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melanchol1cs · 7 months ago

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THIS HOTEL ROOM.

jayce talis x f!reader

word count: 2.7k summary: do you usually invite strangers into your room? masterlist | taglist | wips

18+ MDNI. set in modern 1970, alcohol consumption, kissing, reader wears a floor length dress, porn with barely any plot, oral (r!receiving), fingering, teasing, jayce’s big dick idk, use of a condom, protected sex, one night stand. based on ‘hotel’ by motell fish.

a/n: ya’ll wouldn’t give to to me so i had to write it myself. and when i tell you, i had to fight every urge to not make this the kinkiest shit known to mankind. ugh. this got my pussy throbbing so hard you don’t even understand how much i need this man… i’d take him anywhere atp, on the couch, on the bed, in the bathroom, in a car, on the motherfuckking floor, PLEASEEEE

the hotel bar was quiet, save for the low hum of jazz filtering through the speakers and the the hotel bar was quiet, save for the low hum of jazz filtering through the speakers and the occasional clink of glassware. it was late, well past midnight, and most of the other patrons had either retired for the night or drank themselves into oblivion. you sat at the counter, nursing a glass of wine, your gaze lazily tracing the patterns of condensation on the glass.

it was late—too late, really—and you don’t know what drew you here tonight. restlessness, maybe, or just the need to be anywhere but your own room.

that’s when you noticed him.

the man was hard to miss. he sat a few stools down from you. tall, dark, handsome. his suit was clearly expensive and tailored to his form, the tie now loosened and the top buttons undone showing a tantalizing amount of skin. his dark hair was tousled, as if he’d recently run a hand through it. he looked like he didn’t quite belong in a place like this, like his world was one of brighter lights and bigger crowds.

you looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the drink in your hand, but it was no use. he had already caught you looking.

“mind if i join you?” he asked, nodding toward the empty stool beside you. his voice was smooth, rich, and strangely disarming.

“guess i don’t have a reason to say no.” you said, flashing him a polite smile as he sat down, signaling to the bartender for a drink.

the silence between you lasts only a moment before he turns to you, a faint smile playing on his lips. “wine this late at night?” he asked, his voice smooth and warm, tinged with a curiosity that didn’t feel forced. “must’ve been a long day.”

you huff a quiet laugh, lifting your glass slightly. “something like that. and you? whiskey at this hour—celebration or consolation?”

his lips quirk into a smirk as he slides onto the stool beside you. “neither. just… unwinding after work,”

it’s the way he says it—casual, like he’s opening the door to the conversation but not pushing too hard. enough to get you curious, but not desperate for an answer.

“what do you do?” you ask, leaning into the banter without realizing it.

he tilts his head, a playful glint in his hazel eyes. “guess.”

you study him, taking in the expensive cut of his suit, the faint smudge of ink on his thumb, the way he carried himself like someone used to making decisions that mattered.

“finance?” you guess, trying to sound confident.

“close,” he says, his smirk growing. “I’m a scientist.”

“really?” you lean in a little, the intrigue creeping in. “what kind of science?”

“hextech,” he says, almost watching your reaction, gauging it. “i work on energy solutions, tech development… mostly things that could change how piltover and zaun interact.”

you blink, a faint recognition flickering across your face at the mention of hextech. “hextech? that’s… pretty impressive,” you say, swirling your wine absentmindedly.

he notices the shift in your expression but doesn’t call you out on it—yet.

“i wouldn’t say that,” he said humbly, his voice almost teasing, as if he knew the effect his profession had on people. “i’m not saving lives or anything.”

you shake your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “still, you must be good at what you do,” you say, tilting your head slightly. “hextech isn’t exactly something anyone can just dabble in. bet it pays well too.”

he laughs, deep and rich, a sound that settles in your chest. he leans in closer, his knee brushing yours under the counter, and you feel the shift in the air, the tension crawling up your spine. “is that why you’ve been giving me looks all night? trying to figure out if i’m worth taking home?” his voice drops just enough to suggest he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“oh, i think you’re forgetting,” a small smile tugs at your lips. “you’re the one that came to me.”

he laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a jolt of heat through you. “touché,” he said, raising his glass to toast you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“you still haven’t answered my question though.” he leans even closer, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. “do i meet your…. criteria?”

you place your empty glass on the counter slowly, making sure he watches the motion, his eyes tracing your every move. when you speak again, your voice is quiet, but deliberate. “i suppose you’re… good enough.”

his grin widens, and he reaches out, his finger trailing along the back of your hand, sending a shiver up your arm. “good enough?” he repeats, his voice a low purr. “well, i think i can do better than that,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand.

“how about one more drink,” he suggests, his tone light now, but there’s an edge to it. “but upstairs? my room’s got a great view of the city.”

you hesitate for a moment, the weight of his words lingering, but his gaze is steady, patient, almost expectant.

“do you usually invite strangers into your room?”

“only the ones i find interesting,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“good,” you reply, stepping closer, a smirk tugging at your lips. “i’d hate to be predictable.”

the moment the door clicks shut, he's on you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that leaves no doubt about his intentions. a cautious hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

he kisses you with desperation that didn't leave time for hesitation, but you'll gladly take him like this — rushed and frantic, the fabric of his dress pants suddenly feeling thin and inadequate against his aching cock.

he breaks the kiss momentarily to trail his lips down your jawline and onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.

his gaze devours your form, taking in every inch of you, and you felt like a specimen under a microscope, utterly exposed and deliciously vulnerable.

"christ, you smell amazing," he groans, his breath hot against your ear. "like fucking heaven.”

he barely manages to kick off his dress shoes and peel off his suit vest before he's got you half-dragged, half-carried to the bed, barely breaking stride before you tumble backwards onto the sheets in a flurry of limbs. the rough fabric of his tie tickles your palms as you fumble to untangle it, tugging on the loose knot to free it from around his neck.

his hands find the zipper at the back of your dress, slowly tugging it down to reveal more of your skin. the fabric parts easily, revealing the lacy edges of your bra and the smooth, pale skin of your stomach. the dress pools around your feet, the last remnants of your modesty suddenly stripped away.

he palms your breast through the sheer material, thumbing over the peaked nipples.

"god, look at you," he murmurs, touch feather-light, almost reverent, as if he can't believe his luck.

your hips arch into his touch instinctively, seeking more of that delicious friction. he takes the hint, sinking to his knees as hand drifts lower to rest on your stomach, fingers splayed wide.

his mouth follows the curve of your inner thigh, slow, languid kisses trailing up from your knees to the apex of your legs.

he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, pausing briefly to look up at you with dark, hungry eyes. "lift your hips," he prompts, his voice muffled against your thighs.

as you comply, arching your back to help him shimmy the flimsy lace down your legs, he tosses your underwear aside like it's on fire. you can feel the anticipation building, and your breath comes in a short gasp as he spreads your legs wider.

he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the length of your slit, that barely grazes you before retreating. you let out a high, keening moan, pushing his head deeper down, your hands curling into his hair.

“please,” you breathe, your hips rolling against him, craving more contact.

he does it again, a little harder this time. he tastes you deeply, your pink, aching flesh, drinking in every essence you could possibly offer, before finally sinking in to claim you in earnest.

his lips and tongue are a blur of sensation against your cunt, teasing and tormenting until you're writhing beneath him, begging for more. greedy thing, you are. he obliges, of course, his fingers deep, curling inside you to stroke that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

you're a mess of needy moans and broken gasps, your thighs trembling around his ears, your fingers clawing at the sheets. he takes you right to the edge, then pulls back, leaving you aching and desperate.

your head immediately snaps up, brows furrowed in disbelief, trying to process the sudden withdrawal. “y-you—“ you splutter, half-gasping for breath. you watch him straighten up, with that infuriating, cocky smirk playing on his lips. “you can't just—”

"i think i can do whatever i damn well please,” he smirks as if he's done you a favor. his hands come up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he leans in to steal another quick kiss, swallowing your protests. "wanted to see the look on your face," and as you shoot him an incredulous look, a self-satisfied chuckle leaves his lips.

"fuck you," you manage to bite out, despite the traitorous quiver in your voice. there's no heat behind your words, only a kind of breathless awe.

"i'm working on it.” he coos against your mouth.

he unzips his pants before you will yourself to speak again, his cock is long and thick and flushed an angry red, bobbing against his stomach as he kicks the fabric away. it’s practically jutting out, twitching with every ragged breath he takes. you can see the vein pulsing along its length, and a drop of pre-cum glistens on the tip. he's big, and you're suddenly consumed with the desperate need to wrap your lips around him, to taste his desire, to show him how much you want him inside you.

he reaches for the nightstand drawer, rummaging around until he pulls out a foil packet. he tears it open with his teeth and rolls the latex over the length of him in a fluid motion. then, he's on you again, his hips settling between your spread thighs as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance.

he doesn't pause, not even for a second, to give you time to process the impending intrusion or to beg for mercy.

you feel him stretch you wide, the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix. he fills you so completely, so utterly, that you can only lay there, gasping, your vision blurry, mouth left agape.

“fuck," he groans, head thrown back, hips jerking shallowly as if trying to bury himself deeper, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. your fingers dig into his biceps as you try to adjust to the sudden, intense fullness stretching your cunt.

he starts to move, slow at first, withdrawing nearly all the way before slamming back in, over and over and over again.

he takes you relentlessly, the slap of skin against skin the only soundtrack in the quiet of your hotel room. the bed creaks beneath you with each brutal thrust as he drives all the air from your lungs and leaves you utterly gasping.

every thrust seems to drill one of his own ragged gasps into your ear, the words lost but the emotion, urgency, conveyed perfectly as if he's trying to burn the sound of your suffering into memory. your nails score lines down his back as he fucks into you without mercy, each new impact rocking you to your very core, and every nerve end screams at once to be relieved.

the feeling of your cunt sucking down on him, practically trying to rip his dick off is driving his brain to insanity. but the sight of your eyes fluttering shut, your delicate features scrunched up, and the sweet little moans that escape you... it's enough to make a saint curse the heavens.

he snags your lip with his thumb, tugging you into a messy kiss. saliva streams down your chin as he fucks you with everything he has, and you're utterly defenseless against the onslaught of sensation, your hips bucking up to meet his with abandon.

“fuck, i’m... i’m going to—" but the words die on his lips as he buries himself to the hilt one final time, holding perfectly still, buried balls-deep inside you. thank god he’s wearing a condom, because he would not be able to pull out.

he groans low, long, and throaty as he spills his load into the condom, the sound muffled against your mouth. the heat of him fills you, then slowly starts to ebb as his orgasm recedes.

he stays buried deep for a moment longer before slowly pulling out, allowing your abused walls to clutch at the empty air. you’re left feeling bare, a boneless heap sprawled on the sheets. you feel the sticky residue of his cum cling to your skin as he discards the used condom.

he flops onto his back beside you, one arm draped across your middle as if to keep you close, and you feel a sense of lazy contentment wash over you despite the residual ache between your thighs. you can hear the heavy thud of his heartbeat, feel the warmth of his skin against yours. it's peaceful, in a strange sort of way.

his hand drags languidly through your tangled hair, and he looks at you, eyes half-lidded, a small, pleased smile lingering on his lips. the soft, silken locks feel like satin beneath his touch, a stark contrast to the rough, calloused pads of his fingertips.

“was that… ‘good enough’ for you?” his hand trails through your hair, fingers splaying against your scalp as if to hold you in place.

you swipe at his chest with a careless hand, more of a petulant tap really, but he still grunts in mock pain. “ouch!,” he feigns outrage, clutching at his chest as if wounded.

“asshole,”

he's laughing before you can even get the words out, the rich, deep sound filling the room and seeming to tickle your spine. he shifts to spoon against you, his thigh slipping between your legs as he wraps an arm around you, tugging you back against him

his fingers splay across your belly, tracing idle patterns as he speaks. the room feels impossibly warm, and you find yourself wishing he'd turn off the heating or open a window, but in that moment, all you care about is the solid warmth of him pressed against your back, and the weight of his arms around you.

"we should probably get some sleep," he murmurs after a while, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "i have an early meeting tomorrow." you nod against his chest, not really registering his words.

sleep is the last thing on your mind, but you're not sure if it's because of the adrenaline still coursing through your veins or because you don't want this moment to end.

“you know,” you begin, and he hums, a vibration you feel more than you hear, “i don’t think i ever got your name.”

he stills behind you, the sudden quiet palpable as he absorbs your words. his lips press a fleeting kiss against the pulse point on your neck,

“jayce.”

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