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psychedelic-ink · 2 years

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Watercolor Eyes ║ Santiago "Pope" Garcia

a/n: this fic is directly inspired by @prolix-yuy 's absolutely gorgeous series something new I can't recommend this series enough it was such a joy to read, and after reading her headcanons about the other sw! triple frontier boys I couldn't stop thinking of santi <33 thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of this world and write for it! I hope you enjoy 💕

and special thank to my bby @inklore who supports me always and beta'd this fic for me, ilysm 💖

pairing: santiago "pope" garcia x fem!reader

genre: smut with little plot, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: after another day of lack of customers and loneliness, you come across a flyer that might grant you a night of relief and pleasure.

warnings: sex worker!santi, oral (receiving & first time), dirty talking, bdsm dynamics, soft dom!santi, sub!reader, reader showing brat tendencies, brat tamer!santi, piv, use of a condom, squirting, the use of sir, swearing, orgasm denial/cumming on command, soft bondage, dry humping, teasing, begging, aftercare

Watercolor Eyes Masterlist

The neon letters shine loud and bright within the night: Cafe Watercolor. Seeing the pink sign used to make you smile, it was a sign that represented your dreams, your hopes, your future. Now it only symbolizes the harsh truth of reality. You’re a failure. Unable to get your small bakery cafe off the ground. You sit behind the counter, head propped up with your elbow as you look outside with a bored gaze. The air conditioning hisses, mixing with the coffee shop playlist you prepared the day before you opened up your little cafe. The tunes of a melancholic piano overlaps the sound of the air conditioner, the vocals of “The head and the heart” filling the small space.

Summers in Florida consist of humidity, rain and the burning sun. To you, it’s hell on heart. But as someone who always felt more focused with the pitter patters of raindrops, it wasn’t that bad. With a broken sigh, you watch a couple, hand in hand, soaked to the marrow, running to the bus stop. The pouring rain should’ve been any coffee shop owners bread and butter, people searched for shelter, the scent of coffee and sweets was always enticing enough to beckon them inside. Sadly, they either ran past the shop, much similarly to the couple from before, or took shelter at the coffee shop right across from you. It was brighter, bigger, and had all of those fancy new drinks. Right now your menu is limited, you focus on the baking aspect more, there lays your true passion, but you enjoyed a good cup of coffee as well so you threw that into the mix too.

And you know it’s good coffee. Those who bothered to enter would be astounded by the rich flavors and the free baked goods you threw in. You just need them to take one bite. After that they came again and again.

But a couple of regulars isn’t enough to keep your business afloat, not in this economy.

You could only hire two baristas, and since they were underpaid grad students, you didn’t blame them for not wanting to stick their neck out for the small shop. They were already juggling two other jobs.

Your family warned you; Don’t do it, they had said, You didn’t waste years of study just to open a coffee shop. Since you were a kid they wanted you to delve into the cruel world of academia. You studied archaeology, it was fun. Obviously. Who wouldn’t like to dig and unravel the remnants of a ruined civilization? But your heart always ached for something else. You didn’t want to waste your life competing with friends and others, you didn’t enjoy your classmates viewing you as a threat just because you got a good grade. You hated always having to look over your shoulder, worrying if the person that smiled at you genuinely meant it or not. It was chaotic, stress inducing. The job itself was fun, but the backstage wasn’t.

So you quit right after finishing grad school. Sure, maybe you should’ve stuck it to your parents and quit sooner, but you assumed if you actually finished studying they would finally let you go.

Of course they didn’t.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to stand up. You might as well close up shop. You don’t need your electricity bill to get even higher. Heart broken, you walk to the large window, the day's special baked goods written on the window. You almost cry when you wipe it off the board, you worked really hard on those croissants, you will have to take them home, again. At least your neighbors were happy about the free desserts.

The rain had stopped. Lonely water drops sliding down the glass, you see that the couple is still waiting for their bus. When the guy leaned in for a kiss, laughing and wet, your heart breaks a little. How long has it been since your last date? When has anyone ever looked at you like that? No one, that’s who. You had one lousy boyfriend and a couple of bad dates, after graduating your whole love and effort had gone into the shop. Needless to say you didn’t have much time to scroll the endless fuckboys of Tinder.

Tearing your gaze away from the couple’s private moment, you turn off the neon light, and push back the misplaced chairs. The silver lining is that you don’t have to do much in terms of cleaning. You’ll wipe the counter, pull out the plugs just in case, and that’ll be it. You already left the kitchen spotless after baking, which you’re glad for since now you can just go home.

Your chest heaves as you pick off the tray of croissants and package them to take to your neighbors. It's like this every night, your need to cry doubling tenfold whenever you take something you make home. You know they’re good. You just need people to give you a chance. You grab the last croissant for yourself and bite into it, dinner is settled. As you chew you moan at the taste of vanilla custard and the berry glaze, the flaky pastry crumbles, it gets on your clothes, sticks to the roof of your mouth. With the back of your hand you wipe your mouth and pat yourself down. Now you can leave.

Before leaving you take one last look, the passing cars casted their light inside, moving along and leaving the shop in darkness once more. Just like you. But it won’t last like this for long. It can’t. You won’t allow it.

Locking, and checking by rattling the door, you stuff the keys into your pockets and head home. The rain has faded but it’s still quite windy. The leaves of palm trees echoe and you see the remnants of flyers ghosting across the pavement. You see the silhouette of your bus, your steps pick up and when you realize you’re about to miss it, you run–

You’ve barely taken a couple of long strides before something sticks to your face, you collapse on the wet ground, mud and water seeping into your clothes as pain spreads across your chest.

Immediately upon getting up you see that the bus is gone, disappeared into the wind.

“Shit!” ignoring the state of your clothes you stomp your feet like a child throwing a tantrum. You viciously tear the piece of paper that led to your demise and glare at it. “Fucking– I’m going to curse the company who made this damn…flyer,”

Your eyebrows rise with curiosity. Looking down, you see a glossy flyer between your fingertips, or rather the remnants of it. The half bottom rips and falls to the concrete with a loud splat. However, the thing that piques your interest is that this particular flyer doesn’t belong to a company. It’s for a very specific service provided for lonely people like you. You drag your gaze across the men that decorate the poster, all of them looking very very handsome. It’s been a while since the color had faded from the flyer but you assume it’s from the sudden rain pour.

You should really just throw the poster away, walk your sweet ass to the bus stop and head home.

Instead, your eyes gaze at the number written in a bold font. Lucky you that the number was written on the top part of the flyer and not the bottom. Before the other bus arrives, you hurriedly pull out your phone, also soaked from the fall, and type the number, cursing every time your phone gets the number confused due to your wet fingers.

When you finally succeed in putting the numbers in, you shove the flyer into your bag to throw out for later and very carefully make your way to the bus stop.

You’ve been staring at your phone for about an hour.

You’d taken a brisk shower, gave the rest of the croissants to your neighbors, in which they thanked you, inviting you in and after dodging that bullet, you finally managed to relax on the couch.

However, what you’re doing isn’t really relaxing.

The black written numbers start to shake, your eyes stinging from staring at the screen for too long. Are you really going to do this? Are you really so lonely that you need to pay someone to spend time with you? Well yes actually, you are. It’s not like you’re shameful about asking for a service, a couple of your friends had done it, it’s just that you didn’t really know what to say when you called. Did you just say what you want? Do you need to ask for a specific man? Will it be safe? What if you get an STD among everything else?

With a loud groan, you throw your head back and let your hand fall to your lap. This is iditoic. You’re idiotic. It’s just a simple call. If whoever is on the other line sounds shady you can just hang up and pretend this never happened. Yeah. That’s it. It’s just a phone call. They can’t see you. Or force you to continue to talk. You have the power of the red button, you’ll be alright.

With a sudden surge of bravery, you raise your head and make the call. You quickly put it on speaker and anxiously listen to it ring. It feels like an eternity until someone finally picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

Oh shit. Shit shit shit– The voice that comes from the other line actually sounds good, honestly you were expecting it to be a pervert heavily breathing down the line but this is a very pleasant surprise.

When the honey-like voice speaks again, he sounds amused, as if you’re the funniest thing that happened to him all day.

“I can hear you breathing, you know? I won’t bite, promise,” he chuckles, breathy and airy. “I mean, unless that’s what you’re asking for,”

“Y-Yeah sorry,” you stumble with your words. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to remember the name of the place. “Is…this Pope’s?”

“It is and I’m Santiago, but since you sound so sweet you can just call me Santi,”

Your body heats up at his words, this is probably the most flirtatious thing anyone has said to you in months, even if technically he’s just saying that because you’re a potential customer. Your thumb rubs the corner of the smooth surface of the phone, you don’t know what to say next.

“Sorry, I don’t really know what to say,”

“That’s alright, I have all the time in the world,”

You relax at the playful tint of his voice, a soft smile ghosts across your lips.

“Do you really?”

“Well no, but you can still take your time. I can also ask you some questions to ease you in?”

“Sure?”

You hate how unsure you sound of yourself, but also you don’t think you can hide it. You genuinely feel lost, mind wandering about how others acted during these calls, you bet they knew what they wanted. They most certainly aren’t like you, causing problems by being shy and calling without looking up what to say beforehand. Damn, you really should’ve googled it first. You’re positive you can find a wikihow article about this.

“Okay let’s start out easy then, why did you call Pope’s?”

“For…company,”

“Just for that?”

You can see his smile through his voice, you bet he has an amazing one. You suck in a breath, chest puffing up as you ponder over what your next sentence should be.

“No, I would like…you know,” closing your eyes, you swallow. “Sex,”

You half expect him to laugh but he doesn’t, a soft hum echoes and he follows up with another question.

“Alright, the follow up questions might be a bit awkward but I need to ask–”

“Awkward?”

Your panicked tone seeps through the line and reaches Santi’s ear drums.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be holding your hand through it all, cariño. They’re mostly questions about your medical history,”

You nod then remembering he can’t see you quickly add, “Of course, thank you, Santi,”

When the questions are done, you check your phone only to see that an hour has already passed, much to your surprise, it felt shorter than that. Santi had asked you everything. Even things you never would’ve thought about asking a partner. And honestly it relieved you that he was so detailed with the background checks, just by his voice you can tell that he cares about what he does and for both parties concerned. It was nice. It reminds you a bit about yourself and your own work ethics.

“Okay I think that’s everything,” he states. “Do you want to continue with this?”

The uncertainty you feel comes rushing back, an encore, if you will.

“Yeah, I do. I-If everything's good,”

“Everything’s perfect,” you hear the gentle tapping of a pen. “And I think I already have the perfect match for you. Where are you? An otel?”

“Uh…” you look around your apartment. “I’m actually at my apartment…will that be a problem?”

“If it’s not a problem for you it’s not a problem for us,” he answers, voice a bit more timid than before. “But I will need an address, but if that’s going to be an issue I can look up nearby motels if you tell me which part of the city you’re in?”

“N-No, it’s fine,”

As you give out your address the red alarms in your brain screeches at you. It’s loud and mind numbing. Rightfully so. Santi tells you that it’ll take about half an hour for them to arrive and he hangs up, when he does, what you’ve just done dawns on you. You gave your address… to a stranger on the phone. And not just any address, your home address. You really are fucking stupid.

You could’ve at least taken up Santi’s offer to find you a motel nearby, this is your fucking home.

“Okay, you’ll get through this. Just deep breaths, take deep breaths…”

Placing a hand on your chest, you inhale and exhale about five to ten times. Your chest rises under your palm, you can feel your heartbeat. Everything will be alright. You have a pan that’s perfect for smacking people, better yet you have rolling pins of all sizes. You’ll be fine. You’ll be okay.

You get up and head to the bedroom, it’s a mess, sadly your home didn’t get the same squeaky treatment as your shop.

Everything will be okay.

The doorbell rings and your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. After tidying up your room, and yourself; you shaved with hurry, then put on a bra and underwear that matched in color. It’s the little things. You had a couple of toys you enjoyed, if he failed the two of you could always use those. A single woman has needs after all, and after checking the batteries you placed them into the drawer of your bedside table.

Another ring follows and you hurry to the door. You might be wearing matching underwear but other than that you hadn’t put on anything fancy; your favorite oversize shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.

Clearing your throat, you call out to the person waiting on the other side.

“Who is it?”

“Pope’s,”

This is actually happening. He’s actually here, and not a minute late, or early.

You open the door with trembling hands, the man on the other side doesn’t move an inch as you observe him, he only smiles, shooting you a quick nod and a playful wink. He stays there until you fully open the door, even then he doesn’t budge, he waits patiently while your curious gaze rakes his body. His eyes are as rich as the coffee you brew, lashes long, soft looking. You see a bit of gray mixed in his dark hair, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles at you, lips lush, made for kissing and pleasuring another. For a moment you want to reach out and drag your fingers across his jawline, you wonder if it can actually cut into your skin. His five o’clock shadow will definitely chafe between your thighs and the phantom of the feeling is enough to have your insides clench. The veins peeking above his skin meanders down into his black fitted shirt, you want to see more.

He clears his throat, smile widening into a grin.

“Can I come in?”

You know that voice, how could you not when you gave very detailed information about your sex life to that same smooth baritone.

“Santi?”

You might be imagining it, but you think his eyes sparkle when you recognize him. His excitement makes your lips break out into a smile.

“The one and only,”

Heart thrumming madly in your chest, you move out of the way. He continues to wait, an eyebrow raised as he chews on his bottom lip, he looks you up and down. What was he waiting for? Tilting your head, you answer his gleaming gaze with your confused one. As an answer, he raises both eyebrows, smiles and tilts his head to the other side.

Oh. OH.

He’s waiting for you to verbally invite him in.

“C-Come in,”

His smile never fading, he takes one long stride into your apartment. It’s elegant, graceful, and you can’t stop staring.

Santi quickly does a once over of your home as he toes off his shoes. Oddly enough, it feels like him being there completes a picture. Maybe it’s because you’ve been lonely for so long but it just seems like he belongs. You push the door as he turns to look at you, if he smiles at you any longer you might melt into a puddle.

“Should we…” your gaze falls to the floor, and with that see his socked feet; black with colorful polka dots. “Nice socks,”

“Thanks,” he grins. “It was a gift from a close friend,”

“You must really like socks then,”

“Among other things,”

His lashes flutter, eyes soft like clouds. It takes every ounce of your self control not to swoon, he feels like he ripped a whole out of your dreams and escaped.

“So, bedroom?”

Your voice gives away how nervous you are, you almost breathe out a sigh of relief when Santi shakes his head. You still have no idea what to do. And you already feel vulnerable as it is, you’d probably bust a vein if you also stripped in front of him.

“Loving the enthusiasm but maybe we should talk a bit first,” his eyes linger on the couch. “I still don’t know what you want yet,”

He sits and you follow his trail, sitting on the armchair across from the couch.

“I thought I already said it on the phone,” you whine, thoughts swirling. “Please don’t make me say it again, I’m already plenty embarrassed,”

“Don’t be,” his stern tone takes you by surprise, he leans, arms resting above his knees as he stares you directly in the eyes. “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed, it’s completely normal,”

“Really?”

Santi grins, eyes sparkling.

“If it wasn’t Pope’s would be closed already,”

“I guess you’re right,” a faint chuckle falls from your lips and upon hearing the sound he leans back, getting more comfortable. “So what do you want to know?”

“Things you enjoy during intercourse,” he thoughtfully rubs his chin. “Kinks, fetishes, anything you can think of. If you want to roleplay or not, anything,”

“Anything?”

“Well, there are a couple of things I say no to but I don’t think you’re going to say any of them, but if you do I’ll let you know,”

He winks and your lungs nearly explode. You rapidly blink at him, lowering your gaze, you think about his question. In terms of kinks you actually hadn’t tried out many, you’re curious about a lot of things but never knew how to ask for them. Exhaling, you fiddle with your fingers and look up, your cheeks aflame.

“I always wanted to try…BDSM stuff but I don’t know if I’ll actually like it,”

This seems to spike his interest, the curve of his eyebrow reaches all the way to his hairline, lips curling mischievously.

“Have you tried anything before? Bondage, blindfold, or whatever?”

“Uh…not really,” you nervously chew your bottom lip, legs squeezing together. “I never really brought it up before and my ex, well, he didn’t seem to be that interested. He tried to finger me, well not really, just attempted to rub my clit from over…my underwear, it kinda hurt actually, hated it. It's fine when I do it but maybe I just don't like it when others do it. So I’m not sure if I’ll even like the things I think about,”

“Sounds like an asshole,”

Santi’s sudden change in demeanor takes you by surprise. He seems actually angry, but also, slightly surprised by your sudden burst of honesty. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. You didn’t want to overshare, or upset him. Before you can apologize he cuts you off.

“We can try the things you’re curious about, we’ll start slow, obviously, and establish a safeword,” he looks you up and down. “Do you know what a safeword is?”

“I do,”

“Good girl,”

Your heart skips a beat or two, a gasp parting your lips, you stare at him wide-eyed. He glows at your reaction, sucking in his bottom lip, he brings his perfect teeth on top of it.

“You like that?”

You nod.

“Alright, I’ll let you pick the safeword,”

“How about….” your eyes drag back to his feet. “Socks?”

He snorts, and you grin, “Socks? You’re unbelievable, how about the word for slowing down?”

“Curtain,”

Turning his head, he looks at the dark red curtains you own, then shrugs.

“Fine by me. Do you have any idea what you want to try?”

“Not really…sorry,”

“You don’t need to apologize,” his smile grows soft and it seems like he wants to reach out to you but decides against it at the last minute. “What is it that sparked your interest?”

You shrug, “I don’t know– I guess the idea of someone taking care of me, having control and knowing what’s best for me. I just, don’t really want to think, if that makes sense–”

“Loud and clear. I have a general idea of what you need, unless you have anything specific in mind?”

When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you shake your head and he nods.

“Okay then, we can get started, if you’re ready,”

When he gets up and extends a hand, you’re sweating buckets, beads of perspiration coating your skin. You look up to see his calm expression, a soft smile and adoring eyes, you take the offered limb and lead him to the bedroom.

Your stomach still churns with anxiety but as his fingers squeezes around yours, you know that he’s got you.

“Strip and lay on the bed,”

You didn’t expect the mood to change so suddenly. His harsh tone sends a shiver down your spine, wetness spreading between your legs. While he isn’t looking at you, Santi starts to unbutton his shirt, and when he notices you’re frozen with a slight tremor to your hands, he walks up to you and cups your cheeks. You lean into his touch, heart stammering as you close your eyes.

His lips find yours. It’s tender, soft and when he licks your mouth for permission, you greedily open wide for him. A moan seeps into the kiss, taking the opportunity your open mouth provides, he licks your tongue, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Your heart swells. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, and it never felt like this. Santi pulls away, lips glistening and eyes full of understanding.

“Do you still want to do this?”

You breathe out, “Yes,”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Socks,”

He can’t help the way a giggle rattles his chest, the melody reaching your ears. Leaning in, Santi playfully rubs his nose against yours.

“Strip for me then,” he hums. “I need to rectify a wrong,”

You want to ask what he means by that, but deciding that you’ll find out soon enough, you head to the bed, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake. Still feeling a bit self conscious, you leave your underwear and bra on. You also have an ulterior motive, you secretly want him to be the one to remove the last articles of clothing. You seem to get your message across. He licks his lips, left only in his boxer shorts, he crawls between your legs.

You don’t know what to expect when he slides your underwear down your legs and throws it to the floor. You certainly don’t know what to expect when his mouth inches closer to your begging heat, wet and wanting.

You’ll never forget the moment his tongue languidly slides between your folds.

“Oh fuck–”

Your back arches, mind and body confused, your fingers clutch the sheets. His lips close around your folds, tongue deep inside as his hands steady your thrashing. You barely hear him letting out a satisfied hum, the vibrations shooting a jolt of pleasure throughout your body. It’s mind numbing. Amazing. His tongue is pure sin, soft and velvety. You’re lowkey pissed this is the first time you’re feeling so good. Santi relentlessly mouths at your core, lapping up every ounce of slick that makes its way out of you. Your finger finds the back of his head, pulling at the soft curls. He parts for you and you whine, hips wiggling up as you beg for him to go on.

Disapproving, Santi clicks his tongue. He peels your hand away from his head, and sends you a warnful gaze.

“Behave,”

“Y-Yes–” between your lustful haze you gasp out a word you don’t expect. “–Sir,”

You have no idea where that came from but he doesn’t question it, instead, when you pull your hand back up to your hip, he breathes out a kiss into your inner thigh. He sucks in your clit and flicks his tongue, you let out a sharp exhale, eyes squeezing shut. It’s only been what, ten minutes? You’re about to cum all over him.

He looks up at you with half lidded eyes, you feel him smiling as he flattens the wet muscle, dragging it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. However, nothing prepares you for his fingers. Your whole body jolts when he traces your entrance with two thick digits, playfully pushing only the tip in. Before you know it, your hand is buried deep in his hair once again.

This time Santi yanks it away, and before you know it his face is hovering an inch above from yours, both your hands pinned above your head, his lips damp and swollen. You swallow upon seeing the annoyance lingering in his eyes, legs trembling with heat building between them.

“Didn’t I just say to behave?” he snarls, pupils dilated.

Something mischievous rolls in your gut, with a sudden surge of bravery, you challenge his angry gaze with your own.

“So? What are you going to do about it?”

It’s so minimal, the flare you see in his eyes, slightly widening. If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it.

“Don’t tempt me, cariño,” he leans closer, breath ghosting across your burning skin. “Are you sure you want to play this game?”

A moment of pause. He’s giving you a moment to object, to use the safeword. You don’t. Instead, you wiggle your arms, trying to peel away from his iron grasp. His lips twist into a devious smirk, the tip of his tongue darting out to touch the edge of his teeth.

“Alright, let’s play then,”

The air is forcibly pushed out of your lungs when you find yourself flipped over to your stomach. His hands moving across your body, you find your knees tucked under your thighs, hands held behind your back. He shifts behind you, holding your wrists with one hand, he leans off of the bed and scoops something off the floor. You feel the soft fabric of his shirt wrapping around your wrists, keeping them completely in place.

Santi’s chest is flushed against your back when he whispers in your ear.

“Look at you, all nicely wrapped, the perfect present,”

You struggle against the binds, a groan rattling in your chest as you figure you won’t be getting out of them anytime soon. With a huff, you bury your face into the pillows.

“Not fair,” your voice comes muffled. “It’s not my fault if it feels good, it’s my first time,”

He coos, and rubs the small of your back, “I know, baby. I know. And that’s precisely why I need you to stay put,”

His sinful mouth finds you again. Slurps and groans fill the bedroom. You feel incredibly self conscious as he parts your cheeks but it all fades away with his tongue plunging deep into your core. With two fingers, he draws quick, small circles around your clit, making your body sing with pleasure. Turning your head, you attempt to breathe in a bit of oxygen, but all of it leaves you at the same time when you moan out his name, again and again and again.

“Fuck– Fuck, Santi…” you whine, pushing into him. A warning growl rips from his throat. “S-Sorry it just feels,” you gasp. “It feels so good, I-I think I’m gonna actually cum,”

Spit dribbles from the corners of your lips and wets the pillow underneath. You want to look at him, watch him eat you out like a starved man but you can’t. The fog lifts only for a moment when he stops, only to press his lips into you again, the bed begins to sway, only a bit, a rocking sensation if you will. You attempt to mouth out a question, but cry out instead.

“Not yet,” he rasps into you, the rocking of the bed picks up. “Wait for me a bit more baby, just a bit more,”

Wait for him? What– Wait–

“Are you–” you’re cut off by your own moan caused by an especially harsh pinch on your abused clit. The pain makes you tingle with pleasure, eyes rolling back, you forget your question. You start to beg. “Please, sir, please let me cum– I need to cum, please please please,”

“Hold it in,”

The melodic tone of his voice only electrifies you. Tears build up in your eyes as your cunt flutters around him, slick dripping down your thighs. The pleasure buzzes in your ears, body screaming for you to cum, you’re trying to hold it back, you’re trying to be good, his good girl. Fuck–

“Cum. Now.”

Before you can even process the words, your body obeys.

It’s blinding. Breath stopping. Your body tenses, cunt gushing around his tongue and fingers. Your arms forces against the binds made of his shirt, cloth digging into your skin as your body starts to spasm. Both of your moans mix together, composing the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard. Santi’s eccentric pace becomes slow, sensual. Tongue lazily lapping up everything you have to offer, he eases you down from the high of your ecstasy. You take heavy breaths, head spinning, You breathe out a languid moan, muscles still throbbing with the buzz of pleasure.

Santi pulls away and you drop to the side, luckily you’re too gone to actually feel embarrassed from falling. You hear his low hum of a chuckle as he crawls closer to you, he unties his shirt from your wrists and gently kneads your biceps.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,”

You know that this is just service he provides, but you can’t help but reach out to him, he obliges with a smile and nestles between your arms, kissing your neck gently. A broken sigh falls from your damp lips, he huddles closer, body snug against your own. Mimicking him, you come closer too, your bare thigh grazing against his clothed cock. You still and he looks up to you, brows knitted together. His confusion grows when a grin spreads across your face.

“Did you cum?” you ask, eyes bright and shiny.

He clears his throat, lips curling up into an amused smile. Leaning in, he teases your earlobe with his tongue.

“I might’ve,”

“Never would have pegged you as someone to be this quick,” you tease, hand sliding between your bodies, you cup his cock, a subtle moan leaving you as you feel how wet he is. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s hot as hell,”

“Don’t get cocky,”

He crashes your lips together, large hands cupping your chest and pulling you even closer against the firm frame of his body. His fingers tease your nipples, rolling and pulling them. Your skin tingles, and you whine into the kiss, hips grinding against him. Santi’s lips never leave your own as he lifts himself and pulls you underneath. Your palm still snug against his length, you feel him hardening again.

Surprised, you break the kiss, a heavy laughter trembling in your chest. With a wide smile, he grins.

“Told you,”

“You’re full of surprises,”

“I am,” he stops for a moment, looking to the side, he looks back at you, seemingly unsure. “Do you want to continue? We can stop if you want to, or if you feel worn out, ”

“Oh, I’m definitely good for round two,” you purr, brushing your lips against his. “Make me feel whole again,”

“Fuck, alright– Let me go get a condom really quick,”

Santi gets up and you realize that you haven’t had the time to properly observe his temple of a body. His back muscles flex as he dips down and grabs his pants, hurriedly searching the pockets for that colorful piece of packaging. The boxers he wears hugs his ass, leaving little imagination to the eye, you’re certain Santi would look good in everything, but right now you think he looks the best naked. He turns on his heel, his chest firm, a bit of fat around his belly but still defined. Eyes going lower, you see his fully erect cock, the darkened tip peeking out of his waistband. You bite the inside of your cheek as you inside clench around nothing, you can’t wait for him to fill you up.

Before you know it, Santi’s between your legs again, rolling the condom down his impressive length. He’s so thick, thicker than you imagined he would be. Santi notices your gaze, lips playfully pulling up.

“You think you can take me baby girl? Where’s that confidence from before?”

“O-Oh…it’s still there just a bit,” you clear your throat. “Shocked,”

“Word?”

“Socks,”

“Good girl,”

Purring like a cat, you part your arms, allowing him to bury his face into the crook of your neck as he slants himself between your thighs. You adore feeling him this close, his warmth making your heart stutter. He nudges your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your whimpers spiral into moans and he drowns out the noises by claiming your lips. The stretch is addictive, the tingle of being spread wide by someone who knows what he’s doing makes your eyes roll back. Santi inhales you as he pulls back, eyes searching your face. You flutter around him, with the mere sensation of his cock, you grind your hips.

“You good?”

“Yeah,”

“Can I move?”

“Please, sir,”

He growls into your skin, the vibration seeping into your body, it makes you tremble as well. When Santi starts to move, all you can do is hold on to him, nails biting into his skin as he slides in and out of you with precision. He breathes raggedly into your flesh, cock hitting your deepest parts with every thrust. You feel as if you can’t control your body, it arches, bends, curls but your brain is completely mush, only pleasure ringing inside. With your moans and whines growing in volume, Santi starts to slam his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin spurs you on further. You scream his name, breathing and panting curse words without knowing. Your heart swells, he makes you feel so good. His thrusts, deep, lasting. You can’t breathe, eyes squeezed shut as the bed rocks into the wall. Your cunt clenched around him, the coil inside you tightens, ready to burst but he’s still going. It feels like he can go on like this for hours. Fuck–

You hug him tighter, if possible, teeth finding his shoulder, you bite into him. You don’t even know where you are anymore. All you can feel is him. His scent, his body, his sounds. Nothing else.

“Fuck fuck– Santi– ‘Love you–”

Your eyes shoot wide open, you see him staring at you, he doesn’t look mad, or weirded out. But still, the panic overwhelms the pleasure, you flail, tears quickly building in your eyes.

“You love me?” he mutters, one eyebrow elegantly raised.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to– I didn’t–”

Santi doesn’t slow down, in fact his hips speed up. He sees your glossy eyes and leans to kiss them both, you feel the throb of his cock, and another moan quickly replaces your frantic apologies.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, mouthing the words into your cheek. “It’s normal. Say whatever you want, it only means that I’m making you feel good. You’re not the only one,”

Your heart feels like it might stop at any moment, “I’m not?”

“No,” he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses as he dips between your breasts. He mouths against them, tongue playfully licking the salt of your skin. “So just let go,”

And you do just that.

Letting your head fall back, you revel at the way he draws a stiff nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around. Your chest heaves with his every shattering thrust, his hand slides between your wet bodies and finds your clit. He rolls the sensitive nub between his fingers. Hallowing his cheeks, he grazes his teeth around your nipple, you chant his name, a string of curses following right after. You have no idea what else you might be saying, you might’ve asked his hand in marriage at this point but you don’t care. You let go. You forget the shop, the insecurities, the loneliness and you just feel.

It doesn’t take Santi long to wind you up, dangling you off the edge, the heat builds and builds, so much so that it feels like it’s burning. Something besides pleasure swells inside you, something’s coming, you bite back your moans, and slap his back.

“What is it?” he pants, voice dripping with lust but still full of concern. “Do you want to use the safeword?”

You furiously shake your head, your lips part with a gasp.

“It’s– I’m going to cum but– It’s too much, I’m–”

He presses his lips into your ear, you listen to his breathing, steady and slow, the slide of his cock and move of his fingers rips another groan from you.

“Let go,”

Your cunt gushes around him like it never has before, it’s more intense than the first time, it makes you cry, beg. The squelching becomes louder, you’re still coming. He sings a moan into your skin, your cunt throbs at the sound of his voice, it reminds you of the caramel you make. Santi’s movements slow, fast thrust shifting into soft rolls of his hips. Your breath hitches every time his pelvis grazes against your sensitive clit. He pulls you from your dazed state with a soft kiss, both hands coming to lay on each side of your face, thumbs stroking lovingly.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you inhale a deep breath. “Did…did you?”

A soft chuckle vibrates across your lips, he nuzzles your nose. “I did,”

You fight the urge to call him back when he pulls away, you haven’t realized how secure you felt under his weight. However, you really need to initiate a war against your inner demons when he lifts himself off of the bed. Carefully removing the condom, he ties the end into a knot and turns to you.

“Bathroom?”

“First door on the left,”

You lay back down as he leaves, hands and arms sprawled above the sheets. Your mind begins to clear, kind of, closing your eyes you can still feel how he felt plowing into you. The fact this is a service is both a pro and a con. A con, because he can’t stay. A pro, because you can call him and ask him over anytime you want to. Well, not really. Maybe once a month, all your money goes to the shop and rent, you wouldn’t be able to hire him.

You’re surprised at his return, his right hand holding a wet washcloth and the other holding a glass of water. The bed dips under his weight and he grins at your confusion, the towel gently cleaning the mess between your legs.

“What? Did you think I just left?”

“I didn’t,” he gives you a look of disbelief and you giggle. “I didn’t really!”

“Good,” his eyes scan your body, observing every patch of skin. “Does anywhere particularly hurt? Aches?”

“No,”

“How do you feel? Mentally?”

“That’s good too, feel very light,”

You don’t miss the way he hisses out a breath of relief, “Great,” he checks the watch you hadn’t realized he’s been wearing. “We still have ten minutes,”

Suddenly you can hear the imaginary clock ticking, maybe you weren’t alright after all.

“Cuddle?”

His smile is wide, kind, soft. You swear you melt into the sheets. Letting the used towel fall to the floor, he lays next to you and pulls you into his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, steady, safe.

“And you thought that you wouldn’t like it when others did it,” he chimes gleefully, quoting you when you opened up about your bad experience with your ex. “It looked like you enjoyed my fingers just fine,”

The soft baritone of his voice soothes you, your eyes flutter close, a pleased hum parting from your lips.

“I did,” you smile into his chest. “Thank you, this was just what I needed,”

“It was my pleasure, cariño. Literally.”

The last thing you feel is his hand slowly dragging across your body, fingers rubbing your worn out wrists.

Best money you’ve ever spent.

a/n: to be notified of future work follow @psychedeliclibrary and turn on notifs 💕

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