#PSA from Price sitting backwards in a chair: Remember to practice Risk Aware Consensual Kink

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Best In Show

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Naya "Bambi" Walker (OC)

Read on AO3

Word count: 4.8k

CW: BDSM, Sexual Content, kink negotiations, hucow kink, speech restriction, themed lingerie, lactation kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, so much dirty talk, pre-nut insanity (one of my favorite flavors of Simon), fantasies of dub-con (no actual dub-con), post-nut laughter

Notes: This was supposed to be a short addition to the Kinktober prompts, but obviously I am bad at keeping things short. Also, the working title for this was "Moo Moo Moo."

Simon is hiding something. Maybe that’s the wrong way to look at it. There’s something he’s not saying, not making obvious. It itches at the back of your mind.

It starts with looking at your own nude body in the mirror after a shower. You’ve been going to the gym, just a little bit. Weight training and cardio to keep up with all of the sex you’ve been having since moving in with Simon. You haven’t really lost any weight. In fact, your hips are wider, with no real change in the pouch of your belly.

Simon makes an interested noise when he walks into the bedroom. “Guess we should ‘old off on supper, eh?”

“No, no, I want to try that recipe I found,” you say, ignoring his discontented noise as you pull on underwear. The pleased noise he makes when you tug on his shirt is predictable, just like the kiss he presses to your cheek. “I was just… looking at myself. Kind of surprised that I’ve got more hip. Still got the belly, though.”

Simon surprises you by saying, “Tit’s’re bigger, too.”

“Are they?” You bunch the shirt in the back, and take yourself in. “Huh.”

“More pectoral muscle,” he says with a shrug. “More breast.”

“That’s not how that works,” you scoff, shoving him playfully before leaving the bedroom. “Besides, I heard your tis are the first to go when you lose weight.”

“Then I hope you don’t lose weight,” Simon answers, following you into the kitchen for a kiss. “I like all’o you.”

He spends extra time worshiping your thick parts, that night. Kisses you and kisses you and kisses you while rubbing your belly and groping at your hips, stroking and pinching at your breasts, your thighs, your love handles, your arm fat. He’s ravenous as he eats you out. The two of you are loud as he takes you apart. You fall asleep completely drained and covered in sore spots.

It doesn’t occur to you that you’ve been missing anything for a while after that. In fact, nothing seems off until he catches you masturbating a couple of months later. One moment, you’re alone at home, in bed, and the next he’s climbing in next to you with a groan and a sigh of relief.

“Whatcha wachin’?” he asks over your surprised yelp. “Tha’s not y’r usual boyfriend.”

“What do you know about my usual porn,” you laugh as you pass him your earbuds to place on the side table. You roll to kiss him as you admit, “It’s not really exciting, I was mostly done.”

“What counts as exciting?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, cuddling up. He smells so good. “You know my usuals, why don’t you tell me?”

Simon chuckles into your hair. “Big dicks ‘n ‘elplessness. Bonus points for dubious consent.”

“…Well… You’re not wrong.”

“I know what my girl likes.”

“Okay,” you giggle. “Well, what’s exciting for you?”

If you didn’t know him, you would have missed the split second pause before his answer. As it is you barely catch the way his hand twitches against the curve of your ass.

But he says, “You know what I like. A beautiful woman asking for what she wants.”

“And getting it until she cries,” you purr, rolling on top of him.

“Lies and slander,” he deadpans, grinding his hips up into yours. “I’d never enjoy seeing you with those pretty tears in your eyes, beggin’ me t’ keep goin’ and t’ stop at the same time.”

Of course, you both prove him wrong in short order. After, he holds you while you tremble, pressing kisses to the crown of your head. He laughs, just a little, when you can’t sit up enough to get your water on your own, but he also helps you, so that’s okay.

The next day, you realize that you actually don’t know what porn Simon finds exciting. He’s shared some with you, of course, on the nights where sex was too much work until it suddenly wasn’t. Every now and again, though, he would scroll past something with a dismissive noise. It wouldn’t be noteworthy, except… well, they’re all videos he’s saved in his favorites. So he likes them, but doesn’t necessarily want to share them with you. Which is fine. Heaven knows you’re deleting your porn history regularly. Whatever you look up when you’re ovulating is between you, Bowser, and God.

But the last straw for your curiosity comes when you borrow his phone to do some quick online shopping. A friend is having a themed pool party and wants everyone in shades of blue. You’ve been on a pink and purple kick, so you don’t actually have an appropriate bathing suit. So you pull up the search engine and look up bathing suits.

And there, in the search history: ‘Cow Print Bikini’.

Your research brain goes, “Jackpot.”

There’s no way to tell what, if anything, Simon looked at in the search results. But you’re good at knowing where to look. More importantly, you know your man. And after a full 24 hours of research, you have a pretty good idea of the shape of things.

  -

  “Hey Simon,” you call, a week later.

“In the den,” he answers.

“Can you… actually, I’ll be right there!”

When you get there, he’s playing one of his video games. He turns his head to kiss you, then curses under his breath when a pink slime eats the fruit he’d been trying to harvest. It’s such a sweet, domestic moment that you almost don’t want to interrupt.

“Do you have space for a kink discussion?” You settle onto the couch next to him, and pull your legs up under yourself. “Nothing bad. Just… maybe some negotiations. You can keep playing.”

He taps the controller against one of his palms, twice, then says, “Sure.”

You take a deep breath, then ask, “Have you ever heard of hucows?”

The pause menu comes up immediately, but Simon doesn’t look at you. In fact, he’s so still that you’re sure he’s stopped breathing. When he doesn’t say or do anything for a full ten seconds, you look up at him.

His face is blank, and he looks back at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” you whisper.

He blinks, then shakes himself back into his skin. He looks back at the television, but doesn’t resume the game. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been doing some research,” you answer. “And I thought you might find it… interesting.” When he looks at you again without saying anything, you confess. “And there were cow print bikinis in your search history.”

All of the air leaves Simon in a whoosh. He leans back into the couch and scrubs a hand over his face. “’M sorry. I don’t… I wouldn’t ever… You know I love you. ‘N that I respect you. I’d never-”

“Woah, woah, wait!” You grab one of his hands in yours. “Hang on. You love me, I love you. I trust you. Do you trust me?”

Simon doesn’t answer for a long moment, and then he says, without taking his hand from his face, “I trust you to be ‘onest with me. Trust you’ll accept a no. Trust you’re not g’nna yell. Trust you not to punish me if you’re upset.”

“Acknowledged,” you breathe against his bicep. “I trust you to be honest with me, too. And I trust that it’s okay to tell you if I’m not comfortable with anything we discuss or do. I trust that you won’t yell at me. I trust that you’re not going to hurt or harm me on purpose to correct my behavior. Acknowledge.”

Simon sighs, again, then peeks through his fingers at you. “Acknowledged.”

“Okay,” you say, coaxing him to release some of the tension in his shoulders. “So. I did a little research. But I just want to know for sure what you think, what you find exciting.”

He’s pink when he asks, “Y’ve seen the videos?”

“No!”

That finally makes him look at you skeptically. “No?”

“I wasn’t snooping through your stuff,” you protest. “I literally searched for a bikini on your phone and it had the little history symbol next to it. I got curious.”

“Hell of a distance between a bathing suit an’ niche kinks.”

The hint of humor in his voice gives you the permission you were waiting for. You climb into his lap and throw your legs over one of his arms. He hugs you exactly the way you want, just as loving as ever.

“So then,” he eventually says. “What did you find?”

“So much bad porn, oh my god,” you answer. “Not that the actual hucow stuff itself is bad. It’s just that the non-paywalled stuff is steeped in so much spam. And what isn’t pure spam doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing. Just… lots of humiliation and degradation and misogyny kink. Stuff you’ve already said takes you out of the mood. And if that’s sometimes the mood, that’s fine, too. I know we don’t always masturbate to things we’re usually into-”

“It’s not that,” Simon interrupts.

You’re both quiet after. You realize that his heart is racing under your hand, and your heart is beating just as fast. But he keeps holding you, and you keep petting over the dip of his collarbones.

Your stomach churns. “I shouldn’t have said the porn was bad. I’m sorry.”

“It is bad,” Simon snorts. “’S part of why I never mentioned it. Some of that shit is nasty.”

“I like nasty.”

He hums and rubs a hand over your back. “I know, beautiful. But this feels… bad. Some ‘f it… ’S ‘ard to find the words. But I didn’t want you t’ think I see you that way, that I ever want to see you that way.”

“Porn isn’t real life,” you remind him. “Things that happen in a scene that everyone consented to-”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes as you glare up at him. “Let’s not pretend that kink has no basis in reality. Our dynamic is special to me, Naya. I don’t want to… disrespect it, or you, or us, with this.”

“Okay,” you whisper, tucking your face into his neck. You take one of his hands back into yours. “We don’t have to keep talking about it, if you don’t want to. But,” you can’t help but add with a smile. “I did get cow print lingerie. And a headband. It’s got little ears and horns.”

Simon groans. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did!” You press a kiss to his chin. “I’m glad I didn’t try to surprise you with it.”

“Would’a given me an ‘eart attack.”

“That would have been fun to explain. ‘Oh gee, Captain, I didn’t think he’d like it that much.’”

“Oi,” Simon growls.

He dips down to press his lips to yours. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders and shift to straddle his lap. The kiss is sweet, a reassurance. Like aftercare. Maybe it is. Both of your bodies relax, until you can’t even hold yourself up to keep your lips on his. You lay your head on his shoulder with a content sigh.

You’re like that for a long time before Simon speaks again.

“Its the idea that her body… your body… could be nothing but pleasure and instinct. That I could pull pleasure from you until it would be pain not to.” He’s quiet for a moment, then continues when you don’t reply. “There’s something about it. But it’s a fantasy I never intended to bring to the bedroom. It’s… just something to think about, sometimes.”

  Simon presents the cow print bikini on a Thursday. At first, you’re confused. Then you’re amused, because a year ago you would have worked yourself into a tizzy trying to figure out what he was saying about your weight. But Simon loves your body, and you, and after months of avoiding talking about it, this is a huge step. So you stay silent, and look up at him expectantly.

“Would like to do a scene this weekend,” he says. “Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, biting back a smile. “What are the parameters?”

Things seem downright vanilla for the first half. A whole day of pampering - spa, nails, hair - that means he’s been planning this for a while. Your favorite, just fancy enough food for dinner, and a dessert to go. All the usual rules apply: Simon’s in charge, you promise to be honest. All in all, a perfect date night.

And then he says something that boggles your mind.

“Okay, wait. I put on the cow print, and then I can only moo? After we get home?”

“No,” he surprises you by saying. He takes a deep breath, then continues. “I want you to wear it all day. An’ you’re only allowed to moo. Except durin’ your appointments. Please don’t moo at your stylists.”

“But at dinner…”

“I’ll order for you,” He says. His eyes flick away, then back to yours. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“But we won’t talk,” you press.

His ears go pink, but he cracks a smile as he says, “I’ll talk. And it’s not a rule that you have to be silent.”

He’s embarrassed, you realize. He’s finally acting on this thing you discussed so long ago, but he’s still nervous about what you’ll think. You have to stifle the part of you that wants to coo.

“Okay,” you say, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Unless I’m using a safeword, I can just… make cow sounds. All day. Acknowledged.”

  The day of comes quickly. And then you’’e contemplating the lingerie you bought months ago. It’s much nicer than the flimsy thing Simon got, “just as ‘n experiment, no sense in wastin’ money ‘f things aren’t good as the fantasy.” The bikini he got you is… cheap. Your purchase will certainly fit under your clothes nicer.

As you pull on the silky material Simon apparently didn’t believe you actually ordered, you take a couple of deep breaths. You’re going to wear cow print for your partner. It’s not much different, you reason, from asking him to graze his knife over your skin while he watches TV. It’s not not his thing. And this isn’t exactly your thing. But you love each other. So you’ll do this thing, because his enjoyment can be yours.

Yeah.

  -

  By the end of dinner, you’re much deeper into a submissive headspace than you ever expected to be. You’re so aware of the urge to talk and the fact that you can’t. It’s a constant cue to look to Simon. More than once, you almost slip up. The words catch in your throat and you have to pivot to a lowing sound, a drawn out vowel that leaves you feeling helpless as he smiles and pets at your hand. You expect it to be maddening, but it’s not. Simon anticipates your needs so well that there’s nothing you need that he doesn’t already provide for you. All you can do is shiver at the way he gives you everything, touches you everywhere.

By the time you’re in the car home, you’re a mess. You can’t sit still, find yourself staring at the side of Simon’s face as he drives. You’re startled when he looks back at you at a red light. He reaches out and you lean in, then jump when he pinches your nipple just hard enough to make you gasp. He watches your face as he pets and plucks, chuckles as you pant and groan and moo.

When the light is green again, he stops. You’re very aware of your right breast.

At the next red, he says, “Give me the other one.”

You do.

“Sweet, pretty girl,” he praises as he tugs at you again. He hums, pleased, as you arch your back. His eyes are dark when he says, “Not wearin’ what I gave you. C’n se y’r nipples beggin’ for attention.

When you look down at yourself, heat flushes through you from your crown to your toes. He’s right, the thin bralette that you’d chosen does nothing to hide you body’s reaction to being teased. And the dress he’d picked for you was already tight around your chest…

The light turns green. You moan as he releases you and turns back to the road.

“What’re you wearin’?” He asks. When you look at him, he’s smirking. “Tell me. Wha’s my pretty girl got under her dress?”

You open your mouth, and your voice sticks. “…Moo?”

“Oh, tha’ sounds nice,” he chuckles. He takes your hand in his. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ it.”

Your thoughts and legs stumble into themselves when you finally walk through your front door. Simon doesn’t let you get far. He catches you around the neck with a big hand and brings you close for a kiss. As soon as the door is shut, his hands make their way to the back of your dress. He unzips and then guides the soft material down until it’s past your hips, and drops down to your feet.

When he pulls away to look at you, his breath catches, and his whole body goes still. You’re so caught in the way his pupils dilate that it takes you a moment to remember the bralette, the panties, the garter belt. The cow print feels like an exaggeration of itself, when you look down at your own breasts. You vaguely remember feeling silly, when you’d put them on, but you don’t remember why. Simon’s eyes are so hot when he looks at you, you can’t help but preen a bit.

“Thought you was jokin,” Simon murmurs, cupping one of your breasts in his hand. His other hand cradles your jaw and makes you look up at him when he pinches your nipple again. His thumb dips into your mouth when you gasp. “But my sweet girl don’t lie to me. An’ she’s always show ready, huh? My sweet, soft girl,” Simon murmurs, going to one knee. He takes one of your hands and kisses your knuckles before placing it on his shoulder. Then he gently lifts your calf to take one of your shoes, then the other as he says, “Not a worry in the world, an’ you still give me so much.”

Even kneeling at your feet, he takes your breath away. His hands smooth up your stockings until he can dip his fingers under the straps of your garters, then he groans. You groan with him. You never know what to do with yourself when he gets like this. Hungry. Reverent on his knees. With a sigh, you close your eyes. You don’t need to know what to do, because he does. The gravity of him makes you sway forward as he leans forward to kiss just above your belly button.

You must signal your mental shift, because Simon stands and lifts you into his arms in the same movement. He kisses your lips like he’s starving. And you try to meet him, try to put everything you haven’t been able to say into the drag of your lips against his.

I love you. Thank you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

You expect him to be rough with you, heavy handed. But Simon is gentle as he touches you all over. When he lays you on the bed, instead of diving into your chest, he keeps kissing your mouth, your neck, down to your shoulder. You can’t stifle a giggle as he sucks kisses into your bicep and down to your forearm.

“Fuck,” he growls. He takes a hold of your hips and gives you a little shake. “You’re so perfect. ‘Ips ‘n thighs ‘n this arse. So strong and still so soft for me.” He dips down to press a kiss to your hip, even as one of his hands starts pinching at your nipple through your bralette again. “Eatin’ good and’ workin’ out ‘n sleepin’ better. Gonna let me give you that life of leisure? No more workin’, pretty girl. Just whatever feels good, whatever makes you ‘appy an’ soft, whatever I c’n give you.”

You try to gasp something that might be “yes” or “please,” but it turns into another drawn out moan. It doesn’t really matter, because Simon flips you onto your hands and knees so fast that your head spins. You almost fall over, but he catches you.

“Sorry sweet girl,” he chuckles. “But you’ve got me so caught up. ‘M gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just so pretty - distractin’ me.”

Then he’s kissing across your shoulders, then makes his way down to your hipbones. You moan and sigh as his hands grope at you. His hands squeeze at your breasts, then your belly, your thighs, back to your ass. When he bites you, you yelp and groan, arching away from his teeth and into the hands.

“Shh, pretty girl,” he hushes. “’M sorry, I’ll give you what you need. Easy, tha’s it.”

You’re surprised into a gasp by his fingers rubbing gently over your clit through your panties. His other hand eases your back down - from cat to cow, you giggle to yourself - with another shushing sound. The tension bleeds out of your spine at the sound. Simon’s got you, he’s going to take care of you.

“There you go,” Simon rumbles as you drop your head between your arms. He strokes a hand down your back as his other hand gives you just a hint more pressure. “Is that better? Feel nice an’ relaxed?”

You’re feeling less relaxed by the second. Simon knows how to touch you if he wants you to melt. This? Is not that. He’s giving you just enough to tease, to make you instinctively chase his fingers. You shake your head and whimper, shuffling your knees knees further apart and arching your back again. You don’t even try to swallow a grunt of frustration when nothing you do makes him speed up or give you more pleasure.

“Hm?” He presses his lips against your hip as he asks, “Wha’s wrong, pretty girl? You need something?”

You open your mouth to beg, then remember that you can’t say anything. This motherfucker. When you tilt your body to glare at him, his eyes are sparkling with mirth. It’s hard not to smile back, to hold your frown long enough to let him know that you know what he’s doing.

But as usual, he’s a step ahead of you. As soon as you open your mouth to moo sarcastically, he slips a finger under your panties and into you, just as his other hand shoves the bra out of the way to pinch your nipple.

“So wet,” Simon whispers against your cheek. “Took care of everything else today, but you still need more, don’t you? Greedy girl.”

You are wet, have been since before he plucked at your nipples in the car. Since dinner, when he’d explained the cut of his steak, why he liked it. Since he paused and visibly considered what he couldn’t see you wearing. Since he’d looked at you with so much hunger that you’d had to take a sip of your water to gather yourself. You couldn’t say anything, then, by his direction and your own body’s need. You couldn’t make any sound at all, had practically ground your teeth together so you wouldn’t moan like a whore at the table.

Your jaw isn’t clenched now. The sound you make as two thick fingers push in is exactly as obscene as you imagined it would be. They press into you exactly where you want it as his other hand sends sparks through your chest and down your spine. Simon echoes you, breath hot against your face. You can’t keep yourself from chasing his lips with yours.

“Yeah,” he pants between biting kisses. He growls when you rock back into his fingers, and pinches your nipple until you gasp. “Settle, Bambi, ‘m gonna take care o’ you.”

His words melt you. Even as he ratchets your body into more tension, you believe him, and the promise alone is nearly a relief. When he pulls his fingers free, you don’t even think to protest. All you can do is hang your head between your arms and try to catch your breath. Something like a sob scrapes it’s way from your throat when he pushes back in with three.

The sound of Simon undoing his belt makes you tip your hips back and up, automatic. He groans again, deep in his throat, and slaps the meat of your ass. The sharp sting of it reminds you to be almost embarrassed, and you drop to your elbows to bury your face in the bedding.

“There you go,” Simon grunts as he lines himself up. He pushes in slow, so slow, as you pant and writhe and make animal sounds. One of his huge hands comes down to grip the back of your neck as he grunts and shoves deeper. “There’s my sweet girl. Shouldn’t’a kept you waiting. You can take it now, tha’s it.” He leans down, pushing just that little bit deeper as he plucks at your nipple again. He growls against your shoulder, “Gonna do this every day, yeah? Quit your job so I c’n keep you soft like this all the time. Breed you up proper, bet y’re gonna taste so sweet when your milk comes, when it’s all y’ve got to do, just a life of milk ‘n honey.”

You almost can’t make out what he’s saying over the sound of your own noises and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you. The fireworks up and down your spine have you writhing back into his thrusts. You can tell he’s rambling, that he’s so lost in your bodies that he’s losing control of his mouth. A change in angle has you crying out again, every nerve on fire as he pushes into you just right. The orgasm that had been building steadily rushes over you. It’s impossible to stop, shakes through your limbs until you collapse onto your chest under him.

“Tha’s it,” Simon hisses, pace steady and devastating as he chases you down to the mattress. “This what you need? Need t’ be bred an’ fucked ‘til you can’t think of nothin’ else? Yeah, tha’s what you need. Gonna make you come on my cock again, fill you up the way you like. Then I’ll hook you up, huh? Can’t leave you wantin’ jus ‘cause I need a break. C’n put a pump at each o’ your tits an’ keep fuckin’ you with a machine, too, ‘til I’m ready to go again, yeah?

Jesus, you think, giggling under him. Your pussy flutters as he gasps something else you can’t quite make out over the rushing in your ears. He wants to ruin you. You want him to, to do all of these things he’s growling about. The thought that he might is thrilling and terrifying, that after he comes and breeds you full he could go to the closet and pull out the machine and the dildo you bought for when he’s deployed to keep fucking you…

Your stomach swoops as you get caught up in your own fantasy. He doesn’t have to stop. You’d be too weak to fight him. And if he tied you up, bound you where he wants to keep you, he could do whatever he wants. Did he actually have a pump, something to pull at your nipples while he watched across the room? Would this be the time he finally surprises you with something you hadn’t quite negotiated? He could, he could, you’d let him, you’d beg-

“Simon!”

The second orgasm hurts. It hits so fast and hard on the heels of the first. You can vaguely feel the wetness running down your thighs as you squirt, legs shaking. Above you, Simon goes abruptly silent as he comes, breath coming out in barely-there grunts as his cock kicks and twitches inside of you.

All of the air huffs out of your lungs as he partially collapses on you. Another giggle stutters out of you. It turns into a moan as he guides your legs down and open so he can grind into you some more until you’re prone. His own gentle chuckle tickles your ear.

“Fuckin’ ell,” he pants. The arm that’s braced to keep his weight off of you shakes a bit. “Gimme… fuck, gimme a minute. ‘Ll get up in a mo’.”

“Mmm,” you hum, kissing at his wrist. You tip your head back to grin up at him. “Moo.”

He crushes you a bit when his laughter makes him fall, but you can’t even pretend to be upset.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 9

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, praise, kissing, manual stimulation, oral sex (Reader receiving), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, power exchange, hand on neck (no breath restriction), face-sitting, breath restriction (Simon receiving)

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day and anniversary of the death of the colonizer James Cook at the hands of the people of Hawai'i.

Simon pulls his thumb free and swipes it over your lips. You chase it, then gasp when his whole hand wraps around your neck. He meets your eyes, then uses his thumb to rock your head from one side to the other, slow. Your arms feel a bit weak as he examines your face.

“Color,” he rumbles.

“Green.”

“Wan’ you t’ sit on my face,” he says. “Color.”

You lick your lips, think for a moment. “Yellow-green.”

“Good girl.” Simon’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. “Talk to me.”

It would be silly to say “I’m a bit heavy,” since you’re pretty sure he could bench you as a warm up. “I don’t want to hurt your neck.”

“Won’t let you,” Simon answers, like it’s that easy. Maybe it is.

Still, you’re a bit nervous. “I haven’t had a shower.”

He uses his light grip on your neck to hold your gaze. “You trust me?”

You can’t help but nod. “I do.”

“Then trust me when I say I wan’ to. We c’n shower, later, if you wan’.” He shrugs. “Don’ mind eatin’ twice. C’n let you know the difference, if you like.”

“Simon!”

His laugh shakes the bed, and then the hand behind his neck comes down to grab your hip. He draws you up his body, until one of your hands is braced on his shoulder. You can’t help the way you shiver when he settles your legs on either side of his ribs, spread so wide there’s no way to avoid pleasant pressure where you’re already sensitive.

“Color, sweet girl.”

God, you want to do what he’s asking, but... “Are you sure?”

The grip on your hip goes just a little tighter. “I’m not gonna let you hurt me. An’ ‘m not hurtin’ you. This is only fun if we’re both ‘avin’ fun. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.” It’s amazing how much the familiar idea calms you. “You’re not going to ask me for anything you don’t really want. I don’t have to agree to anything I don’t want. It’s supposed to be fun.” You take a deep breath and let it out. “Green.”

Simon hums as his hand comes down from your neck to sit against your collar bones and sternum. And then you’re yelping when he suddenly lifts you. You try to freeze, because of course you do, but he does something to get your legs around his arms and then your knees are up by his temples.

He only waits long enough for your hands to smack against the wall above the headboard before both of his are pulling you down against his mouth. You’re suddenly struck by the almost fearful realization that he’s made you tell him, many times, exactly how you like to be touched.

His lips and tongue immediately find your clit. But instead of the bombardment that you expect, Simon’s mouth is soft against you. He braces his big hands under your hips, and you can’t help but start to relax into his hold. The self-consciousness eases away as he drags the flat of his tongue over you, slow and indulgent. He makes a pleased sound from between your thighs and you can’t help but giggle as you let yourself sink closer to that fuzzy place your mind was in before.

It doesn’t take long for your hips to protest the position. You shift more of your weight onto your knees and let your forehead rest against your forearms. Apparently, that’s what Simon’s been waiting on, because his lips purse around your clit and suck. The moan that shivers out of you is echoed by his groan. And that’s all the warning you get before he really gets going.

Simon pulls you even more firmly against his mouth, and you know he can’t breathe, that his nose is surrounded by the fat around your mound. He doesn’t seem to give a damn, alternating between sucking kisses and spearing his tongue into your pussy with abandon. Something he does makes you clench and twitch against his face, a not-quite ticklish sensation that shoots up your spine. He does it again, again, again, until you’re grinding against his jaw with punched out moans.

You don’t even have time to worry about his lack of air. All of a sudden, his palms push you up, taking all of your weight for just a second, before you’re sat right back down. That casual show of strength would make you weak in the knees if you were standing. As it is, you can only moan and shiver as his hands shift, until his thumbs can hold your lips apart to give his tongue even more access to you.

The noises between you are obscene. You can bury your face in your arms to avoid seeing the blissful expression on his face, but there’s no way to avoid the wet sound of his mouth working. You can’t ignore how slick the entire lower half of his face feels against your pussy, your thighs, the underside of your ass. And then he uses his hand to shift your thigh and spread you even more open.

Jesus, you’re going to come like this. You can feel it fluttering through you, feel yourself getting wetter by the moment.

“S-Simon,” you whimper. You reach down with one hand to run your fingers through his short hair. “I’m - Simon, you’re gonna -”

His hands press you up again, just long enough for him to growl, “Give it to me.”

“Simon!” You accidentally yank at him when his tongue sweeps over your clit again. It’s hard to feel bad about it when he moans his approval into you. When he squeezes at your thighs, just this side of painful, you squeak, pulling again. “Si-!”

As you look down, his eyes are already fixed on your face, pupils blown wide. His right hand shifts, and then the tip of one of his fingers is inside of you again. The awkward angle makes you arch your hips back, chasing the sensation right into rutting against his tongue in an overwhelming wave of sensation.

You barely make a sound as your pussy clenches against his fingers, suddenly and totally breathless. The orgasm that rolls through you isn’t as devastating as the first one, but it’s strong enough to make your legs shake. You almost lose your balance, but he’s there, holding you up. His groans easily drown out your whimpering.

When he just doesn’t stop, you give his arm two desperate taps. “Si-imon!”

The prickle of his stubble startles half a yelp from you as he lets you slide unceremoniously off of his face and onto his chest. He looks debauched, smirk shining with evidence of your pleasure.

“Tha’ weren’t so bad, eh?” he rumbles up at you. He coos when all you can do is cover your face with one hand and shiver. “Feelin’ good, pretty girl?”

You hum, then look down at him from between your fingers. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Did good trustin’ me,” He pets over your legs, equal parts gentle and firm. He looks contemplative for a moment, before asking, “Wanna cuddle?”

That’s exactly what you want. You swing one leg over so you’re not straddling him anymore. And then there’s a confused moment of getting your bodies aligned. The queen sized bed feels so much smaller with him in it. And then you realize that his face is still wet. You’re still wet against the thigh he’s put between your own.

You cringe when he uses the edge of the flat sheet to swipe half-heartedly at his mouth and chest. He laughs at your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he lets you go to look into your eyes, you can’t help but press your lips to his.

He opens his mouth to yours immediately, and the kiss becomes filthy. His mouth tastes like you, like you’ve seeped into his skin.

So much for cuddling, you giggle to yourself as he rolls you onto your back and pins you under his bulk.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 6

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Disrobing, CMNF (clothed male naked female), hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kink negotiations, kissing, touching over clothes, touching under clothes, explicit consent

“Feelin’ good?”

Simon’s got you laying back on the bed, a thick pillow under your neck and shoulders. You’re still wearing your cami, but he didn’t tell you to keep the pants. You usually don’t wear them for your stretches, so you had shucked them off before it had even occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t. When glanced at him for his reaction, his eyes had been dark and hungry.

Now, you look at him, looking at you, and feel a bit breathless. “Y-yeah.”

“Green?”

“Green,” you say, a bit more firm. “I’m very comfortable, thank you.”

“Good girl,” he says. “Proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, a little startled. “You want to try something?”

He puts one knee on the bed by your feet. “’M gonna help you. Hold your legs and apply a bit of pressure. Acknowledge.”

“You want to help me with my leg stretches.” You can’t help but feel a bit nervous, looking at the muscles in his arms. “You’re going to hold my legs, and also apply some pressure.”

“You’re going to tell me when it feels good, and when it feels bad,” he continues. “Use your scale. Acknowledge.”

God, he’s so good to you. Your lower back releases tension you didn’t know you were still holding. “I’m going to use my scale to tell you how it feels. Three is perfect, one is way too light, five is way too hard. Acknowledged.”

He coaxes you to bend your legs as he climbs fully on the bed, until your left thigh is over one of his, your other foot wedged under his shin. The memory foam dips under your own weight, but it feels like the whole bed is tipping to accommodate him. You’re not sure where to look as he plants a hand by your shoulder, blocking out the rest of the room.

He touches the back of your knee and you jump.

“Easy,” he whispers. His thumb sweeps over the front of your thigh before he lifts with the barest pressure. When your calf is cradled under his arm, he asks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you rasp. Swallow. Try again. “Yeah. One.”

He pushes your knee up toward your diaphragm, then pulls your leg straight. “Hips,” he rumbles.

You glance down between you at where his shirt and sweatpants are making a valiant effort of keeping everything contained. “Uh huh.”

The hand on the bed comes up to cup your chin. He chuckles down at you. “Keep your ‘ips lined up right, Bambi.”

It’s the eye contact. It’s all the physical contact. It’s the day catching up to you. Whatever it is, your body lights up and your brain shuts off. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Fuck.” He rumbles, shuffling forward and pulling your ass into the cradle of his thighs. When you try to wiggle, to feel him where he’s half hard against you, he uses his grip on your leg to hold you still. “So polite. My good girl. Can you be patient for me?”

You whine, one of your hands coming up to grip his forearm. “Please?”

“Gotta do your stretches first,” he rumbles. “That was the deal. TV, stretches, then the reward. Acknowledge.”

His grip on you is easy and solid. The way you’re folded under him means you’re well and truly stuck. You push the shin of your bent leg against his inner thigh and shiver when he doesn’t even twitch. “Please?”

“Stretches first,” he chuckles, pressing his thumb to your lips. “When I make you come, I don’t want to hurt you. Acknowledge.”

If he looks down, he is going to see how wet you are through your panties. “Acknowledged. Stretches first.”

“And…?”

And? You freeze in the act of touching the tip of your tongue to his thumb. “Uh. Unsure?”

“Keep your hips even,” he reminds you, enunciating as he stares into your eyes. “Acknowledge.”

“Keep my hips even,” you answer. You lick the pad of his thumb. It’s calloused and salty, and you want it in your mouth. “Acknowledged.”

“Good girl.”

He sits back enough to lift your left leg until your calf is on his shoulder, your knee slightly bent. And then he leans forward, bracing your leg until it straightens, incrementally.

Years ago, even this gentle pull to your hamstrings would have had you crying. Now, there’s the slightest burn as you flex your foot. You let him push until that burn spikes, and then you tap his arm twice. “Three, right there.”

“Good,” he rumbles. “Thirty seconds. You can do it, pretty girl.”

You could hold this position for an hour if he praises you through it. And he does, hushed words and gentle kisses pressed to whatever part of your leg he can reach. Your muscles relax into the position in record time. And then he’s easing back, massaging the back of your thigh and coaxing your knee to bend.

“Number.”

“Three,” you mumble as he switches sides, pulsing your right leg in preparation. “Two point eight.”

“Good girl.”

Your right leg does not want to move like the other one, probably as a result of sleeping on the floor. Simon notices almost before you do, doesn’t push you leg as far back as the other.

“Three point two,” you tell him before he can prompt you. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath as he pulls back the barest hint. “Good, good. Three.”

His hands are large and warm, one on the front of your lifted thigh, the other on your opposite hip. His thumb slips under the edge of your cami, rubbing back and forth. You let yourself focus on the rhythm of it, timing your breaths with the way his calluses drag against your skin. Sooner than you expect, he’s bringing your leg back down.

When you open your eyes, Simon is already looking at you. You’re not sure what he’s seeing. Before you can stop it, your brain says nothing he’s impressed by. Looking at his upper arms, which are almost as big around as your thighs, you feel distinctly unremarkable. Simon is so big. He has so many scars. He’s literally a hero. And here he is helping you with your hip mobility. God, how pathetic-

“Back to me,” Simon rumbles. He drops your legs on either side of his hips and leans forward to take your face in one hand again. “C’n almost see your mind racing, Bambi. Where’d you go?”

He’s hard against you, so big through the few layers between you that your head spins. It takes you a moment to parse out the question. When you do, you avoid his eyes. “M’ sorry.”

Simon’s other arm slides under your lower back, anchoring you closer as he rocks his hips down into yours. “Are you?”

Words gone, you gasp an affirmative noise. When your hands come up to grasp at his arm and his shoulder, he rewards you with another roll of his hips and a deep groan. He lets you grind up against him, startling another soft noise out of you.

This time, when he kisses you, he licks into your mouth immediately. His hand tilts your face where he wants it as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. All you can do is hold on. And even that becomes tenuous when he pushes your panties aside to grab a palm full of your ass.

The next roll of his body into yours is is the perfect friction against your clit. You surprise yourself with the noise you make as your hips buck into him without your input. The leg you wrap around his his waist gives you the leverage to chase the feeling, until the kiss ends as abruptly as it started.

Hands wrapped around your heaving sides, Simon sits back on his heels, his own breaths coming deep and ragged. His eyes are so dark as he looks over you. You gasp as his right slides up, pushing at your shirt, until he can swipe a thumb over your nipple.

“Thought I was ‘aving an ‘ard time styain’ disciplined before,” he chuckles as he squeezes at your skin. “Look’t you.” The flimsy shirt gets bunched up around your collar bones as he pets and pinches gently at you. “So fuckin’ soft, made for spoilin’. ‘Ow’m I supposed to keep focused?”

When he pinches your nipple again, you whine. “Simon, please!”

“Gotta do one more set, Bambi,” he chides, one hand sliding down to tease at the edge of your panties. When you whine again, he shushes you gently. “I know. “Y’re a good girl. Been waiting so patiently for your reward. So I have a proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Yes,” you gasp. At this point, you’ll do whatever he wants. “Okay. We can do it.”

“No,” he corrects, pulling at your nipple, just enough to make your back arch. “Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged!” You moan when his pinching fingers go light and gentle again.

“Gonna keep doing your stretches,” he tells you, as he tugs your panties over the curve of your ass. He nods, and you can’t help but nod along, arching to let him pull them up your thighs. “An’ since you’re being so good, you can ‘ave one o’ my fingers in that pretty cunt.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

just to add more fuel to the fire.. I want to let you know how happy I am that you are working on giving us more of the masterpiece autumn embers is.

i jumped, screamed, hollered, rolled in my bed, jumped up and down in excitement when I saw the slightest mention of autumn embers, MY BODY HAD AN AUTOMATIC REACTION IM SORRY😭 your writing is just so beautiful and it never fails to make me feel giddy.

you’re free to ignore this of course and I apologize in advance for ranting but I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you babes. please stay safe and healthy!! <3

Kinkvember 13 - Biting/Marking

Autumn Embers - Alpha Price x Alpha Gaz featuring Ghost and Soap

Autumn Embers Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Biting, implied permanent marking, blood and bodily fluids, frottage, omegaverse dynamics, dominance and submission

Notes: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PUTTING MORE FUEL ON THIS FIRE. I've missed Autumn Embers so much. Have another pre-Wildfire piece.

Rut with a pack is always a workout. And Kyle? Has more than a little bite to him. John doesn’t bother to stifle a laugh as he shoves his bracered arm between the other man’s teeth and feels an almost concerning amount of pressure.

“There y’ go,” John snarls into the side of his neck as Kyle drools around soft leather. “That’s what you needed, eh? Set your teeth into your alpha? D’you think because Simon goes all sweet for a knot that I’d roll for you?”

The younger alpha bucks beneath him. He smells like sex, like rut, musky and spicy and potent. If he wasn’t under John, if he hadn’t already had a go on top of Simon, where would he be now? Probably mounting some sweet smelling little O, pumping them full of pups. Certainly, the week leading up to his rut had seen him picking too many fights for him to roll with other alphas.

Except, of course, for his pack.

Off to the side, Johnny is panting and whining for his own turn to slam around with Kyle on the living room floor. John swipes half-heartedly at him so he’ll go back to cuddling Simon, a distraction that Kyle twists to take advantage of. He’s clever in ways John keeps failing to remember, so instead of slipping away, he sets his teeth higher on the bracer and heaves John up over his shoulder.

Even with the padded mat set up, the breath whooshes from John’s lungs as he lands on his back. He has no time to recover before Kyle is on him, pupils blown. He slams his arms down on one of John’s biceps and ducks down with a snarl.

“Ow, fuck!”

Kyle growls around his mouthful of thick pectoral muscle and doesn’t let go when John grabs at the back of his neck and yanks. Sharp teeth break skin. The taste must be something nice, because Kyle moans and starts grinding his hips into John’s thigh through his joggers like he’s locked.

John barks a laugh at the feel of a solid knot against the inside of his thigh. He digs his nails into the glands on the side of Kyle’s neck with intent and bucks his own hips as he bends his restrained arm to grab at the man’s hair.

One thrust, two, and Kyle keens as his whole body shudders. His muscles stay engaged for a few seconds, and then he collapses. Even his jaw goes slack, which is Johns cue to roll him, none to gently, onto his back.

He goes, docile, before his rutting brain remembers that there’s another alpha on top of him, but his body is too slow to react in time. He can only keen and wriggle as John crushes him with his own body weight and sets his teeth into curve of Kyle’s shoulder. The first burst of blood on his tongue has him blowing his knot. Luckily, he has the wherewithal to reach between them and free himself from his pants.

He doesn’t let go until Kyle submits, body going pliant as he whimpers, “Alpha, alpha, alpha.”

John has to work his jaw for a moment before he can speak. “I’ve got ya, good boy, Kyle.” He swipes a wide palm over Kyle’s face, smearing blood and spit up into his hairline.

Johnny makes a more than interested sound and belly crawls toward them, chin tucked down to his shoulder. Price hums and pushes red finger tips between his other sergeant’s lips as Kyle purrs and chews idly at the stretched collar of his shirt.

Later, bandaged and bundled up in Simon’s arms, Kyle rasps. “There’s an omega on base. Smells like woodsmoke ‘n oranges.”

“Was wonderin’ why ye went off like a rocket,” Johnny laughs from Simon’s other side. “Bonnie thing in Intelligence? Smells like an alpha might be courting her, but if they’ve left nae marks by noo, we should snatch her up.”

John lets himself make an interested noise as he runs his fingers through Simon’s hair from Johnny’s other side. Kyle’s not really shown much interest in anyone outside of the 141, crush on Farah notwithstanding. Over the past year, they’ve all settled into their dynamics, a volatile but beloved push-pull that marks an all alpha pack. An omega’s softness, though? Especially under any one of them in rut…

“No poaching,” John grumbles. He presses his lips against the bristly side of Johnny’s head at his disappointed grumble. He chuckles and concedes. “We can introduce ourselves. See if she might be able to handle us.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

KinkVember 12 - High Protocol

Gary "Roach" Sanderson x Reader, Featuring Ghost, Mace, Gaz, and Soap

Read on AO3

CW: Partial nudity, non-con touching, physical strike (not as a part of established play), kneeling, knives (present, but not used), praise

Notes: Gary "Roach" Sanderson experiences mutism due to injury to his throat. He uses British Sign Language, but he and the reader have established hand signals that are not standard BSL as part of their dynamic. When Roach is speaking, Simon interprets for the people at the table who aren't fluent in BSL.

You tilt your head when you hear a low whistle from the den. You finish the serving platter you're working on with an answering two-note whistle. It's the work of a moment to slide the platter into the fridge and trade it for five bottles of water before setting out to see to Gary and his guests.

You see Johnny, Kyle, Simon and Mason looking at you as you walk in. Their eyes dart down to your breasts and then down to the skirt that you know doesn’t fully cover your ass. You cock one hip for them to admire your bare legs, but you only have eyes for your Dom.

You preen a bit when Gary looks up and almost signs for water, then grins to see you've anticipated his request. When he circles a finger, you step into the room and start offering water to his guests.

It’s an interesting headspace to be in. You feel their eyes on you, but you’re not partially nude. This is your home, where you are most comfortable. You’re partially clothed, for their sake. You offer refreshments because Gary’s guests are your guests; there is no deference, or shame. You follow Gary because you want to, because he offers orders freely and demands nothing from you. You have power here, even if you’re not in control.

So, when Johnny runs an appreciative hand up the back of your thigh, you don’t hesitate to knock his arm away and then crack your palm against his face.

Gary’s whistle stutters as he tries to call you though his laughter. You go to stand behind his shoulder, and offer your hand for his inspection. He holds your wrist gently, but he doesn’t need to check you for injury. You know how to hit a man, and the slap was more of a warning than anything. He kisses the inside of your wrist before addressing the rest of the table.

A solid hit, he signs, as Simon interprets. He grins at Johnny’s quickly reddening face. Told you to keep your hands to yourself. To you, he signs, Kneel.

You consider the kneeling pillow he’s placed by his side, then fold into it. He signals position 5 or 7, so you settle with your back straight, hands on your thighs, shoulders relaxed. From this angle, you can only see thighs, and Gary’s left hand. He pinches three fingers to his thumb. Hold.

Above you, Mason rumbles, “Don’t think she should be punished for that.”

Gary’s hand disappears, and Simon’s voice says. “’She’s not being punished. She gets to relax now. None of you gets to look if any of you can’t follow the rules.’”

“Ye cannae blame me,” Johnny whines, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “She’s a right bonnie thing. An’ she usually likes to play.”

“'She’s in a mood,” Simon rumbles. “’You’re lucky she has her orders. She’s armed…’ Where the fuck is she armed?”

Gary snorts as his left hand appears with the hand signal to present arms. Above and to the side of you, you catch Kyle watching from the corner of your eye as you slip your hands under your skirt to unsheathe your palm knives. You raise your hands above the table.

“Steamin’ jesus,” Johnny laughs.

Gary signals for you to resume position 5, so you do. He taps your shoulder, once, twice, three times. Good. Very good. Perfect. You don’t break position, but you purse your lips to catch the edge of his wrist in a kiss.

“Should we go after this round?” Kyle asks, tapping his poker chips on the table in a nervous rhythm. “If she’s not comfortable with us being here.”

“’You wouldn’t have made it through the door if she didn’t want you here.’” Simon chuckles and knocks his own knuckles on the table. “Sounds like she runs the damn ‘ouse, not you. ‘Doesn’t Bambi?’ Olright, you’re not wrong there. But we don’t ‘ave nearly the amount of rules an’ signals that you do.”

You let the noise of their voices turn to background noise as you center yourself. Above the table, Mason shuffles cards. Johnny’s left leg bounces - he’s got a good hand, then - and Kyle stops tapping his chips. Gary’s hand enters your sight line to give you one more signal. Easy. Then he touches the top of your head and gently nudges you to lay your head on his thigh. He taps, once, twice, three times. Four.

Good. Very good. Perfect. I love you.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kink-May 17 - Musk/Scent Kink

Alpha!Soap x Male Omega!Reader

Read on AO3

CW: Omegaverse biology (can be read as trans!Soap), genitals referred to as pussy, non-con body smelling, general rudeness and lack of consideration for others

Bet you thought I forgot.

The worst alpha in your apartment complex has taken over the gym.

John MacTavish is huge, thick neck and arms and thighs, and he stinks, pumping out pheromones and body odor so strong that the it seeps into the laundry room down the hall. He seems to wipe his armpits with every available hand towel. The sauna smells like nothing but his musk and his pussy.

Three omegas have complained to you in the front office. An alpha from the third floor has threatened to break his lease. The budget for scent neutralizers has tripled, and it’s still not enough.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

Every time you confront him, your head goes staticky and brain fog has you tripping over your words as he smirks down at you. You tried calling him to your office, but his crotch at desk height had you sending him away before you could even scold him. You tried talking to him in the hall outside of his apartment, but he answered the door half naked with a used fucking fleshlight in his hand, and you’d fled.

Now, you cover your face with a neutralizing mask and stomp into the gym. The music that he’s blasting with his stupid portable speaker makes you flinch as soon as the door opens, but you grit your teeth and stand by his feet while he finishes on the bench press.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you growl.

He sits up and swipes sweat from his face with one hand, and flicks it away with a sharp motion. “Told ye to call me Johnny, pretty boy.”

“Mr. MacTavish,” you say again. “You need to be more respectful of the other residents and stop scent marking the gym.”

“Oh, is that what all this is aboot?” he asks, gesturing to his own face with a vague circle. “None of the other alphas can compete?”

The audacity. “This is not a territory dispute. Reign it in or we will begin the eviction process.”

When he stands, you stumble back to avoid knocking your nose against his sternum, then yelp when he catches you behind the neck in a rough grip that turns your knees to jelly. You haven’t been scruffed since you were in fourth form. It’s so unexpected, so vulgar, that you can only squeak when he herds you backwards until your back hits the wall.

He tuts as he yanks your mask down under your chin. The sting on the elastic on the back of your ears and the sheer potency of his pheromones makes your eyes water. And then he flicks your voice box, a sharp, startling pain that makes you cough and suck in a sharp breath.

Which is when he lifts his arm and shoves your nose into the slick, humid curve of his armpit.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober 9 - Pony Play

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Unnamed F!OC, established PriceGhost and Laswell x OC

CW: Pony play, dehumanization, no explicit consent, PIV sex, breeding kink, implied insemination

Note: Pet and animal play can be freeing, but also triggering for some people. This story is from Simon's POV, and the unnamed OC is not described beyond she/her pronouns and her labia being called her "cunt." Please mind the CWs.

Things are easy for Simon when he’s in pony space. He’s strong, useful. And today, he’s got a very specific use. He turns a tight circle at Price’s instruction, giving Kate a good look at his form. It’s mostly show. Kate’s seen him this way before, gear a bit scuffed from a couple of hours pulling a cart.

“He’s in fine form,” Kate eventually says. “I’ll get my girl set up in the barn.”

Price chuckles, and leads Simon over to the hose by his halter. He’s not exactly gentle when he hoses Simon down, but it feels good. It feels even better when Price strips him of everything but his bridle and starts stroking his cock in firm, efficient pulls.

"There's my good boy. Been real patient, real polite,” Price rumbles. “Gonna give Kate's cute girl a champion, yeah?"

Simon grunts out an affirmative noise, arms crossed behind his back like he’s been trained. He stomps a foot when he’s closer to cumming than he knows Price wants him. A heavy hand pats his chest twice in appreciation before he’s being put into his stud gear. He lets Price put him into sturdy boots and a secure chest harness, then bends to press his face against the side of the house as Price eases his tail plug into place.

Finally, his handler leads him into the barn with a firm hand on his halter. Simon has a hard time not surging forward when he sees a sweet thing bound to the breeding bench. Kate’s tied her so her legs are bent, but even if they weren’t, she wouldn’t be able to reach the ground. She’s helpless, presented for a stallion at Kate and Price’s bidding.

Simon tries not to be impatient as he’s led forward. He’s secured to his own rig, so he won’t put too much of his weight on his partner. Price laughs as he shuffles from foot to foot, and Simon blows a restless snort through his nose. Kate runs a gentle hand down her girl’s spine when she shivers in response.

And then Price’s hand is back on his cock, guiding him, notching the head of his cock at her cunt and giving a sharp order to mount.

Simon doesn’t hesitate to thrust forward. She opens beautifully, gasp muffled behind a gag. Kate’s done a good job preparing her, but Simon is still big and he’s not interested in being gentle. He’s bottomed out three hard shoves, and then he’s going. He grits his teeth in his bit as he huffs and grunts, imagines she’s doing the same from the way her cries echo his.

Simon’s vaguely aware of Kate checking in with her girl. Whatever encouragement she whispers results in a tight squeeze that makes Simon’s eyes cross as his hips stutter and he cums. Price watches, arms crossed across his chest and nods. So Simon barely gives himself a moment to breathe before he’s back to his previous, near frantic pace.

She comes on his cock like that, once, then again when Kate presses a wand between her legs. The sensation startles a growled moan from Simon, but he doesn’t falter. He keeps riding her until she shakes through another orgasm with a whimper. She must signal something to Kate, because Price steps forward after that.

"Finish up," his handler growls, with a slap to Simon's ass. "You're wearing the poor girl out."

So Simon does. He gives her a few harsh thrusts before growling through a second climax, leaning his entire weight into the rig that holds him upright. He doesn't pull out until Price releases his harness and he can lean down to brush his lips over his play partner’s shoulder blade.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober Day 3 - Branding

PriceGhost

CW: Branding/burning, D/s dynamics, marking, discussion of wounds, wound care

The steel in Simon’s hand is the culmination of half a year of preparation. Two smithing classes, each interrupted numerous times by missions, an interesting sort of internship with a vet, and three quick and dirty lessons on burn treatment with a nurse on base have lead to this.

“Sure about this Skipper?”

Price rolls his eyes and shucks off his jeans. “Can’t dish it out if I can’t take it.”

And there’s not much Simon can say to that, so he fires up the propane torch while Price wipes down the patch of his leg that he’s shaved with an alcohol wipe. He leans in to have Simon light his cigar, then leans back against his work bench.

For his part, Simon starts heating the the low carbon steel that he’d taken three months to shape and carve into the emblem of The 141. It was small, and full of fiddly details, certainly more difficult than just using the numbers as Price had suggested. But if Price was going to let him brand a mark into his skin, he’d wanted it to be worth the effort.

It’s only when the brand is purple all over, cooling down to the correct red-brown, that Simon feels a shiver bolt down his spine. Price was going to allow him to push hot steel into his flesh and give him a third degree burn. Price had attended every class, learned every skill with him. He’d bought the steel, helped him find a forge to rent, gotten fresh aloe and bandages and antibiotics. They were lined up on the bench next to the cling wrap, ready, waiting.

Price was going to let Simon brand him. All because Simon had asked to have Price’s mark on him, for real. Something permanent, a scar he’d chosen for himself.

The metal is a uniform red brown. Simon kneels at Price’s feet. “’S ready, sir. Solid?”

Price grins and removes his cigar from between his teeth. “Solid.”

He doesn’t hesitate, because he can’t. He lines up the metal and pushes. Price grunts, a solid hand coming down on top of Simon’s head, but he doesn’t pull. The two of them share breath for a beat, two, three. Simon realizes he’s half hard as he removes the metal, staring at the bright red and blistering skin of his captain’s thigh.

He gulps, holding the still hot part of the iron away. Jesus. He did that. “John?”

“None o’ that,” Price rumbles. This time, he does clench a fist in Simon’s hair, making him look up into hard, blue eyes. “Put that away, get the aloe, bandages, and cellophane.”

“Yessir.”

The brand hisses as it goes into the oil they have on hand, but doesn’t flash. The aloe vera is already cut and ready to be applied, so he slathers on a generous glob before applying a non-stick bandage. Price grunts a little, unable or unwilling to hide the pain. Because it hurts worse than anything they usually go through? Or because it’s them, together? Is he thinking of when he’ll do this to Simon?

Wrapping cellophane around his thigh feels impossibly intimate. Simon has to resist the urge to bury his face into Price’s leg, and makes due by tucking his face into his own shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. Price lets him hide, for a minute, before coaxing his eyes up.

“Six months,” he rumbles down. “And then we start the process for you.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

KinkVember 11 - Knife Play

Slasher Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bambi x Transferrable Skills Simon

Read on AO3

CW: Knife play, blood mention, CMNF, explicit consent, check ins, abrupt ending

Notes: This is from a project that I'm percolating on with @sentientcave. All you need to know about that, right now, is that for Good and Plot Relevant Reasons, the various versions of the 141 I've written, and some of their darlings, have met and are in an interesting Liminal Space, where they are passing the time.

This is not cannon to either Slasher Handler or Transferrable Skills at this time.

PS: Haha, yeah, it's late. I feel a little bad about it, but I am also being nice to myself about it. Happy KinkVember!

Ghost is not as big as your Simon, but his presence is… overwhelming. He sits on the couch, bare faced, the way he never is around the other versions of himself. His blue eyes burn into yours, before he flicks them down to take in what you've worn for this experience. Simon's shirt hugs your curves and sits lightly on your hips, the only thing you're wearing other than a pair of lacy panties. You clench your toes when he looks at your bare feet, inexplicably shy.

He unsheathes the knife.

When you take a reflexive step back, Simon is there to catch you. One of his large hands rubs your shoulder, the other caresses your throat. "You're safe, Bambi. You trust me?"

"I trust you," you answer. "You won't let me get hurt, you won't get mad, you won't punish me."

"'m gonna hurt you," Ghost says. He cocks his head. "You know no one stays dead here?"

"You do anything she doesn't want," Simon rumbles above your head, "and I'm going to make you wish you could die."

Ghost sits back, cocking his head. "Never said anything about doing anything she don't want. Just said the truth of what she's asked me for. To hurt 'er. And that I can't kill 'er."

You feel a lot less brave, now that you're looking at the unsheathed knife in his hand. "What if I change my mind?"

"Then we check in," Simon answers, fingers pinching your earlobe. He nudges you forward when Ghost holds his empty hand out. "You chose him. I trust you."

"You just said you'd make him wish he was dead."

"'e said the same thing to Roman," Ghost chuckles. He catches your wrist with surprisingly gentle fingers. He moves so fast, you don't have time to flinch. The knife is just there, against your hip, lifting the hem of Simon's shirt to expose pink lace.

"Aren't you pretty?"

"It's all I could find," you whisper as the sharp edge of the blade plinks through rayon and elastic.

"Price is a demon, an' he likes pretty girls," Ghost rumbles. "'s true in every reality."

The panties barely make a sound as he slices through one side, then the other. You don't even have to step out of them, they just flutter to the ground. He uses the sharp tip to poke through the hem of the shirt, but simply lifts it. At your puzzled face, he raises an eyebrow until you get with the program and pull it off all the way.

Ghost gestures with a finger for you to turn around. You gulp as you do, looking up into Simon's concentrating face. Ghost's hand on your hip pulls you back, until you're plopped unceremoniously in his lap, Simon following to tower over you both.

"You know it could scar?" Ghost asks, perfunctory.

"I know," you whisper.

"You say stop, it stops. Acknowledge," Simon prompts, taking one of your hands in his. Ghost pushes your shoulder forward until your chest is pressed against Simon’s front, your other hand braced against his hip.

You gulp. "Acknowledged."

The first bite of the knife against your left shoulder blade is a shock. You can tell it's a small cut, but it stings, and you're not sure why you're surprised. You don't really have time to brace before the knife is back.

Ghost moves so fast, so methodically. You imagine it's like getting a tattoo as he works his way across your shoulders. Eventually the sting seeps into you and turns into a warmth that flows down your spine until Simon is holding you up.

The pain makes things a little fuzzy and warm around the edges. The little knicks lose their edge, and you nuzzle into Simon’s belly with a hum.

Beneath you, Ghost is hard, but you kind of expected that. His hand doesn't waver, though. He just pauses when you squirm against him and resumes his work when you settle again.

You are surprised when you feel Simon getting hard against your breasts. Ghost pauses as you tip your head up to look into Simon’s dark eyes, then resumes his methodical work.

“Sits like a dream,” Ghost says behind you.

“She’s perfect,” Simon says, stroking gentle fingers over your cheek. When you catch his thumb between your lips, he groans. “Color, Bambi.”

You’re still lucid enough that the words come easy. “Green. Please.”

“Good girl,” Simon rumbles, and his other hand dips down to touch the top of your back. You can’t help but shiver as he brings the red tips of his fingers up to his lips.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kink-eburary 15 - Flogging

Nikto x Male Original Character

Read on AO3

CW: Impact play, fear, potential dub-con, potentially under-negotiated kink, safeword use, loss of control

It's Kinktober until next Kinktober. We're halfway there.

The man opens the door to his apartment without comment, the way Nikto prefers. The routine is good, helps him to settle into the mindset for… this. He strips his shirt as he slips into the dim back room. The little folding table next to the bed catches his eye - it’s almost empty. The usual implements, the wartenburg wheels, knives, the cane, they are absent. Instead, two large, heavy floggers lay like a pair of angels.

The man will remain in the front room for a time, he knows, so Nikto allows himself a closer look. He stands over the table and eyes the leather. They are well made, well tended, with thick falls. When he dares to reach for it, the barest touch of a finger, the leather is supple. Real. Nothing less than he could have expected.

They terrify him.

Not, he thinks, with a distant, multiplicitous sort of amusement, any more than anything else in this life. He strips himself of his shirt and turns his back to stand in front of the room’s chest of drawers. He places his hands on top. He is vaguely aware of his reflection in the mirror, but pays it no mind.

Five minutes later, the man enters the room. Nikto listens to the shuffle of his slippers against old hardwood. It’s quiet when the floggers are lifted from the table, but the sound sends tremor through his entire body.

“Готовый?” Ready?

“Да” Yes.

The man chuckles. “You lie. In the mother tongue?” He tsks. “Maybe you must leave and return again when you can follow the rules.”

Nikto resists the urge to bite his tongue bloody. “No. We are not ready. We…don’t like them. We would prefer the knives.”

“Yes.” The man hums for a moment, then says, “I suppose you would. But you will take the floggers tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because,” The man says, smile obvious in his voice. “I want you here. In the room, with me.”

Nikto considers this. The nights of sharp, biting pain are good, send the fragments of his mind away. All of the pieces of himself rendered silent by bright, blinding sensation. On the other end of things, the deep, thumping, not-quite-hurt of the floggers drags him further into his body. There is no running from it.

That is not why Nikto comes here.

Or is it?

Nikto takes a breath into his lungs. Can he feel it? He can, mostly, distantly. When was the last time he knew his entire body? Pain, yes, he always knows pain. But his lungs, his heart, his arms, his legs, they move without awareness of sensation. What else dos his mind shield him from?

Nikto shakes his head, sharply. “You are a clever man.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Nikto only grunts and breathes the tension from his back. “We do not like it. I am afraid. Готовый.” Ready.

The first blow makes him gasp because it isn’t the falls that strike first. The man starts by thumping the butt of the handle against his back. The sensation is gentle at first, then heavier, a warm up that pulses through Nikto’s body. He resists the urge to chew the inside of his mouth bloody with the itch for more.

It says a lot about the man’s skill that Nikto barely has time to mark the transition from warm up to the flogging itself. The falls almost feel like being struck with a broad baton. The sweeping thud makes his had buzz with awareness. He can feel it, not just the distance that comes with blades. No. Instead of a vague understanding of pain, he feels the pull of his trapezius and deltoids. Knows the arch and curve of his spine, the aliveness of his blood coming to the surface. There’s a specific scar, just under his scapula, that pulls as he twitches with every strike.

Until the twitching stops.

The muscles in his back give up, one by one. The lack of control makes his heart rabbit in the cage of his chest. His left arm shakes as his body… betrays him. Softens. Demands that every part of his broken mind connect with his mortal frame. A sob claws its way out of his throat. And still the blows come.

Eventually, he collapses down to his elbows. He snarls a word through tears. The blows slow, a lazy thump-thud, thump-thud, thump-thud until nothing follows. Nikto can barely make himself breathe, has to force his diaphragm to stop waiting for the next blow.

A hand, cool against his burning skin drags him out of the pit behind his sternum. Th man grips Nikto by the back of the neck, gentle, nearly soft. Nikto focuses on it with fervent desperation. He feels like he could float away.

“You have done well Nikto. Now you can rest.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinkuary 14 - Choking

Genderswap!Ghost x Trans!Gaz

Read on AO3

CW: Genderswap!Ghost, Transmasc!Gaz

Notes: Simone is a butch, He/Him lesbian who identifies as a woman. Gaz is a transgender man and also uses He/Him. I understand that for some people, these labels might seem to be in conflict. For this reason, I want to state: Kyle being a man does not negate Simone's identity as a lesbian, and Simone's identity as a lesbian does not negate Kyle's gender. They are both queer people in a queer relationship. If you would like to discuss, I'm open to it! If you want to argue, argue witchyo mama.

It's Kinktober until next Kinktober

Kyle’s in a mood tonight, the way he sometimes gets in the days after his shot. Too horny to think past herding Simone into the nearest surface to rut against him. Nevermind that the surface in question is the front edge of the hob. And nevermind that Simone was barely home from the gym and starving. It’s his own fault, Kyle tells him as he licks at the back of Simone’s neck and grinds his hips into his arse, “Y’just smell so good, babe.”

“Not in my kitchen,” Joan grumbles, shoving the two of them out of the way so she can reach into the upper cabinets. She doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on, though. Simone walked in on her fucking Kate and Kate’s wife in this very kitchen less than a month ago. Still, he swipes Kyle away so he can throw a frozen chicken and pizza in the oven.

“Later, Kyle,” he chuckles, hip checking his boyfriend so he can get into the fridge. “Let me eat.”

“You c’n eat me,” Kyle answers, too distracted to be anything but an automatic reply. “C’mere, I want to show you something.”

“Is something your dick?”

“Could be.” Kyle catches Simone in a kiss. “Gonna have come with me to find out.”

“After, I eat.”

“Now.”

Kyle makes a playful grab at his arm. Simone, on reflex, catches his wrist. Kyle tries to twist his hand to break the hold. There’s a playful scuffle for just a second before Simone pushes Kyle back against the fridge. It’s an accident that his arm gets knocked up from Kyle’s collar bones, putting a little bit of pressure on his neck.

Kyle sucks in a sharp breath, hands going tight on Simone’s hips. His pupils are huge.

Simone drags him to the bedroom.

---

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Simone pants.

Kyle wheezes, leaning into the arm that Simone has raised to keep a hand around his throat. Simone is barely squeezing, doesn’t want to hurt him, but Kyle insists on leaning into the pressure as he fucks the strap in and in and in.

Kyle’s usual, rolling rhythm is nowhere to be found. He’s barely pulling out before he grinds forward again, using his weight to keep Simone’s thick thigh up, keep him open. Things are sopping wet between them, cum and lube and spit loud where they grind against each other.

Simone nearly swallows his tongue when Kyle’s other hand appears, gently but suddenly, on top of his lower abdomen. The added pressure is blindingly good. The shock of a sudden orgasm means he doesn’t recognize the way Kyle’s hips pulse in time with the way Simone’s hand spasms.

“Fuck,” he laughs when his brain is able to connect the dots.

He shoves Kyle off of himself then wrestles him to the bed. They devolve to grunts and flailing limbs, but eventually, Simone gets behind Kyle and wraps an arm around his throat.

Kyle, the crazy fucker, doesn’t even attempt to get away. Instead, he shoves his harness down, scraping against and pinching both of them, fuck, to get his fingers onto his dick. A high pitched moan barely squeaks past his lips.

“Better go quick,” Simone grunts, carefully increasing the pressure, “Or you might not finish before you pass out.”

Kyle’s entire body goes rigid. Simone releases the hold so he can suck in one good breath, and then he’s shaking, groaning, crying. Simone grins against the back of his head and holds him through it for a surprisingly long time.

Eventually, they’re just laying against each other, panting.

Kyle breaks the silence first. “Holy shit.”

Simone opens his mouth to agree, then-

“SIMONE,” Joan barks. “THE OVEN.”

bottom butch he/him lesbian ghost with a hand around his boyfriend's neck as he takes the strap send tweet

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinkt-arch 16 - Sugar Daddy

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Read on AO3

CW: Financial imbalance, power exchange, dub-con elements, light voyeurism, semi-public play

Notes: Gary "Roach" Sanderson experiences mutism due to injury to his throat. He uses British Sign Language (BSL), indicated here by italics.

PS: I wrote this to support @pfhwrittes in getting some support for Fred. Please consider donating if you have the space! If not, that's okay! Enjoy! I would like to do something like this once a month or so, as I'm able, because this was a lot of fun!

Gary is mostly joking when he asks Kyle to cover the bills when they go out. He’s never hurting for money, but he’s not gonna complain if Lieutenant Garrick wants to spend his shiny new promotion money on coffee and lunch and beer.

When he invites Simon to come to the Shoppes, his best friend makes an unamused face.

“Roach. ‘M not goin’ out on a date wi’ you.”

It’s not a date. He’s shopping. Gary rolls his eyes and gestures to himself. I’m taking notes. I look a lot more fashionable now that we’re hanging out.

Simon does the blink that means he thinks Gary is being stupid, but funny. But then he does the I Love You blink, so Gary blinks back and shuffles outside to wait for Gaz to pick him up. Or send a car. Gary hums, looking at his phone as a black SUV pulls up to the curb. It’s wild how often he’s able to get the best rides on Uber.

When he arrives, Kyle is already standing outside one of the boutiques he likes. He looks good, outfit all clean lines and greens and browns. Gary wolf-whistles him when he sees the new earrings and necklace. Kyle makes a slow turn with his arms out.

Lookin’ good, Gary signs. It’s nice not having to sign slowly, since Kyle took a couple of BSL courses. You should buy me boots like those.

“’F course,” Kyle laughs, gesturing Gary inside. “That the agenda for today? Shoes?”

It’s your shopping trip, Gary points out. I’m just along for the ride.

Kyle grins, that million dollar smile that has to make the ladies weak in the knees, the way it makes Gary wobble mid-step. “That’s what I like to hear.”

-

You should buy that for me, Gary jokes, pointing at a delicate silver engagement ring with a huge rock on it.

Kyle hums and tips his head from one side to the other. “Don’t think that one’s your style.” He draws Gary to another display case full of men’s rings, and points to a ring with a display tag that says it’s lined with diamonds, sapphires, and meteorites. When he speaks again, it’s a low purr, right behind Gary’s ear. “Gonna get you one that’s closer to that. Custom, of course. But not today.”

An involuntary shiver zips down Gary’s spine. When he whips his head around to look at him, Kyle doesn’t back up. Their breath shivers between their mouths for a long moment. Gary can’t stop himself from letting out a nervous giggle.

“Did you find something you like?”

Gary nearly jumps out of his skin, but Kyle turns his charming smile on the jeweler. “No rings today. But can we see... those collar pins? With the opals? Thank you.”

Gary swallows hard as Kyle holds the gold up against his throat. Uh, I don’t have anything I would wear those with.

Kyle nods, thoughtfully. “That’s true. But you do need a new outfit for dinner this weekend, anyway.” He turns away as Gary’s stomach swoops and his face floods with heat. “We’ll take them.”

-

An hour later, Gary shivers and bites back a whimper around the belt between his teeth. He feels something beyond naked, a crisp dress shirt and slack combo unbuttoned and emphasizing how flushed he is, the fact that his cock is half hard and getting more interested by the second.

Leaning against the opposite wall of the dressing room, Kyle’s eyes are burning as they scan him from head to toe. He smirks as he meets Gary’s eyes and palms himself through his jeans. “You want me to buy these for you? Why don’t you show me how much.”

[simons-missus]

I'd be horrifed to do something like this with him. I'd definitely crush him😭

Happy Valentines, Lovies💜💜

Transferrable Skills Part 9

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, praise, kissing, manual stimulation, oral sex (Reader receiving), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, power exchange, hand on neck (no breath restriction), face-sitting, breath restriction (Simon receiving)

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day and anniversary of the death of the colonizer James Cook at the hands of the people of Hawai'i.

Simon pulls his thumb free and swipes it over your lips. You chase it, then gasp when his whole hand wraps around your neck. He meets your eyes, then uses his thumb to rock your head from one side to the other, slow. Your arms feel a bit weak as he examines your face.

“Color,” he rumbles.

“Green.”

“Wan’ you t’ sit on my face,” he says. “Color.”

You lick your lips, think for a moment. “Yellow-green.”

“Good girl.” Simon’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. “Talk to me.”

It would be silly to say “I’m a bit heavy,” since you’re pretty sure he could bench you as a warm up. “I don’t want to hurt your neck.”

“Won’t let you,” Simon answers, like it’s that easy. Maybe it is.

Still, you’re a bit nervous. “I haven’t had a shower.”

He uses his light grip on your neck to hold your gaze. “You trust me?”

You can’t help but nod. “I do.”

“Then trust me when I say I wan’ to. We c’n shower, later, if you wan’.” He shrugs. “Don’ mind eatin’ twice. C’n let you know the difference, if you like.”

“Simon!”

His laugh shakes the bed, and then the hand behind his neck comes down to grab your hip. He draws you up his body, until one of your hands is braced on his shoulder. You can’t help the way you shiver when he settles your legs on either side of his ribs, spread so wide there’s no way to avoid pleasant pressure where you’re already sensitive.

“Color, sweet girl.”

God, you want to do what he’s asking, but... “Are you sure?”

The grip on your hip goes just a little tighter. “I’m not gonna let you hurt me. An’ ‘m not hurtin’ you. This is only fun if we’re both ‘avin’ fun. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.” It’s amazing how much the familiar idea calms you. “You’re not going to ask me for anything you don’t really want. I don’t have to agree to anything I don’t want. It’s supposed to be fun.” You take a deep breath and let it out. “Green.”

Simon hums as his hand comes down from your neck to sit against your collar bones and sternum. And then you’re yelping when he suddenly lifts you. You try to freeze, because of course you do, but he does something to get your legs around his arms and then your knees are up by his temples.

He only waits long enough for your hands to smack against the wall above the headboard before both of his are pulling you down against his mouth. You’re suddenly struck by the almost fearful realization that he’s made you tell him, many times, exactly how you like to be touched.

His lips and tongue immediately find your clit. But instead of the bombardment that you expect, Simon’s mouth is soft against you. He braces his big hands under your hips, and you can’t help but start to relax into his hold. The self-consciousness eases away as he drags the flat of his tongue over you, slow and indulgent. He makes a pleased sound from between your thighs and you can’t help but giggle as you let yourself sink closer to that fuzzy place your mind was in before.

It doesn’t take long for your hips to protest the position. You shift more of your weight onto your knees and let your forehead rest against your forearms. Apparently, that’s what Simon’s been waiting on, because his lips purse around your clit and suck. The moan that shivers out of you is echoed by his groan. And that’s all the warning you get before he really gets going.

Simon pulls you even more firmly against his mouth, and you know he can’t breathe, that his nose is surrounded by the fat around your mound. He doesn’t seem to give a damn, alternating between sucking kisses and spearing his tongue into your pussy with abandon. Something he does makes you clench and twitch against his face, a not-quite ticklish sensation that shoots up your spine. He does it again, again, again, until you’re grinding against his jaw with punched out moans.

You don’t even have time to worry about his lack of air. All of a sudden, his palms push you up, taking all of your weight for just a second, before you’re sat right back down. That casual show of strength would make you weak in the knees if you were standing. As it is, you can only moan and shiver as his hands shift, until his thumbs can hold your lips apart to give his tongue even more access to you.

The noises between you are obscene. You can bury your face in your arms to avoid seeing the blissful expression on his face, but there’s no way to avoid the wet sound of his mouth working. You can’t ignore how slick the entire lower half of his face feels against your pussy, your thighs, the underside of your ass. And then he uses his hand to shift your thigh and spread you even more open.

Jesus, you’re going to come like this. You can feel it fluttering through you, feel yourself getting wetter by the moment.

“S-Simon,” you whimper. You reach down with one hand to run your fingers through his short hair. “I’m - Simon, you’re gonna -”

His hands press you up again, just long enough for him to growl, “Give it to me.”

“Simon!” You accidentally yank at him when his tongue sweeps over your clit again. It’s hard to feel bad about it when he moans his approval into you. When he squeezes at your thighs, just this side of painful, you squeak, pulling again. “Si-!”

As you look down, his eyes are already fixed on your face, pupils blown wide. His right hand shifts, and then the tip of one of his fingers is inside of you again. The awkward angle makes you arch your hips back, chasing the sensation right into rutting against his tongue in an overwhelming wave of sensation.

You barely make a sound as your pussy clenches against his fingers, suddenly and totally breathless. The orgasm that rolls through you isn’t as devastating as the first one, but it’s strong enough to make your legs shake. You almost lose your balance, but he’s there, holding you up. His groans easily drown out your whimpering.

When he just doesn’t stop, you give his arm two desperate taps. “Si-imon!”

The prickle of his stubble startles half a yelp from you as he lets you slide unceremoniously off of his face and onto his chest. He looks debauched, smirk shining with evidence of your pleasure.

“Tha’ weren’t so bad, eh?” he rumbles up at you. He coos when all you can do is cover your face with one hand and shiver. “Feelin’ good, pretty girl?”

You hum, then look down at him from between your fingers. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Did good trustin’ me,” He pets over your legs, equal parts gentle and firm. He looks contemplative for a moment, before asking, “Wanna cuddle?”

That’s exactly what you want. You swing one leg over so you’re not straddling him anymore. And then there’s a confused moment of getting your bodies aligned. The queen sized bed feels so much smaller with him in it. And then you realize that his face is still wet. You’re still wet against the thigh he’s put between your own.

You cringe when he uses the edge of the flat sheet to swipe half-heartedly at his mouth and chest. He laughs at your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he lets you go to look into your eyes, you can’t help but press your lips to his.

He opens his mouth to yours immediately, and the kiss becomes filthy. His mouth tastes like you, like you’ve seeped into his skin.

So much for cuddling, you giggle to yourself as he rolls you onto your back and pins you under his bulk.