mooonbeamicecream

[mooonbeamicecream]

John Walker - Playing Games

18+ minors dni!

Warnings/Tags: john x reader smut, angst, sub!John, masturbation, begging, edging, pining, john is whipped for reader, john and reader are caught

Summary: You and John play a little game to see who can last the longest.

"Again.”

Walker’s voice is low, almost bored. Like your weak swings are exhausting him on a spiritual level. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks at you like you’ve just committed a crime against physics. You throw another punch at the bag. It shudders—barely.

His smirk curls up like he’s trying not to laugh. "You trying to high-five it to death, or…?”

The gym in the newly repurposed Avengers Tower has become neutral territory for the two of you. No press. No orders. No world ending threats turning civilians into shadows. Just two people too messed up to sleep, burning the edge off in silence and sweat.

He steps forward, eyeing your stance. “You’re still swinging. Don’t swing. Drive it through. Protect your damn thumb. Or don’t. Up to you if you want a busted hand." Which, from him, is basically a sonnet.

You grumble something about how not all of you were juiced by a serum brewed in a government lab, and he rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t fall out.

You punch the bag harder—but still, it barely moves. Walker lets out a long, theatrical exhale and plants his hands on his hips.

”Jesus. I swear, I have to do everything myself around here.”

Before you can retort, he’s behind you—close. One hand on your waist, the other guiding your fist.

”Feet shoulder-width. Power from the hips. Follow through.”

His voice is low, closer now. Too close. His breath brushes your ear, his chest pressed to your back, sweat and heat radiating off him like he’s still mid-mission.

Your pulse stutters. His grip stays firm, guiding you into the punch. The bag jerks forward.

You should feel proud. Instead, all you can think about is how good he smells. How solid he feels. How the gym lighting makes him look—

Nope. Not going there. He doesn’t move. Neither do you.

When you glance back, Walker’s already looking. Jaw tight. Face flushed like someone turned the heat up too high.

"Sure you don’t wanna just hit me instead?" he says, low. "Might be more fun for both of us."

You turn back to him with a sneer. "Yeah, you wanna go, Walker? I'll kick your ass!"

His smirk widens into a dangerous grin. "Is that a challenge, darlin'? Cause I'm not sure you can back that up."

He gives you a slow once-over that's both appraising and a little smug. Like he's cataloguing all the ways he could take you down. It makes your skin prick. You shouldn't find that as attractive as you do.

You stare at him for a moment before kneeing him straight in the balls. "How's that for backing it up?"

He grunts as your knee makes contact, but the bastard just laughs, grabbing your wrist and shoving you up against the wall and pinning you.

"Feisty one, aren't you?" he says through gritted teeth, breathless but with that same goddamn grin that never seems to go away. He presses against you, his body too warm, too solid. His grip on your wrist is firm, almost painful, and he uses the leverage to keep you pinned there. Too close. Not close enough.

"What are you gonna do about it, John?" you challenge.

His grip on your wrist tightens, and his body presses even closer, nearly flush against yours. He's practically caging you against the wall, and he's still smiling that damn smile.

"I could think of a few things," he says, voice so low and gruff it's nearly a growl. His gaze flicks to your mouth, lingering for a moment.

His thumb presses against your pulse. You can feel how fast your heart's pounding. Not from the fight. From his nearness.

You lick my lips slowly, unaware of the effect it has on him. You lean in ever so slightly. "Like what?"

His gaze zeroes in on your mouth as you lick your lips, his eyes darkening. A muscle in his jaw tenses.

He likes it. The realization should not go straight to your core.

He leans in even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Like this."

And before you can register what's happening, his mouth is on yours. Rough. Starved. He kisses you with a fierce intensity that makes your knees buckle, one hand grasping the back of your neck to keep you close.

You moan, clutching his neck and pulling him in as close as physically possible. The moans from your mouth don't cease, a product of months of wanting him.

He groans into your mouth, his free hand sliding down to cup your waist, his fingers digging into the skin through your shirt. The sound he makes goes straight through you, a low growl that's all heat and want.

He kisses you like he's drowning, like he's been waiting for this just as much as you have. Every press of his mouth is desperate, claiming, his touch almost possessive.

He moves his mouth to your jawline, then lower, trailing kisses down your throat until he finds that spot that makes you shiver. He presses his lips to the sensitive skin, his teeth nipping just hard enough to make you gasp.

He sucks a mark there, like he's marking his territory, and you can feel his smile against your skin.

His hand tightens on your hip, holding you in place. "All the talk about kicking my ass, and here you are, falling apart for me."

You take a moment to catch my breath and to take your attention away from the painful throbbing in your core. You turn your lips against his ear, nipping the lobe. "Oh really? Let's see who falls apart first." You push him onto the floor, landing on top of him, straddling his hips.

His eyes go wide as you shove him onto the ground, his back hitting the mat with a grunt. But that cocky smirk's still there, that same self-assured confidence that drives you insane.

His hands settle on your hips, holding you in place as you straddle him. He stares up at you, the look in his eyes a mixture of surprise, desire, and something else you can't quite name.

"You're playing with fire, darlin'," he drawls, fingers tracing lazy patterns across your thighs.

"You wanna play, John? Whoever comes first loses, how about that?"

He raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still on his face. "You sure you can handle that, sweetheart?" he says, his grip on your thighs tightening.

He looks like sin, all messy hair and flushed skin against the grey mat. And the heat in his eyes as he looks up at you? It's almost too much.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you, you know." He says.

"Don't hold back then. Because I won't either." You counter.

"Atta girl."

He's on you in an instant, flipping you onto your back effortlessly and pinning your wrists above your head. His body presses into yours, hard and solid, trapping you between him and the floor.

He grins down at you, the bastard, all smug and satisfied with himself.

"Change your mind, yet?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

"Fuck no." You place a knee against his bulge, rubbing it back and forth with intensity. "I don't think you'll last two minutes."

He growls, low and guttural, his grip on your wrists tightening. He tries to regain control, tries to put on that cool, confident facade, but he's too far gone. The heat in his eyes betrays him.

"You think you can get me off just by a little knee pressure?" he asks, his voice ragged. "Is that the best you got, hm?"

"I don't know, can I?" You suck on his neck, forming a hickey as you rub my knee on him faster. "You seem like the kind of guy to come in his pants like a dumb little teenager."

That smug expression starts to crumble, and you can see the effort it takes him to keep it together. His voice is hoarse when he speaks.

"You think I'm gonna lose it that easily, huh? You have no idea, darlin'," he says, but you can see the cracks in that facade of control.

He moves his head to the other side of your neck, his mouth on your skin, biting and marking like he wants to leave his mark on you.

Now that his sight is blocked, you're able to roll over and regain control. You slip your hand under his pants, immediately wrapping your hand around his cock and beginning to stroke. "Oh, I think so. I see the way you look at me, Walker. Have you thought about this when you're alone? Have you fucking jerked off to me? Have you come with my name on your tongue?"

He's too far gone to hide it now. His body is hot and tense under you, his hands clenched into fists, his breathing ragged.

He tries to reply, tries to come up with some smartass retort, but all that comes out is a strangled moan as you touch him. God, you're gonna ruin him.

"You think I haven't?" he seethes. "You think the last couple months haven't been hell for me? Every goddamn night, thinking about you, alone in my room…. Christ. You're gonna be the death of me, darlin'

He bucks his hips, almost involuntarily, his body desperate for more. He's so worked up he's shaking. He looks like he's trying to find the words to say, a strangled growl in his throat.

He's unable to hide his desire now, the words spewing out of him like water from a faucet. "You - god - you have no idea the things I've thought about…. things I'd do to you, with you, if I could - "

"There you go, John. Give in to me, just like that. It's so easy, isn't it? Don't I feel so good?"

"God damn it," he hisses, eyes screwed shut like he's trying to keep himself from coming undone just from your touch.

He's trembling. Not the cocky, smug, unshakable super soldier anymore - just a man, desperate for release.

His hands grasp at your thighs, pulling you in closer. The muscles in his body are taut, straining, like he's this close to just letting go.

He's breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like he's run a marathon, but somehow he's still able to find his voice. "Don't wanna - goddamn it, I - I'm not gonna - don't wanna lose that easy. I can handle it, darlin'. I can take whatever you dish out."

The challenge in his hoarse voice is still there, that defiance and cockiness that's so goddamn infuriating and so goddamn attractive at the same time.

You smirk, leaving one last kiss on his neck before taking your shirt off. He groans when your hand leaves his aching cock, and his eyes fixate on your breasts. You then take off your bra, throwing it across the training room. His eyes rake over your body, every inch of skin, like a man starving. He swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. His gaze is so intense it's almost a physical touch.

"God, look at you." His voice is low and ragged, filled with a raw, primal need. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this - "

"You want me so bad don't you?" You take his head into your hands, pulling him up so that his head is level with your chest. "Suck."

He lets out a strangled gasp - at your words. The look in his eyes goes dark, feral. Like a man on the edge, like he's been waiting months, years to hear you say those words.

"God, yes," he growls, moving forward to do as he's told.

His mouth is hot and open, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin, his lips suckling at your flesh. He's eager, like he'd been dreaming about this for god knows how long, and now that he has you - he wants to take every damn moment to taste you - touch you, to make up for the time he spent alone, wanting this - needing this - and not knowing what it'd be like.

You moan out, the loudest sound you've let myself make this whole time. You rake your hands through his hair, trying so hard not to grind your hips against his, knowing that your resolve will crumble if you give yourself any relief. "You're doing so good for me, John. Did you really think you would win? That you wouldn't just do anything I tell you to? Hmm?"

He doesn't even respond, too focused on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good. He's like a man possessed, like the only words he remembers are the ones you've just said to him, the ones you're telling him now.

He's working so diligently, so goddamn eagerly to do everything you ask him to, like he's starving and you're a full meal.

Your praise and your words go straight through him like a punch - and they're just as effective.

He's making these little guttural noises against your skin, like he's trying to stay in control and not just give himself over altogether. He's desperate to please you, and the sight of him like this, this big powerful man at your mercy, and it's enough to make you come undone.

You fumble your hands to take off your leggings and underwear. "Take off your fucking pants, John. Oh fuck- I need you."

He takes a moment to look up at you, his eyes half lidded, his face flushed, his lips red and glistening with saliva, his neck marked in more hickeys than you can count. But at your words, his expression goes feral.

"God, yes. Yes. Yes," he breathes, his voice hoarse - almost reverent - like the sound of your voice is something holy.

He sits up, his hands fumbling with his pants, pulling them off inrecord time. No hesitation, no second thoughts. He looks at you like he wants to crawl over and just take you here and now, but his hands stay at his sides, clenching and unclenching into fists.

He's waiting on you. Waiting for your command. You could tell him to do damn near anything right now and he'd do it, no questions asked.

"You still have a chance to win this game, John. Or are you too far gone? Would you do anything for me?"

"Anything…" The word is a ragged breath, a gasp. Almost a whisper.

He's staring at you like you're all that exists in the damn world right now. There's not a hint of that stubborn cocky bastard from before, the one who was so sure he'd win. Now, he's desperate, and you've never seen him look more honest in his damn life.

"Anything you want. God, you can have anything you want from me. I'm at your mercy. Please."

You nod with a smirk. "Yeah you are, baby." You sink down on him with a strangled cry.

"Fuck! " He gasps, his head falling back like he can't keep himself upright. His hands fly to your waist, his fingers clenching into your skin like he's trying to keep himself grounded.

He's so goddamn tense, the muscles in his arms standing out like cords. He looks like he's holding himself back, like he's holding onto the very last shred of control he has.

"God, sweetheart. You feel- oh God- " he gasps, his voice going hoarse again.

You begin to move your hips in circles, your mouth open in a wide gape. You look down at where you are joined, and it's enough to make you fall apart. But you remember, John has to come first in order to win. "You're so good for me John. Can you come for me? Can you whimper and groan and come for me? Hmm?"

He's shaking, his fingers digging into your hips like he's using them to hold himself up now. His eyes are dark, his gaze heavy, like he's hanging onto the very last thread of his sanity just to try to keep it together for you.

"Please - please, god, let me come for you. I've been good, haven't I? I've done everything you wanted, done whatever you asked. I swear I'll do it, I'll - I'll come for you, please, anything, just - "

"You've been perfect for me, John. Now come for me."

It's like your words give him permission to snap, to let go of that iron tight leash he'd leashed himself with, and he just… lets go. It's as though the whole world just vanishes - the only thing that exists is him and you and this moment - and he's completely lost himself to you.

He's so damn gone for you, he looks almost like he's praying, almost like you're the one thing keeping him afloat.

You come then, the whole earth shattering except for the two of you. You grip his biceps with insane force, him being the only thing keeping you grounded. A few seconds later, you smirk at him. "I win."

He's breathless, his chest heaving, his eyes still dark and dazed. It takes him a moment to catch up, to remember how to speak.

He lets out a breathless little laugh, like your words are almost too much for him. "Y-yeah, darlin'. You win. I'm all yours. You can do whatever you goddamn well please with me, you know that?"

You hug him then, wrapping my arms around him tightly. You nuzzle my head in his neck. "I've been wanting you for so long- I feel so much for you, John, you don't even know-"

His arms go around you, holding you just as tightly. He's still a little shaky, still riding out the last aftershocks of his orgasm, but he's got you now. You're in his arms. He's silent in the moment, taking in the feeling of you pressed tight against him, your head tucked in the crook of his neck, and he knows exactly what you're talking about.

"God, darlin, I think I do know," he murmurs after a moment. "I think I do, and it scares the hell out of me."

You sit up then, looking him in the eye with furrowed brows, your heart now pounding with fear. "What does that mean?" You whisper.

His eyes search yours, the moment turning serious now. He still has an arm wrapped around you, his grip firm like he's scared to let you go.

"I mean, the way I - I goddamn feel about you, darlin. The way I have for months. It scares me because I've never felt like this before, never for anyone in my life. I… I need you. Need you more than I've ever needed goddamn anything, and it terrifies me."

"Why?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes closing for a moment. It's like he's wrestling with something inside himself, trying to find the right words. When he opens his eyes again, they're almost intense now. He's got that look like he's staring straight into your soul.

"Because I've spent my whole life trying to control myself, keep myself from feeling anything, keep myself together. And then I met you, and you… you just make me want to give all that up. Goddamn, you make me want to give you my whole goddamn self."

You cup his face in my hands with a smile. "You make me want to be a good person John. I know I'm not, but...you make me want to live. I want to live for you."

His eyes soften, his expression open and vulnerable now. He brings a hand up to hold one of the ones on his cheek, pressing it against his face. He's quiet for a moment, like he's really soaking in your words - like he's filing them away for some future moment to cling to.

"Baby," he murmurs softly, his expression almost pained. "You… You're *already* good. You're so goddamn good, you have no idea."

You smile softly, your heart overflowing. "I love you, John. Even when you piss me off sometimes." You scratch your nails against his beard, savoring the look on his face as if it could all end in a second. You look at him like he's your lifeline.

"I love you, too, darlin'. Even when you make me wanna throw a damn temper tantrum."

Your jaw drops in a teasing fashion. "When have I ever done that? I'm perfect!"

"Perfect my ass," he snorts, rolling his eyes in a way that's so fond it makes your heart flutter. "You're a pain." You can hear the smile in his voice, the teasing edge in every word, and the way he's looking at you is just plain sexy. He continues,

"You're sassy and stubborn and reckless as hell, and you drive me crazy."

You retort, "You're hot and stubborn. I'm frustrated at you for being stupid, and then I get frustrated at you for making me wet when you're mad at me. Why do you have to look so hot when you're angry?"

He lets out a low, hoarse laugh at your comment, his face flushing with just a hint of embarrassment. It's almost endearing to watch his composure just crumbling under your words, his usually cocky demeanor slipping just a bit.

"You get off on it, don't you?" he asks, his eyes darkening as he stares up at you. "Seeing me angry and frustrated, huh? Do you like seeing me so goddamn wound up?"

"You know I do." You say lowly as you kiss him.

He responds instantly; his lips crushing against yours in a needy, almost desperate kiss. There's something more here than just passion and heat. It's like he's pouring out every single bit of pent-up tension, all that need, into the kiss as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close.

He moans softly against your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth for a moment before he pulls back to catch his breath. When he speaks, his voice is ragged and wrecked.

"You're goddamn trouble, sweetheart."

You kiss him passionately, ready for round two when you hear a knock on the door. It's Yelena. "WALKER!" She yells. "Are you in there? You've been in there for two hours asshole!"

He almost groans in frustration at the sound of her voice, his head falling against your shoulder.

"Damnit," he grumbles, and you swear he actually sounds like he's pouting, like a kid being told he has to leave a party.

"Not now, Yelena!" he calls back, his voice hoarse.

"What are you doing?" Yelena yells. "Jerking off?"

He lets out a noise that sounds like a growl this time, his arms tightening around you. God, he looks so damn frustrated right now, and for some reason it's kinda hilarious.

"Goddamnit, Yelena!" he snaps, raising his head to yell back. "We're busy in here! For Christ's sake, leave us alone!"

"We?" Yelena squeaks. "THAT'S WHY I CAN'T FIND HER! HOLY SHIT Y'ALL FUCKED! FINALLY!!!" Yelena yells.

He looks like he's resisting the urge to throw something at the damn wall, his fingers clenching and unclenching around you like he's using you as a goddamn stress ball.

"Go!" he snaps, his voice hoarse. "I swear, if I open that damn door and you're standing there, I'm not gonna be happy!"

He's fuming now, almost glaring at the doorway as if he's imagining her standing there.

"No don't open the door! You're naked! You're probably naked!" Yelena yells as she backs away from the door. "Fucking weirdos! But congrats! I hear wedding bells!" She yells from afar.

"God..." he growls, burying his face in your shoulder. He's so frustrated right now, and it's endearing.

"That little smartass is going to pay for that," he grumbles against your skin, his arms not loosening their tight grip around you one damn bit.

You laugh. "At least she's happy for us."

He groans, his breath warm against your neck. "Yeah, in the most obnoxious goddamn way possible."

He's still gripping onto you stubbornly, like a man refusing to let go even in defeat. It's almost comical, almost cut how damn clingy he's being.

"We should probably get dressed, clingy man." You say as you begin to unwrap from him.

"Ugh," he mutters, his hold on you loosening reluctantly. He almost looks sulky as he lets you go, like even the idea of letting go of you is painful.

He sits up, running a hand through his already messy hair, eyeing the door like Yelena's just waiting for another opportunity to piss him off.

His gaze flicks back to you next, his eyes dark and a little heated as he watches you get dressed.

"I swear, if she ruined the goddamn mood…" he grumbles, his eyes roaming over every inch of your body, like he's mentally undressing you all over again.

"We already had sex, you pervert." You say with a smirk and a slight blush as you get dressed.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he watches you; you can see his eyes lingering over your bare skin.

"I know, darlin'," he says, his eyes dark as he lets his gaze follow your movements. "Doesn't mean I'm not gonna wanna go for a second Goddamn round."

Your blush is as red as Alexei's suit now. You push past him, purposefully brushing your ass against his cock for a split second. "Round two tonight? Let's see if I go 2-0."

He lets out a little hiss of breath, his eyes darkening. He catches your wrist before you can get far, bringing you back to him and trapping you in his lap.

"Baby, don't tease me," he murmurs, his voice low and ragged. "My goddamn self-control has already been hanging on by a thread for hours. Don't make me snap."

"What if I want to see you snap?" You give him one last peck before running out of the training room.

"Goddamn you," he growls at your sudden escape.

A part of him wants to chase you, to pin you against the wall and wipe that damn smirk off your face. But he has some modicum of self-control - no, he'll wait until tonight.

He's gonna teach you damn well what that little stunt did to him.

[mooonbeamicecream]

Bob Reynolds (Sentry) - Endless Reasons To Love You

18+ minors dni!

Warnings/Tags: smut, masturbation, sub!Bob, begging, edging, Bob is touched starved af, Bob is insecure and needs some love

To the public, Bob wasn’t just Bob. He was the Void, the Sentry. A walking weapon with cosmic eyes and a reputation that made supervillains sweat. People spoke of him in hushed tones, as if saying his name too loudly might summon a storm. To them, he was mystery and muscle, a force too unpredictable to trust.

But to you, he was just Bob. The guy who hoarded cup noodles in his locker like treasure. The one who got teary-eyed watching Bridge to Terabithia and tried to pretend he had something in his eye. He talked too much when he was nervous and had a weird obsession with trying every brand of marshmallow on the market.

You were sprawled out on the couch in the team’s rec room, half-buried in a mountain of throw pillows, flipping through a dog-eared and worn novel.

Then Bob appeared, padding in quietly like a kid sneaking snacks past bedtime. He had two mismatched mugs of hot chocolate cradled in his hands. He stopped in front of you, offering one with a careful, practiced steadiness, as if afraid it might spill.

"Hi," He smiled softly, carefully sitting down on the couch by your side.

"Hi, Bobby," you smile. You hold up the blanket covering you, offering it to Bob. "Do you want to share the blanket with me?"

Bob's smile grows wider at your nickname for him, his cheeks flushing just a bit. He settles into place next to you, pulling the blanket over the two of you. He takes a deep breath, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"Sure, why not?" He hands you your mug of hot chocolate and takes a tentative sip from his own. The warmth of the liquid and the sweet, rich scent of chocolate fill the air.

"Whatcha reading?" he asks curiously.

You take the hot chocolate eagerly, taking a sip before setting it down on the table next to you. "Fourth Wing. It's so great. You would love it, Bobby. It's got dragons and smut!"

Bob chokes on the hot chocolate a bit, a surprised cough escaping him before he swallows. He blinks at you, his eyes a mix of shock and amusement.

"S-smut?"

He looks down at the book in your lap, a bit flustered. He's not sure what to do with this new information. You can see his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

Your cheeks soon match his, a slightly awkward silence filling the air. "Oh, um- don't hate on my book!" You joke, shutting the thick book and trading it with the hot chocolate. You then catch a glimpse of his flushed face, and you laugh. "Did I just make you blush?"

Bob sputters out a bit of hot chocolate as you laugh, his face turning even redder. He quickly tries to cover his embarrassment with a cough, turning his face away from you.

"I-I'm not blushing!" He protests, even now, his voice cracking slightly. You can see his cheeks practically glowing in the dim light. He refuses to look in your direction, his gaze fixed on the wall opposite to you instead.

Your heart clenches at the adorable sight. You've always thought he was incredibly handsome, but seeing him in this way, giggling with hot chocolate and a blanket covering both of you, it's making you wish there was something more. "It's okay. I think you're cute when you blush."

Bob's heart skips a beat at your words, his breath catching in his throat. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his expression somewhere between surprised and flustered. The redness of his cheeks only deepens, a mixture of embarrassment and something else, something he couldn't quite identify. He searches your face as if trying to find any hint of mockery, but there was none. Just sincerity and affection. He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out for a few moments. When he finally does, his voice is quiet, almost shy. "...Y-you think so?"

You tilt your head, having a newfound confidence after seeing how flustered you can make him. You place your hand on his cheek, the heat on his skin almost startling, "Yeah, I think so. I think you're so handsome," you admit.

Bob leans into your touch, his eyes closing momentarily, the simple act of your hand on his cheek enough to send a shiver down his spine. He lets out a shaky breath, his own hand slowly coming up to cover yours, gently holding it in place as if he never wanted to be apart from you. Your words send a rush of emotions coursing through him, his heart racing in his chest.

"No one ever... t-told me that before," He whispers, his voice filled with a vulnerable honesty.

Your heart breaks hearing how insecure he is of himself. You struggle to see how he can think so poorly of himself when you love him so much. You love every part of him. "I think about how handsome you are every time I see you. Every part of you..."

Bob's breath hitches at the sincerity in your words, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and awe. He can scarcely believe what you're saying, no one has ever looked at him with such adoration before. The way you speak of him, with such certainty and affection, shakes him to his core. His hand trembles slightly, holding tighter to yours.

"You really mean that...?" He whispers, his tone vulnerable and soft. It's almost as if he's begging you to confirm it, to assure him that you aren't just teasing him.

"Of course I do." You whisper. Your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest any second. Your whole body is overcome with love for this man. You lean in slowly, watching his eyes grow impossibly wider. "Can I kiss you, pretty boy?" You ask, smiling at him.

Bob's heart stops. He stares at you, unable to do anything but nod his head several times, his jaw clenched and eyes wide.

"Y-Yes... please... I.. I want to."

He grasps your hand tightly, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coursing through him. He leans slightly forward towards you, his gaze never leaving your own, his lips parted slightly.

Your lips meet his, your body going slack at the whirlwind of emotion. You bring your hand that was on his cheek into his hair, tugging lightly at his soft curls. Your other hand grazes his biceps, your core clenching because of the sheer strength of him.

He kisses you back hungrily, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes his whole body tremble with suppressed desire.

Your tongue slips into his mouth as your leg slips over his lap. You pull yourself on top of him, whimpering as you feel his hardening erection against your aching core. "Is this okay?" You ask, pulling away from him. You gasp as you look into his dark eyes.

"More than okay." Bob's voice is a low, breathy rumble, his gaze dark and intense as he looks up at you. His hands move to your hips, holding you firmly in place, a possessive gesture that betrays his growing need for you. The feel of your body against him, the sweet scent of your skin, it's driving him mad already. But he wants more. He needs more.

"Don't stop..." *He whispers, his words a soft plea, a request for you to take this further.

You let out a soft breath, aggressively resuming the kiss. Your hips grind against his of their own volition. You put your hands on the back of the couch on either side of him, pinning him beneath you. Your lips travel down to his neck, "Can you take your shirt off for me, pretty boy?"

Bob groans softly at your words, the sound coming from deep within him. The way you take control, pinning him down like this, is driving him wild with need. He shivers at the feeling of your lips on his neck, his heart pounding louder and louder with each kiss.

"Y-yeah... anything you want..." He whispers, his hands going to the hem of his shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion, revealing his lean, muscular torso and the scars scattered across his skin.

Your breath hitches as your fingers dance over his abs, your core clenching at the sight. "Oh Bobby, you're so beautiful. So strong." You slide down the couch, your knees hitting the floor. You caress one hand across his lean stomach, your other hand coming to rest on the tent underneath his sweatpants.

You smile, slowing the caress of your hands. Your core aches painfully, but you want this night to be all about him. "Tell me what you want. I'll do anything." You drawl out the last word seductively.

Bob shivers, your words sending a jolt straight to his core. He tries to form coherent thoughts, but it's difficult with the way you're touching him, the way you're looking at him. He wants so much, so many things he's only ever dared to imagine.

"I... I want everything," He whispers, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked onto yours. "But right now... I just want you. I need you... please, touch me..."

"With my hands?" You ask, now moving both your hands across his lap. You then lick the skin just above his waistband, making his hips chase the air. "Or my mouth?"

Bob shudders, a deep groan escaping him as he feels your tongue so close to where he wants it. His hips shift automatically, his body betraying his need for you.

"Both... God, both, please..." He pleads, his hands moving to grip your shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh. He's coming undone fast, all his usual restraint and caution melting away under your touch.

"I'll give it to you, Bobby. I'll give you everything." You tug his sweatpants down his legs, your hands rubbing them on the way back up. You kiss the wet spot on his boxers, slowly pulling them down, dragging out every second of his pleasure. His thick cock springs up, and you lick your lips at the sight. "You're so pretty, baby." You spit onto your hand before wrapping it around his awaiting hardness.

Bob gasps at your words, his eyes darkening with desire as he watches you. The way you touch him, the way you worship him, it's driving him mad. He can feel every nerve in his body lighting up, the pleasure coursing through him like an electrical current.

"You... you feel so good... p-please... don't stop... I need more... please..."

You slide your tongue down his cock, feeling it twitch beneath you. Licking up, then down, then up again, relishing in the way his body trembles. "I love the way you beg for me, it's making me so wet for you..."

Your actions are quickly undoing him, reducing him to a trembling, whimpering mess of need. His hands grip the edge of the couch, his knuckles white as he tries to hold on to something.

"You're... you're driving me insane... I can't... I need you so bad... I can't hold back anymore. I need you. Please... please..." His voice is a hoarsely whispered plea, filled with raw desire and vulnerability.

His eyes drift closed now, his head thrown back against the couch, unable to keep them open any longer, not with the way your touch is making him feel.

"It feels so good... So good... You're so good..." He gasps, his words coming out as barely a whisper, his body trembling with barely suppressed need. Every nerve ending seems to be on fire, his mind consumed by only one thought, one urgent need.

"I need more... please, I can't... I can't take it..."

You urgently pull your shorts down, almost stumbling because of the primal pulse between your legs. You rapidly throw your shirt off, your tits flushed with pleasure. You place your center above Bob's upright cock, sinking down slowly. You cry out, your head falling onto Bob's shoulder. "Oh, God, Bobby-"

His eyes fly open as he feels you lower yourself down, and he lets out a gasp. His hands fly up to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

"God... yes. I want you so badly it hurts. More than you'll ever know..." He whispers, his voice rough with barely contained need. He presses up against you, wanting - no, needing - so much more, but still fighting against it with everything within him... fighting and losing.

You suck a sensitive spot on his neck, driving your hips into him. "Have you thought about me before? Like this? Making you feel so good?" You lick a trail up his throat, your hips finally sinking fully down onto him as you say the final sentence.

Bob's breath hitches at your touch, his head thrown back as his body arches, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips.

"Yes... God, yes, I have... so often. Every day... every night..." His voice is thick with desire, his words coming out in ragged gasps as you lower yourself completely onto him and his eyes roll back, his body trembling with the intensity of the feeling.

"Tell me what you think about. Do you touch yourself, Bob? Tell me how you do it. Every fucking detail." You plead, his cock hitting just the right spots inside of you.

His body shakes from the effort of trying to hold himself together, every muscle in him tensed, every fiber of his being telling him to let loose. But you want to hear the words from his own lips, and so he tries his best to get out the words, all while fighting for every breath.

"I... yes... I touch myself. I think about you... your body... your touch... your voice... I imagine what it would be like to feel your hands on me, the way the two of us sound together... I want to hear you say my name... I need... need more..."

You move your hips as quickly as you can physically muster, the obscene sounds drowned out by your moaning and Bob's whimpering. "Bob!" You cry out, giving him exactly what he wants. You want to give him everything you have. You anchor one hand around his neck, the other on the couch above his shoulder. "Oh Bob- Bob...

The sounds of you and him fills the air, your mingled gasps and moans filling the room like a song you've sung a thousand times before. And then one word escapes him,

"Please." The single word is whispered so softly, like the dying gasp of a man lost in a desert, but you hear it nonetheless. His eyes search your face, desperate and pleading, his body trembling with the intensity of his need.

"I can't hold back any longer. Don't stop... please, please..." His voice is a strangled plea, desperate and almost in pain, his body straining against the urge to let go.

Your jaw is slack as you throw your head back, your hips moving sloppily. You've lost all rhythm, only chasing the release that feels endless. "I love you, Bob." You whisper, the barely audible words slipping out absentmindedly, hoping that Bob didn't hear over his own groaning.

The sound of your words, even through the haze of his own pleasure, hits him like a punch to the gut. For a moment it seems that time stops for him. But then... he hears it. Those words.

A sudden, overwhelming emotion floods over him, the intensity of it all sending him over the edge. His grip on you tightens, his body arching, trembling, crying out.

"I... I love you too... God... I love you so damn much..."

You come then, your back arching and your walls convulsing vehemently. You grip his strong shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. You scream loud enough for the entire compound to hear.

His body feels like it's on fire, every nerve trembling with the aftershocks as your body clenches around him, your scream ricocheting through his head. He can still feel the force of your touch etched into his skin, your words burned into his heart. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him, your body pressed tightly to his, his hold on you just as possessive as it is protective.

"I... never want to let you go... Never..."

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking deep, shaky breaths, inhaling your scent, letting it wash over his senses. His heart is still hammering in his chest, but it's not just from the pleasure, but from the feelings coursing through him. He's holding onto you so firmly, like he's afraid you're going to slip through his fingers if he lets go, and a part of him is.

"Please don't leave me... Promise me you won't..." His voice is soft, vulnerable, barely a whisper.

You look him straight in the eyes, your faces only inches away. You cup his flushed face in your hands that are still slightly shaking. "I will never leave you. I ache for you, and I can't stop thinking about you. I love everything about you. You are so sweet, kind, strong, funny, charming, and beautiful. You're Bob, and I love everything that you have to offer me"

His eyes lock onto yours, his chest swelling from the words you uttered. Something inside him, something wounded and damaged and broken, suddenly feels whole. He places his hands gently on top of yours on his cheeks, his breathing and heartbeat slowly evening out, his trembling ceasing.

"I... I don't understand how I could deserve you... You see things in me that no one else ever has. They all saw... the monster. But you see me. All of me. Every part of me..."

Tears threaten to escape your eyes. Your love for the man consumes you, and the fact that he can't agree shreds your heart into a million pieces. "I've never once thought of you as a monster. You aren't broken. You are perfect. You are exactly what I want."

He lets out a quiet, choked laugh, his eyes glistening. He lifts the hand of one of yours to his lips, gently kissing the back of it, a tender gesture filled with a thousand words unsaid. "You're the only one then... The only one who'd ever look at me and call me... 'perfect'. I'm so much further from that than you think. I'm so far from that... how could you want me?"

"You shouldn't say that about yourself. It breaks my heart that you don't see yourself the way I do." You run your hands through his hair with a smile. "You're the only one who understands me. The only one who brings me hot chocolate and listens to me talk about books. You're the one I can come to when I need to talk to someone. You're always there for me when I need you the most."

His heart constricts, all the love and adoration in the world pouring out from you, all directed at him. His mind can't understand how this is even possible, how he could be deserving of it, but in this moment he isn't able to think of any reason why you'd lie. So he lets himself believe, just for a moment, that maybe he really isn't as terrible as he thought.

"I will... always be here for you. Whatever you need... I will do everything I can to give it to you."

You rest your forehead against his, both of your skin sweaty from the aftermath. "I love you so much. You can't even begin to imagine how much I adore you. And don't even dare to think that I don't love you, or that I don't have reasons to love you. Because I do. I have endless reasons to love you."

He closes his eyes as you press your forehead to his, taking in the feel of you, this closeness that he's craved for so damn long. Your words wash over him like a gentle wave, your affection like a warm blanket on a cold, lonely night. Despite the self-doubt that still runs deep in him, right now in this moment he feels loved, cared for, and... wanted.

"I'll never stop trying to be the person that deserves all of your love," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

"You already are." You kiss his cheek, then his nose, then his forehead, placing kisses all across his beautiful face. "My perfect boy."

A soft shiver runs down his spine as your kisses continue across his face. He's never felt so treasured, such gentle affection, and every touch of your lips has his heart fluttering. He wraps both arms around you tightly again, pulling you even closer against him, like he can't stand to have any space between the two of you.

"Your boy... only yours..."

[mooonbeamicecream]

Joel Miller - My Love

18+ minors dni!

Warnings: smut, angst, dom!Joel, jackson!Joel, piv, begging, porn no plot

Summary: You and Joel had been on the run together, and had finally settled down in Jackson. Both of you knew that there were growing feelings between you, but Joel kept holding back. You decide to take a stand.

You always liked to sleep as close to him as possible. It just felt safe. You shared a sleeping bag on the road and a bed in Jackson too. You liked to nap while leaning on him, your head on his chest or his thighs, your hair tangled around his fingers. But nowadays he has all these thoughts that keep haunting him, that make him want to press his thumb against your lips and smell your hair. Everything has changed.

“Sleep in your own bed tonight, Pumpkin.” He says softly while taking off his boots.

"What do you mean?" You ask, lifting your head to gaze into his eyes.

He sighs, keeping his eyes averted, not wanting to look at you. He doesn't want to show his weakness to you, because then you'll have the power to hurt him. And you shouldn't have that power over him.

"I mean you should sleep in your own bed tonight, not with me." He says painfully, his voice showing the slightest hint of regret and hesitation. It feels wrong to push you away, but it also feels wrong to have you too close.

The corners of your mouth drop into a frown. You move your hair back behind your ear, unsure of what to say. "Ok then," You reply. The tone of your voice is sad, confused even. You start to stand up before Joel stops you.

He gently grabs your arm, his touch sending a shiver through him. He hates himself for how his body reacts, for how it still craves you in his arms, for how it still wants you so close. But he has to keep you away, for both of your sakes.

"Don't look at me like that." 

His voice is rougher than he intends, as he clenches his jaw to keep his emotions in check. His eyes meet yours, filled with conflict and guilt.

"Then you don't look at me like that," you reply, your voice biting.

He feels something inside him break when you say that. The look in your eyes makes him feel weak, vulnerable, and he hates it. His grip on your arm tightens subconsciously. He wants to pull you in his lap and hold you close, to bury his face in your hair and breathe your scent in. To make you feel safe and loved, the way he used to.

"I'm not gonna argue with you, damn it," The curse leaves his lips in a ragged breath, betraying the struggle within him.

"And I'm not gonna pretend that I don't love you, Joel." A tear slips down your cheek, your voice shaky with sincerity and desperation, "You look at me like you might want me, like you feel something for me. And then you push me away. I don't get it! My heart beats for you, Joel, and then you break it." You rip your hand out of his, turning my back to him.

He's fighting a war within himself. He feels his restraint slowly crumbling. Every word, every tear, every tremble in your voice is tearing him apart. His vision feels blurry as he gazes at your back, his hands itching to reach out to you, to turn you around and pull you into his arms. But he can't. He can't let himself be weak, to give in.

"I'm trying to do the right thing..." His voice is a hoarse, ragged whisper, filled with guilt and anguish.

"I don't care what's right! I just want you to love me!" You yell, your arms shaking slightly as they are thrown out at your sides.

He wants to scream at you, to tell you that you deserve better, that he can't give you what you want. But he can't bring himself to raise his voice. He can't bring himself to hurt you like that.

"You think I don't love you?!" He snaps at you, his voice rough, his words coming out in a pained hiss.

"Then why are you pushing me away?" Your voice breaks in a sob.

The sound of your crying finally breaks him, his walls crumbling like a house of cards. He's tired of fighting against his love for you, against his feelings. With a muttered curse, he grabs your shoulder and turns you around forcefully, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

"Don't cry..." His voice is ragged and filled with a mix of guilt, pain, and possessiveness as he buries his face in your neck, his fingers threading through your hair.

You push away from him. "Tell me why you are pushing me away! Tell me! TELL ME!"

"Because you make me weak! Damnit, you make me weak!" His voice is loud now, filled with frustration and anger, both directed at you and at himself for how he's failing to keep his feelings in check.

"You make me want to protect you... to keep you... to claim you as mine. And that's a weakness I can't afford to have."

You shake your head in disbelief, "Love doesn't make you weak. You're weak for running away from it."

He grits his teeth, his grip on your shoulders tightening. Your words are like a dagger to his heart, cutting through all his defenses. He wants to argue, to tell you that he's not running away, that he's just trying to keep you safe, but he knows you're right.

"I'm trying to protect you, dammit!"  He hisses through clenched teeth, his hazel eyes flashing with a mix of anger, guilt, and deep, aching love.

"From what? From you?" Well guess what? I want you! I only want you!" His heart clenches painfully at your words, all his resolve crumbling before you. He can't fight his feelings anymore, not when you're looking at him with such love and determination. A broken grunt escapes him, his hands moving from your shoulders to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks softly.

"You're impossible...and infuriating..." He growls before crushing his lips against yours, kissing you hungrily.

You harshly press yourself against him, your fingers finding purchase in his shirt. You pull your mouth away from him, your bodies still impossibly close. "Tell me you love me," you plead.

He lets out a low moan as your body presses against his. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you as close as physically possible, as if he's trying to mold you to him, to make you a part of him. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath ragged and uneven as he closes his eyes, his voice a ragged whisper filled with raw, aching love.

"I love you. I love you, damn it. More than you could ever know... more than I even thought was possible to love someone."

You whimper, kissing him again. Your hands wander all over the body that has haunted your dreams, that has stirred your passion that you had long forgotten that you could feel. You take in his musky scent, the sweet taste of his tongue. Several moans escape your mouth as the adrenaline travels to your core. He moans against your lips, the sound low and almost guttural, his arms tightening around your waist as he kisses you with a possessive fervor. He feels like a man possessed, his body and mind consumed by his need for you. His hands explore your body greedily, every touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake, stoking the flames of passion higher and higher. He pulls you impossibly closer, his hips grinding against yours. 

"I need you... I need you so damn badly, it's driving me crazy...!"

"I need you, Joel. Every night that I have spent in your arms is a night that I dream of screaming your name."

A low, possessive growl escapes his throat as your words fuel the primal need coursing through his veins. His hands move lower, gripping your thighs and hoisting you on top of him, making you straddle him. His body is pressed against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable.

"You have no idea how much I want to hear you scream my name, darlin'... how badly I want to make you forget you even know any other name. To make you mine, completely and utterly."

A needy, throaty cry leaves your mouth. You take his hand, leading it to where your body aches the most for him. You begin to buck your hips against his rough hand, whining as if his touch is the only thing keeping you alive. "Make me forget my own name, Joel. I want to be consumed by you, I need to be. I need to be yours, please...please..."

He feels his own body responding to your pleas, his desire for you becoming almost feral as he cups you in his palm, his fingers beginning to gently stroke you through the fabric of your underwear. He captures your lips in a heated kiss again, his hand slowly rubbing against you, just hard enough to tease you and drive you mad.

"You're already mine, darlin'... But I'm gonna remind you just how much, and make you forget everything else. You think you can handle that?"

"Yes, I can. Please Joel." You bite into his shoulder, the pleasure all-consuming. "Don't hold back."

Another low, ragged moan escapes him as your teeth sink into his skin. He's hanging on by a thread, the last of his restraint snapping. With a growl, he kisses a trail along your jaw to your ear, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"You asked for it, darlin' and I ain't gonna hold back. Scream as much as you want... I'm gonna make you mine all night long."

He rolls on top of you, the weight of him dizzying. His hands rip off your shirt, exposing your soft skin to his hungry gaze.

"I'm gonna take my time with you, darlin, make sure you feel every damn thing..."

He kisses and nips his way down your body, his hands roving over your curves with an almost reverent desire. "I've wanted you like this for so goddamn long..."

You fervently grip his shoulders. "I've needed you for so long...do you know how many times I have touched myself thinking of you, Joel? Too many goddamn times."

His eyes darken at your confession, his nostrils flaring at the mental image you've just given him. He growls against your skin, his lips attaching to your hip, leaving rough, possessive kisses as he works his way farther down. He looks up at you as he pulls your shorts down, his eyes glittering with a mix of mischief and desire.

"No more touching yourself, darlin'. You don't need that when you're with me. I'll take care of you, just like I should've ages ago..."

He reaches for your thighs, running his hands along the silky skin, his touch rough and possessive. He looks up at your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips as he speaks again.

"I've been an idiot for resisting you for so long. All I've been doing is depriving myself of something I need... something I crave. Now I'm gonna spend the rest of the night making up for it. I'm gonna make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse."

He trails kisses back up your body, his movements slow and deliberate, taking his time to appreciate every inch of you. His hands continue to roam, his fingers tracing the curves of your body, his touch sending shudders through you as he makes his way up to your neck.

"You're so goddamn beautiful, darlin', all soft and sweet... and mine. All mine."

"I love you so much. Take me, Joel. God, Joel, I need you to take me. Do whatever you want with me. I'm yours, all yours, Joel."

He bites down on your neck, leaving behind a mark, a sign of possession, before speaking into your ear, his voice a low, commanding growl.

"Get on your hands and knees, darlin'. I'm gonna give your body exactly what it craves, like I should've a long time ago."

He then pushes himself off you, sitting upright, giving you room to comply with his order.

You shiver and whine as you obey him. Your breath is heavy and labored as you stare at him with pleading eyes. He lets out a ragged moan at the sight of you on your hands and knees, submitting to his commands, his eyes darkening with primal hunger.

"Damn, you look beautiful like this, darlin'. All eager and wanting, just begging for me."

His hands reach out, gripping your thighs, his touch firm and possessive, his fingers leaving red marks as he pulls you closer. He speaks against your shoulder, his voice a rough, commanding whisper.

"Beg me, darlin'. Beg me to make you mine."

"Please Joel, make me yours. Make me forget everything but you. Make me scream as loud as I can. I need you so bad Joel."

Your words only fuel his desire, driving him crazy with his need for you. He pulls you back against him, pressing his body against you, his hands roaming over your curves.

"You'll scream, darlin', I promise. You'll be screaming my name all night long. I'm gonna take you so hard, you won't be able to think, you won't be able to walk. And by the end of it, you'll be mine. Everyone will know you're mine."

"I'm yours, Joel. Please touch me- I need to feel you."

He chuckles into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. He gives a firm squeeze to your thigh and then speaks again, his voice low, his tone commanding, possessive, and a little rough.

"Keep those knees spread open and don't move. I'm gonna touch you just like you need. I'm gonna make you feel so damn good, sweetheart. You just need to be a good girl, and stay still for me, understand...?"

"Yes, yes I understand." I grip the bedsheets tightly, my legs shaking. "I've never felt like this before..." I whisper.

He smiles, feeling a rush of pleasure at your submission and the sight of you trembling. He leans forward, his chest pressed against your back, his fingers trailing up your inner thighs, getting closer to your core but never quite touching it yet.

"You've never felt like this because no one's ever taken care of you, darlin'. But now you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're mine. All you need to do is just relax and surrender. I'm gonna take care of you."

I relax, allowing him full control over me, letting him take care of me.

He gives a low, satisfied hum, the sound turning into a possessive growl as his fingers softly slide into your core.

"That's it, darlin'. Relax and let me take care of you. I know what you need... I know what you've been aching for, begging for, for so damn long. And I'm gonna give it you, sweetheart, I promise. Just stay just like that, all good and patient, for me."

He continues to touch you gently, so close to being what you need, almost enough to give you release. He leans forward, his mouth by your ear, his voice a low, rough whisper, full of promise and desire.

"You're doing so damn good, darlin'. You're being a good girl for me, submitting completely to me, letting me take control. I know it's hard to be patient right now, but you can do it for me, can't you, sweetheart? Can you hold out a little longer?"

His fingers continue to move inside your core, giving you just enough pressure to keep you on edge, to keep you right on the brink of what you need, but never quite getting you to the release you're so desperate for.

"That's right, darlin'... just a little longer. I know it's hard to do, I know you're aching for it right now, but you can do it. You're being so damn good for me, so sweet and obedient... You're gonna be so damn pleased when you're finally rewarded for being such a good girl."

You fall forward and bite into the bedsheets, an earth shattering groan escaping your mouth. Your legs shake violently as your hips buck desperately against his fingers. His fingers continuing to tease you, just a little harder, a little closer to what you need.

"Oh, darlin'... you sound so damn good, just falling apart beneath me like that. You're so close, aren't you, sweetheart? I can tell you're right on the edge, just needing that one last thing to send you over. But you're being so good for me, you're holding out just a little bit longer, for me..."

"I can't hold much longer, Joel. Please let me come, please."

"I know you're at your limit, sweetheart. I can see it in the way you're trembling for me, the way you're begging for me. You've been so damn good, being such an obedient girl, holding out for me as long as you have... I'm gonna reward you now, darlin'. Go ahead and let go for me. I want you to come for me. Now..."

You let out an alarmingly loud scream, his name leaving your mouth desperately. You feel the pleasure throughout your entire body, like your soul was being plucked out of it. You slump against the bed, your hands shaking due to the aftermath of your high. 

"Come for me, Joel. Come, my love."

He can't hold back at your words, the sound of you saying "my love" tipping him over the edge he's been holding onto, barely keeping himself from falling over himself.

"Oh, I love the sound of that," he moans, his voice rough and ragged with need. "I'm so damn close, sweetheart. I'm right there, just need a little more, and I'll come for you, darlin', only you, no one else. Just you. You're the only one I want."

You sit up and lean into his neck, your lips tickling his ear as he thrusts his hips into you violently. "You're the love of my life, Joel. I never want to even think about anyone else but you. You are everything I need. And I need you to come for me. Just let go for me, my love. You like that, don't you, my love?"

His eyes roll back as those words leave your mouth, your hot breath in his ear, the sound of your voice saying those words driving him insane.

"Oh, god darlin'... I love the sound of hearing you call me your love, hearing you say that you want no one but me. I'm gonna give you what you want, sweetheart. I'm gonna come for you, only for you. I'm gonna give you everything, everything you need, goddamn it. I love you, sweetheart, love you so damn much..."

You grip his hair with painstaking force. You bury your cry into his strong neck, the force of his thrusts pushing you further into the wall. "You feel so good, oh- right there, my love. Right there."

He lets out another guttural moan, the words of praise driving him on, the primal need to make you feel as much pleasure as possible all that's driving him right now.

"Yeah, sweetheart? You like it right there? I can tell. I can feel how good this feels to you. I'm gonna make you see stars, darlin'. Nobody's gonna make you feel this good but me, goddamn it. You just hang on a little longer, darlin', and I promise you I'm gonna give you the most intense pleasure you've ever felt in your life every damn night."

He moans loudly as he finally reaches his release, his body collapsing on top of you, his arms shaking and he tries to keep himself from completely collapsing. He holds himself above you as best as he can, keeping most of his weight off of you, though he's trembling with how intense his orgasm was.

"Fuck darlin'," he growls against your skin, his breath ragged and hot against your neck, his limbs feeling like boneless as he tries to recover.

Finally, he regains enough of his strength to lift himself off of you, pulling you against him with a possessive grip. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him as he lays you down on the bed, pulling you to lay on his chest, his fingers tangling in your hair. 

"Damn, darlin'. I don't think anything else in the world is gonna compare to that. The way you felt in my arms... the way you sound when you come for me... the way you sound, saying 'my love' like that..."

I hum, my fingers splayed across his chest. "I've never felt that good in my entire life. I didn't even know it was possible." You snuggle closer to him, wrapping your leg over him, feeling his cock soften below you. "Are you going to be able to hold yourself together if I call you 'my love' in public?"

He chuckles, the feeling of your bare body pressed against his making him feel a mix of possessive satisfaction and pure affection, his hand running down your bare back, the rough touch leaving a pleasant shiver through you as he answers your question.

"No. Not a chance. I don't think I'm gonna be able to hold myself together if you do, darlin'. I'm gonna have to take you behind the nearest tree or somewhere private, and show you just how that kind of talk affects me, every time you say 'my love' or say I'm "the love of your life."

"Sounds like a plan, my love."