’ll only make things more uncomfortable, and as you noted earlier, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin.

As you take your time to mull this over, he’s still holding the door. He clears his throat to get your attention, the ghost of a frown on his face as he waits for you to step in.

“You coming?” he asks, the sound of his voice almost unfamiliar.

You don’t say anything, you don’t nod or acknowledge it explicitly in any way. You just swallow your doubts and step inside.

You press the button for the ground floor even though it’s already lit up, turning to face away from him as you do so.

Neither of you looks at one another. Not even a side glance.

“Thanks,” you say finally, a last attempt at an olive branch, and he doesn’t reply. He stays there staring at the elevator door, probably willing it to move faster.

You huff out a breath, half-annoyed and half-amused. If he notices, he says nothing of the sort.

The elevator starts moving. You cast your eyes to the ceiling, grateful that at least this ordeal will be over quickly.

According to the little neon number displayed above the door, you’re on the third floor of the library when the walls of the elevator start to shake. Slight at first, it emits a soft rattling noise, one that could just be dismissed as the normal creaking of what appears to be a very old unit.

But then it gets louder.

You frown, looking around the space for the source of the noise. It sounds like a rough scraping sound, something on the other side of the walls. The sound is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. You feel your stomach drop.

The floor lurches a bit, shaking in jumpy motions as it tries to descend, and your hand shoots out against the wall to steady yourself.

Jean does the same, his lips pinched into a flat line and face paler than you’ve seen it. You hear him swear under his breath; he changes up his chosen curse word with every lurch of the elevator floor.

For a few moments, you’re still moving but only very, very slowly, the noise getting progressively louder as the walls shake incessantly until the elevator finally grinds to a halt with a deafening screech somewhere between the second and first floors.

Your heart rate is through the roof, a panicked shout threatening to erupt when you see the lights start to flicker. You brace yourself for the sensation of falling, fearing the elevator will drop suddenly without notice.

Thankfully, the lights stay on.

You figure that’s a good sign; as long as the lights are on, it surely means that some of the electrical supply is still connected.

You don’t know much about elevators, but right now, all you care about is that it stays in one place until help arrives.

Five, ten seconds pass, and no drop. No movement of any sort.

Deep breath.

You turn to Jean, letting out a shallow chuckle when you see the appalled look on his face. Sweat beads on his forehead, his eyes are wide in horror. He looks seconds away from passing out.

He turns to you when he hears your bizarre reaction, his eyes widening further as he does so, both fear and annoyance flickering in them.

“Are you laughing?” he asks, incredulous.

“I - yeah,” you reply, trying to look past the fact that this is the most he’s said to you in months. “I sometimes laugh when I’m nervous. Sorry.”

“I just … I can’t … how are we-”

“Deep breaths,” you say, both for him and yourself. You set your bag down on the floor and turn to face him. “Deep breaths, see? We’re gonna be fine.”

You’re not sure where this reassurance is coming from. Maybe you’re just trying to soothe your own worries, maybe you’re just trying to keep Jean from spiralling because you know that’ll only stress you out more — either way, you’re trying your best to keep calm, knowing that excessive panic will get you nowhere.

Jean, on the other hand, still looks like he could collapse right in front of you.

“How do you - how can you be sure?”

You place a hand on the side of the wall, pressing firmly, and he lets out a yelp of protest.

“Don’t shake it, Jesus Christ!”

“I’m not!” you reply, trying desperately to suppress another laugh in spite of everything. You weren’t lying — you really do struggle to keep a straight face in these situations. “I’m just showing you that we’re not moving, it’s not shaking anymore. The safety device must’ve kicked in.”

You let your hand fall back to your side and Jean’s shoulders release just a bit of their tension.

“Don’t panic,” you follow up, smiling at him.

A smile, he thinks to himself, how fucking … frustrating. Your grin taunts him even though you don’t mean it to. He really feels like he might be actively dying in this elevator and you’re there, smiling up at him, without a care in the world, not knowing how much he’s thought about that-

“I’m not panicking,” he replies far too quickly.

“Are you sure?” you ask, intrigued by the boy in front of you, the one who is usually so calm and assured in every other interaction you’ve had with him, “ … it seems like you’re panicking.”

He frowns. “Stop it.”

“I’m not making fun of you!” you object. “Just … observing, I guess.”

“Can you observe a way out of this elevator, then?”

You press your lips into a thin line.

“Well, hitting the emergency call button could be a good start,” you reply coolly, gesturing to the panel to your left-hand side.

“Right. Yeah.” Jean huffs.

Once pressed, the button starts emitting a dial tone that continues for an agonisingly long time. You avoid eye contact with Jean while it rings.

Finally, a tinny voice emits from the panel, a tired-sounding phone operator droning out a rehearsed speech.

“Hello, Shiganshina Security Services, how may we help you this evening?”

You gesture across to the panel, inviting Jean to speak — he’s the one who pressed it, after all. He rolls his eyes at you but clears his throat without further objection, leaning closer to the speaker.

“Uh … hi. I’m, uh, calling from the … second floor of the Paradis University Library. Well, kinda the first floor, too. I’m trapped in the elevator.”

The operator doesn’t seem phased, continuing on in a monotone voice. “Okay, sir. Have you pressed the ‘open door’ button?”

Jean stills for a moment, closing his eyes to suppress a sigh.

“No, we’re stuck between floors.”

“‘We’? How many people are in the elevator with you?”

Jean’s eyes flicker over to you, then back to the speaker. “Uh, just two of us. We’re both students here.”

You hear the sound of the operator typing slowly on the other end of the line. “Okay, sir. Are both of you physically safe and well?”

Jean looks at you again and you nod your head.

“Uh, yeah, all good here,” he continues politely. You almost laugh at the fake-calm voice he’s putting on for the operator considering the state he was in just moments ago. “Except for the whole ‘being trapped’ part.”

“I understand, and apologies for the inconvenience,” the operator follows up, clearly finishing off the script. “At this time of night it might take a while longer for responders to reach you, but they have been contacted and we will let you know once they have been dispatched. In the event that you require any further assistance from me, please press the call button again. Due to a system malfunction, the security cameras are currently offline, so all communication will have to be carried out through the intercom.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says flatly. “Do you have, like, a ballpark of when they’ll get here?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Okay,” he concedes, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “Thanks anyway.”

The intercom cuts off with a soft clunk, and the elevator is plunged into complete silence for the first time since you stepped in.

“Well, fuck,” Jean laments.

His voice is muffled since his face is still in his hands, meaning he most likely isn’t expecting an answer from you. Still, you don’t want to pass up the opportunity to keep him talking — this could almost be classed as a conversation, and you don’t know how long you’ll be here.

Might as well make some effort at passing the time.

“Do you think they’ll let us go to the resits if we’re stuck in here til tomorrow?” you pipe up, half-jokingly.

He lifts his head and blinks at you.

You feel a little defensive. “What?”

“I just … that’s the last thing I’m worrying about right now.”

He rests his back against one of the walls and tilts his head back, crossing his arms across his chest.

You open your mouth a few times to speak, unsure of what to say next, eventually settling on, “Jean, if you’re claustrophobic, that’s fine. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

You try to make it sound like it’s not a big deal, because it isn’t — it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t want him to hide it for fear of judgment. Sure, the two of you mightn’t be on the friendliest of terms, but you don’t want him to be in distress over this when you’re more than happy to help. Like … you could do breathing exercises, something like that. You can surely Google something.

“I’m not claustrophobic,” he mutters, flushing an alarming shade of pink as he does so. “I just … this seems like a death trap.”

“We’re fine,” you reply sincerely, casting him a brief glance to see if your words have any effect; unclear, since Jean’s eyes are now screwed shut, brows knit together as he tries to ground himself.

“This whole thing could just fall,” he points out. “We’re on the second floor, if it dropped now-”

“Remember, they have these in-built safety mechanisms that stop that from happening,” you shoot back quickly. “I feel like the operator would’ve been a bit more worried if they didn’t.”

“Safety protocols were different when these were built,” he says, eyes open now and looking over at you — some small victory. He raps against the wall with his knuckles to punctuate his statement, “which was sometime around the late nineteenth century, by the looks of things.”

You chuckle. “A little dramatic.”

“Not dramatic,” he counters, “realistic. Plus, there are other ways we could die.”

“Oh, lovely. Do share."

He scoffs at your sarcasm but tells you anyway. “The ventilation isn’t great.”

“There’s only two of us here, Jean. I’m sure we’ll be ok for a couple hours.”

He tips his head as if to acknowledge your point, but carries on with his list nonetheless.

“A fire. Electrical malfunction, since she said the cameras are down-”

“The cameras are only for security,” you interject, pointing at the sign on the wall which says as much. “And it says there that the wiring was inspected three months ago.”

“And what a stand-up fuckin’ job they did,” he deadpans.

“Ok, I’ll give you that. Still, don’t think electrocution is likely. I don’t think any of that stuff is likely.”

“How are you so calm?” he exclaims, shaking his head. There’s no malice in his words; he seems more incredulous than frustrated. “Even if nothing happens, we could be in here for a long time,”

“You’re right,” you admit. “Should we draw straws to see who gets eaten first?”

A few seconds pass, and then Jean lets out a huff that sounds like a poorly-suppressed laugh. He shakes his head at you again, though his half-smile shows you’ve succeeded at snapping him out of his spiral.

A breakthrough.

“Jean, I promise, I am not trying to make fun of you,” you continue with a newfound seriousness. “I swear . I’m not gonna tell anyone about this either, if that’s what you’re so worried about. I just want to help.”

Jean looks a little torn. He worries his lip between his teeth, clearly pondering his options.

“I guess talking helps.”

“Cool, okay,” you agree casually. “Yeah, we can talk.”

Instantly, you regret not thinking this through a little better. What can you even talk about?

Obviously, you have questions about the past few months, but now probably isn’t the best time to interrogate him about it — he was about to faint just a moment ago, after all.

You try racking your brain for a topic of conversation. Sports? School? Your friends? It all sounds too … forced, considering how things were left off between you. It’s hard to pretend that nothing happened. How can you talk about anything without bringing up the elephant in the room?

Oh god. The silence is enveloping you.

Jean is no help at all. You see him from the corner of your eye; he’s just staring at you, waiting for you to come up with something.

Desperate, you meet his gaze, and in spite of everything, he cracks a small grin.

“Well, now you look like the one who’s shitting it.”

You scoff defensively, face heating against your will. “I do not. ”

“Oh please, ” he retorts, derisive but still entertained. “You look more stressed now than when we almost died.”

“We didn’t almost die,” you let out a weary sigh, “and I’m not stressed.”

“Am I that hard to talk to, huh?”

“What?” you frown. “No, why would you think that?”

He suddenly looks a bit embarrassed.

“I was joking,” he mumbles. “Wasn’t a good one though. Sorry.”

You nod, ready to leave it at that, but Jean isn’t on the same page.

“That was a stupid joke to make, I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s okay,” you say, taken aback at the sudden change in demeanour. “I mean … we’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a faint hint of solemnity in his voice.

More silence.

You fidget as you stand, dreading the next fact that the next few hours could be as awkward as this.

Just as you’re about to slip your phone out of your pocket to start passing the time, Jean mercifully breaks the silence.

“Want some food?” he blurts out, shrugging his backpack off his shoulder. “I’ve got some chocolate in my bag.”

“You’re hungry?”

“Starving. I usually have some pizza when I get home after the library, but it looks like that’s not happening for a while.”

“Oh my god, yes , me too,” you agree, grateful for the tension being lifted. “Although I only have half a protein bar to offer, if that hurts my bargaining power?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t. Wanna … should we sit down? Could be here a while, y’know.”

You both shrug off your jackets and lay them on the elevator floor, sitting down and shifting until you’re positioned cross-legged.

You rifle through your bag, fishing out the protein bar, a single can of energy drink, and some mints you’d forgotten about earlier in the week. You also lay out your little bottle of hand sanitizer to use before and after eating.

Jean pulls out a big bar of chocolate, two cans of iced mocha (you side-eye him teasingly when those come out, since you know that brand isn't cheap), along with a bag of pretzels you recognise as coming from one of the library vending machines.

You slide him the energy drink, eying up one of the coffees which he hands to you without question. You crack open the can and take a sip, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

“Aren’t you worried it's a bit too soon to pool our rations like this?” you question light-heartedly.

He waves off your concern. “You said we’re gonna be fine though, right?”

He holds his can out to you and you look at it, confused, until you realise what he’s doing. You hold out your own and cheer them together.

Jean must be feeling pretty guilty about that joke, but you don’t overthink it. This temporary truce is fine by you either way.

His change in disposition is welcome. He’s calmer now, and able to joke about the situation. The stress has left his face almost entirely.

Maybe now is the time …

“So,” you begin cordially. “How’s the semester been?”

“Busy,” he replies, tearing open the wrapper of the chocolate bar. “Heavy courseload, plus I submitted the application for grad school. That, along with swim practice, my job, plus social stuff, y’know, a few parties-”

You both dutifully pretend that you weren’t also attending the exact same parties.

“It’s been a lot,” he finishes, taking a bite of the chocolate. He holds it out to you and you break off a piece, popping it into your mouth to distract from the sudden, inexplicably heavy feeling creeping up your chest.

“How about you?” he asks, hands resting on his knees. “How have things been with you?”

It feels weird to be chatting like this, but in the spirit of civility, you start to regale him of the past few months’ events. You tell him about your internship over the summer that’s keeping you in Paradis — he congratulates you, and the part of you that’s still trying to be mad at him gets less and less vocal.

You tell him how you’ve been balancing work and study, what it’s like living with Annie and Porco. You tell him about how tough it is knowing that life after graduation is so uncertain.

“And, y’know, I’ve been to a few parties too,” you state nonchalantly, but the flush on Jean’s cheekbones shows that he’s picked up on your meaning.

He opens his mouth as if to come up with some reasoning for it all.

“I- uh-”

Seeing him try to concoct an excuse … months of pent-up frustration hits you all at once.

“Jean, why haven’t you been talking to me?” you interrupt. It bursts out like a dam breaking, and with it comes a hint of hurt in your voice; hurt at being kept in the dark, at being ignored, at being left so confused for so long. “For months . Did I do something wrong?”

Jean closes his mouth as you close yours, abandoning whatever excuse he had been coming up with. He looks down at his hands - either thinking things over or just buying time, you’re not sure - and he takes a moment, eyes trailing over the linoleum flooring beneath you.

He straightens up then, his shoulders and his expression guarded. He’s defensive, and you know it’s because he’s about to tell you the truth.

“You really want to know?” he asks, though the question doesn’t sound hostile. It’s delivered plainly. You know he won’t be brutal in his answer, just honest.

You nod shortly. Even if the answer isn’t easy to hear, you need to know.

He takes a few breaths, chest rising and falling slowly, and then speaks the words you weren’t expecting to hear.

“I guess it was a mixture of things.”

“Of what?”

“Of my pride being hurt. And … self-preservation.”

He says the words softly, beseechingly, with far less hostility than you were expecting. He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated, almost as if this is a decision he accepted long ago.

Hurt … what? Self-preservation? What is he talking about?

The shocked look on your face must read as you being appalled because he follows up hastily.

“I never spoke badly about you,” he says, but this does little to help your confusion.

“I know.”

“I just felt a bit … it kinda … it stung , I guess.”

The words settle over you slowly. You lean forward, elbows resting against your knees as you try to piece things together.

“What stung?” you query when nothing comes to mind. “Jean … what did I do ?”

He breathes out the softest laugh, tilting his head to the side as he asks, “you really want me to explain?”

“I need you to explain,” you plead.

And with that, he finally puts you out of your misery.

“You remember that night when we slept together? At your place, after exams?”

You nod, feeling warm for reasons you don’t quite understand.

He continues, “and you know after we … finished? When I was about to leave”

“Yeah?”

“It kinda … I don’t know …”

“Did I say something? Do something?”

His cheeks flush red.

“It bummed me out that you were so embarrassed about it, I guess,” he says, voice steady but you can hear the hurt buried in it. “You couldn’t wait to get me out of there. Like you were so ashamed about it, we weren’t even finished five minutes and you wanted megone. Like the worst possible thing for you would be if our friends found out.”

Oh.

That - oh.

You try to think of an explanation but none comes to you.

“I-“

“And it doesn’t make you a bad person. It was just a hook-up, I know that,” he carries on, mercifully picking up on the fact you had no idea what you were going to say when you opened your mouth. “It just didn’t feel great, is all.”

You feel the guilt hit you, coupled with the shame of having not realised it sooner.

Sure, Jean giving you the silent treatment mightn’t have been the most mature way of handling things, but … you had kicked him out in the middle of the night, reasoning that a guy as popular and confident and effortlessly fucking good at everything wouldn’t even blink twice at it. But that was a snap judgment based on your own biases, and you hadn’t even considered how your words could be interpreted.

“But that’s not the only reason I kept my distance,” he says, fidgeting with his hands.

His candour is admirable, really, considering you still haven’t said anything to him.

You’re too overwhelmed to even theorise about what he means by self-preservation.

“What other reason?” you ask, your voice sounding not like your own.

Any moment now, you expect Jean to tap out, to laugh things off, to go back to joking around and pretending this never happened.

He doesn’t.

“I thought it would, uh, I thought it would make … certain things … a bit easier to handle.”

You push gently. “Certain things?”

“Need me to be specific?

“Yeah.”

And he doesn’t even have to think before answering.

“Oh, well, specifically speaking — the giant fucking crush I’ve had on you for months now.”

This silence is far greater than any you’d experienced before. This is the type of silence that isn’t measured by time - if anything, it lasts only a few seconds - but by weight, in that it wraps around you both completely, both of you stunned at his admission.

The air feels thick, congested. Maybe Jean’s right, maybe you are running out of oxygen -

“ … please say something,” he pipes up then, self-consciousness leaching into his voice. “Please . I know it’s not tough or suave to beg, but please, say something. Anything.”

You open your mouth to speak.

“Months ?”

“Months,” he confirms, still on edge.

You blink, the cogs in your mind turning furiously. “Since … when?”

“Since we met at that football game,” he replies matter-of-fact, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Since day one. And then that night at the party … god, it took me hours to work up the courage to talk to you.”

It feels unrealistic to imagine Jean Kirstein being anxious about anything , and so the idea of him being nervous to talk to you at a party is incomprehensible.

His jaw tightens as he swallows thickly. If your head wasn’t spinning at a thousand miles an hour, you’d lean over and reassure him, maybe rest your hand on his, but your mind isn’t letting you get that far.

It’s just … a crush? You knew there was some attraction between you - the hook-up would’ve been a bit awkward if there wasn’t - but a crush implies a desire for something deeper than just sex or friendship. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

… you think.

Looking back to the first time you met him, you see the image of yourself again, staring up at Jean with bemusement as you realised just how likeable he was. And then again at the party, when you felt yourself being drawn in, caught up in a conversation and laughing with him and then you were kissing him and having him so close …

And then you shut it down before you could get hurt.

Jean mightn’t have handled things the best way, but at least he knew what he felt. Would you have let yourself feel it if you hadn’t dismissed it so early on?

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel shitty, I promise. I’m not trying to guilt you into doing anything,” Jean says, and you believe him. “I just wanted to explain my reasoning, weird as it may be. I saw you weren’t the commitment type, and figured it would be best if we kept things at a distance.”

Your lips part without you realising.

“Wow, you really are a romantic, aren’t you?”

It just slips out — you kick yourself for it immediately, but your remark makes him burst out into laughter, providing some welcome levity to cut through the tension.

“Could you wait a few minutes before giving me shit about this?” he jokes, “y’know, until after we’re finished with the emotional vulnerability?”

“I guess,” you shrug. “Could be difficult, though.”

“I appreciate the self-control.”

Trying to think about what you want to say next, only one thing comes to mind.

“... I’m really sorry, Jean.”

You don’t even consider how your words might be interpreted until you see his expression turn crestfallen, his smile fading despite his best efforts.

Oh no -

“Wait!” you say before he jumps to any conclusions. “No, I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t mean it as ‘I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way’ … it wasn’t that kind of apology.”

His disappointment is replaced with cautious confusion. “Then what are you apologising for?”

You start to clarify, thankfully sounding more articulate this time around.

“I meant … I’m sorry for kicking you out that night.”

A shallow breath follows.

Jean stays listening intently, not moving much. It’s almost as if he’s scared of startling you, like someone regarding a frightened rabbit — which, you suppose, is accurate. This is unchartered territory for you.

“And I’m sorry for acting like I was embarrassed. It was shitty of me, even if it was just a one-night stand. I could have gone about it a bit more tactfully. I wasn’t embarrassed then. I’m not embarrassed now.”

The faintest smile appears on Jean’s face, so small you might have missed it were your eyes not trained on his so intently.

“It’s okay,” he says, quiet but clear. “And I’m sorry, too, for pouting about things for far too long.”

“Pouting is a little harsh.”

“Nah, I deserve it. I was a baby.”

“… a little. But still harsh.”

You both chuckle for a moment, and when the laughter stops, you shuffle a few inches closer.

“We’re okay?” you ask carefully.

“We’re okay,” he replies, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. His throat bobs.

Knowing he’s still so obviously nervous, so vulnerable with you … a feeling of fondness surges through you like it did those times before; only this time, no part of you wants to stop it.

You’re hit with a realisation, something you’ve suppressed for a while — similar to Jean, your self-preservation seems to have gotten in the way. It’s new and it’s a little scary, but you want to tell him.

So you do.

“I like you too, Jean.”

The smile that forms on his face is so hopeful and warm that it makes your already-quivering heart skip a beat or two.

You clear your throat. “And I think I have for a while now. Just … this is all pretty new to me.”

“And me. It’s new to me too.”

Huh. You hadn’t thought about that. You’ve never heard of Jean having a relationship that lasted more than a couple dates — maybe you’ve even more in common than you once thought.

In a very weird way, it’s reassuring. You’ll both be in this together.

“We can just take it slow, see how things go,” he says, clearly wary of the fact you might need to talk this through a little more.

“Like how?”

Another grin. “Well, going on a date would be a great start.”

“Is this not a date?” you ask teasingly, gesturing to the remnants of the picnic before you.

“Ugh, no,” he says with a wince. “How would it sound if I told people our first date was a half-assed picnic in a metal box?”

You hesitate, and he knows why.

“We’re telling people?” you ask, casually as you can.

“Only if you want,” he replies quickly, almost as though he’s considered this before. “Not right away, obviously. But if things go well … and I think they will,” - you feel heat creep up your neck again - “it’ll be kind of hard to keep it a secret.”

Strangely, the thought doesn’t terrify you as much as you expected it would. It actually seems almost … nice.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks, eyes widening.

“Okay. Yes to all of it.”

Relief seems to flood through him at once — floods through you both. The softness with which he looks at you makes your heart melt.

“This was a hell of a good way to forget about being trapped in an elevator, huh?” you say, ignoring how your voice trembles still (not with fear, but with relief).

He smiles. “Trapped here for eternity, I think.”

“Any ideas on how to pass the time?”

You don’t mean it suggestively - you don’t think , anyway - but you feel a shiver run through you when his eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the elevator. Your gaze follows his, seeing how it lingers on the inactive security cameras.

“Maybe we can think of something to do,” you point out almost innocently. You sit up on your haunches, and definitely don’t miss the way his eyes skim your form before glancing back up to your face. “No security cameras, remember?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, breathless but certain as he mimics your movements, inching closer to you as he does so.

It’s a little clumsy the way you push the bags, jackets and snacks out of the way, shuffling over to reach him, but soon you’ve closed the space between you, within touching distance of him for the first time in so long.

Without waiting a moment further, you fist your hands into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt, using it as leverage as you move to straddle him. He’s so close that you can feel his shaky breathing against your lips, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

“You’re not gonna kick me out this time?” he says softly, teasingly.

“I don’t plan on it.”

And with that, you kiss him.

The feeling of his lips moving against yours knocks the air from your chest, a sensation you hadn’t realised you’d been missing. It feels different this time; it’s slower, more languid, but still passionate. Now, you can take your time to figure things out together.

You start to pick up on the things he likes; the way a groan catches in his throat when you nip at his lower lip, the way he leans in closer whenever you run a hand up his arm and the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

His hands come to grab you by the waist, handling you gently but assuredly, every movement carried out to bring you closer to him.

You start to regret the fact you could have been doing this all along - all those months spent giving each other the silent treatment, where you could have been doing this instead - but those thoughts are interrupted when Jean’s lips meet your neck, nipping and suckling on the skin by your pulse point.

His hands move from your waist to cup your ass; while he’s still gentle with you, you’re amazed by the strength in those hands. You imagine them running all over you, stroking through your hair and down your neck, pinching the sensitive areas where you desperately want to feel his touch.

The knot of anticipation in your stomach is so intense it’s almost burning, the pulsing in your clit driving you to the point of distraction.

The two of you are unable to take more than a few breaths before eagerly bringing your lips together again, the crackling of anticipation and arousal coursing through your veins.

This build-up can only continue for so long before you’re both nearly whining with desperation, and you signify your wish to move things forward by tugging on the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

“Can I touch you?” he asks and you nod, allowing him to help pull your shirt off before taking off his own, then tugging your skirt up so it’s bunched against your hips as you straddle him closer.

Long gone is any concern surrounding the fact that the two of you are technically in public. The slower pace from earlier has been forfeited, too. You're so full of want and need and a sense of overwhelming arousal that all you can focus on is hearing more of those desperate little noises that catch in his throat.

You unbutton his pants, tugging them down just enough for you to slip a hand past the waistband of his underwear to pull out his cock.

He hisses through his teeth when he feels you palm his erection; you give a few cursory touches at first but soon grow captivated by his reaction, stroking him in earnest as he whispers sweet words of praise.

Not content for the pleasure to be solely his own, he pulls your underwear to the side and, feeling how soaked you are, sinks two fingers inside at once.

First it’s careful, consistent movement with his fingers, designed to open you up and get you ready for what’s next — his thumb starts to rub against your clit and your thighs shake, quivering against him as you try to keep your own hand moving steadily on his cock.

You lean in to kiss his neck, whispering into his ear; “can’t wait to feel this in-”

“Wait, wait,” he says gently, and you halt your movements at once, pulling your head back. He looks up at you then, slowing down what he’s doing with his own hand. “I want to - I want to be inside you so bad, but I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control,” you whisper. “And I’m clean — got a checkup recently.”

“Clean, too,” Jean says breathlessly. “There hasn’t - my last test was a few weeks before we slept together, and there hasn’t been anyone else since then. Nobody else.”

“Okay, then,” you say, your mind having been made up without you even realising. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Fuck, yes, please.”

You start to grind against his length, feeling his tip nudge against your clit in a way that makes you see stars, the wetness and friction so utterly delicious. You take a second to line him up to your entrance - Jean’s hips stuttering with the need to push inside you as the tip sinks in just a few milimetres - and you rest your hands on his broad shoulders to support yourself.

He looks so pretty, his kiss-slick lips the loveliest shade of pink, and you can’t help but bring his mouth to yours as the sensation of his cock dragging against your wet folds draws groans from both of you.

He’s so aroused it hurts; you can tell as much from the way he’s biting down on his lip between kisses and tensing the muscles in his arms …

“Please ride me,” he begs, cheeks flushed, “I need - I need to fuck you. Please.”

You don’t feel like denying him any longer, not when he’s been so good to you. He looks so lovely like this. It deserves a reward.

You’re in control, easing Jean’s cock into you slowly as you brace yourself against his shoulders. Adjusting your hips to accommodate him, you feel him slip inside, inch by inch, his moans responding in kind. You’re so wet that it helps the stretch but you feel it nonetheless; it’s a pleasant sensation, though, making you grind down instinctively to get as much of him as possible.

You shift your thighs until you’re fully seated on his cock, hips flush against his, Jean’s expression a mix of pleasure and pain as he struggles to keep from grabbing your waist and thrusting up into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, eyes scanning over you like he can’t decide where he wants to look — ultimately, he chooses your face, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as you give him a lazy grin, already feeling more fucked-out than you arguably should.

You start to rock back and forth, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Jean’s hips start to jerk upwards, trying to match your movements as he feels you spasm and tighten around him.

You trail your fingernails along the nape of his neck, feeling the soft tresses of his hair, pressing your forehead against his, now with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Oh, that’s so good ,” he slurs, “so good, want you so bad. Always wanted you - f-fucking hell- you’re so tight and warm.”

You kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he eagerly reciprocates. A sudden burst of pleasure hits you as he strokes your clit with his fingers; it’s so strong you pull back with a gasp.

“Been thinking about this for so long,” he says, pressing a kiss against your collarbone.

“Since the last time you fucked me like this?” you tease.

That lopsided grin you love so much appears once again. “You know I’ve wanted to do this way longer than that.”

“How long?”

“You know-”

“But I wanna hear you say it,” you complain, almost petulantly. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since the moment I saw you,” he replies, obliging your request (though not entirely selflessly - he knows that by talking like this he’ll make you feel good , and when you feel good you tighten around him, trembling, squeezing just right …)

“I - fuck - I’ve always thought you were so fucking pretty,” he continues. “When Annie introduced us … I wished it was just you and me there, because then maybe we could’ve been doing this a lot sooner. For months, I’ve wanted to make you come over and over again …”

It’s messy, the confined space meaning you can’t ignore the sounds of your wet cunt grinding against him. You’re so wet that it’s coating your thighs, cool air hitting damp skin and making you shiver.

“Jean, don’t stop, please .”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, a hand slipping up from your waist to rest against the back of your neck, pulling your head closer so he can whisper something.

“If you think I want to stop,”he murmurs into the shell of your ear, his breath hot as it hits your skin, “when I’ve spent months rubbing myself fucking raw at the thought of doing this again, at the thought of that pretty little mouth hanging open for me, at the thought of getting to just touch you…”

His cock throbs and you can feel it, his thighs tensing as you ride him.

“Not gonna stop,” he assures you, his low vocalisations of pleasure washing over you blissfully.

You lift a hand and rest it against the wall of the elevator to steady yourself; your hand slips a little against the cold metal but offers some leverage for you to bounce quicker, harder, chasing your finish as you watch him approach his.

This angle, this pace, this intensity; it’s enough for your vision to blur, hitting parts of you that you hadn’t touched before, making your thighs feel weak as you rise and fall more shakily now. You start moving your hips in the shape of an eight, groaning in surprise at the new sensations.

A ball of heat gathers in your core, growing and growing. This feels so surreal and yet you can feel everything so intensely, every time his skin grazes yours, every kiss, every time his tongue ghosts over your lips and neck.

He looks completely wrecked. When your hips speed up, he can just about mumble, “fucking hell, if you keep doing that you’re gonna make me come. ”

You take his words as a challenge, keeping the figure-eight motion as he groans beautifully underneath you.

His eyes widen, biting down on his lip before he throws his head back.

“Coming, coming, fuck ,” he repeats over and over, pulling you down so he can sink in as deep as possible. You inhale sharply, feeling everything as he comes deep inside you — it’s enough to make you join him.

It hits you at once, the heat radiating out from your core and hitting every nerve in your body. It’s so warm; ripples of unending pleasure wash over you again and again, bathing you completely in its glow as you mumble incoherencies against Jean’s kiss-swollen lips.

It pulses through you, throbbing against his cock and it takes some time to come down from it — even then, you still feel the aftershocks as he pulls out. Pliant and boneless, you can only just about find the strength to adjust your clothes back in place before nestling back on his lap, resting your head against his chest.

Once you’ve taken a few moments to process everything, laughing in disbelief as you make yourselves presentable again, you feel this incredible sense of relief. A weight has been lifted from your shoulders, one that you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding.

The rest of the wait passes quickly - you talk, laugh, kiss away the minutes - and it’s only when you hear a loud knocking from above that you remember where you are.

“Hello?” someone calls out from the other side of the wall, a few feet above your head. “Maintenance here. Everything okay with you both?”

“All good!” you reply, a little self-conscious even though you and Jean are fully clothed. You look at him and his grin threatens your poker face, so you glance upwards. “Is it nearly fixed?”

“We should have you out in about twenty minutes,” the voice shouts down.

Jean exhales in relief; while his nerves had certainly abated over the last few hours, there was clearly some part of him that felt lingering concern about plunging to an early death.

He takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. You move to sit down alongside him, leaning your head against his shoulder to savour the last few minutes of peace before you head back into the real world — the world where there is so much stress from study and exams and jobs, and gossipy people who’ll almost certainly talk about this unexpected pairing.

But feeling the warmth of his hand cupping your own with so much tenderness you could cry, you can’t bring yourself to care much about all of that.

Twenty minutes pass and the repairman’s words prove true; the elevator shakes to a start and slowly but surely rises to the second floor. You stand up, legs having gone a little stiff (from sitting down in a confined space, and from …other things).

Collecting your belongings, you glance over at Jean - one last check to see if he’s sure about all this - and he shoots a look so reassuring and genuine that you think you’ll never have to ask a question like that again.

You leave the elevator and thank the repairman, who looks a little apologetic about the delay it took to get there (little does he know how grateful you are for it).

You smooth down your clothes with your hands, make sure you have all of your things, and softly sigh when you see the golden streaks of the sunrise through the window.

“What’s the plan now?”

“Well, I have an exam in …” he looks at his watch, “less than 6 hours, shit, so I should probably head home.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “But I’ll call you later. And when we finish up on Friday, do you want to go out for something to eat? To celebrate?”

“A second date?”

He scoffs fondly. “Fine, our second date.”

“Sounds amazing,” you reply, and the two of you set off down the stairs hand-in-hand.

You’re delighted to find that you have a very, very good feeling about this.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #so v sorry this took literally 6 months to post but thank u for ur support for part 1 #and thank u nanowrimo for actually getting me to write

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