I need more Derek/Sheriff!!

don’t we all, Nonnie. Don’t. We. All.

I’m thinking Derek could be the Sheriff’s stay-at-home-boy. Basically it’s his job to service the Sheriff, and be available whenever the mood strikes – and he takes his job very seriously.

It’s not that often that he gets accosted in the night, but when he feels big, sure hands on his thighs, he can’t help it but sleepily open them wide and angle his hairy ass up into the cool air of the bedroom. A breathy moan escapes him when the Sheriff’s thick fingers – already slick with lube – pet across his dusky hole, trying how soft and swollen the rim is. All the deep dicking is taking its toll and the Sheriff loves to see physical evidence of it.

Derek is snoring softly as he gets fingered, but John doesn’t really mind it. He’s focused on the feel of Derek’s warm, puffy walls hugging his fingers, and how he can see the swell of the boy’s balls where they peek out between his thighs, and how they move when he relentlessly circles his prostate with gentle fingers.

In any case, he doesn’t need Derek to be awake for what he wants of him, but there’s also no way his boy will sleep through getting his cunt stretched on a big cock.

When John mounts him with one hand placed high between his shoulder blades – nearly gripping the back of his neck to keep him pinned down and motionless – he startles awake with a confused grunt and half-moan.

“Daddy?” he whispers, voice ridiculously high and soft, always so startling when it comes from this burly man.

“Shhh baby boy. Just let Daddy take care of you. Just… like… this…” John’s not even looking at Derek’s face; just intently staring down where he’s starting to press the blunt tip of his dick against the swollen, dark hole. He never gets tired of seeing how Derek’s swollen rim opens up for him and stretches, stretches, stretches to accommodate John’s girth; and Derek doesn’t even wince. Just opens his mouth in another soft groan and lets himself get pinned down against the bed.

He’d never struggle against a fuck. He’s too addicted to cock; to warm cum filling his belly and making the hair around his hole and the dark, space behind his balls sticky.

The Sheriff fucks him in fast, abrupt strokes that jolt through Derek and force squeaky whines out of his throat . It doesn’t even take long – not long enough for Derek’s warm, sleepy body to get off, anyway – until he stills and fills him with a deep, rusty sounding grunt.

He pets Derek’s ass with small slaps, as if congratulating a dog after a trick well done, then slowly pulls away, watching the pulsing gape of Derek’s cunt with satisfied smugness.

“Good boy,” he praises and presses a kiss against Derek’s shoulder blade, right next to the red hand print on the nape of his neck – then proceeds to get off the bed and ready for bed, hands on his uniform, and mind already elsewhere while Derek is still dazed and his toes are tingling.

Chris going back down in to the caves because he refuses to believe Josh is gone. Finding him down there, feasting on the firemen and taking him back to the cabin he’s rented up there and Josh doesn’t really care about anything except Josh and claiming him and making the other his, in every way.

Chris felt like puking; has felt like it for years, it seemed. Since splitting off the terrified gaggle of his friends and watching through the trees as the helicopter daintily landed and they were ushered inside by two concerned pilots.

Something inside him had been screaming what the fuck are you doing, dipshit??? what the fuck is your deal? all the way stumbling down into the caves. The same – sane – part that had tried taking over every time he stumbled and fell and the flare of pain from ripping his hands open was so startling and clear that he had to remain there on his hands and knees a few minutes and just pant through it.

Nothing had been able to keep him away from the mines, though. Not the sane part of him coming up with all the right reasons why it was suicide to go back down – and not the sight of Josh crouching in the murky darkness and ripping the flesh from a human head. Because there was no mistaking it. There was no lying to himself as to what Josh was doing with an impressive and gruesome set of teeth that hadn’t been there a few hours ago.

And still he’d pushed on. Had watched his hand lift as if he were someone sitting in the movies, watching someone else do the stupid thing. The moronic thing.

Josh had turned from him with a sudden, vicious snarl, bending lower over the head (and now Chris could see that it was the mangled remains of the old crazy bastard. The one that had tried to save all their bacon) like an animal afraid of getting its food ripped away under its nose.

“Come,” Chris said as if through a mouth of cotton. “Come. Josh.”

And Josh had come. After a last, departing bite into the lifeless cheek, he’d turned and stared at Chris’ hand and had debated for a second whether to grab those fingers or bite them off. He had taken it. And he had been coming – docile-as-you-please.

Chris felt like falling to his knees and retching. Like getting out all that was currently churning and cramping in his belly – although he had no idea whatever that could be. He couldn’t recall what, or even when, he’d last ate something.

The remains of the lodge, when they came to it, had stopped burning. The rooms further back were, astonishingly enough, still untouched.

Chris didn’t even realize how macabre it was to have brought Josh into Hanna’s room, but it had been the closest and Chris needed to sit down. He needed to let go of Josh’s dirty, grimy hand and sit down, and have a good old-fashioned break-down.

It never came, though. He just sat there on the bed, chest heaving and slowly evening out, watching Josh crawl through the room and sniff at a little heap of clothes lying next to Hanna’s desk chair.

Chris took off his glasses and absentmindedly started cleaning them with the edge of his shirt, even though one of the lenses was cracked and he only made it worse.

He dimly started to wonder where his friends were now. Were they already back home? Did they already have had time to shower and change their bloody, ripped clothes? He had no idea how much time had passed by as he had stumbled through the mines on the mad search for his even madder friend.

Then, there were no thoughts at all because Josh suddenly turned towards him as if startled into remembering that he wasn’t alone.

His eyes were big and luminescent and so comfortingly human, Chris didn’t even think about running away – not even when Josh started in on him. Sinuously crawling and still gazing at him with those always-tired-looking eyes, hypnotizing him like a snake. Captivating his gaze and not letting Chris stare at the gash in his cheek and the sharp, monstrous teeth protruding from it.

Or maybe it was Chris himself deluding himself?

It was definitely Chris who didn’t protest when Josh pushed him back onto the bed. Chris just fucking going along when Josh started to impatiently push and rip at his clothes. Helpfully dragged layers of shirts up from his soft belly; exposing all this skin and fat to a creature he’d watched…

His mind shied away from the image. He just pulled it up farther, small tan nipples puckering up in the cold air of the room. His eyes were squeezed shut, fingers clamped around the thick roll of garment he had gathered up in order to expose himself to Josh’s insistent snuffling; and now his tongue. Warm and wet and embarrassingly curious as it licked at his navel and wriggled inside as far as it could; then dragged across his chest with the occasional dip into his arm pits.

“Oh god,” Chris whispered, eyes opening and staring at the ceiling. “Oh shit.”

He could hear ripping and feel the warm puffs of Josh’s growled frustration as he tried squirming out of the overall. The one he used to play a cruel prank on all of them.

And maybe it was that thought that made Chris startle part-way out of his complacency – made him squirm and start to put up a fight. But of course by then it was too late. Had been too late for him for a long time now.

There was no going back on it; no excuse me I have made a terrible mistake. No Yo can I reload a safegame? There was only Josh’s warm breath, wet with excitement, puffing against the furry skin beneath Chris’ belly button.

There were teeth pressing against the soft bulge of his cock. He could feel them even through the thick layer of jeans. They were hard and sharp and terrifying – and enough to get a rise out of him. He could feel blood heating his cheeks in shame and rushing down to start filling his dick.

He wanted to reach down and take hold of Josh’s hair – to pull him up and away from his crotch. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. Just kept lying there and obediently held his clothes up like a little boy.

Josh didn’t bother trying to unbutton the garment, but figured out how to work the zipper, surprisingly enough.

And then there was a face nuzzling into the warm, cotton-filled space between. Chris could feel Josh searching. Could feel his growls of frustration rippling along his dick and making it jerk into hardness instead of softening it up in fear. He could feel the insistent bump of his best friend’s nose as he eagerly snuffled into the warm, spicy scent of Chris’ crotch, and he could only whimper in reply and mortification.

It didn’t need much help. Josh’s insistence and his own dick made it all to easy for it to finally find the hole and slip out of it, rubbing along Josh’s soft jaw (because he never had been able to grow any significant amount of facial hair), and then getting smothered with a warm, eager tongue that was just as unafraid to explore here as it had been licking and tasting the rest of him.

Maybe even more eager?

Chris lay there, panting up at the ceiling, toes curling in his boots as he felt Josh lick long, patient stripes along the underside of his traitorous dick.

His belly was already rippling and warm, and he couldn’t help but bark out a pathetic, shrill burst of giggles as he thought about how he was already about to shoot. How this was the first time he felt a tongue at his dick, and he was about to fulfill every damn cliche in the virgin book.

Josh’s spit felt strange on his skin. It was still wet on his body where he had inspected him, and it was sticky.

When he chanced a glance down, he was transfixed by the sight of Josh’s dark head bend over his dick. How startling his pink cock looked big and hard next to Josh’s face. How long and positively serpentine Josh’s tongue had become, strands of sticky saliva connecting it to the flushed head of Chris’ gently bobbing cock.

As he watched, said cock jerked in excitement which he could feel bubble and spike through his lower belly, and dipped against Josh’s cheek right above the terrifying gaggle of teeth. Josh closed his eye on that side part-way, but didn’t seem to mind getting smeared with spit and pre-cum.

In fact, he leaned down and started nuzzling Chris’ cock. Pressed it up and against his belly, so he could smear it all over his face, and not even the uncomfortable bite of his awkwardly still-closed jeans could make him soft.

He let his head fall back down onto the pink duvet of Hanna’s bed and clenched his eyes shut, praying to nobody in particular about nothing in particular. Just murmuring pleases and don’t make mes and not like thiss even though his hips had started to curl on their own – gently, almost timidly fucking up against the press and drag of Josh’s tongue that has now started up the infernal licking again.

His balls felt too full and too big in the warm nest of his underwear and for a moment he wished Josh would go back to exploring. Would not stand still until he had managed to get the sinful twist of his sticky tongue against the vulnerably orbs of Chris’ testicles.

It was the sudden clarity of the thought that made him jerk his hips artlessly one last time and had the muscles of his lower belly clench in orgasm – the mental picture of how good it would be to look down and see Josh – feral and monstrous – with one of Chris’ full, tight balls in his mouth.

He couldn’t even cry out. Just whimpered a soft slew of ngh ngh nnnnh as thick ropes of cum splashed against his belly and got lapped up immediately by Josh’s interested, inquisitive tongue.

Chris lay there and stared up at the dark ceiling. He could see some of the paper butterflies that Hanna had hung down from strings, and wondered whether he could hear a helicopter in the distance or whether it was just his imagination.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Being near Josh made him kind of stupid. Always had.

what about Harry and Merlin competing to see who can make eggsy cum more?

“I can’t. I can’t. I se-e-eeriously cahaha-” Eggsy was devolving into breathless giggles, face cherry red and hands weakly slapping between his shaking thighs at Merlin’s arms.

There wasn’t anything particularly funny about the situation, really, but Eggsy’s synapses tended to misfire when both Harry and Merlin focused on him long enough.

Merlin huffed and smirked, fingers gently rubbing at the quivering tendons near their boy’s groin until his cock started twitching; lying on Eggsy’s abdomen looking pink and vulnerable and spent.

“That’s it, lad,” Merlin gentled him through it, and watched Harry out of the corner of his eyes, a smug air around him.

Harry snorted and bumped shoulders with him – noting how Merlin easily went to the side, obviously assured in the fact that this time he drained their pet dry to the last drop.

Eggsy was no longer giggling now. His head was thrown back, neck stretched out and Adam’s apple bobbing as he panted and tried to calm down and not get a heart attack.

There were marks all over his delightful body; thin, red lines from scratching fingernails criss crossing over his chest from one angry red nipple to the next – the small buds erect and just as over sensitive as his poor, little dick lying in a puddle of his own cum.

“You’re not done yet, are you, dear boy?” he purred, leaning down low between Eggsy’s legs and pressing a soft kiss against his sternum.

Eggsy whined, high and almost distressed. His knees wobbled, trying to close his legs and deny Harry access, only to weakly fall open again. His hands were cramped over his cock, fingers curled around his balls to securely hold and shield everything as he shook his head.

“No way. No fucking way, cuz,” he murmured. Harry clicked his tongue in a soft “tut, tut”, then started pressing little kisses along Eggsy’s jaw bone – only too aware of Merlin’s smug silence from the sidelines.

“Good boy. My good, dear boy. You still have more in you for me. I know it. Just for me, hm? Gorgeous boy…”

Eggsy groaned and turned his head away from the seeking, gentle kisses Harry pressed against his face – but took his shaking hands away all the same. He looked delirious and flushed as he whispered “Just once more” over and over again, fingers digging first into the bedding, then into Merlin when his lover came close enough, while Harry went to work.

Can we maybe talk about Merlin keeping Eggsy on his knees on a pretty pillow when he’s not out on mission, keeping his pretty little mouth stuffed with his cock while he runs mission Ops for the other Kingsman. Cockwarmer/sucker!Eggsy who is so, so good for Merlin.

“Target has been sighted and will enter through the front doors in 5. 4. 3. 2…”

Merlin’s hand fell down beneath the desk, large palm lightly cupping the side of Eggsy’s face. His thumb did an easy sweep across the lad’s cheek, ending at the stretched corner of his mouth.

There wasn’t any reaction to it; only more of the soft tickling when Eggsy breathed out through his nose.

“I see him and will make my way over in five minutes.”

Merlin confirmed and did another sweep of the screen displaying a room chock full of people, then muted his microphone. He leaned back in his chair, other now dropping down as well so he could cup Eggsy’s face at both sides and tilt the lad’s head back as far as possible.

He looked absolutely gone; eyes barely fluttering open to show a hint of pupils that almost looked drugged before closing once more.

“Okay, poppet?” Merlin hummed, doing another slow sweep with his thumb and then gently prodding it into the corner of the lad’s mouth, opening the slick, warm seal of his lips with a lewd popping sound.

Eggsy made a half-gurgling, half-mewling noise in the back of his throat and looked for a moment like he wanted to protest or argue at getting his warm, little mouth fucked by Merlin’s finger alongside the comfortable girth of his soft cock. In the end, he just barely re positioned himself on the dark silk of his pillow and leaned his head against the inside of Merlin’s thigh.

“Good lad,” Merlin sighed. He pulled his thumb away and rocked his hips a couple times, easily fucking his soft cock into the suckling, wet warmth of Eggsy’s mouth to hear – and feel – the delirious groan this elicited, then let go of him to concentrate back on the action that had nothing to do with his pet perfectly warming him during work.

The mission already looked like it would be a great success and he couldn’t wait for it to be over so he could lay the half-asleep Eggsy across his desk and show him how hard it was to nod off with a cock warming up his belly from behind.

I see your rude!derek joking his parents, and raise you ride!derek smelling his mom in heat and fucking her in the living room. Papa hale coming back to find his son knotting talia and his other kids going into a “sympathy” heat and bucking against each other. Papa hale deciding to mark his territory and pissing on heat-drunk!talia while his son practically knocks his own mother up, and all of the kids crying out for a taste of where they came from.

I hear ya I hear ya D: just a big, nasty halecest orgy. I’m totes okay with this. yes yes I am.

Derek knocking his own mother up is just about perfect. He’s probably even talking about it. Telling her how he can feel his dick kissing up to her womb. How he can practically fill her up with his jizz right at the source. How she has no other option than to get fat with her own son’s puppies.

And maybe Talia is in denial about it, rubbing her face – bright red in embarrassment – against the carpet, chanting ‘nonono’ over and over again even as she lifts her cunt up for it. Her whole body begging her son to breed her up because it’s been too empty for too long.

Or maybe she fucking wants it. One arm beneath her, she’s frantically rubbing her clit, pinching it almost cruelly in her haste because the thought of her own son owning and breeding her cunt is getting her hot like nothing else.

(and the shame of knowing Laura and Cora are watching. The delicious, sizzling shame of knowing her daughters see what a greedy whore she is for just about every cock – even her son’s.)

I bet Papa Hale makes sure they get their due, though. Let’s them magnanimously suckle on his dick, one hand on each head. while he watches Derek curl himself around his mother like an animal, locked tight and fast by his knot, pumping his thick, creamy cum deep into her belly.

Chubby queen!Lydia is the only one who can make rude!Derek take a bath ;)

oh you bet she will and does teach him good manners. She’ll sit with her legs spread and slow and lovingly petting her clit in front of him, one hand on her belly, pressing down until he can see how soft she is with her chub rising gently between her spread fingers. (and it’s also an added bonus that she can press the heel of her hand down just above her pubic bone; give her some more stimulation while she has the tedious task of training this particularly daft puppy).

And every time he tries to go fuckboy on her and thinks he can shoulder his way between her thighs and bite and lick at her and call her, she’ll plant a foot right in the middle of his throat and pushes him away none-too-gently. Gives him a little parting slap with her toes against the underside of his chin. (she’d give him a smack with a rolled up newspaper if he was close enough to do so, lbr.)

She’ll only let him close when he stops reeking like a high school locker room (where he probably rabbit fucked a few boys after basketball or lacrosse practice just before coming to her, let’s also be real about that).

And even then, after he showered and threw her resentful, glowering gazes the whole time, she only lets him put his head on her thigh and watch her make love to herself; lets him smell her cunt and listen to the slick sounds of her petting and tweaking at her silky, swollen clit.

Just really want chubby Lydia using someone’s mouth or cock like she doesn’t even acknowledge them, just watching TV and eating a huge carton of ice cream like the fat princess she is

uh… yes? yes please?

yaaaaas

I don’t know who I’d want her to play around with. Like Agent McCall and Peter would need to get trained very diligently until they’re at the point where she can use their dicks and them keeping there hands where she put them previously.

The Sheriff and Daddy Argent would probably be her go-to when she isn’t in the mood to puppy train the other two. (Or maybe even Deaton? I could see him getting off on needing to be zen about it and being forced to not have any other choice but lie there and let her do whatever she desires.)

Maybe before she sends them a text, she’s lying on her bed and idly playing with her plump clit, dipping down and into her soft body every now and then, trying to decide whether she wants that almost unbearable thickness of the Sheriff or Mr. Argents slimmer, long dick with the wicked curve that makes her belly clench if she uses it at the right angle. Or Deaton, who is in general very wet, pumping her full of copious amounts of pre-cum. (And Lydia loves licking it up, you know. Loves drinking everything down until her belly curves with it.)

So yes. yes I don’t even know who she’d be texting. But just imagine her with her bouncy-fat thighs, and her soft belly. When she idly moves her hips to drag the cock of her choice against her silky walls, her whole body starts moving in little bounces.

She’s so happy like that. Stuffed full down below, (maybe getting her asshole tickled now and then, by the thick fingers of her toy) watching the latest episodes of her favourite TV shows and snacks on some ice cream.

Whenever she feels like it, she treats herself to a lazy, little orgasm. Just puts her hand between her thighs, spoon probs still in her mouth, and tweaks and caresses the silky bud of her clit until she ripples around the cock and sighs in relief.

The low, almost distressed grunts from behind her are just the topping on that cake. Just a nice background noise for her to enjoy if she wants to concentrate on it.

(And even more later she’ll treat herself to eating their cum right from the source.)

What a queen.

The heavy revolver was in Cuthbert’s hand, hammer cocked even before he consciously registered that he was awake. If he’d been Roland, the intruder would already have a bullet hole smoking between his eyes, but as it was, he was not Roland with his freakishly good reflexes; all the better for Sheemie who was sitting on the edge of the bed, dark eyes huge and crossed as he tried to stare at the mouth of the gun pointed at his face.

“I cry your pardon, Mister Arthur Heath,” he whispered, “’twas not my intention to startle you, indeed it was notty-not.”

Cuthbert stared at him a little longer, squinting in the darkness of his room, trying to discern whether this was real or whether he had finally had snapped – as if Rhea, the old hag witch from the Cöos had managed to get him after all, and wouldn’t that have been a fine joke? Yes, it would have. A mighty fine one at that.

“Sheemie? What… did something happen?” He was struggling to scramble out of the blanket that had managed to tie itself around his legs and he would have fallen and maybe broken his neck – which also would have been hilarious, yes, yes it would have – if not for Sheemie thrusting his hands out and clasping Cuthbert’s shoulders, urging him to sit back and relax.

“No, Mister Arthur Heath. Nothing happened. ‘Tis only old Sheemie. Nothing more.”

Cuthbert sank back against the pillows and rubbed his eyes. He was debating reaching for the gas lamp and fumbling a spark into the glass, but he didn’t have the energy for it, after all. His limbs already started sinking back into sleep and he hadn’t even put his revolver away. He blinked at it with cow eyes then looked back up at Sheemie perched carefully on the corner of his bed and looking at him with a little smile on his mouth and an uncharacteristic strain around his eyes.

It was enough to distract Cuthbert from the fact that Sheemie had been addressing him with his old alias again. Since Sheemie had managed to come to Gilead a scant week before (Cuthbert’s mind was still boggling at that; at the sheer bravery and determination that must have pumped through the silly bar-boy), he’d not been able to break him off the habit.

“What are you doing here, Sheemie?”

“I know I am a bother, Mister Arthur Heath a bother and a silly boy, and for that I’m terribly sorry, that I am. Terribly, terribly sorry. It was just that…” he trailed off and looked at his knees.

Cuthbert stared at him a little longer. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked at least, and Sheemie let out a long, slow breath. When he looked up, he smiled just like he always did – like the sun had just come up after a long night of cold storms.

“Aye,” he sighed and Cuthbert didn’t even think before he slipped to the side and lifted the corner of his blanket in invitation.

“Well then get in here.”

“Aye, Mister Arthur Heath! Mister Arthur Heath who saved my life and who is my best friend, and who I love very much.” His knees were bony and he tended to cling but Cuthbert would never have it any other way.

(Anon from before about touch starved!Deucalion) He would be sensitive, and oh so sweet. Probably curling up against them like an overgrown cat and just silently begging to be pet. Imagine how quickly the attempts to calm him and satisfy his need for affection turns sexual. Because it is just so hard to resist with him stretched out on their lap and pressing against them, whining for more. More cuddling, more attention, more praise, more everything.

@screaming-towards-apotheosis said: “

ugh but Scott praising both Chris and Deuc for being such good boys for him <3″

yeeesss all of thissss

Deucalion lying across Scott’s lap, belly up and chin stretched as far as he can, his vulnerable throat on display for Scott to carefully scratch at it with his sharp claws. Murmuring how good Deucalion has been for him. How proud he is.

Deucalion’s expressive mouth going lax and pretty for him as he starts panting, knees lifting and then opening a little. An involuntary movement just for his alpha. It feels so good to be someone’s Beta once more. To feel cherished and protected. He doesn’t even flinch when Chris crawls closer and places his head on Deucalion’s belly. Just looks up at Scott with those painfully pale blue eyes in utter adoration. Groans low when he, too, gets to feel sharp claws scratching through his hair.

“You’ve both been so good for me. Such brave boys…”

I bet when Deucalion’s cock starts tapping against Chris’ cheek, there isn’t even a moment of hesitation before he turns his head and starts lapping at it with a warm, silky tongue. Eyes never leaving Scott’s face. Watching how his dark eyes get even darker when Chris starts suckling on the swollen tip of Deucalion’s cock.

Both of them listening to the low sounds of need coming from Deucalion. They sound almost hurt; his belly twitching and hips restless from the sensory overload of suddenly getting touched so much.

“Ssshh you can take it,” Scott croons at him when he finally can wrench his eyes away from the sight of Chris’ cheeks pulling inwards with his suckling. He stares into Deucalion’s wide, strangely frightened eyes. “You can take it for me, can’t you? Because you’re such a good boy.”

I really need your opinion on the next time Vanessa pegs Wade, after the cancer is gone (because seriously, he had prostate cancer, its no wonder it hurt!) Vanessa would probably be kinda nervous because last time it hurt him, and she isn’t 100% sure it was just the cancer, so she’s all hesitant and gentle at first.

yassss. Like he would be babbling the whole time. And she’d just counter because it’s how they work and how they’re comfortable with each other. But her hands speak a whole different story.

She’s slow and gentle, fingertips just petting his hole, dipping in with slicked up fingers. Just a little – just to spread the wetness in and around his rim until he’s trembling beneath her and sliding his knees farther apart.

Nothing on his body is smooth anymore. That lovely, little bottom she liked to lick and spank, is still a tight, little ass but now there’s so much more texture to it that she’s been very hesitant to explore the first few weeks. Half because he wasn’t taking very good care of his personal hygiene and half because it was just scary.

By now he’s got a better grasp on everything again, though. Lets her stand in the doorway and watch him shower long and thoroughly, making sure he’s nice and clean for her to play with whenever the fancy strikes.

He smells so good now. She wants to bite him constantly and it is scary because he’s been tortured and she just wants the best for him even though he’s a fucking asshole and she’s a fucking asshole and they can be so mean towards each other.

She’s got such a pretty cock for him. It’s small and sleek, perfect for prostate stimulation, and the material is a bright, obnoxious rainbow that makes him giggle randomly whenever he thinks about it. And she loves feeling him shake beneath her. Loves it even more, though, when it’s with lust and frustration. When his quips become shaky and the sarcasm falls away until it’s just naked need when he’s begging her to finally give it to him.

“Pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top?”

And god, he’s so sensitive now. He fucking howls the first time she reaches in deep enough to gently drag her fingers across his prostate and she nearly falls off the bed in her haste to pull back, an apology on the tip of her tongue before she hears him whine pathetically, scarred face peeking at her with plaintive want across the swell of his strong, equally scarred shoulder.

“You’re killin’ me here, girl. Don’t leave a guy hanging – fuck!”

He’s breathing hard and pressing his forehead against the bedding, and he looks so lovely in that moment. Shivering and needy, an expanse of scars and grooves laid out in front of her just for her to play with.

“Pushy, pushy…” she murmurs but there’s a fond smile in her voice and she leans forward and after a second of hesitation, breathes a little kiss onto the quivering muscle of his entrance. “Get ready to get fucked, Mister Wilson.”

“Finally!”