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coveteddilf · 8 months

Text

— EYES ON ME + reo mikage x afab!reader (18+)

synopsis — while taking yourself on a fancy dinner, you run into pro soccer player reo mikage at the restaurant. he decides he wants you as his entertainment for the night, and you agree, even if it is in an unused staff room. afterward, he gives you an offer you can’t help but accept.

✿ content — aged up characters (20’s), afab!reader, pro player!reo + soft dom!reo + body positive!reo, heavy smut, pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart), fingering, unprotected sex (pls use condoms guys lol), inappropriate use of ties, reo is big on consent in this one guys, nsfw + minors dni

✿ words — roughly 7k

✿ rating — explicit (18+)

✿ notes — this was written with my best friend ( @seehaven ) in mind. i’ve owed her about 10 fanfics for around 2 years, so this is my first to make it up to her lol this is not beta’d in any way, and i didn’t even re-read it (i really wanted to get it out before reo’s birthday ended), so if there’s any glaring errors, let me know. otherwise, eat your hearts out. happy birthday you purple-haired bastard.

( requests open @ofbarou! )

Rarely do you get to go out and spend time at a restaurant as fancy as the one you and your friends made reservations for tonight. Stepping into the extravagant entrance alone makes you feel like you’ve stepped into another world, with the plush red curtains and chandeliers made of diamonds and gold. Things are expensive in a main city like this one - high rise buildings and penthouses that boast wealth on top of stories and stories of infrastructure. You’re sure that the cost of the meal you’re about to eat will cost more than you usually spend on groceries in a month.

But it feels good to get out of the apartment; it feels good to slip something sexy on and take a night out on the town, even if it’s with friends you don’t normally see. Maybe that’s part of the appeal itself, being a different person for a night.

Even seated at your table, you can tell no money was spared in making sure the atmosphere and the quality of product was correct. The burgundy polyester napkin that the waiter draped across your lap makes your toes curl in heels you typically don’t wear. If you weren’t feeling luxurious in the little black slip dress you’d picked out, you certainly do now, when the waiter returns with a glistening bottle of wine.

Your friends engage in little conversations across the table, and the three of them seem to be keeping up with the social expectations here pretty easily. While you’re in awe of the place, you’re a little…bored, sitting stagnant at the table, bouncing your feet beneath the cloth-covered surface. You’d much rather be looking at the art sprawling over the walls or the opulent architecture that makes up the building.

When you’ve all placed your orders, the waiter takes the menus from you, compliments the lavender shade of your nails before he walks away. It warms your cheeks, and you can’t help but push a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You got them done just for this dinner. It was nice to treat yourself sometimes - you work hard for your money and spending it on making yourself feel good should be more of a priority.

You smile to yourself after thinking that.

People in your life are often telling you to be less-cautious, take more chances, to be less afraid of the unknown. You know that you’ve missed out on some good things by not taking leaps of faith more often.

You excuse yourself from the table for a moment, make some excuse about using the restroom, and fold your napkin nicely on the table before you go. While you’re not normally so meticulous, you want to keep up appearances in such an immaculate place, one where there’s not even a single item in disarray on the main floor.

Taking this time to look around, you find yourself drawn to a local artist’s work hung neatly on the wall. It certainly appeals to the general vibe the restaurant tries to make come across, and you almost want to touch your fingers to the dried paints of the feature. There’s a long moment where you hold the tiny little purse slipped over your shoulder a tad too tightly, fighting the urge to actually give into the impulsive thought.

The woody notes of an expensive cologne bring you out of your thoughts a breath or two later - you spin around with a sharp inhale when you realize someone is right next to you. Your face heats, and your body clenches in surprise, and you let out your gasp like a relieved sigh when it doesn’t seem to be someone who works here coming to yell at you for gawking at the painting for minutes on end.

Instead, it seems to be a soccer star that you’ve only seen on television and youtube interviews.

Somehow you hadn’t realized that time had slowed since the Reo Mikage stepped into frame, because when it speeds back up, you feel out of breath. Frazzled, you hurry to make apologies, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Am I in your way?” You step away from him instead of closer, despite the fact that your body is screaming at you to do the exact opposite for the love of god. He seems to think you being flustered is either funny or endearing because he laughs, and it’s like hearing the chorus of your favorite song again for the first time in years.

“You’re fine,” Reo says in English, and it’s magical. He gives you this cocky little smirk that would look annoyingly smug on anyone else, but it just makes Reo look unbearably handsome. “I saw you get up from your table, and I figured I’d come find you.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but the words make your stomach flutter in a good way. You attempt to ask ‘why?’ but when you open your mouth, nothing really comes out. You’d known when you walked in that the VIP section in the south of the room had been occupied, the area secluded from the other tables in the restaurant, and filled with pretty important-looking business men. But you can guess that maybe that was where Reo had been hiding. You would have noticed the shock of purple hair and magenta eyes.

His suit looks expensive (and tailored, if the way it hugs his muscled arms and legs is any indication - you’d hate to see him turn around and catch you staring at the other thing the clothing was clinging to), and the grey jacket and navy tie do wonders for accentuating his features. And now that you’ve spent too long gawking at him again, Reo looks like he’s letting out a relieved chuckle. “For a second, I thought I’d lost my edge - now I can see you’re just embarrassed.”

Reo exudes confidence, and for just a moment, you want to bask in it. You’re still not sure why he’s talking to you, but you’re taking advantage of every second you can get with him.

“You have a beautiful smile,” He starts, taking one step closer over polished marble floors that are so damn clean that you can almost see your reflections in them. The space between you dwindles when he copies the motion a second time. You’re in a corridor off the main dining area that would elude to more privacy, but there are still plenty of wait-staff meandering around. You don’t want them to get the wrong impression. “I wish I had been the one making you blush like that, but I guess I can correct that in the future.”

The man’s tone oozes something that warms you from the inside out, and suddenly, even in such little clothing, you feel like you’ve been enveloped by it.

And that’s when it hits you: Reo Mikage is flirting with you.

“You could start right now?” You say, and it’s like something has possessed you for a moment, because in no other context would you ever say something like that to someone like him. While you’re generally not bad at talking to people, you’re never outright flirty with someone who makes your heart thump like a hammer to your rib cage, and so blatantly.

Seemingly, Reo likes the remark though, because he’s throwing his head back for a much fuller laugh, and it makes his cheeks pink too. “Yeah? I guess you’re right. Beating me right to the punch.” By now, he’s backed you both into more of a corner behind the wall, the original painting that had caught your eye some fifteen, twenty feet away. Your attention has been stolen by something far more important.

“I’ve been told that your non-dominant hand is stronger than your dominant one, watch out for my left hook.” You tease. Reo must delight in it because the words seem to change the light in his eyes; it’s shifted into something competitive, teasing, excited.

And while you’ve definitely known that he’s taller than you, it’s much more noticeable with him towering over you like this, a large hand slowly moving to wrap two large fingers around your much smaller wrist.

It feels as if you’ve entered another world with him.

You can still hear the muffled sounds of the restaurant through the corridor some feet away, but it’s more like white noise when all you want to focus on is the sound of Reo’s voice and the way his laugh reverberates through you.

“You know, I almost believe that.” Reo tilts his head, smile still staining his cheeks amused, “I’m here for a business meeting that’s gotten so boring that I want to gnaw my own arm off. I’d much rather entertain myself with you.”

The words are so blunt that you don’t hesitate to answer quickly after he says, “What do you say?”

“Yes.”

You both look at one another for a moment, tension palpable, before Reo breaks the moment with a pleased laugh. His fingers tighten around your wrist and he tries to pull you along down the corridor. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. And to think, I almost called those idiots to come grab me after sneaking out of the back of the restaurant,” He says a little more to himself.

“Lucky me,” You murmur under your breath. You follow dutifully, heels clicking on hard floors, and you’re both at a speed-walk by the time Reo seems to find where you’re supposed to be going. A door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ in a golden plaque and little detail.

He notices your unease after reading the door and shakes his head, “Don’t worry.” He lets go of your wrist momentarily, and calls for one of the nearby floor staff. They talk for a moment out of earshot, and there’s a flash of a second when you seem to come to your senses.

‘What the hell am I doing?’ You think. A series of unwanted thoughts about how crazy this all is, how someone, somewhere has to be joking with you. You don’t just run into a pro soccer player that you’ve admired and supported for some time at a restaurant far too rich for your blood. Something in the universe must be playing a trick on you, because why on Earth would Reo Mikage want—

As if sensing the mood change, Reo quickly sprints back to you. Obviously he would be fast, considering his profession, but you hadn’t realized what that would look like up close. “Hey, eyes on me.” He says, and you can’t do anything but listen. You wouldn’t take your eyes off of him ever again, if you could help it.

He soothes your nerves as he pulls you into the now-unlocked staff room. Reo says something about his family knowing the owners that you don’t quite hear, the blood roaring in your ears now that you’re alone with Reo in a much smaller space. The room must be somewhat soundproofed, and it looks like maybe it was a previously used break room, based on the sturdy wooden table and the miscellaneous items like paper-towels and cleaning supplies on a table in the far corner of the room.

You blink at him as your eyes readjust to the new lighting. Whereas the previous room had been a dim, soft white glow, this room had more of an edgy, blue glow to it without the main lights on. The only light source hung on the wall in the corner of the room, much more modern and much less oppulent than the decor outside of the door. It adds a striking splash of color to Reo’s angular face and bright hair, and you wonder how one person could be so handsome.

“Can I still spoil you, or do you want to keep playing i-Spy with the decor?” He teases, slipping into your space again. While his tone is playful, you can see the widening of his pupils, like he’s got something in his sights that he wants to consume. You remember from Reo’s time at Blue Lock that everyone called the group of people from the program ‘egoists’. You can certainly see now how they got their name.

Reo moves with the confidence of someone who gets what he wants, and while it makes your mind spin, he apparently wants you.

“Do something interesting then,” You play back, reaching for his hand that’s come out to rest on your hip. “I don’t want to have to call some friends and slip out the back door.”

The words barely leave your mouth before his lips are capturing yours with a growl. Reo kisses like he has something to prove, and maybe he does. Maybe he wants to prove that he can make your brain melt out of your ears, or maybe he wants to convince you that you’re crazy because never in your wildest dreams did you think something like this could actually happen.

You’ve always been a passive sports fan - soccer is fun, it’s engaging, and the players like Reo work hard to make their dreams come true. You’ve admired many of them over the years, but you’ve always had a soft spot for the man with magenta eyes and ladder to climb. Mikage is a household name at this point, and you’re glad it’s not just for the business-aspect anymore.

He presses harder with calloused fingers into your hips, and you shudder and shake in his grasp, mouth opening in a gasp at the sudden sensation. Reo takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into the warm cavern waiting for him, groaning at the taste of you. Warmth pools in your belly, and it’s much different from the previous kind that made your chest tight as Reo complimented your smile.

One of Reo’s hands curls possessively over the side of your neck, and it makes you feel small. You’ve always felt like too much - too loud, too emotional, too everything, but simply by existing, Reo’s managed to coax the roaring inferno of your anxiety into ashes. You find yourself relaxing into his touch, tongue meeting his as it skims across your teeth.

Your breaths mingle as well as the taste of too-sweet wine and dry bourbon where your mouths meet. Backwards, Reo begins leading you toward the steady wood table in the middle of the room. There are no chairs around it, so it must not be used very frequently, you think. You nearly stumble back and Reo holds onto you a little more closely now.

The heat of him distracts you enough that you almost don’t hear him speak, “Don’t tell me you’re a klutz.” It’s clearly a tease, but if you’ve learned anything in your short time interacting with him, it’s that Reo loves to be teased too.

“What, don’t want me falling for you?”

The smile he presses to yours is answer enough, but when he whispers a soft, “Wouldn’t be so bad,” you nearly lose your footing entirely.

Luckily, he manages to catch you, lean you down on your back over the surface of the smooth wood beneath you, and nestle himself into the space he creates between your legs. The little black dress you’ve chosen tonight wasn’t very long to begin with, and Reo seems to pick up on the fact that it slides easily up your thighs at the angle he’s keeping your legs.

He catches sight of the small number you’re wearing beneath it and whistles, pupils dilating. “Were you expecting someone?” His voice sounds dark, a little more on-edge than it had previously. If you had been in less of a whirlwind mindset, you might have even thought the man was jealous.

“No,” You start, cheeks stained red and hands splayed over the wood beneath you. For a moment, you try to close your legs, embarrassed, but his sturdy frame halts any progress you might have made there. You try not to bring your hands to cover your underwear in your nerves, “I just like to feel cute. Is there something wrong with that?”

And just like that, his expression softens. “Nothing wrong with that at all,” He sees your panicked expression, the warmth in your cheeks and says a hot, “bunny,” against your lips before he’s following the same design from before. You try not to react too harshly, but the pet name makes your thighs squeeze around his hips where he holds you open, so it must be kind of obvious.

Your hands pull at his clothing and Reo sits back enough to help you gain some progress. He makes quick work of the suit jacket and tie, and it gives you ample opportunity to rove your gaze over his body. His fingers undo the buttons of his dress shirt quickly enough that it’s obvious he’s experienced in the motion, and you can’t look away when his skin is exposed to you.

Soccer players train their bodies in ways you couldn’t imagine firsthand - build themselves up and break themselves down. Blue Lock’s broadcasts years ago had proven that they go through so much, and Reo was no exception to the rule. He’d completely changed from his beginning to the end of his time in Blue Lock - every interview he’d given made that clear.

You feel a sense of pride, seeing him stand so confidently in front of you, even with as turned on and disheveled as his appearance is now. “You’re beautiful,” You say before you can stop it. Reo’s eyes grow wide and his face heats rapidly.

He stutters out a flustered, “Y-You can’t say those kinds of things that casually!” He leans back over you to place his mouth over yours, presumably to shut you up. There are blotches of pink over his collarbones, his chest. You wonder how many people have wished to find out what that looked like in-person, and now you get to experience it. “I’m supposed to be making you frazzled, not the other way around,” He grumbles into your mouth, scraping your tongue with his teeth a moment later.

But something in the atmosphere changed, like Reo is a little more himself, less the persona you see on the covers of magazines or in front of a camera. He cups your face with both large hands and steals your breath away.

When it seems like his patience has run out, he stands back up to his full height and strips himself from the waist down too, toeing off polished dress shoes and kicking slacks and designer belts to the floor. His dark briefs leave little to the imagination, and your tongue desperately wants to follow the inseam of the only clothing item keeping you from seeing him bare. The outline of him bulges at the stretchy material. He likely wears them because they decrease panty-lines in his suit, but you can’t help but admire how fantastic they make him look.

He holds out a hand, and you take it without a second thought. When Reo sits you up, he begins to pull the dress already hiked up past your waist toward your chest, over your head. It feels odd to be laid so bare, just a lacey little number covering you from such an intense look, but it does little to deter your arousal.

It should be embarrassing, how wet you are already, and you’re thankful the panties you picked out are a shade of charcoal. You’d thought they look great on you, and clearly Reo agrees by the low pitch of his voice when he says, “Let me get a look at you.”

You’re confused at first, until you realize your hands have come up to hide your chest. You never wear a bra with a slip dress, and now you’re fighting the urge to cover yourself from his gaze. His approval would mean the world to you, and you’re not sure why you’re doubting how he likes what he sees when he’s looking at you like a starving man at a feast.

Slowly, you put your hands down to your sides, leaning back on the table. There’s a little shake to your muscles where you have to fight the nerves, the impulse to cover yourself back up in case Reo says something that would absolutely destroy your self-esteem, but no comment like that ever comes.

Instead, you’re greeting with a groan, like the soccer star has been punched in the gut. “Oh my god, you’re gorgeous. And you’re over here giving me compliments.” Reo huffs haughtily, hands hesitantly slipping over your neck, down your shoulders. He gives you a look before touching. “This alright?” His voice is gruff, like he’s barely holding himself back from just giving in and doing whatever he wants.

Like he’s always gotten it as soon as he’s asked for it.

It seems like this time is no different, because something creaks in your chest, unbidden and soft and full of warmth at the thought that this man, who anyone would die to get their hands on, would ask permission to touch you. His thoughtful nature despite being someone who usually takes life by the horns splits you in half, makes you spill out the sides of your person and rearrange yourself into something different.

Reo is just a man, too. He’s eager and excited, and his hands immediately find purchase as soon as you give him a quiet ‘yes’ on sensitive skin. He leans over you, cups the creamy skin of your thigh with one hand, the curve of your breast in the other, mouth falling to yours for a moment, then guiding its way toward your neck.

You open your mouth to beg him for a mark, but he beats you to it, the blunt points of his teeth on the junction of your shoulder, your collarbone. It sends shocks through you, and your legs tighten around his waist where he’s managed to make a home for the second time.

The girth of him presses against your folds where he lays his weight, and you feel the kick drum of his pulse where his cock throbs in an effort to get closer. “Reo,” Your voice sounds unlike you, breathy and full of want, and your fingers pull at the small ponytail in his hair, letting the purple locks free. They fall over his shoulder, make the cut of his jaw that much sharper when he looks up at you, meets your eye as he sucks a bruise into the jut of your breast. You’ll be covered in imprints of his teeth for days, at this rate.

That shouldn’t warrant the gush of slick that leaves you at the thought, but there’s no way he’s missed it, pressed this close. He spreads your thighs wide with his hands as he takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling the bud with his tongue, feeling the goosebumps break out over your skin at the sensation. You gasp, and it sounds an awful lot like his name and the word ‘please’ mxied together.

You’re overwhelmed with sensation, and the silky softness of your panties give you no friction, even as he ruts against the hot line of your folds. You squirm, needy and restless as he takes his time with you. It’s almost unbearable, by the time he’s switched to the opposite one, then pressed kisses down your sternum. He’s not a needy grind away from you anymore, now that he’s moved his hips back to get at your chest from a better angle, and you find yourself grabbing hold of his hair, pulling his face back to yours.

“Please?” You breathe against his lips, voice shaky and eyes dark when they meet his bright ones.

“How can I deny you when you ask like that, bunny?” He nips at your lip, then slithers one hand down to the core of you, rubbing slow circles over your hole through the silk of your underwear. “Do you feel how wet you are right now?” Reo’s voice meets arousal and amusement, maybe a tinge of awe, if you could concentrate enough to parse it all.

Some sort of shame floods your system at his words, but it seems to be the good kind, if the way your hole clenches at the promise of his fingers seems to be any indication. Reo notices, of course. You almost want to damn his impeccable ability to read the room, but it does get you a firmer press of his fingers to your heat, so you can’t complain too whole-heartedly. Your hips press into the motion, and the tacky wetness begins to leak over your thighs in the overflow.

You move a hand to shield your face from his gaze, but he quickly pulls it away, face stern. “I want your eyes on me, sweetheart. Don’t look away.” His ego rears its head, but it doesn’t stop the pulse of want that echoes through you at the words. You’d do anything he asked, you think.

“O-Okay,” You swallow thickly, wetness creeping on the edges of your vision the moment his fingers dip below the fabric of your panties. He grazes the smooth, wet edges of your folds, and sinks a single digit into the heat of you. A shuddery yelp leaves you, and you can’t tell if your body wants to push into it or get away. The sensation is overwhelming, but it leaves your body feeling hot and too-sensitive.

“I should have known you would be a cry-baby. The ones with the prettiest smiles cry the easiest,” Reo soothes as he swipes a tear from your cheek where it falls as a betrayal. You try to protest, that you’re not crying because you’re upset, but he shushes you with a quiet, “I know, baby, I know. Feels good. It’s okay - just feel it.”

And rarely do you just give into that urge - just feel something because you want to, because you deserve to. You’re not being too much, according to Reo, who seems to eat up every sound that escapes you as he curls his finger inward, then adds a second. You’re practically panting at this point, and you’d try to feel some semblance of pity for yourself if the wide stretch of two, then three of Reo’s fingers didn’t feel like one of those coming-to-god moments.

“Please - please, I’m so ready,” You whine, and Reo laughs, even as the words make him palm his cloth-covered cock with his free hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He tries, crooking his fingers, letting your slick drip down over the meat of his palm. “Although, I’m not sure that it’ll be much of an issue.” He still sounds cocksure, and there’s a part of you that wants to disarm him as much as he’s disarmed you.

You’re distracted by him pulling his fingers free. Reo wipes them over your thigh while he sticks his tongue out, and you both laugh a little at the childish behavior. It’s nice to be able to laugh during sex - you know plenty of people who take it too seriously, and Reo is just the right kind of charming to keep the mood light.

When he finally shucks down his own underwear, the jut of his heavy cock is prominent where it slaps messily against his abdomen. There’s a pearly slick at the tip of him, and you can’t help but huff out a quiet, “You were making fun of me for being wet?” He has the decency to look at least a little sheepish as he pulls off your underwear for you, throwing the garnment to the ground like it personally offended him despite his previous praise for its aesthetic.

“You can’t blame me after hearing the noises you’ve been making,” He gripes back, and it’s like you have a routine despite hardly knowing one another at all. The easy feeling floods you as he finally presses the tip of his cock to your sopping hole.

Reo’s gotten distracted with the way you’re spread out for him, your legs held wide by his large palms, the way you’re trying to suck him in as he passes the outline of his dick over your wet labia. He presses the very tip of his dick to your clit, uses a finger to hold you open as he gently rotates himself in circles over you. An overstimulated shuffle happens and a long whine leaves you when he doesn’t stop the motion.

When it seems like he’s had too much, he closes his eyes, ruts inexpertly into the wetness of your mound and coats himself with your juices. “You gonna let me fuck you, bunny?” He presses, voice deep and achy with arousal. It’s the first time it hits you that he wants you just as badly as you want him right now. It makes you just as impatient as him.

Your nod is all he needs.

He guides himself to your hole, spreads your thighs with his own, and angles himself down as he presses into you with one long thrust. Gravity does most of the work for him. It’s not long before the meat of your thighs and ass are meeting his pelvis. It’s sticky and warm between you, and you’d be shy about how wet you were if Reo wasn’t keening at the feeling of being fully sheathed inside of you.

Reo’s eyes are wide and full of emotion - he’s overwhelmed too, it seems, but his mouth gapes open slightly when he gives a gentle roll of his hips inside of your wet warmth. It feels a little like he’s spearing your guts, being bent in half the way he has you, but the incredibly full-feeling is welcome.

Large hands hold onto your legs, hold them closer to your chest as Reo leans more of his muscled weight on you. It makes his cock feel deeper, wider as he fucks into the core of you with a steadily building rhythm. The first few slaps of skin are so wet that it brings tears back to your eyes. The glide of skin on skin is easy this way, and your cunt tightens each time Reo pulls out and shoves his way back in.

He’s like a storm - the force of him receding and then plowing back in tenfold. You know your cries are loud each time he slams home, pressing delightfully against sensitive spots you weren’t even aware you had, and it’s only confirmed when he reaches for his tie still slung over the corner of the table beside them. “Open your mouth, babe —“

The words are somewhat slurred, like maybe Reo is a little cock-drunk too. He’s panting over you, hips unable to stop moving, even as he deems this little interaction a necessary interlude to your current scenario. You’re not really listening though, just clenching around the intrusion inside of you, milking his cock by rocking your hips back and forth to meet his.

He hisses like a cat when you hit a particularly good angle, it seems, because not only do you feel the tightness in your abdomen grow, but you also feel the way his body clenches, the way his dick throbs inside of you. Reo leads a thumb into your mouth, presses it against your tongue. Like second nature, your mouth opens wider to let him in.

Reo groans, hips stuttering at the warm-wet of your mouth, and he wishes he had all of the time in the world to use you. You know that look - and the fact that it’s directed toward you sends you reeling, hips shoving against Reo’s with more force. Breathless, takes the end of the tie and presses it to your mouth. “Bite down on this bunny - they’re gonna hear you if we’re not careful,” He whispers, and you follow his orders.

It’s nice to let Reo take the lead; you despise making the decisions all of the time, so it’s a welcomed change of pace to have someone who so dutifully picks up the reigns and apparently fucks you into a sex-induced stupor. You whine around the fabric of his expensive tie and try not too feel too badly about the fabric slowly but surely becoming wetter and wetter as you are around Reo’s dick.

His hips piston a little harder, at little more of an angle, and the next thrust has you seeing stars as he shoves in just that tiny bit more. Reo catches on based on the increased volume of your need, moans spilling out left and right, each a different rendition of ‘Reo’ and ‘please’ and ‘more.’

Holding himself above you with one hand, the other slips down to rub messy, wet patterns over your clit. The tightening of your pussy, the way your thighs seem to tremble around him as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, it all seems to be undoing him. The sweat on his temple makes the edges of his purple hair a deep eggplant, and there’s a waging war between the pleasure and the fierceness in his eyes.

Your eyes widen when the stifling heat of your orgasm rushes like a tital wave to the forefront of your mind. Your moans become more babbling, nonsensical things, but Reo can hear that it’s supposed to be his name, doesn’t take the time to think about how you knew it without him even telling you.

He really puts his back into it, the echoing slaps of skin-on-skin filling the room, along with the wet squelch of your pussy wrapping around him. Reo’s groaning too, thighs shaking as he speeds up his thrusts. “Come for me, bunny. I want you to cum for me.” His voice is commanding, but there’s this tinge of sweetness that undoes you.

It only takes one thrust, two, three - before you’re legs are clenching around his hips like a vice, and his only choice is to rut into the heat of you while you ride it out. His own whines are loud without a tie to muffle his voice too, but you’ve never heard a sound that turned you on more in your life. No need to hide how much he wants you, how good you’re making him feel. You feel powerful. You feel important.

And you feel a little special, the way he’s grinding into with needy little thrusts and clenching his jaw so hard he might break something, repeating, “Yes, bunny - yes,” as he pulls out suddenly, leaving you empty and distraught about it. You try to whine, but it’s quickly shut down as he comes across your stomach and chest with a few quick strokes to his cock. The tip is so pink and its throbbing in his hand where he can hardly seem to touch himself, oversensitive and pleasure-filled. You remove the tie from your mouth.

“Fuck,” Reo shudders, eyes closed tightly as he comes down from his own high. There’s a moment where you’re both panting, bodies full of tremors and happy hormones, and then he’s laying his body over yours, careful not to squash you under his weight.

He presses a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your chin, then oh-so gently lifts your mouth to his. Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him to you. Your frantic heartbeats are slowing down in time together, and you feel incredibly connected now. Reo murmurs how amazing you are against your lips, a slew of other compliments, and it makes your chest tight, your heart fuzzy.

When the moment has begun to pass though, you both cringe at the cooling, tacky feeling between your bodies. Still, it helps you both laugh. “Hold on for a second,” Reo murmurs, the first to be able to use his legs again as he stands and holds his spent dick in his palm. He waddles over to the paper towels on the opposite corner table, runs one or two through the water in the small sink hidden neatly beside it, then waddles back.

He’s perfunctory in his cleaning job, but you can’t really say you blame him when your legs have forgotten how to work too.

When you’re both as clean as you’re likely going to get, he tosses the paper towels in a small trash can against the wall. Reo lets out a sigh of relief, looking more relaxed than he had all night. There’s a swell of pride at the thought that you are the reason he looks like that.

A small smile welcomes your face and he eagerly kisses it, humming with affection. “You’re amazing,” Reo promises as he pulls away.

You both get dressed as well as you can. Your dress seems fine, although you’re not really sure you’ll be able to wear your underwear now that they’ve been stretched out as much as they have around Reo’s hand. Something must show on your face because Reo says, “I’ll buy you a new pair. Hell, I’ll buy you 10 new pairs.”

It makes you laugh. You don’t know Reo that well, but you have a feeling that there’s less joke to that statement than the average person would think there is.

When you’re semi-put-together, Reo says, “I had the waitstaff tell your friends that you weren’t feeling well. I have to get back to my meeting, but there really is a car out back that will take you home so that you don’t have to try and walk home like this,” He huffs, disgruntled at how much he’s taken you apart, like he didn’t enjoy every second of it.

“Sorry about the underwear. I really will replace them,” Reo holds his hair tie in his mouth just a mere foot away, sloppily putting the hair at the back of his head up into a messy little ponytail. He looks…disheveled too. You don’t really feel bad. “Do you like soccer?”

You nod, and he smiles, “Come to my next game. I’ll fly you out, all expenses paid. And if you miss any work to be there, let me know. I’ll give you your yearly salary for any of the time you miss.” The grin he wears now is sly, confident. “My driver will give you as many tickets as you want. Sell them, give them to your friends - whatever. Just keep one for yourself.”

Reo steps close again, drawing you into him. It’s a last kiss, of sorts. There’s a stab of panic at the thought of saying goodbye, but you really don’t want to be in the way when he’s got business to attend to.

Still, when he pulls back, the look he gives you is reassuring. “Don’t forget, okay? I’ll be waiting.”

He unlocks the door, hands you the small bag you’d carried in with you, and looks around for something in the hall. When he apparently finds what he’s looking for, he points in the direction of the back of house and guides you outside of the door. One of the waitstaff smiles politely and gives you a quick, “This way, please.” You look to Reo and he smiles encouragingly.

“I’ll see you soon, right?” You nod. You say a quick goodbye, somewhat embarrassed, and he cackles, saluting you with a wink and a childish poke of his tongue from his lips. That soft little thing inside of your chest thuds painfully against your ribs.

He watches you the entire way out of the restaurant and into the car from the long hallway. The last thing you see is him wave when the back door closes, and when you get inside of his fancy car, the driver nodding his hello to you, you realize the meal you ordered earlier has been remade and is in a small container for you.

The note on top says, “Thought you might be hungry after that. xoxo” And then a phone number. Your face stays beet red, even as you open the container and begin to eat your food. He must have planned for things to go well in advance, enough to have the kitchen make your order when you left. You want to be annoyed at his presumptuous nature, but all it really does is make you want him more. You smile around your fork.

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