You Know You're Right
Captain John Price x fem!reader
["You Know You're Right" by Nirvana]
[18+]
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• summary - an argument with your bodyguard ends a lot differently than you anticipated lol.
• rating - 18+
• wordcount - 6.6k
• warnings - fem!reader, thick girl friendly ofc, bodyguard!price, protective/jealous!price, oral [f!receiving], angry!sex but not really, he calls you a slag once i'm so sorry but he doesn't mean it i swear, unprotected (obviously) piv, reader has a breeding kink but price is like babe chill, but he also has one, so uh yeah breeding kink (obviously), reader is on contraceptives tho x, dirty talk, praise, degradation, strong language, 99% porn 1% plot
• also to note: reader is a wealthy woman in the english countryside. sorry to all my american cuties but you can be a sexy british heiress for a while x
and the uniform stays on 🙏
my contribution to @glitterypirateduck price writing challenge for this month. sorry for the lack of work recently. uni's a bitch. and sorry for any mistakes lol anyway enjoy x
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You don't know how long John Price had been your bodyguard for. You honestly couldn't recall the amount of days, weeks, months, years it had been since you had first met him.
Of course, you remember the day itself, the events, the moment you first met him. A crisp, autumnal morning with the trees around you alit with oranges and reds, and you stood on the front steps of your grand country estate as a couple of military-grade hummers pulled up in front of you.
You remember a few armed men spilling out onto your driveway, clutching M16's or AR15's or whatever the fuck they were because you weren't paying attention to them. You were paying attention to the man that followed behind them.
A man who, as the armed soldiers-of-sorts fanned out and scanned their surroundings, approached you with a warm smile that melted the early-morning chill from the air. With deep eyes that heated you more than the fuzzy housecoat you had bundled around you.
He offered his hand, and you shook it. His hand was warm too.
And the way he spoke– oh fuck, his voice. Flint striking steel and fire crackling from it's spark. A smoker. A man who, all so suddenly, sounded much too experienced to be the bodyguard of a wealthy woman in the English countryside.
"John Price," he had introduced. "S'a pleasure, miss."
You then smiled politely in return and introduced with your name. He chuckled lightly, commenting something along the lines of oh, I know who you are, miss which made your body grow even warmer.
You had looked up, ignoring the fact he was still holding your hand gently in his, and gestured to the three young men who were pacing around the front of your house, weapons drawn. "Will these gentlemen be staying with you for the entirety of your stay?"
He shook his head ruefully. "No, miss. They'll be gone within the hour. Just ensuring they know their way 'round in case they need to get here in a hurry."
You looked back down at him, arching a brow and finally removing your hand from his. He dropped his arm with a clearing of his throat, bringing his hands up to clutch the top of his vest.
"Will they need to get here in a hurry?" You challenged, almost jokingly, but John saw no joke. A joke about your safety is no joke he'd dear indulge in.
"No," he said sternly and quite quickly, you remember. "But it's just precautions. No, don't you worry, sweetheart. You're in safe hands. I assure you that."
Sweetheart.
Perhaps you remember the first meeting with John Price because it was the very first time he referred to you in such a way. Sweetheart. Now, a little over a year later, he still refers to you as such, but also–
"Morning, love. Sleep well?" He'd ask when you emerge from your bedroom in the morning.
Or,
"There she is. Rough night, pet?" He'd quip when you finally decide to show yourself about late-afternoon after a night out with your friends.
Or even,
"Need a hand with that, darling?" He'd offer when you found yourself struggling to carry the many shopping bags through the door.
Oftentimes, the way he spoke to you, the way he referred to you, was like you two had been married for years. And it wasn't only the way he spoke to you that had you going to bed giggling and kicking your feet like a girl with a crush.
Lingering touches and long hugs and kisses to the top of your head. John was always so warm and welcoming. His presence crackled like a fire in winter, lulling you to sleep or to a state of comfortability. If it was any other man, you wondered if you'd be weirded out by the closeness of him– but because it was John, everything just felt... right.
Riding horses in the springtime, and he'd assist you into the saddle with big hands running down your sides and legs, settling you onto your sturdy steed with a squeeze to your knee. He'd ride on a seperate horse if you wanted to canter through the forest; or he'd walk alongside yours if you were only taking a lazy stroll across the pastures.
Swimming in the summertime, and he'd smooth oils across your exposed skin. You'd revel in the way his large palms moved against you, such a strong man being so incredibly gentle. He'd watch you swim, his eyes occasionally darting up and around, before settling back on you again. He always declined to join you, angling that silly little boonie hat of his over his eyes to shield the sun's rays.
Keeping you warm in the wintertime, letting you snuggle up beneath furs and blankets on your couch while he chopped firewood outside, bringing the axe down again and again until he had enough kindling to keep the fire running for days to come. You'd watch him work up a sweat, muscles stretching and contracting beneath his shirt. Your entire body would flush with warmth.
But sometimes... sometimes the two of you didn't get along so well. And it wasn't your fault, you didn't think. You honestly found Captain John Price so confusing at times, especially now that the two of you had known each other for quite some time.
Partying with your friends, and you'd attract the attention of some poor man who didn't know what he was getting himself into. He'd smile at you, offer you drinks or a smoke or whatever you wanted, his hands beginning to wander as the music seemed to grow louder and louder and the colours around you blurred together. You'd laugh and dance and sing with your friends, this man actively engaging with you and–
It never lasted.
Price would swoop in. Sometimes before the stranger could offer you a drink, sometimes after. Sometimes the man never got the chance to even speak to you, with your bodyguard planting himself firmly in front of you and blocking your would-be pursuer.
You were never one to complain. After all, it was his job to protect you. But you didn't like when, after getting home in the early hours of the morning, he would roughly escort you to your room, ensure you wouldn't be sick, then leave without another word.
He'd be better by the morning.
And this became a cycle. A cycle of trying to combat the winds of a hurricane. Impossible, really. You just had to brace yourself.
But you were sick of bracing yourself. You were sick of getting fucking cock-blocked by your ex-military bodyguard. You were an absolutely gorgeous, rich woman living on her own in the countryside, and you fucking deserved to find someone. You, frankly, deserved to get fucked.
"I'm going out tonight," you told Price as you emerged from your bedroom. You were already dressed, looking impeccable as always.
Price lounged in one of the chaises positioned in the hallway outside your bedroom. He glanced up from his phone, glanced back down, and then did a double take. His eyes shot up again and he immediately pocketed his phone as he got to his feet, knees cracking with the speed of it all.
"I– you said you were just going out for a few drinks with friends?" He countered, eyes skimming up and down your frame. But not for any longer than a second, you don't think. Forever the gentleman, his eyes honed in on your face, his gaze already beginning to melt the icy facade you'd put in place.
But you steeled your nerves.
"I am," you said with a smile.
"You're going into the city? I'll have to organise a driver–" Price began, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. You didn't live too far from the main city, but it was still a significant drive for simply a few drinks.
"No, no, we're just popping into town," you said, referring to the small, quaint town less than five down the road. "Having a few drinks at the pub. Nothing big."
You and your friends were regulars at the pub. And John frowned. He knew that the other regulars– a group of men you'd become familiar with– would also be there.
You clocked his frown and your smile grew. "What's the matter, John? Am... Am I not allowed to go?"
He huffed. "No, you can go, but just let me–"
"Oh, no need," you said with a batter of your eyelashes. You told him you'd organise your own driver. "And you don't need to come. I'll only be a couple of hours."
John's jaw tensed, and you could see the muscles moving beneath his facial hair.
"No," he said firmly. "I'm coming."
Your smile faltered. "No, you're not. I'm fine, John. Have a break. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be back before midnight–"
"That doesn't make me feel better," John growled. "I... I have no problem with you going out, but I need to come with you. I– I am coming with you, end of story."
Your smile had disappeared completely now. You then looked him up and down. He was dressed how he usually did, even around the house. A suit complete with the trousers and white dress-shirt. But he wore his kevlar vest over top, and with a belt stocked with a couple of sidearms and ammunition, he didn't exactly look inconspicuous. At least he wasn't wearing his boonie hat.
"Price..." You began. "Please, just... I'll be fine, okay? Can you just let me do something on my own–?"
"No."
You frowned. "John–"
"It's my job to protect you, is it not?" He cocked his head, daring you to challenge him. "You hired me to protect you. You pay me to keep an eye on you since there are a couple of real fuckwits out there that would want to hurt you, right? So why the fuck would I let you leave here alone?"
He took a step forward, opening his arms in a gesture of so?
Your frown deepened. "I deserve some privacy, you know. I appreciate that you look out for me, but I want to be able to enjoy myself in public without..."
John waited, but urged a mocking, "Without...?"
You scoffed. "Without you hovering over me. I just want to... enjoy myself, okay? I want to meet people–"
"Oh," John suddenly said, and his tone was less of realisation, more of discovery. "I see."
You scowled. "What?"
"You want to get fucked, is that it?"
Your mouth dropped open. "I–"
"No, no, it's okay, sweetheart. It's okay," he tutted, shaking his head as you stood there, embarrassment suddenly festering in the pit of your stomach, as he appraised you like you were a whole new person. He sighed. "You want me gone so I don't stop the lads from flocking to you. Is that it? You want me to let you go out on your own so you can get one of those boys to fuck you?"
The shame in your stomach, pulling and pushing at your conscious, fizzled out and was instead replaced by a new flame of self-determination. You took a step closer to your bodyguard and jabbed a finger into the taut material of his tac vest.
"You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck, got it? I can do what the fuck I want. I'm a grown woman, Price," you seethed. "Secondly, yeah, I might just get one of the guys at the pub to fuck me. I bet they would, you know. I bet he'd bend me over his knee and–"
"Stop talking," John rolled his eyes, and the gesture made you a whole lot angrier. But he continued before you could say anything else. "You're not going. You can throw a fit if that's what you want, but you're not going."
Throw a fit. You wanted to slap him for that. But you didn't. Even though you were growing angrier and angrier at the man before you, there was something inside your brain that prevented you from going that far. Maybe it was the fact that... seeing him so protective of you... made you feel...
You shook your head to send the thoughts away. You're meant to be angry at him, babe.
"Fuck you," you spat, since those were the only words that managed to come to the forefront of your mind.
He grunted. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just a needy fuckin' slag looking for a quick fuck–"
You raised your hand to slap him. You wanted to strike your palm across his handsome face. A slag? Who the fuck does he think he is–
Price grabbed hold of your wrist before you got within inches of his cheek. And, quickly, you realised you'd made a huge mistake.
In seconds, he had your soft body pinned against the wall beside your bedroom door. He pinned you there with his body, hard and firm against yours, one large hand holding your wrist and nailing it to the wall, while the other grabbed your other wrist and held it by your side.
His face was close to yours. You could smell him. Rich oud, the warmth of some sort of spice note, expensive tobacco–
Your core fluttered.
Oh, fuck off–
Price shoved a knee between your legs, parting them and forcing a yelp from your throat at the way he dragged himself impossibly closer. The taut muscle of his thigh beneath you made you scream within your head, silently begging that the warmth of your clothed cunt didn't give anything away because-
You were fucked.
Fucked off, yes. Angry at him, yes.
But he was also turning you on in a way that no man has ever done before.
"D'you want'a try that again?" He whispered, the words ghosting across the heated skin of your face.
When you didn't respond right away, he pushed his knee up higher, shifting his hips closer to yours, humming out an impatient, "Hm?"
You shook your head.
"Didn't think so."
You frowned. "You're such an arsehole."
"I know," he said, words hushed. "But you fucking love it, don't you?"
The both of you paused. Breathing jaggedly, you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, a storm passing between the two of you, complete with the crackling of thunder. You could feel him breathing against you, and you willed yourself not to look down at where your bodies were flushed together. Instead, you remained calm.
You watched the way his eyes darted across your face. How they lingered on the curves of your cheeks, or the part between your lips. His eyes scanned over your nose, your eyes, your everything. You could almost hear his brain trying to keep up.
You could feel your core growing warmer and warmer, arousal pooling and no doubt tangible. Without a doubt he could feel it against the material of his trousers, soaking through to his thigh. It was already drenching your underwear, and probably ruining his suit.
God, you loved him in a suit.
"What are you waiting for?" You whispered your challenge, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat between you.
Price groaned and he released his hold on your wrists. Instead, he grabbed the fat just above your hip in one hand and wrapped the other around your jaw, before he was pushing forward and slamming his mouth to yours.
•º•º•
John Price didn't know how long it had been since he fell in love with you. He honestly couldn't recall the number of days, weeks, months, years it had been since the moment he first saw you.
But of course he remembers what the day was like– how beautiful and welcoming and soft you looked, bundled in your expensive housecoat with a sliver of your leg exposed to the chilly autumn breeze. He remembers the bright smile, tired but bright, you had offered him as he walked up to you and extended his hand. He remembers the way your hand felt within his, and how he didn't want to let go.
He remembers how his heart lurched in his chest when you introduced yourself, and he recalls feeling nothing but sincerity for the fact a pretty woman like you needed to be protected by someone like him. Oh, but how gorgeous you looked when you thanked him for his service. The almost-guiltiness didn't last for long.
You were always so sweet to him. Even when he put you in your place, told you what you could and couldn't do for your own safety. You were constantly being kind to him. Respectful and polite and understanding.
You were such a good girl.
And as the days passed, as they blurred into weeks and months and finally a year-ish together, you got all the more sweeter. But–
But you now knew him. You knew what made him tick. You knew exactly what to do to get your way. Saunter through your home with a pretty, coy smile and a soft hand on his bicep and of course, sweetheart, we can go into the city today. Or a well-cooked meal of his favourite food, paired with a pint if you really wanted to get into his good books, and okay then, love, I'll call your driver to take us.
You knew how to deal with him. And he let you, of course.
But as the months went by, Price couldn't help but grow resentful. His pretty girl, being chatted up by some absolute mingers in a big-city nightclub. Or maybe even the village idiots down at the local pub. How dare they?
He found himself growing more annoyed that they approached you, instead of worried that they could cause you harm. Sure, they were still a threat, and Price was doing his job. But also, also, they were encroaching on what was his. What belonged to him.
His good girl.
And he supposed he should have seen this coming– an argument bubbling up and over about it all. About how he was always there when you just wanted to socialise and have a good time. How he was always turning guys away from you. It wasn't fear, and John understood that. But he was firm in his thinking– you were his.
Oh fuck, you even looked gorgeous when you were angry at him. When you were spitting and hissing like a feral cat, and even with your claws unsheathed and swinging right towards his face, he found you to be the most ethereal being on the planet.
His pretty girl.
He didn't mean to call you a slag. Of course he didn't mean it. His anger conjuring into stupid fucking words that he couldn't keep hidden in his head. And even then his anger wasn't to you, but to the local fuckwits who haunted the village pub in the hopes of spending time with you.
Delusional cunts.
When John caught your wrist and pinned you to the wall outside your bedroom, he didn't mean to escalate things. He was angry at himself, angry for saying such filth to you. But then–
But then he felt it. His heart hammering wildly against his ribcage and your chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt the way you squirmed against him, how you arched off the wall and how your barely clothed pussy seemed to throb against the muscle of his thigh. He could feel your warmth through his trousers, feel your need.
His needy girl.
And he was more than happy to indulge you. Hell, he was more than happy to indulge himself.
•º•º•
John's mouth on yours was hot. Liquid heat passing between you, sparks flying as he pulled you closer by the hand on your jaw. He split your lips with his tongue, pushing inside with just as much strength as you anticipated. His lips against yours smeared your gloss, sticky and sweet, mixing with the spit that threatened to drip as he licked into your mouth again and again, chasing the taste of you.
You moaned into it, eyes shut and hands wrapping around his neck. Fingers delved into his hair, tugging and pulling and angling his head to get yourself closer. He groaned in response, pushing his pelvis closer to yours, and you could feel him growing in his suit trousers.
Then, you began to move. You followed him blindly, your eyes still closed as you attempted to keep up with the languid rhythm of his tongue. He licked at your teeth, your tongue, your lips, committing your taste to memory.
You'd never been kissed like this before.
You were walking backwards, guided by Price's large hands. He had two hands on your waist now, holding you flush to him as he slowly edged you back, back, back until the backs of your legs bumped into something. Your bed.
You broke the kiss, surprised, and turned your head to the side to see that yeah, he'd navigated you both back into the warm, lovely-smelling oasis of your bedroom. As you looked to the side, your bodyguard continued his mission, dragging his lips along your jaw and then latching his mouth onto your neck.
He groaned, tasting more of you. He'd imagined what you'd taste like, imagined the saltiness of your skin his lips. He now knew what your mouth tasted like. All was left now was–
John forced himself away, grumbling to himself and gently pushing you back onto the bed and into a sitting position. You smiled up at him, and he shifted to stand between your parted legs, cupping your face in two hands. He bent down to place one last kiss to your lips, before slowly– with cracking knees and a shallow grunt of effort– he lowered himself to his knees.
His hands dragged down your body. They rolled over your shoulders and arms, skimming lightly over the curves of your breasts and stomach, running over the fat of your hips and thighs. When his knees hit the, thankfully carpeted, floor, he gripped your knees and gave you a couple of comforting squeezes.
"Alright, sweetheart?" He asked, voice husky and full of yen– desire and longing mirrored in his eyes.
His eyes on you, his hands dragged back up your thighs and to where your skirt sat bunched a few inches below your hips. He pinched the fabric, toying with it while waiting for your response.
You nodded at him. "M'alright."
"Can..." He dropped his eyes for just a second to look at your skirt, before raising them again. "Can I take this off, please?"
You nodded again, followed by a whispered yes, please. You then raised your hips for him to pull the fabric down and away from you, shuffling back to rip it down your legs and fling it across the room. You giggled at his enthusiasm as he returned to his original position.
Price groaned low in his throat and leaned forward, holding your thighs apart. Your underwear still on, he pressed his face against you, his beard tickling the softest part of your inner thighs. His nose pressed onto your clit, his lips placing a kiss to your clothed core. This forced a moan from your throat, and you gripped your duvet for some kind of stability.
He kissed at the patch of arousal that had bled through during your altercation in the hallway, his nose nudging against your clit as he decided to swipe his tongue against you. He groaned and you keened, a high pitched mewl, your legs twitching either side of his head.
"Pretty girl..." He whispered, the rumble hitting your clit and making you mewl out again.
He kissed at your clothed cunt again, tongue smoothing along the thin cotton fabric until the entire area was wet with his spit and your arousal. Your legs twitched beside him, pleasure sitting fuzzy in the base of your tummy, and you wondered– no, you knew that he could probably make you come in your fucking underwear.
But he didn't. Whether you were thankful for that or not, you weren't entirely sure. But he eventually, and rather torturously, pulled away for long enough to pull your underwear down your legs. He let it fling from your ankles, not caring where it landed, before he was pushing back between your legs once more.
This time, he licked a fat stripe up your cunt before latching his mouth to your clit and sucking. You cried out, a hand shooting down to grab hold of his hair, fisting it tightly as he laved his tongue over you. His mouth was hot, burning at your core, but your body had now been set alight– the flame of pleasure coursing through your veins, heating your body. Your legs trembled now, thighs flexing either side of his head, his facial hair scratching and tickling you all at once.
John's movements were quick. Quicker than you expected. He seemed desperate for it as he licked back down your cunt and stuffed his tongue into your hole– in and out, in and out– before curling and repeating the process. You moaned at his well-timed movements, never leaving you dissatisfied or overstimulated in the slightest. Price was amazing.
He kneaded the fat of your thighs as he ate you out, enjoying the softness of you around his head. His cock was hard and leaking in his trousers, and one of the reasons he wanted you to quickly come on his tongue was so that he didn't bust a fat load in his fucking briefs. He couldn't handle that today. Not when he'd been waiting so long to have you.
"John," you moaned, stretching the syllables. Your hips bucked, his nose catching your puffy clit. You ground against him, moans bubbling from your throat as you tossed your head back. You rode his face, locking your ankles together at his back and anchoring yourself with one hand on the bed and the other in his hair.
He moaned in response, eyes on the way your body writhed above him. He loved the way you bucked up, wriggling in search of your coming high. Fuck, you looked gorgeous.
John screwed his eyes shut and focused on curling his tongue in and out of your sopping hole. He felt his cock twitch. If he looked at you again, he was sure he'd come.
You moaned sweetly above him, orgasm building tight in the base of your tummy. You continued rocking your hips, the mattress creaking quietly beneath you. But the sounds from your mouth, coupled with the wetness of Price's mouth on your pussy, was all that rang true in your ears.
"John, fuck– oh fuck, please–" You mewled, edging on a whine. Desperation was creeping in. You hurtled towards your high.
Then, you felt deep vibrations rock through your core (unbeknownst to you, John had mumbled a that's it, come for me, baby against your hole). The band of pleasure inside you snapped, and with one last push of your cunt into his face, you came.
You moaned John's name, head still tossed back as pleasure fizzled through you. Your thighs clamped down on either side of his head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you came on his tongue. John happily buried himself deeper into your heat, tongue licking you slowly through your orgasm.
He had looked up, chanced it, and watched you come. He managed to hold on and not come in his briefs, but he could feel the front of them growing tacky with his precum.
A few moments later, ensuring your orgasm had been well wrung from your beautiful body, John withdrew from your cunt. He unbound himself from your legs and got to his feet as you blinked up at him, dazed and fuzzy.
"Feeling good, sweetheart?" John asked, gently and carefully guiding you further up the bed. You crawled with him until your head hit the pillows at the top of the bed and John knelt between your legs, his hands rubbing circles over your bare thighs.
"Yeah... good..." You replied lazily, eyes dropping down to where you could see John's cock straining in his trousers. The sight made you moan, and you attempted to sat up, but Price stopped you.
"Hold on, sweetheart..." He murmured, placing a kiss to the top of your head before helping you out of your top. In companionable silence, he discarded the garment and went to work unclipping your bra, letting your breasts spill out as he discarded that too.
He groaned, happily to himself, reaching forward to roll one of your pebbling nipples between his fingers, his other hand groping the opposite breast.
"Fuckin' beautiful..." He muttered, and then leaned forward to kiss you.
You tasted yourself on him as he guided you back down. A soft tang, a subtle sweetness in his saliva. You moaned, fingers once again moving to card through his hair and stroke the back of his neck, just above his shirt collar.
While you kissed, Price slipped one hand between you and unbuckled his belt. He let the belt hang open while he deftly unbuttoned his trousers and peeled them open just enough for him to reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He hissed into the kiss, his hand on his own achingly hard cock causing pre to dribble down his shaft.
"Fuck..." He muttered into your mouth, and you pulled back, shifting to look between you. The image of your bodyguard still dressed in his uniform, but with his thick cock hanging out, was a sight to behold. You moaned, hips bucking involuntarily, the heat of your cunt coming within centimetres of the head of his cock.
Price moaned loudly, immediately dropping his hand to fist the base of himself while positioning his hips against yours. He ran the leaking tip, ruddy and flushed red from his arousal, through your soaked folds. At the same time, you both moaned.
"Oh my god," you breathed, still looking down. Price, eyes on your cunt, continued to smear pre along your slit, running his cockhead up and down, revelling in the way your arousal leaked around him.
"S'alright, pretty girl..." He uttered, not looking up from where he circled his tip around your hole. "S'alright... I'll make you feel good. I'll make you feel good." Then, he finally looked up, eyes boring into yours. You felt your stomach flip as he smiled warmly. "That's what you need, isn't it, sweetheart?"
His words dripped mirth. You whined, knowing where he was going with this.
"Just so desperate for some cock, s'that it? S'that what's got you all riled up?" John poked fun at you, referencing your argument beforehand.
You gave in and nodded, shifting your hips and catching the tip of his cock against your entrance. It made both you and Price release sounds of pleasure, but he held strong, gripping himself at the base and pulling his cock away an inch.
"Use your words," he instructed, voice husky, ash-laced. "Use your fucking words, love. Tell me how desperate you are for my cock. How much of a fucking whore you are for it."
The unexpected degradation punched a moan from your lungs. You babbled, "Y-yeah, fuck– need your cock so bad, John, please."
"Yeah?" Price teased, running the head of his cock up and down your folds again. "You need this cock?"
He pushed the head of his cock into your hole, and you moaned, arching your back. But he stopped there, the flared tip of him laying dormant inside. Your cunt fluttered around him, arousal leaking down the curve of your arse. You whimpered, attempting to push your lips down onto him, but a firm swat to your thigh had you pausing in place.
"S'this the cock you need?" Price asked, voice dark. "Or 're you wanting t'get fucked by some stranger? Want one of the lads down at the pub to fuck this tight cunt? Eh, sweetheart? That's right, isn't it? Actin' like a fuckin' slut lookin' for a quick fuck–"
"No, no, no, please–" You said quickly, trying not to get distracted by the way Price's accent was strengthening as your cunt fluttered around his cockhead. "S'only you! Need you, John, please. Only need you 'n– fuck, only need your cock."
Price growled, pleased, having itched that jealous spot inside him. That's right, that's what he wanted to hear.
His good girl.
"That's fuckin' right, baby. Good girl–" John pulled out and then pushed back in, slowly parting your walls for the girth of his cock. You moaned and he leaned forward to kiss you, being as gentle as he could while splitting you open. He murmured against your lips, "That's a good girl. Yeah, that's it, sweetheart. Doin' so well..."
The buckle of his belt clinked as John picked up his thrusts, stretching you apart on his cock. You could feel the bunched fabric of his trousers and briefs against you with each of his thrusts, and when he curled over you to kiss you, the feeling of his dress shirt and tac vest against your bare chest had a shiver rippling through you.
He kissed you hard, just as he had done in the hallway. This time, a bit of saliva did escape your mouth, rolling from the corner as you parted your mouth to moan, Price's tongue licking over your lower lip as the head of his cock punched up against the base of your cervix.
Just like everything else about him, the sex was hot. Price radiated warmth. The space between your bodies was heating up, and you could feel the light sheen of sweat covering your skin. Beneath his beard, Price's cheeks began to burn read, a bead of sweat trickling from his hairline. His hips moved quickly, but with precision, shunting you deeper and deeper into the mattress, making it squeak and groan.
His cock hit all the right places, too. Your walls hugged him, tight and hot and wet as he plunged up against your womb. John could feel you squeezing him. Feel the sheer hold you had on him, physically and otherwise. He grunted and groaned to himself, his balls already beginning to tighten, his lower back starting to strain from the effort.
"John..." You whined, second orgasm already fast approaching. You felt yourself beginning to tighten up again, your muscles pulling taut as the band of pleasure in the base of your abdomen began to expand. The drive of Price's cock was pulling it further and further. You were so close.
And when you were this close, John always seemed to know what to say and do to push you off the precipice.
Expertly, your bodyguard moved his arm downwards to press a couple of fingers to your puffy clit, rolling it beneath with a gentle stroke. He drew gentle circles that made you spasm beneath him, a panting moan filtering from your parted, spit-covered lips.
He continued the drive of his hips, cock hitting the best spot inside you. Bursts of light, of pleasure, appeared behind your fluttering eyelids, the intensity of it all making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. But you did– you forced your eyes open, lids drooping. You locked eyes with Price, and he smiled down at you in a way that was probably meant to be comforting, but it only turned you on more.
"My sweet girl, just look at you," Price cooed, still slamming into you. "So gorgeous. Such a pretty girl, an' you look even prettier getting stuffed with my cock, don't you?"
You nodded, delirious now. You wanted nothing more than for him to come inside you and–
The thought made you moan loudly.
He chuckled. "S'that right?"
"John, fuck–" you moaned out. "Fuck, please–"
Come inside me, you wanted to beg him, but the tip of his cock at the plug of your womb and his fingers on your clit had your vision whiting out as the band in your stomach snapped again.
You came hard. Legs locked around his waist, the fat of your thighs and stomach rippling with his strong movements, you came. Arousal gushed out around his cock, the sensation forcing an unexpected whimper from you. The slick walls of your cunt clutched the girth of him, squeezing with each fluttering pulse of your erratic heartbeat. Fuzzy pleasure washed over you and, just like with his mouth, he stroked your clit through your orgasm and stopped right at the brink of overstimulation.
But you gained no mercy after coming.
John redoubled his efforts. With two strong arms either side of you, he rutted into you with renewed energy, now chasing his own high. His balls, almost painful at this point, smacked against the plush curve of your arse, with the head of his cock leaking inside you.
Oh fuck, he wasn't wearing a condom.
He knew you were on contraceptives. Of course. He knew almost everything about you now. But the thought–
"John–!" You all but sobbed, wriggling beneath him, becoming impatient. Not because you wanted it to end, but because you wanted him to end inside you. "John, please come inside me."
"Fucking hell," he grit out between clenched teeth, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Stuffing you full of him. Coming right up against your cervix, flooding your womb. Filling you out, watching you grow fat with his kid. Laying claim to you, how you were truly his. His pretty girl. His good girl.
Not today.
But the thought alone had Price coming.
"F-fuck, take it, sweetheart, jus'– fuckin good girl, take my cum, baby–" Price muttered, pumping his hips as he came. He filled you with the same kind of warmth he radiated. Comfort and security, maybe.
You moaned quietly once Price'd emptied himself inside of you, and you relaxed your legs so he could flop to the side. Cock still inside you, softening just a bit, Price curled you into him, his face resting in the crook of your neck, your legs entangled.
The two of you caught your breaths, breathing in each other's scent and the pungency of sex. Your eyes opened and closed lazily, the heat of Price's body lulling you to sleep. But you forced your eyes open when Price pulled back– only to change positions. His suit rustled as he pulled you in against him, and you wished you could run your fingers through the hair on his toned chest.
After a little while, you felt Price kiss the top of your head.
"Feeling alright, love?" He asked, and the sincerity in his voice had butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
"Yeah," you replied. "More than alright. I... thank you."
"Thank you," Price said, nuzzling into the top of your head.
•º•º•
The two of you basked in each others company for what seemed like hours before a buzzing broke the haze of whatever dream you were living. Peeling yourself away from Price for a moment, you reached over to your discarded purse and fished your phone out, finding it alight with missed calls and messages from your friends.
You almost felt guiltly.
"Cancel," John grumbled below you, seemingly already knowing what you were looking at. "You're not going out tonight, are you?"
"No, 'm not feeling up to it," you said, smiling.
John, burying himself into the crook of your neck once more, arms wrapped securely around you, smiled too.
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
this was the first long-ish fic i've written in a while so forgive me if it wasn't my usual best lolol. anyway thank you for reading and make sure to go check out the other @glitterypirateduck submissions for this writing challenge
lots of luv <3
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dim the lights (close your eyes) // arthur leclerc
summary: arthur leclerc is the only man she would ever trust to touch her this way. the only man she would want to take her virginity.
pairing: arthur leclerc x female reader
warnings: smut, loss of virginity, a hell of a lot of feelings, lots of giggles. had no idea how to end it, but it is what it is.
prompts used: i don’t wanna stop touching you. i just wanna be near you and close to you in any way i can + breathe baby, breathe. I’m right here
"arthur, i'm ready."
she'd said that three weeks ago, and they had both been preparing for this moment ever since. makeout sessions had gotten more intense, hands experimentally traveling under clothes. arthur had even tried fingering her a few times to make sure she knew what she was getting into, that she was prepared for how it would feel.
and mostly because he was scared. nervous about being his beloveds first. because if he messed this up, he could lose her for good.
the only reason she had waited this long was because she had never met the right man. hell, she was twenty one and her first real boyfriend had been arthur. sure, there had been crushes and meaningless kisses and sheer terror at the idea of being in a relationship, but arthur made her feel safe, like a warm hug on a cold day. his presence was comforting, and she never felt like she had to be someone she wasn’t around him.
after a night out of the town that made her feel like the best version of herself, like she was walking on a cloud (as spending time with the youngest leclerc brother always did), they found themselves back at arthurs flat.
he carried her up the stairs, ever the gentleman, hand over her eyes as he pushed the bedroom door open tho his toes.
“i want to show you something.” he says softly, asking her to keep her eyes closed while he shuts the door, switching on the fairy lights, reaching for the bag of fake flower petals. “okay, open your eyes.”
“oh, arthur.” she said softly, breath catching in her throat as she placed her hands over her heart. “it’s beautiful.”
a trail of fake petals lead from where she was standing to the bed, where even more dotted the simple white duvet, a towel elephant resting on the corner, like the towel animals on a cruise ship. the room was illuminated with soft, warm fairy lights. with a goofy grin on his face, arthur came towards her, reaching into the graft bag to throw more petals in the air.
she laughed, pulling him in for a gentle kiss as he dropped flower petals in her hair.
“wait, you haven’t seen the best part.” the boy laughs, reaching for the stereo remote. with the press of a button, heart’s ‘what about love’ begins to play softly. “damn it.” he mutters. “this was supposed to be a relaxing and easy listening playlist.”
“arthur,” she giggled, prying the remote from his hand. “it’s perfect.” she pressed up on her toes, arms around his shoulders as she kissed him, breathing in the smell of his cologne, the feel of his linens shirt under her fingers.
she sat down on the end of the bed, slipping out of her high heels and dropping her purse on the floor. she leaned back against the bed, fake rose petals sticking to her skin as arthur lay on his side next to her, warm hands caressing her skin.
“hi.” she said softly, fingers tracing her jaw as she propped up on an elbow to meet his gaze.
arthur reached behind him, triumphantly holding up the towel elephant and waving one of its small arms. “hi, darling.”
she laughed, throwing one of her legs over arthurs before she nuzzled up against him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “you’re such a dork.”
“you love it.” he said before he kissed her, his lips soft against hers, the glittery lipgloss that had almost faded off her skin transferring onto his lips as he gently pressed her against the pillows.
she sighed in contentment as his hand slipped up her dress, resting reassuringly against her upper thigh. she cages his upper lip between both of hers, fingers cradling through his hair as she pressed herself closer to him. the shoulder strap of her dress slipped down her pale skin, bathed a heavenly shade of gold in the fairy lights. before she could get self-conscious and teach to right it, arthur took charge, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses to her skin.
“you’re so perfect. i don’t wanna stop touching you. i just wanna be near you and close to you in any way i can.”
her heart swelled with love at hearing arthur’s words. this entire evening had been so surreal. she never thought she’d meet someone who made her feel the way that arthur leclerc could.
even now, he was so mindful of her boundaries, so cautious and careful with her heart as he presssed her into the mattress, fingers teasing the edge of her panties, but firmly staying there until she said otherwise, gave him permission to touch her like that.
for now, he was content with kissing her neck, his fingers on his free hand lacing with hers to cradle her her hand with the gentlest, sweetest of touches.
“arthur.” she whined, bucking her hips against his. “please…i need more.”
arthur slowed his movements, gently rolling them over so they were facing each other on their sides, one of her legs hiked over his hip. he kissed her softly, his tongue gently teasing her lips as he started to push her panties aside.
“just remember to breathe, beautiful. remember, this is nothing we haven’t already done before.”
“i know.” she sighed, biting her lips as his fingers began to circle where she needed him most. “i trust you. fully and completely.”
arthur sunk his fingers inside of her, peppering her face in kisses as he gave her time to adjust, her juices dripping down his fingers as he began to flex his slender fingers, scissoring them rapidly.
“oh, fuck, babe,” she whined, fingernails digging into his shirt as she bucked against his appendages. “feels so good.”
“yeah, you like having my fingers inside you, don’t you, cherie?”
“yes, god.” she moaned, burying her face in arthurs neck, fingers scratching down the bit of exposed chest peeking out from his button down. “i love your fingers.”
“good. the only purpose they serve is to make you feel good, love.” arthur smiled, dotting kisses over all the exposed skin he could reach.
he curled his fingers, fingertips touching her spongy center. she yelped at the pleasure, springing off the bed. they both burst out into a fit of giggles, arthurs fingers still working their magic.
“do you want to come of my fingers pretty girl, or are you ready to take my cock? you feel ready, but I am more than happy to lie here all night and finger you until you scream my name.” arthur chuckled, gently slipping his fingers out and sitting up on the bed, beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt.
she would never get tired of seeing her boyfriend without a shirt on: the muscles and veins popping in his arms, his broad, strong shoulders. his washboard abs that she intended to mark up with her nails before the night was over.
“im ready. i want your dick.”
laughing, arthur got up from the bed, shedding his shirt as his lover got to her feet, slipping out of her dress and allowing the white fabric to pool on the floor. he opened his bedside drawer to extract a box of condoms, his eyes wide ending in both adoration and lust as he looked back at his girlfriend.
“bebe, you look beautiful.”
her face blushed pink as she tried to make her bikini cut panties seem sexier, averting her gaze from arthur. “thank you. thank you for making me feel comfortable, and beautiful.”
arthru hummed, standing in front of her and tilting her head up to his. “you don’t need to thank me, gorgeous.” he kissed her softly, allowing her hands to travel the expanse of his exposed skin, nails scratching at his abs as he steered her back towards his bed. “i think this will go easier if you’re on top. that was you can set your own pace.”
she nodded, hands resting nervously near the waistband of arthurs pants. “okay. i can do that.”
he gently pushed her hands away, and she sat on the edge of the bed, one leg over the other in an attempt to hide the ever-growing damp spot on her panties. she swallowed harshly, feeling her nipples grow harder as she watched arthur undo his belt, dropping his jeans and his boxers in one fell swoop, his hard cock springing to attention now that it was free of its fabric confines.
he rolled the condom on, sitting at the head of the bed before beckoning his girlfriend over and helping her out of his panties, his eyes darkening at the sight of her now mostly naked body.
“there we go, just like that.” arthur encouraged, guiding her to straddle him, answering every question she asked and reassuring her that she would be perfect.
“so I just sit down like…this?” she asked, bracing her hands on arthurs shoulders as she tried to sink down on his length, arthurs gentle touch guiding her towards his cock. “oh my god.” she inhaled sharply, not even halfway on his dick before she froze, muscles tightening.
“hey, hey, it’s okay.” arthur soothed, gently kissing her breastbone, fingers tracing reassuring circles on her skin. “it’s okay, just breathe. i can stay like this for a minute, you don’t have to take it all at once.”
she nodded, breathing heavily as she brushed her hair behind her ears, resting her hands on either side of arthurs neck, resting for a moment before sinking down further, her face contorted in a grimace as she allowed her boyfriend to bottom out inside her.
“breathe, baby. breathe. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” arthur hummed, kissing her softly. “we go at your pace. nice and easy.”
she moves slowly, gingerly, hands braced on her lovers shoulders as she starts to move her hips, rocking gently back and forth. keeping his touch gentle, looking out through hooded eyes, arthur gently began to guide her up and down, resisting the urge to thrust up into her when she moaned, fingernails clenching into his skin.
“fuck, i love those moans, princess. keep moaning for me, let me know how good you feel. or, let me know if you stop feeling good and we’ll take a break, okay?”
“yeah.” she nodded, picking up the pace of her movements, panting heavily as arthur tried not to let his eyes roll back in his skull, pressing his lips to hers to muffle his own moans of pleasure.
the real thing was so much better than his late night fantasies, and knowing that she trusted him this much added a whole new layer of intimacy to the scene, somehow managing to make it even more erotic. he feared he’d blow his load too soon, but would that really be such a bad thing right now? he’d almost certainly be hard again if she decided she wanted a round two, or if he buried his head between her thighs and tongue fucked her until she came undone on his face.
“fuck, arthur.” she moaned, her movements becoming slower, exhaustion seeping into her legs. “please, i need more. my legs can’t take this. can you take over?”
he kissed her hard, flipping their bodies over so he was on top, driving into her quickly, but trying to restrain himself, his fingers clutching the sheets to practice restraint.
they’d work up to the more adventurous, more erotic activities later. right now, it was back to basics as he tried to keep his speed steady, matching what they were moving at while she was on top of him.
“is this what you wanted, love? does this feel good?”
“yes, god, please,” she moaned, trying to hold his body closer. trying to get as physically close to him as she possibly could. “this is so good, arthur. so, so good.”
“perfect.” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her. “I love you.”
“i love you more.”
TAGS:
@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @clemswrld @oconso @libraryofloveletters @scuderiamh @sidcrosbyspuck @lorarri @love4lando
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