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pedropascallme · 7 days

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Lessons in Patience

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v, spanking, biting, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), very brief mention of bondage, brattamer!Damien, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, cum play, daddy kink, praise, degradation (use of the word slut. Like, a lot), if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Guys I might be a whore. And also I don't know how Elden Ring works.

The room was still. Only soft background noise reminded you of your surroundings; the dishwasher churned across the house, loud enough to hear it from behind the closed door of the bedroom. In the far corner, Damien sat at the computer, and you listened to the inconsistent clicks of the keyboard and brush-like strokes of the mouse. The TV at the foot of the bed where you lounged played reruns of shows you’d never watched when they were originally airing, and the lull of voices and laugh tracks roused you from an otherwise silent repose.

You liked the lazy days; the days when you had nothing to do, when Damien had nothing to do, when neither of you had anywhere to be, and neither of you had anything to get done; you could just take up space in the house together without the fear of being late to something, or worrying about whether you’d be home for dinner.

Really, beyond that, it was about the love you had for him even in the stillness; the way his presence soothed you from across the room, the occasional moments where he’d disconnect himself from whatever he was messing with on the computer to grab at your leg lazily and squeeze your thigh—like he was relieved to feel you still there next to him.

It was a relief to have an unhurried day, where you could dawdle and stay in bed and do nothing. But days like this always gave you the time to let your mind wander—allowed you to fantasize about all the things that could take up the quiet space of the bedroom. And Damien was always at the center of your thoughts, always in the foreground of your daydreams, making you feel warm and fuzzy.

And who could blame you? He sat with his back to you in the desk chair, long-sleeved shirt hugging his biceps, and you could make out the faint lines of his shoulder blades when he stretched. His hair, grown out enough now that his brown roots were visible under the silver dye, fell over his ears and eyes, and curled inwards at the nape of his neck. When he pushed his bands from his face, you could see small tan lines that had formed on the fingers he usually wore rings on. You bit your lip, recalling the contrasting feel of the cold metal and his warm hands against you. Inside you.

His nail polish was chipped, maybe you’d paint them for him tonight.

Still half-dressed in just a shirt, fabric barely hitting your thighs, you stretched yourself out of bed; your feet hit the floor before you actually stood up, back still resting on the mattress before you found the motivation to push yourself off with your elbows and stand up straight.

You padded over to Damien and wrapped your arms around his neck, hands falling over his front and nails scraping gently at his chest and stomach. He reached behind the chair, trying to pull you forward and allow himself to get a better grip on your waist.

“Hi, baby,” He turned the chair slightly and encouraged you to face him.

“Hi,” You followed his lead, situating yourself to stand between his knees, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down to kiss him. “I want you, Damien.”

“Me, Damien?” He laughed up at you, and you made a face in jest.

“Please?” You tugged on his shirt, bunching the fabric over his chest and pulling. He held your wrist limply in his hand.

“I gotta finish here,” he removed your grip from his shirt and kissed your knuckles, “Then I’ll give you anything you want, princess.”

“You have to finish playing Elden Ring?” You ribbed his professional tone, “That’s a must right now?”

“Just need to—I’m running through it so that I know what to expect on stream. I'll be at a save point soon.” He reached out to trail his fingers over the exposed part of your thigh. You hummed at the contact, the heat from his fingers leaving a gentle path over your skin. You wanted so desperately to have him, to feel all of his body against you, but you respected that he was in the middle of something.

Still. That respect only went so far; if it had been emails, Smosh related or otherwise, or editing, maybe you would’ve exercised more patience. Would’ve crawled back into bed and turned up the volume on the TV a bit to keep yourself occupied. But both of you knew Twitch streams were of a more minor importance to him than something like voice acting calls with his agent or zoom calls with coworkers; you considered his transparency about what he was doing as him giving you permission to play dirty.

Especially since you could tell he was nearly done with this run through—you recognized the save point as it approached.

“Ok,” you purred, the picture of innocence despite the thoughts running through your mind, “I’ll just start by myself.”

“Yeah?” Damien looked up at you, turning his chair back to face the computer with his brow raised, amused. “Good luck.” He resumed the game.

You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing.

You lifted the hem of your shirt, fingers gliding over the skin of your stomach and downward to your cunt. You pressed two fingers to your clit, working up the courage to make a sound, give him a signal that you had followed through on your threat. Your body responded in kind to the feather light touches you gave yourself, and without having to try, a breathy moan escaped your throat.

You watched Damien square his shoulders.

“Better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” He didn’t turn around, still moving the mouse.

“Just making good on my promise." You whispered, sweet and quiet. You continued rubbing circles over your clit, exciting the nerves throughout your body, the natural lubricant of your slick becoming more apparent as your arousal grew.

Damien turned the chair around, still sitting as he watched you touch yourself. You paused your movements to make eye contact with him, and you could see the way his eyes darkened when he lowered his gaze and saw your hand connected to your bare cunt.

“Well keep going, then,” his voice was like gravel, “You want to do it yourself? I won’t stop you.” He folded his arms, nodding at you, “Let me see you struggle to make yourself cum, baby. Want to see how hard it is for you to do what I do.”

His words ignited something inside you; fueled by playful spite and an urge to continue your bratty show, you plunged two fingers into your heat. You took a sharp breath, lips parted as you curled your fingers to press against the soft flesh within you. The muscle in Damien’s jaw tensed and his nostrils flared just enough for you to notice. You just smiled.

“Feels good, daddy.” You squirmed slightly around the intrusion of your own fingers. In truth, your own hands could never provide the type of bliss his could; yours were smaller, shorter, all-around inferior to his when it came to providing you satisfaction.

But that wouldn’t stop you from trying. Not when you had a show to put on.

Damien shifted in his seat, bottom lip between his teeth while he watched you fuck yourself open as best you could. “I bet.”

You lifted your hips from the mattress, supporting yourself with your back, feet planted firmly on the bed. This new angle was a godsend; you could reach deeper within yourself, the crevices of your walls shifting around your fingers and showing you the hidden spots that knocked wind from your lungs. “Fuck—oh my god.”

“I’d have gotten you there by now, you know.” Damien seethed in his chair, unmoving, teeth gritted. “Would’ve been so much better if you let daddy do it for you.”

He knew you were struggling to find the tipping point, knew you had to stretch your fingers to reach the spots that required stimulation, knew you were imagining his hand instead of yours.

“Don’t need—don’t need daddy to do it for me,” your smile was absolutely devious, and the moans that fell from your mouth downright filthy. “I can do it by myself. I can…so close...”

“Show me, then.” He demanded, standing and making his way to the bed, “You don’t need my help?” He settled in the spot next to you, crowding you on the mattress while you drove your fingers in and out of your entrance, his lips brushing your temple when he spoke. “You don’t need my fingers? Hm? Don’t want my cock?”

Your façade faltered, but you managed to keep yourself distracted from his words with the way your fingertips grazed your most delicate spot. “I can—do it,” you reassured him, mocking tone coming across more stilted than you had intended as you wrestled with your own body.

“No you can’t, baby.” He smiled, hand coming to sit on top of your own, moving with you, “And if you do, you’ll be in so much more trouble than you already are.”

Something about his voice, the deep vibrations you felt in his chest combined with the soft touch of his big hand over yours; the mock frustration you had with him, and the real frustration you had with yourself as you tried desperately to cum; the way his eyes pierced through your own, it all worked together to spur you on. With the encroaching weightlessness you felt in your limbs, and his breath against your cheek, you finally reached the edge.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, grinning wide as you pumped your fingers in and out for the last time, letting the heel of your palm push against your clit. You were breathless, tired, but not as satisfied as you knew he would’ve made you.

You turned to him, and he already had his gaze fixed on you.

“Couldn’t help it,” you mumbled, “Felt good.”

“Just good?” Damien stared you down, removing his hand from yours. “We both know that good isn’t good enough for you.”

“You’re just jealous that you didn’t get to do it.”

“Yeah. I am.” He stood again. Before you could ask where he was going or what he was planning, he wrapped his hands around your ankles and pulled you sideways over the mattress until your legs hung over the side of the bed. He flipped you onto your stomach, raising the hem of the shirt you still wore to expose your slick-coated cunt.

“You’re so impatient, baby. If you wanted to cum, you could’ve just asked.” You could feel the fan of his breath, cold against your wet cunt, as he kneeled behind you, face centimeters from your entrance. “But since you put on such a nice show, I think I’ll do you one better.” He admired the sight before him, one finger trailing over your slit to collect your wet. He pulled back and sucked the gathered moisture from his hand.

“Oh, I bet,” you goaded him, even despite the position you were in and the punishment you knew you deserved. “This isn’t much of a punishment, daddy.” You giggled into the blankets, bunching the comforter against your face to cushion you and hold the noises you made.

“We’ll see.” He straightened out slightly and delivered a hard smack to your ass. You yelped, moaning at the sting and suddenly ready to obey his every word. “Count them.”

“Was that—does that count as one?” You questioned, sticking your ass out for him and waiting for his hand to come down again.

“Princess, you really think that all you’re getting is a spanking?” Damien soothed the skin he had just slapped, rubbing his palm in circles over your ass. “Didn’t say I wanted you to count the spanks, baby.”

“So wh—Oh, my god—” You couldn’t form the question, and as it turned out, you didn’t have to ask at all—he was one step ahead of you. His fingers plunged deep into your entrance and immediately sought out the spot you’d had so much trouble finding just minutes ago.

“You’re gonna count how many times I make you cum." He bit into the flesh of your ass before trailing his tongue down and over the skin of your thigh, eager to sample every inch of you, undeniably turned on after watching you fight so hard to make yourself cum. “And you’re going to tell me how good daddy makes you feel. And you’re going to say thank you every time.” You let out a low moan of his name, and his hand connected in a sharp smack with your ass once more. “What'd you say?”

“Yes, daddy,” Your words were muffled by the blankets you bunched in your fists, but that did nothing to hide the excitement in your voice.

“There you go,” he removed his fingers, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, “Knew my good girl was still in there somewhere.” He spread you open, spitting, and watching the strand of saliva drip down from your asshole and over your cunt. He leaned forward, giving in to temptation and tasting you.

“I am good! I can be good…” You whined, squirming at the feel of his stubble against your skin as he ate you like a man starved.

“Prove it,” strands of spit connected his mouth to your cunt as he spoke. He licked another stripe over you, biting your thigh, “Prove it, baby.” He returned to your core, licking into you and occasionally brushing over your clit. He bit into the skin of your other thigh before he again took to fucking you with his tongue.

You moaned at the feel of his teeth on your skin, and moaned louder when his tongue pushed into you. You reached behind your body, trying to find the leverage to push him further against you, but he grabbed your hand before you could lace your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think so,” he pushed your hand away and smiled at your frustrated moan. “I kept my hands to myself when you were playing, didn’t I?” You let out a quiet sound and he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp. “Words.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Yes what?” He rolled your clit in between his fingers, torturously slow and forcing you to buck your hips into nothing, so desperate for more.

“You kept your hands to yourself.”

“So…?”

“So, I need to keep my hands to myself.” You whimpered when he removed his grasp on your clit, opting now to massage it with two fingers.

“Good, baby,” he praised, keeping his fingers steady on your clit. He spit onto your cunt again. “Remember that. Don’t make me tie you down.”

You whimpered at his words, hoping that he’d follow through on that threat—if not now, later.

“Oh, you like that?” He pushed three fingers into you, relishing how you arched your back and moaned his title. “You know, for someone who claims to be so good, you act like a slut.” He moved his hands in sync, fingers punching into you, his opposite hand kneading your clit. “Are you a slut, baby?”

You nodded vehemently, gripping the comforter, so close to the edge you could taste it. “Yes—yes, daddy!”

“Yeah?” He curled his fingers, letting them brush repeatedly over your g-spot until he saw your legs tremble. “You like being a slut?”

“O—nly for you,” you had to think hard to form any words, your brain clouded with pleasure, “Only for daddy.” You tried, and failed, to support yourself on your hands, then your forearms; the sensation became too much, and your arms gave out under you, leaving you to tilt your head back so that he could hear your cries without the comforter muting them.

“I know. I know, baby. Only for daddy.” He cooed, hands working in tandem to help you reach your high. “Let me see how pretty my princess looks when she cums for me. Show me, baby, show me what a good little slut you are.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; you felt your abs tighten, panting as your walls clenched around his thick fingers, and you let your head fall flat onto the mattress. Your thighs twitched, and there were stars behind your eyes when Damien curled his fingers inside you one last time, stroking the delicate spot within you in time with the patterns he rubbed over your clit.

You felt heavenly, satisfied now more than you had been after your own attempt; you were fully capable of making yourself feel good, but he was capable of making you feel absolutely wonderful, and following the orgasm you’d forced from yourself, the one he gave you was so much better—positively perfect.

Damien stood behind you, leaning over you to move the hair that had fallen across your face during your squirmier moments, and to kiss your head. You could feel his stiff length pressing against you, and despite the exhaustion you already felt in your bones, your eagerness far outweighed any fatigue you had.

“Remember to count, princess.” He whispered in your ear between soft kisses pressed to your sweaty skin.

“One,” you mumbled, “That was one. Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He licked a stripe up your neck, and you mewled for him. He flipped you onto your back, and you looked up at him through your lashes. “You’re gonna keep being good for me, right?” He trailed his fingers down your thighs, moving back up to ghost over your sensitive cunt. You nodded, and he smiled, sharp teeth threatening to poke over his bottom lip.

“Gonna be so good,” You stretched your arms out, and he pulled you up to him with his hands on your biceps. You let him take your shirt off, collapsing back onto the bed with your hands above your head and your wrists crossed, giddy. He remained fully clothed, the silver chain tucked under his shirt only given away by the shine that circled the back of his neck. You couldn’t help but stare.

How could a man be just as sexy fully clothed as he was when he was undressed? You didn’t know how he managed, but you ogled him all the same, even in your post-orgasm haze.

His hands continued to trail your now completely naked body; thumbs brushing over your nipples while his hands groped at your breasts leisurely, dipping down to squeeze your hips and waist before returning to your heat to tease you where you were already overstimulated. He leaned over you, taking one nipple in his mouth and alternating between rolling it between his teeth and sucking on the pebbled skin. You grabbed at the blankets, anchoring yourself under him.

He undid his zipper, removing his now painfully hard cock from his jeans and letting it rest over your cunt. You gasped, moaning at the weight and feel of him. You wanted so desperately to touch him, and as if he read your mind, he took your hand and guided it over his length, effectively ending the "hands to yourself" rule he had been enforcing.

“You’re being so good, princess,” he let go of your hand and you hesitated, waiting for further instruction. “Go ahead. You’re allowed.”

You hummed, fingers sliding over the soft skin of his shaft. You teased his tip with your thumb, and he bit back a quiet hiss.

“This is what patient girls get, see?” He stroked your thigh while you ran your hand up his length, “This is what good girls get when they wait.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You were muttering, craning your neck to see how your hand looked wrapped around him. You clenched around nothing.

He gently removed your hand, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and rocking into you slowly. You felt the familiar, welcome pressure in your lower half; the way your body made space for him, let him stretch you out until you were a perfect fit.

“God, you take me so well,” He groaned, pushing more of himself into you and reveling in the way your warmth sheathed him. “So pretty, letting me get you ready with my fingers. This is what you wanted, hm? Needed attention?”

“Yes, daddy,” you couldn’t hide the slack-jawed look of scatterbrained bliss on your face even if you wanted to. “Needed you to make me feel good.”

“Cause you can’t do it yourself, isn’t that right?” He bottomed out with a low moan. His hands rested on your hips, forcing his cock to stay buried inside of you.

“Only daddy,” you arched your back, legs coming to wrap around his hips and let him sit even further within you, “Only daddy can make me feel good.”

“That’s fucking right." He smiled, grip on your hips tightening as he pulled out and drove back into you, pistoning his hips at a pace that he had clearly set in his mind prior to even getting his cock out. His bottom lip sat trapped between his teeth.

Damien alternated between the perfect views he had; your face, contorting in pleasure, pleas falling from your lips, begging him to go faster, harder, do anything to you, whatever he wanted, as your eyes rolled back; and your cunt, wrapped tight around him, taking what he gave you, your thighs soaked with your slick.

You were the only person he ever wanted to look at.

“Oh—fuck, that’s s-so deep,” Your head fell back, pushing against the mattress, as the feeling of his cock brushing your cervix made your lip tremble. “Daddy, just like that.”

He watched your hands roam over your abdomen, situating atop your lower stomach and pressing against the bulge of his cock inside you. He growled, reaching to grab your legs and pull them up so that your feet were resting on his shoulders. Your lower half lifted slightly off the bed, big hands moving under the curve of your ass to keep you there.

“Look at you, baby,” he admired the way you let him throw you around, “Getting fucked out like the pretty slut you are.” He could feel your walls fluttering around him.

“I’m goi—I’m so fucking—” You searched for the words, not caring when you couldn’t find them; you were certain he could take the hint from your frenzied moans and repeated cries.

“Are you gonna give me another one, princess? You gonna let daddy feel you cum?” His brow was furrowed, and he looked almost empathetic through his colder, dominant bearing. He leaned forward, pushing your legs towards your chest with your ass still in the air, and the shift in angle made you scream, forgetting every other word you’d ever known and replacing them with his name. You clawed at his back, nails slipping over the fabric of his shirt, and he laughed through groans while he ground his hips against you.

And then you were cumming again, his name and his title falling repeatedly from your lips, a messy amalgamation of curses and whimpers that you cried over, and over, and over again. He let your legs fall to the side, and you wrapped them around his hips again. He stayed inside you, cock still hard, twitching with the pulse of your cunt as you faced the aftershock of your orgasm. He thrust into you shallowly, letting you reacquaint yourself with your surroundings. He bent over you, holding your chin between his fingers.

“What number was that?”

“T-two,” you felt loopy, and you giggled against his mouth when he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss he gave you felt chaste, almost shy, in comparison to the way he fucked you, but you liked it; it encapsulated perfectly what it was like to be his—safe and taken care of—and you loved it. You loved him. “Thank you.”

“Good job.” He whispered against your lips before returning to the kiss. “Knew you could do it. Knew you’d be good for me—just needed a little reminder, right? Needed me to put you in your place.”

You nodded, officially lost to the submissive fog of your mind, focused only on being obedient for him. “Need daddy.”

“You have me, baby. I’m all yours.” He straightened, taking off his shirt and tossing it haphazardly somewhere on the floor. His jeans and boxers followed, joining the heap of discarded clothing in the corner.

You stayed in the spot where he left you, sticky between your legs and entranced by every movement Damien made.

He refocused his attention on you, his smile almost serene despite the fact that you both knew he wasn’t done yet. He once again found himself next to you on the bed, situating himself facing you and admiring the fucked-out look on your face. You reached out for him lazily, and he grabbed your wrists, holding your hands and kissing over your knuckles just as he had earlier.

“C’mere,” His hands found purchase on your waist, and he rolled over with you in his arms, prompting you to straddle him. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Please,” You squeaked, hands trailing down the expanse of his chest and over his stomach, grazing his soft skin with a hungry urgency. “I want more.” You looped a finger through the chain on his neck before letting it unravel and going back to your exploration of his chest. "Make me take it until I can't anymore, daddy, please."

“Slut.” Damien shook his head, laughing to himself about the bright-eyed way you took your punishment. He pulled you forward onto him, and you sighed dreamily; the warmth of his body pressed against yours like pieces of a puzzle, flesh to flesh.

He snaked his arm over your thigh and under your body, pumping himself in his hand. His other hand pushed up against your ass, encouraging you to raise yourself up to give him the room to push into you. You obliged, and though he’d already fucked you, made you cum twice, and overstimulated all of your senses, the first shove of his hips still made you gasp, astonished by the stretch and feel of having all of him inside of you.

“Fuck,” He leaned back, hands rubbing over the flesh of your hips in a show of affection and power, keeping you steady as he bottomed out. “Greedy fucking pussy.”

You had your hands on his shoulders, muscles sensitive from your prior orgasms and unable to sit upright. But you were both content this way, with your tits accessible for him to toy with while he used you. He sucked on the plush flesh, watching as purple bruises formed and nipping at them before turning his head to make another.

The familiar tug of some hidden chord inside you grew steadily. Damien raised his hips off the bed, simultaneously pushing you down onto him by your hips, resulting in his cock driving into you as far as he could possibly go at this angle. You gave up on trying to support yourself, collapsing onto his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong princess?” He was taunting you, “Too much? Are you too sensitive to take what daddy gives you?” He wrapped both arms around your body, keeping you pressed against him as he thrust into you, hard and fast.

“N—o,” you moaned, unable to hide the satisfaction you got from his playful ridicule, “Feels—shit, I want—please, please, it’s so nice, daddy, feels fucking amazing.”

“Yeah?” He moved one hand up to tug on your hair, easing you from your hideaway in the crook of his neck and forcing you to look down at him, “Tell me, baby, tell me how it feels when daddy fucks you.”

He kept his hand in your hair, the pull forcing your back to arch and letting him hit the best spots inside you. You weren't shy about the pleasure he was granting you.

“Amazing!” You clawed at his shoulders, shallow red marks that would fade within the hour painting the skin on his upper arm and over his chest. “Feels amazing!”

“What feels amazing?” He was smiling, taking great pride in hearing all the ways you responded to his movements and the way your mouth twisted to get the words out.

“Daddy—daddy feels so perfect inside me!” You practically sobbed it, overcome with the bliss of being full of him.

“That’s right. Tell daddy you love him.” He had to fight to hide the pleading cadence in his voice; somehow the strongest desire he had, even balls deep inside you, was hearing those three words fall from your lips.

“I love you,” You gasped, nails carving crescent shapes into his skin, “I fucking love you.”

He went slack jawed, the glee behind your words pairing perfectly with the way your cunt squeezed him. “I love you, princess,” He moaned it, “I love you so much.”

“Want—want you inside me all the time like this. Wanna feel you all the time, daddy.” Your legs hurt and your skin felt raw and tender, but, god, if you didn’t love moments like this.

At that, Damien let out a low growl, removing his grip on your hair and letting you rest your head on his shoulder once more. “God, you’re fucking needy,” he was fucking into you wildly, and the sound of skin on skin and the slick leaking from you created a chorus you could listen to for hours on end. “You want this cock all the time? Is that what you want?”

You nodded against him. “Please, daddy.”

“You just want to be all sore and sensitive for me? Let me fuck you all the time?”

“Yes! Ye—es!” You were drooling, the puddle of your spit mixing with the tears of elation that slipped from your eyes. Your clit dragged over him perfectly in this position, sending jolts through your already overstimulated body. You could feel yourself squeezing around his cock with every harsh ram of his hips.

“There you go, princess,” he felt it too, his excitement building alongside yours . “Give it to me, baby. C’mon and cum for me again.” He slowed his thrusts, letting you take what you needed; one of his hands found its way between your bodies and offered your sore clit a boost of stimulation.

That was what sent you over the edge—that, and hearing the way he praised you, the repetition of his moans and the way he called you so pretty, so good for him, an eager little slut who follows directions so well. You thought you might black out, so exhausted and spent, but still so desperate for him as you clung to his body through your orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” You slurred your words together, high off the pleasure that fanned out from your core and across your entirety.

"Good, princess, that's right. Such good manners." Damien stroked your hair. "Gonna fucking cum for you, baby. Give you a reward for being so good for me, fill you up nice and deep." His long, unhurried thrusts led him to his own high, which he greeted with a groan and a drawn-out sigh of your name. You moaned, feeling the warmth spread over you, and you lifted your head to connect your lips to his.

He took his time, licking into your mouth and savoring the way you whimpered into him; it was messy and sleepy, and paired well with the tacky feeling between your thighs as his cum dripped from you, mixed with your own.

Damien flipped you over, supporting himself on his forearms as he looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy, miles away, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and tears and spit, and he thought you were the most beautiful thing in that moment, and in every other.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you whined at the loss.

“Shh, princess, I know. It’s ok.” He ran his hands over your torso when he removed himself from you. “Hi, baby.” He ran his knuckles soothingly over your cheek, and you closed your eyes, humming. “What number was that?”

“Three.”

“Think you can give me one more?”

Your eyes went wide, and you bit your lip, unable to hide the dopey smile you got upon hearing his question. “Make me.”

“Fucking bratty—even after all this?” He laughed, kissing your nose before moving down your body and putting your legs over his shoulders. “You tell me if it’s too much now, alright?”

“I know, daddy.” Your words were defiant despite how limp and weary you felt. You stretched your arm down to stroke his cheek with the tips of your fingers.

“Think I would’ve fucked the attitude out of you by now.” He grinned, and you bit your tongue, giggling.

You watched him lower his face to your core, his breath catching on the sticky mixture that seeped from your hole and making you shiver. Damien savored the image before swiping his tongue through your folds, collecting the blend of your cum and groaning at the taste. You let your hands wander, one fondling your own chest, the other buried in his hair. Damien's hands roamed up and down your legs, brushing over your stomach and hips in an effort to ground you, to make sure you were comfortable and knew you were safe despite your current state of fragility.

Every movement of his tongue made you flinch, overly sensitive but loving every second you got to watch him between the V of your thighs. The light swipes of his tongue made the hair across your body stand up on goose flesh.

“Oh—” You let out a small gasp when he nudged your clit with his nose, tongue exploring your entrance. “Right there.” Your grip on his hair tightened, and he moaned against you; the vibrations made you tremble, and with little warning you were cumming again, whispering his name and words of praise and appreciation.

Damien rubbed your thigh, moving to lie down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. One of his hands pressed against your back, feeling your ribcage expand as you caught your breath.

“That was four.” You spoke after a few moments of silence, and he squeezed you against his chest. "Thank you, daddy."

“Didn’t even have to ask you that time.” He brushed the hair from your face and peppered kisses over your forehead.

“I know,” you leaned back slightly to smile up at him, proud of yourself, “I’m just that good.”

“So good. You’re so good for me.” He emphasized every word with a soft peck on your lips, and you laughed. "Always so good. So beautiful, so sweet, baby, and you’re all mine." His praise helped you come back down to earth, the haziness in your head caused by repeated stimulation easing up and being replaced by pure contentedness and tired eyes.

You realized the scratches you left on his chest were deeper than you’d intended for them to be, still stark against his pale skin, and you trailed your fingers over them.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to mark you up like that.” You lay your head against a pillow, intertwining your legs with Damien’s and looking up at him. You kept your hands curled over his chest, basking in the security you felt in the heat of his body.

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” he ran his thumb over your lips, and you kissed it, “You should see the other guy.”

“Bet the other guy is really hot…” You countered. “Probably really obedient, too.”

“Really hot,” he laughed, “But between you and me…kind of a brat.”

“Am not!” You pushed against his chest, and he caught your wrists, leaning forward to engulf you again and kiss your face.

“Oh, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, “How’d we end up in bed like this?”

“No idea. I thought you knew…” You giggled at your own faux perplexity. Damien rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Do you want ice, baby? Or heat?” He nudged your nose with his. "I can run you a bath—or do you want me to get you the heating pad?"

“Ice.” You grabbed his arm when he moved to stand, “Later, though. Now I just want you. Please.”

“You’re not sick of me yet?” He returned to your side, letting your hands wander over him.

“You know, after four orgasms, you might think that,” Your hand came to rest on his stomach, tracing shapes over him, “But you’re just so enticing.” You toyed with his silver necklace. “Tell me, baby: was this worth the time you spent apart from your beloved game?” You teased, and he pulled you on top of him again, letting you sink lazily against him.

“Funny,” he smiled, one arm under his head to allow himself the full view of you on top of him. He ran his hand through your hair, lazy kisses landing on the top of your head, “Don’t tempt me to make it five.”

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