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tinyboxxtink · 11 days ago

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Makes Me Wanna Party

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "You weren't trying to keep it quiet; word travelled fast amongst your friends, and anybody that didn't already know probably hadn't checked their texts all weekend. You figured that everybody would be keen to find out where they stood in the betting pool, what their winnings or losings would come out to."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), dom/sub dynamics, blink and you'll miss it sub!Damien softdom!Damien, choking, tiny bit of biting and spanking, creampie, silliness during sex because I said so and they're in love, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: My friends...a third installment of ATAP has hit the pedropascallme blog. (part 1 | part 2)

"Pass me a sugar packet." You nudged Damien's side with your elbow as you stirred your tea.

"Magic word." He smiled down at you, teasing.

"Presto," you smirked up at him before you conceded. "Please will you hand me a sugar packet, Damien?"

He shook his head, still smiling, as he walked to the counter opposite you and handed you two sugar packets.

“Thank you.” You tore the packets open and poured them into the mug, continuing to stir.

"For you, Old Sport," he leaned down to kiss your temple, "Anything."

You rolled your eyes at the petname. It was dumb, in the best way. But you wouldn’t complain; it had clearly already stuck—and you enjoyed it.

The start of every work week was hectic; there was much pleasure taken in time off, yes, but the promise of coming back into the office to do god knows what with your friends always created a manic sort of energy.

Now, though, in the office kitchen with Damien, you felt nothing but relaxed.

After a weekend in bed with him, how could you not feel at ease in his presence?

Beyond the sex—and it was phenomenal sex—the casual air and the affection between the two of you had always served to make you feel tranquil. Now, it was all the better, because you could squeeze his hand in yours, and get a kiss in response.

You weren't trying to keep it quiet; word travelled fast amongst your friends, and anybody that didn't already know probably hadn't checked their texts all weekend. You figured that everybody would be keen to find out where they stood in the betting pool, what their winnings or losings would come out to.

Plus, you were happy. And why should you and Damien hide your mutual contentment?

"I have to be on the games stage in ten minutes." Damien muttered, trailing his fingertips over your arm absentmindedly, eyes fixed to his mug on the counter as steam curled up from his coffee.

"You on the call sheet for try not to laugh later?" You turned to face him, resting your elbow on the countertop of the island.

"Yeah," he nodded, pausing to look at you and huffing a quiet laugh. "Didn't really have time to prepare for it this weekend, though."

"Oh?" You smiled, "Got up to some pretty wild stuff, huh?"

"Wild, sure," he smirked, leaning in ever so slightly for emphasis, "Definitely very pretty, though."

You grew flustered, your taunt backfiring on you to make you blush under his gaze.

"You." Angela's voice echoed around the kitchen, and you turned to see her standing in the entryway with Chanse close behind, pointing her finger at you.

"Oh, look at that," Damien pursed his lips in an attempt to hide his smile, "I'm needed on set."

You laughed, watching as Angela, still pointing at you, bypassed Damien with a playful glare to march up to you. Chanse followed close behind with a sigh.

"You." She repeated, now clearly trying not to smile.

"Me?" You feigned ignorance.

"I want to know everything." She lowered her hand to grab your forearm, giddy with the prospect of finding out every detail.

"I wish you were this interested in every part of my life." You smiled, tugging at her arm playfully.

"Tell me tell me tell me—" Angela begged, swaying your arm with hers before dropping her hand lower to entwine her fingers with her own.

"Courtney gave us, like, all the information," Chanse finally spoke up, reaching for a coffee mug and picking out a k-cup. "Angela's just nosy. Not to mention twenty dollars poorer."

"Shut up," Angela shot back at Chanse before refocusing her attention on you. "I just wanna hear your perspective."

You heard Amanda's voice down the hall, and you raised a hand to stall for time until she walked into the kitchen.

"Hi—woah, party in here." Amanda greeted the three of you with a laugh.

"She's being stingy with details." Angela huffed in place of a real greeting.

"What details?" Amanda blanked.

“This weekend.” Angela pouted.

Amanda squinted in confusion.

"Do you not know?" Angela's eyes went wide, "Did nobody tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Amanda knitted her brow, confused.

"Damien—" Angela started.

"Got a new tattoo, I know." Amanda cut her off, defensive.

"Amanda..." Chanse sighed, lifting the freshly made mug of coffee to his lips and blowing.

"What?" She grew impatient, eager for somebody to fill her in. "Oh my god—what?"

Angela separated herself from you to walk over to Amanda and yank her down to face level. You watched as Angela cupped her hands over Amanda's ear to whisper the not at all secret information.

"What? Oh my god, romance!" Amanda exclaimed, eyes going wide as she grinned at you. "How did that happen?"

"Like, minute by minute, what happened." Angela pressed, returning to your side and begging for information.

"Don't..." Chanse raised a brow at Angela, who ignored him.

Ian and Anthony walked in, and you tugged Angela closer to your side, gesturing for Chanse and Amanda to move into a huddle with you.

"I mean," you sighed, reflecting on the events of the weekend and trying to think of a way to recount them that wouldn't get you a meeting with HR. "You guys left, we were hanging out, and..."

"And?" Angela looked like she might combust, practically vibrating where she stood.

"And..." You tilted your head, smirking.

"Y'all fuck?" Chanse quipped.

"They definitely fucked." Amanda nodded, laughing.

"Ew!" Angela shrilled.

You laughed. "You already knew that! And you asked!"

The huddle broke apart as Angela pretended to be disgusted.

"I wanna know about your sex life, not Damien's!"

"And I don't want to hear about either!" Ian called over his shoulder at the group of you, shuddering.

"You kept talking about your balls last week," Chanse deadpanned, "Don't start."

"Not my balls!" Ian gestured enthusiastically with his hands, "Balls in general!"

"Call that testicular inclusivity." Anthony mumbled.

You watched your friends fall into fits of laughter; the events of the weekend and the early morning call time were clearly making you all delirious.

Still, you joined in, giggling into your mug as you finished your tea.

~~~

The week wore on without much to write home about.

There was the occasional quip about how it happened; a joke here or there about the snail's pace it had taken the two of you to get together; for the most part, though, it was business as usual.

When Friday rolled around, you felt the faint beginnings of burnout; you could only be funny for so long until it felt like it was all an act. But games videos were nice, and sitting and laughing with no expectation of physical humor was a relief.

It helped that Damien was hosting, sat next to you with a deck of cards in hand.

When Alex called cut, you rolled your neck, sore from bending over to look at the table for so long. You watched Arasha, Trevor, and Tommy stand from their seats, walking off set to find solitude or conversation.

"What are you up to tonight?" Damien turned to you, swiping the cards off the table and packing them away.

"Depends," you glanced up at him, "What are you up to?"

"I was gonna ask if you, uh..." He seemed nervous, and it made your pulse jump happily.

How had you managed to swallow your feelings for so long?

How had you managed to get here?

"Can I take you out on that real date I promised you?" He bit the inside of his cheek.

There was a certain tenderness in his anxiety; the way he was clearly still fearful of rejection despite the series of events that had brought you here.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Spencer inadvertently cut you off.

"Hey lovebirds! We're breaking for lunch," he walked over to take the game box from Damien, tossing it onto the shelf and making his way to the hall. "C'mon." He waited for the both of you with a teasing smile.

"Pick me up at seven?" You let Damien grab your hand as you rose from your seat.

"Yeah," he nodded, lips curling at the corners into a soft smile. "Perfect."

~~~

“You're so pretty.” Damien was soft-spoken, sitting across from you in the nearly empty diner.

His words were practically sighed, and you liked the way it sounded; as if your mere presence was enough to leave him breathless.

“You have a crush on me or something?” You popped a french fry in your mouth, smiling.

“How dare you?” He smiled, feigning shock at your accusation, “I mean, yeah. But I also really think you look nice.”

“Don’t I always?” You teased.

“Yeah,” he smiled, sincere, “You do.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm. You still hadn’t gotten used to getting compliments like this from him, having grown so familiar with his teasing and his praise for your skills on set; him taking notice of your appearance felt foreign.

It gave you butterflies, which was cliché, but it was the truth.

Really, you weren’t wearing anything special. Maybe you were a bit more dolled up than you would be at work, but it was a far cry from a designer look.

Still, his flattery was genuine. He looked at you, sitting in the run-down restaurant, picking at the fries on your plate, like you were the most elegant thing he’d ever seen.

And he looked just a beautiful to you.

You were glad that it was a quiet date, free of any grand romantic gestures and expensive bills. This is what it was meant to be like; two people enjoying each other’s company, brushing knees under the table; putting two straws in one glass, giggling together.

The girl at the counter was young, probably in high school. She looked less than pleased to be working in a mostly-empty restaurant on a Friday night.

But as far as you were concerned, this was the place to be, because this is where Damien was.

~~~

He drove you home.

It was a cheerful car ride, and despite the sun having set, you were wired; wide awake and eager to be close to him.

Some things never changed.

But you did feel a little wary now. It wasn’t discomfort, more so an anxiety about what happened next.

You’d fucked him countless times now, spent the weekend tangled in his sheets, breathless kisses paused only to murmur your affection for each other. But you didn’t know how a date like this was supposed to end.

Would he leave you on the steps with a peck on the cheek and tell you he’d see you tomorrow? Would he squeeze your hand and say he had a good time? Would he press you against the door and kiss you until you were both winded?

You almost shook the thought from your head, before remembering that it was no longer inappropriate to think of him that way—and thank god for that, because you were having trouble now getting rid of the mental image of him fucking you against a wall.

Really, it was just a matter of being uncertain about how to ask him to stay with you—to stay over, to sleep with you; to make your bed his own, just as you had made his bed your own.

Would he even want to? It was one thing to hide away in his room together, but would a change of scenery be at all of interest to him?

The questions that clouded your brain ultimately wouldn’t stop you from speaking up, but the new-relationship nerves were certainly making their presence known.

“Do you wanna come in for coffee?” You posed the question with a glance at him when the car stopped in front of your apartment.

“It’s…” He checked his phone, “It’s almost ten.” He seemed confused.

“Damien,” you smiled, tickled by his bewilderment, “I’m asking if—…do you wanna stay the night…?”

“O—oh!” Damien’s features morphed to shoot you an eager smile, half of his mouth quirking upwards as he spoke. “Yeah. I’ll…have some coffee.”

You laughed as you got out of the car, relieved and enraptured.

~~~

Damien perched a hand on your waist from behind, letting you lead him through the door of your apartment and into the kitchen.

You couldn’t recall a time in recent memory that he’d been here; the small space you called your own wasn’t really ideal for post-shoot parties, and hosting people had never really been your forte.

Still, he looked good as he followed you through the apartment—he looked good anywhere and everywhere, but seeing him in your house seemed so natural; it painted him in a light of familiar domesticity.

“You’re actually making coffee?” He spoke up when you stopped walking, watching you put the kettle on the stove.

“Tea,” you turned over your shoulder to reply. “Why?”

“If I’m being honest, I thought this was a ploy for you to sleep with me,” he grinned, moving to stand beside you. “Not that I’m complaining. Tea is also good.”

“You can have both,” you muttered, reaching to open the cabinet that held the mugs. “Just figured it would be rude to invite you in under false pretenses…”

“Well, in that case, you are being rude,” he laughed, “Tea was the one thing you didn’t mention in the car, Old Sport.”

“Gonna do something about it?” You smirked, side-eyeing him briefly before turning your attention back to the stove.

“I mean, I’m gonna wait for you to turn off the flame—but then, yeah.” He moved behind you again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

His hands found your waist again, wrapping his arms around you to pull you ever so slightly against him.

You felt hot, and it had nothing to do with the low flame of the burner.

You wondered if he could sense the desire emanating from you, though it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted as you scrambled to turn off the stove and turned on your heel to face him.

“Hi.” He grinned at you, tightening his grasp on your waist.

“Hi.” You returned the smile, hands perched on his shoulders.

There was a pause, time spent admiring each other in the stillness of your kitchen.

“Alright, well,” Damien tilted his head down at you, feigning a serious expression, “Did say I had to do this.”

“Do w—Damien!”

You halted your line of questioning when his grip went lax around your waist, hands dropping to your thighs so that he could haul you up into his arms.

“Can’t believe you tried to make me tea…” He tsked, laughing at the mild shock that painted your features.

“You know,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, purring in his ear. “I think it’s only fair I learn my lesson.”

Damien stifled a groan, walking out of the kitchen with you in his arms. He paused when faced with the entrance to the hallway.

“So,” he sucked his teeth, “One question—super random, not that important…bedroom?”

“Second door on the right.” You laughed softly against the crook of his neck.

“I knew that.” He nodded, continuing his trek to your room and pushing open the door.

“Never doubted you for a second.” You smiled, and he huffed a brief laugh.

He stopped in front of your bed, dropping you gently onto the mattress.

You bounced a little, scrambling to push yourself up on your elbows, but he clearly had no desire to be separated from you for too long. Almost immediately, he leaned down, flattening you against the bed and pressing kisses to your neck.

You let out soft gasps of approval, hands flying to grip his hair and tug gently at the back of his shirt.

“You—” He kissed your collar bone, nipping at it just enough to leave a soft red mark, “You are—” He licked a stripe up your throat.

You tightened your fist in his hair, receiving a groan from him as you coaxed him up to look at you.

“Breathe, Damien,” you giggled at his zeal, “I’m what?”

He grinned down at you; face flushed a light pink as he nodded.

“You’re perfect,” he sighed, admiring the way you looked up at him. “I love you.”

You reached up to push hair from his face, only to watch the silver strands roll back down over his eyes again.

“I love you.” You whispered.

Maybe someday you’d be able to grasp that this was your reality; it still felt too good to be true. But it was true, he wanted you—he loved you.

He caught your lips with his, breaking you from your sappy thoughts and leading you in a slow kiss. He licked your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth with a quiet moan, encouraging him to take it further.

He parted from you, and though you missed the heat of his lips on yours, you were content to feel him suck marks gently onto the exposed portion of your chest.

“You have a lot of clothing on.” It was all he said between his focused decoration of your skin, just snarky enough to let you know he was being playful, but he did mean what he said.

“Nobody challenged me to a game of Smash.” You sighed, cupping the back of his head and toying with the hair on the nape of his neck as he covered you in love bites.

He laughed quietly against your body, the soft vibrations traveling over you in gentle waves.

“Knew I forgot something…” He brought a hand to the hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric.

“I forgive you,” you glanced down at him, “Now’s as good a time as any. But I should tell you—I don’t have a console.”

“Just have to get naked for no reason, then.” Damien let his hand roam under your shirt.

“You can take it off,” you tried and failed to not sound pleading. “Please.”

He huffed a short sigh, smirking as he began to push your shirt up your body. You sat up awkwardly, shucking off the fabric and tossing it across the room.

“Pants.” You spoke eagerly, pushing at his shoulders so that you could have space to rid yourself of the remaining clothing.

“What about 'em?” Damien smiled, flipping onto his back and watching you scramble to remove your jeans. “Personally, I’ve always been partial to them.”

You shook your head, laughing as you struggled to get the denim off your legs.

Stripped down to your underwear, you threw your pants in the same direction you’d thrown your shirt, before ridding yourself of your panties, too.

You took the opportunity of having him on his back to straddle his waist.

“You’re ridiculous.” You stared down at him, trailing your fingers over the collar of his shirt.

“You’re naked.” He wasn't shy about the way he raked his gaze over you.

“I could get dressed again,” you teased, “I look damn good in pajamas…”

“I believe you,” Damien placed his hands on your hips, “But—and I mean no offense—I think I enjoy you like this a little more.” He stroked your sides, smirking, “Just a little.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, slinking off his lap to a quiet grumble of upset from him. You slipped off the bed, kneeling between his legs and placing your palms on his clothed thighs.

“Damien.” You watched him sit up, looking down at you.

“Uh-huh?” The smirk on his face was gone, replaced with an expression that read of clear arousal.

“Can I take these off for you?”

“Uh-huh.” He repeated, gaze shifting to watch your hands as you fiddled with his zipper.

You managed to undo his fly with only a bit of resistance from the material, glancing up at him when you pawed over his boxers.

He let out a quiet groan, deep and throaty, and put his hands on top of yours, helping you pull his cock from the confines of the material.

You held him by the base, lips parted as you leaned forward to kitten-lick the tip of his cock. You heard his breath hitch, a clear indicator that he was already lost to the feeling of your mouth on him. You took it a step further, wrapping your lips around him and taking the entirety of his cockhead into your mouth, swirling your tongue slowly.

“Fuck,” Damien whimpered, leaning back on his elbows in an attempt to keep his eyes on your movements. “You look good like this.”

“Yeah?” You removed yourself from him briefly, taking the time to lick a stripe up his length, flicking your tongue over his tip.

You took him back into your mouth, pushing yourself deeper and hollowing your cheeks over him.

“Y—eah.” He whined, hips rising slightly to meet the movements of your mouth.

You made a happy sound, bobbing your head a little faster before removing yourself with a quiet pop and working his length in your hand. You twisted your wrist, focusing on the tip of his cock and listening intently to the way his moans caught in his throat when you squeezed gently.

“Come here,” he gave up on propping himself up, lying flat on his back. “Please—let me taste you, princess.”

You pouted, teasing him. You made a show of taking his cock back into your mouth instead of giving into his demand.

“Jesus Christ,” Damien’s voice was gruff, tinged with need and a failing dominance. “C’mon, baby. Can’t—can’t keep going and expect me to last long. Please”

You hummed around his cock, tongue gliding over him.

He sat up enough to look down at you again, holding eye contact in a way that made your actions feel all the more sinful.

“You’re greedy.” He chastised you, reaching out to grab at the back of your head.

You didn’t stop, blinking up at him as you choked on his cock, feeling him press against the back of your throat.

Damien groaned, his grip on your hair tightening. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before opening them again to look down at you.

“If you're that fucking desperate, I’ll just give you what you want,” his breath came out a little stuttered, focused more on the way you bobbed over his cock than on his own words. “Don’t have to be a brat about it.”

He pulled you up by the hair before pushing you back down, using your mouth like a toy and watching you splutter on his length.

“Look at that, princess,” he groaned through clenched teeth, “Take it so good, on your knees for me like that.”

You moaned, gagging on him. You were acutely aware of the way your spit had begun to coat the bottom of your face as you pushed yourself to take his cock as far down your throat as you could.

Your eyes flickered back and forth between his face and the base of his cock as you continued, grabbing at his thighs and pulling whimpers from him before he finally pulled your mouth off of his length and stared down at you, panting.

“Christ,” he heaved, closing his eyes as he caught his breath, “It’s like you want me to finish early.”

“Easy clean up…” You wiped the drool off your chin, smirking.

“You think you’re so funny.” Damien shook his head, feigning exasperation as you stood up, staying between his legs and leaning over him.

“I know I’m funny,” you purred, “I’m also desperate to fuck you.”

“You’re fucking me?” Damien grabbed you by the waist, pulling you on top of him and grinning when you moved to straddle him. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Bet you would.” You laughed, and he rolled over, pinning you beneath him.

“I would, princess,” his voice dropped to a soft growl, “I’ll let you show me, if there’s time after I’m done with you.”

You whined, bucking your hips upwards and letting out a small gasp when you felt the weight of his cock bounce against your cunt.

He let out a gruff sound, furrowing his brow at the feeling of you rolling your hips against him.

“Wanna taste you, before…” He trailed off, sucking a mark onto your collar bone as you combed your fingers through his hair.

“Before?” You smiled teasingly.

“Sorry—before I fuck you stupid,” he tilted his face to look at you, “Thought it was implied.”

He trailed kisses down your stomach, gentle presses of his lips paired with the occasional graze of his teeth, before he reached your core. He pushed your thighs open to admire you.

He said nothing as he began to lick into you, tasting the evidence of your enjoyment from going down on him.

You whimpered, reaching down to cup his face and brush your thumb over his cheek as best you could while he wrapped his lips around your clit.

“Oh my god…” Your hand moved to cup the back of his head, pressing him further against your needy cunt and raising your hips to meet the movement of his tongue.

“So fucking good,” Damien parted from you just long enough to whisper praises against the apex of your thigh, “Christ, you taste so good.”

You didn’t respond, breath coming out stuttered when he pushed a finger into you and resumed flicking his tongue over your clit. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the end; trembling for him, mouth falling open to whine into the otherwise quiet room.

He pulled his face back for a moment as he curled his finger, stroking gently over your front wall and letting his gaze dart over to your face to see the way your eyes fluttered.

Damien’s expression was gentle, caring as he pressed a kiss to your clit; to juxtapose the tenderness, he pressed another finger into you, groaning softly when your walls squeezed tightly around him.

“That’s two, baby,” he sighed against you, unable to tear himself away from more than a breath at a time, eagerly sucking on your clit, “You feel good?”

“So—fuck, yes,” you rocked your hips back and forth, begging for the feeling of his tongue, his fingers; desperate to feel him deeper, to feel him forever. “Love it.”

“Whole thing,” Damien stilled his ministrations, looking up with hooded eyes as he ever so slightly curled his fingers to make you squirm. “Say the whole thing, princess.”

“I love your fingers, Damien,” you swallowed the whimper that threatened to interrupt your obedient response, “I love your mouth. You make me feel so good—only you.”

He breathed a quiet moan, pulling his fingers from you and tugging you further down the bed until he managed to wrap his arms beneath your thighs.

You yelped, giggling at his enthusiasm. Your amusement was stifled by the gasp of satisfaction that escaped you when he buried his face into your cunt, groaning softly against you as he lapped at your slick.

You reached down to grab a fistful of his hair, moaning wantonly and tugging at his roots, grinding down on his face when he slipped his tongue into your entrance.

“Doing so well, baby—you gonna cum?” His voice was cloying as he pulled back to spit onto your cunt. “Gonna cum? Finish fast for me so I can give you more?”

“Yeah—yes,” you nodded frantically, his teasing serving to push you forward to the height of your pleasure. “I want—please, I want to.”

“Yeah, you want to,” he growled, licking a stripe up your slit. “C’mon, princess—right there, give it to me so I can fuck you nice.”

He honed his focus on your clit again, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin as he swirled his tongue over you.

Something inside you pulled taut, toes curling and back arching against his mouth as the strain faded into something loose and hazy; body feeling light and malleable as you squeezed your thighs gently around his head.

You could hear him catching his breath, feel his soft exhales against your soaked sex, and it made you squirm absentmindedly as your body recoiled at the barely-there overstimulation.

Damien moved his hands, standing over you now with his grip firm on your hips. He was grinning, face coated in your slick and eyes wide with an insatiable sort of hunger.

“Tickles…” You sighed, unable to stop yourself from admiring him; his actions were sinful, fueled by lust in equal part to love, but the way you looked at each other remained so inherently tender.

“Don’t—” He laughed, guard coming down as the dominant façade melted away at the sight of your smile. “Tickly isn’t really the vibe I was going for.”

“Gonna have to try harder, then.” You quirked a brow, reaching up to cup his cheek and brush your thumb over the rosy warmth of his skin.

You could pinpoint the exact moment he slipped into that dominant role again.

No sooner had the words left your mouth had he managed to use his grip on your hips to flip you onto your stomach. You yelped through your grin, enjoying the way he manhandled you, bringing your knees up onto the mattress so that you were on all fours before him.

“You want me to try?” He scoffed, and you could hear the smirk in his words, the edge of something so purely Damien peeking through the cocky veneer. “Or are you just talking back like that so I’m rougher?”

“Maybe both…”

You smiled, pressing your cheek into the mattress and batting your lashes—you couldn’t see him, but you knew he could see you, and that’s what the show was for, anyway.

“Try to make it rougher.”

“If you’re good.” He swatted your ass lightly, not enough for it to hurt, but enough for it to hold your attention.

You sighed softly, listening to the sound of fabric hitting the floor as he stripped himself down. You wiggled your hips to the best of your ability in the position, trying to recapture his attention when he kicked his discarded clothing to the side.

When you felt a heavy palm on the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into your skin, you mewled.

“You’re so needy,” he breathed, hand sweeping over your ass and down the outer side of your thigh. “Not gonna just leave you here, princess, you know that.”

“Not needy,” you pouted, "Impatient."

“Want me to fuck you with my jeans on, Old Sport?”

You whipped your head around, glaring playfully at him.

“Not while we’re fucking—you cannot call me that when I’m on my knees, Damien.” You laughed, absolutely no bite in your argument.

You didn’t care, you just wanted to push back and see how much more riled up you could get him.

“Oh, yeah…?” He dropped his gaze, smiling, and though you couldn’t see it exactly, the movement of his arm captured the way he fisted his cock.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours again, the head of his cock close enough to your entrance that you could feel the soft skin.

“Watch me.”

He pushed into you with a quiet hiss, a sound that quickly morphed into a groan when he bottomed out.

“Fucking god—” You whimpered quietly, exhaling a shaky breath at the way his balls pressed against your clit, heightening the already pleasurable experience of bending over for him.

“I know,” he groaned, one of his hands glued to your side, the other trailing down your spine. “Just take it, baby, I know you can.”

You moaned when he pulled his hips back, arching your back to chase the feeling of having his cock inside of you.

You didn’t have to beg, nor did your body language have to mark any significant want—he knew what you were after; he wanted it, too, and the way he began to push into you with such calculated, gentle intensity proved as much.

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your abdomen and holding you tightly; you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against your spine as he kissed the back of your neck.

Damien altered his pace, pulling his hips back only a fraction to ensure an intimate level of nearness as he breathed you in from behind.

“There you go,” Damien’s lips grazed your neck as he spoke in a low growl, “So eager for me to use this pussy, princess. Giving it to me so easy.”

“Deep…” It was all you could say, murmuring the vague praise of his actions against the mattress.

“Yeah, nice and deep," he groaned, hooking his arms under yours from behind and pressing his palms into your shoulders; it gave him perfect leverage, pulling you against him and grinding further into you. “Right where you need it, baby—make sure my cock is the only one you can take.”

You took a stuttered breath, whining as your eyes rolled back; you let that act as a response to his words, unable to form a verbal reply as the head of his cock continually pounded your most sensitive spot and forced slick to run down the inside of your thighs.

The shallow thrusts ensured a level of friction consistently hit your front wall, sparking something feral and desperate within you that was only vocalized through throaty moans. Your fingers tangled with your bedsheets as he ground his hips against your ass to push himself as deep as he could.

He had you effectively trapped between himself and the mattress, grip on you tightening with every thrust before his arms went lax again around your waist, only to repeat the subconscious action.

You gave up on trying to hold yourself up, letting your arms go limp beneath you and letting him take total control. You tried desperately to turn your head, to capture his lips with yours and have him kiss you properly.

He wouldn’t have it, and you managed to see his slack-jawed bliss morph into a smirk in your peripheral.

“No—take it how I’m giving it to you, princess,” he huffed, trying desperately to keep a level voice as he spoke between moans. “Give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want.”

You let out a frustrated, pleading cry of his name, pushing yourself back against his cock and eagerly pursuing the height of pleasure you knew he was desperate to see you reach.

Damien moved one of his arms, snaking it down your body and pressing the pad of his middle finger to your clit, rubbing tight circles over it.

“Oh, fuck. Damien, I’m—fuck—” You arched your back, mewling.

You heard him huff quietly behind you, his movements slowing slightly.

“Nice to meet you, fuck. I’m—”

“You can’t—” You reached back to pull his hair, laughter evident between your breathy moans as he increased the speed of his thrusts again. “Shut up, Damien.”

He nosed your neck, properly resuming his ministrations now and continuing to manipulate your body to bring you closer to the brink.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your throat, placing sloppy kisses on the sensitive skin.

“I know,” you kept your hand tangled in his hair, letting yourself melt into his touch. “I love you, too.”

“Show me,” his voice returned to a low growl, “C’mon, princess, show me how much you love me—show me how much you love getting fucked out like this.”

He moved the arm that he still had wrapped beneath your shoulder to curl his fingers around your neck, pulling you up slightly. The shift in angle was just enough to hasten the speed that you reached your peak; his cock gently nudging your cervix as the friction against your front wall knocked air from your lungs.

He added pressure to the circles he rubbed over your clit, pressing down to give you the perfect friction and groaning when he felt your walls flutter around him.

“D—please…” You whimpered, putty in his hands and content to stay this way for eternity.

“So good, princess,” he sighed, his fingers pressing gently against your throat as he kissed up your jawline, “You can do it. You can do it—c'mon, do it for me.”

A quiet moan passed through your lips, back arching for a moment before your body went completely limp for him, soaking him with your satisfaction as you trembled.

“Fuck,” he groaned, biting down gently on your shoulder and fucking you through your high. “That’s right—give it to me, baby, you’re doing so good. So fucking good for me.”

He eased his hand off your clit, opting now to wrap his arms around your torso again, keeping you as close as possible as he faced the height of his own pleasure. His hips stuttered as he thrusted lazily into your cunt, his breath heaving against the crook of your neck.

“Please,” you mumbled, falling deep into a blissed-out haze, “Please—said I could have what I want…”

“I know, baby,” he nodded, huffing a breath that bordered a laugh. “I know—gonna give it to you. Deserve a reward. So well behaved, right?”

You nodded lazily against the mattress, happy to feel his weight atop you; to be used like a toy by someone who cared so deeply.

“Tell me where, princess.” He moved to press his face between your shoulder blades, trying to stave off his high for a few more moments.

“You know where.” You sighed, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts again.

Damien reached down to squeeze at your thigh before giving it a smack.

“Say it,” he ordered, “Use your words and fucking say it.”

“Inside,” you squeaked out, “Please, cum inside of me, Damien. That’s what I want—that’s where I want it.”

“Fuck—again,” he heaved out the command, so close but still hungry for the tinge of desperation in your voice as you begged for him to finish inside you. “Say it again, baby—one more time.”

“Want you to cum in me,” your voice took an even more pleading lilt, anticipating the physical flood of warmth and the emotional bliss that would come with his high. “Need it, Damien, please, please, please—”

“God, fuck—!” Damien’s grip around your waist tightened, the sloppy pace he had fallen into faltering as he came.

You moaned, a soft hum as his spend coated your walls.

He didn’t waste his time teasing you, lovestruck and happy to show it; he pulled out of you with a wistful sigh before hooking a hand under your stomach, easing you onto your back and looking down at your fucked out expression with a grin.

You reached up for him, and he gladly fell into your arms; you wrapped yourself around him, absentmindedly trailing your lips over his neck and shoulders, moving to brush them over his jaw before planting chaste kisses to his cheek.

He caught your lips with his, and you fell into a quiet period of admiration; kissing each other breathless in such a pure, innocent manner, despite the events of the past hour and the sinful image of the two of you, completely bare and soaked with each other’s pleasure.

“So,” you broke away from the kiss to speak, “About that coffee...”

“Wasn’t it tea?” Damien smiled, top teeth on display as he lifted you up slightly to ensure your whole body was comfortably on the mattress.

You rolled your eyes, grinning when he stretched out next to you on the bed.

“I can put the kettle on.” You muttered, turning on your side to trace shapes over his chest.

“It’s late, princess.” He grabbed your hand, tugging your body against his and watching you curl into his side.

“So that’s a no on tea?”

“No on tea. And no on any other hot beverage you might suggest.” Damien smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re a very easy to please guest.” You looked up at him, smiling.

“What can I say?” He gestured vaguely, “You’re a very good host.”

“You're only saying that cause you just came in me.” You smirked, stifling a quiet laugh.

“Got me there,” he returned your smirk, looking down at you adoringly. “But, y’know…mostly just because it’s you.” He leaned down to kiss you quickly, staying level with you even when he parted. “And I love you.”

You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face to the crook of his neck.

“I love you.” You spoke against him, his skin trapping your words.

You were both quiet for a moment, basking in the proximity.

“Want me to turn off the light?” He spoke up, voice soft as he combed his fingers through your hair.

You nodded, eyes threatening to close as he got up to hit the switch.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight.” You mumbled when he returned to your side.

“Thanks for letting me,” he sighed, draping the blanket over your naked form and making himself comfortable beneath it with you. “Just can’t get enough of you, Old Sport.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” You giggled softly, the drowsy edges of sleep beginning to close in on you.

He didn’t say anything, hauling you backwards to press his chest to your back, tucking your head under his chin and letting his arm fall comfortably over your side.

It was the only response you really needed.

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