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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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Caught Red Handed

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are a chronically-online girlfriend to a boyfriend who very much isn’t. You introduce Joe to an online world that surrounds him, and he hates it. A lot. Especially Steddie.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, smut, rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, mention of Steddie, mention of the NSFW Eddie audio

Author’s note: idk I have so much shit written, but this was nice enough to post on its own, pls don’t leave hate im enjoying myself too much within this fantasy OK PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU DO ENJOY Wordcount: 5.2k

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You were both spread out on the sofa. The coffee table held empty plates, bar some pizza crust and crumbs, and empty glasses. Each of you tucked into their own corner at opposite ends, but your legs had found each other and had intertwined. Joe had your left foot in his hands as it laid on his stomach and slowly kneaded it with strong fingers, eyes glued to the TV screen. You were on your phone, scrolling endlessly, sometimes laughing and showing Joe a funny video or reading a funny tweet aloud. Sometimes Joe would smile at what you showed him, other times he’d just slightly raise his eyebrows in acknowledgement. It’s not like you cared if he found the same things funny; you just wanted to make sure he didn’t feel left out. Joe wouldn’t feel left out though, even if you showed him none of what made you laugh, but he thought your giggle was cute and didn’t want to discourage you. "Oh my God, no way!" you sat up abruptly, and Joe eyes turned to look at you, not moving otherwise. Your eyes grew big, and your grin followed suit as you had come across images of you and Joe, walking the family dog in the park earlier that day. You turned your phone to show Joe who just smiled and turned back to the TV. "We're so adorable," you commented, relaxing back into the sofa, scrolling through photos of Joe with arms around your waist, looking over his shoulder right into the camera. You zoomed in on his face in a couple other pictures. "Ugh, so cute," you whispered under your breath. “Look at that face.” “That face is literally right here.” You glanced up at Joe, finding him lazily watching you through half-lidded eyes, still kneading that same foot. Content, you thought. This man was so content right now.

You kept scrolling, and then you found the shot where you made a funny face and Joe was just about to push your hand down and step in front of you, his face panicked as your hand was holding up a peace sign. "Jackpot." you said smugly and saved the image to your phone. "If they think you're my sister still, I'm gonna have to publicly come out and tell everyone I'm not fucking a sibling," Joe said, eyes now on the foot in his hands, playing closer attention to what he was doing. Joe's fingers felt nice. Soft. "You're not going to publicly say anything about me," you stated, sending the image into two family groupchats - one that has your dad in, the other that has his mum in. Your dad’s groupchat because your sisters think it’s hilarious people think Joe’s your brother and therefore also theirs. His mum’s because it’s their dog in the image. Joe saw his phone buzz on the table, noticing the notifications are from you. "Oh God," he groaned. You weren't done though, as you sent the same message into each groupchat: Quinn siblings take family dog out on walk. You didn't know why you found it so funny, but you were sure the disdain Joe had for the sibling-comments just added to your giddy joy. Joe grinned to himself. He did really dislike the sibling-comments, but the fact that they would send you into fits of giggles meant that he knew you were right; he wouldn't be publicly announcing anything about you to anyone. He stared at you for a second, deciding to lean into the joke, seeing how would like it.

“Come 'ere,” Joe let go of your foot, tapped your leg, and stuck out an arm for you to grab. You put your phone down and let Joe pull you on top of him, his arms wrapping around your back tightly. "Let your brother kiss you," he tried his best to sound seductive before sticking his head down to kiss you on the side of your face. "Oh no, gross," you groaned, immediately wanting to move away. "Don't do that.". But he kept kissing you, his grip strong and you shriek-laughed trying to fight yourself free. "Your older brother Joseph will take care of you," Joe was laughing now too and when his grip relaxed, so did you, your body heavy on top of his as both your laughter faded out. Your cheek was pressed up against Joe’s bare chest, his open shirt only half covering him, as Joe’s fingers started scratching long ways over your back. You stayed like that for a bit, watching TV, listening to Joe's heartbeat, tingling skin from his touch. One of your hands found Joe's side, the fabric of his shirt ridden up slightly, exposing bare hip. You used a fingernail to lazily trail small circles there. When your fingers moved down and started trailing over the fabric of his underwear, Joe shifted his hips a little. It was a familiar move caused by the blood Joe could feel pumping into his groin. You noticed his heartbeat picking up, your right ear catching every beat. He kept trailing his hands up and down your back slowly though, not making any indication of wanting to move on from this moment fast.

You decided you did, and snuck your hand way up his torso, pushing his shirt to the side, exposing his full chest underneath your face. You started pressing slow openmouthed kisses into it, using your tongue to swirl his skin, making him shiver. When you made your way over to kiss and touch a nipple which instantly hardened, Joe suddenly exhaled a breath he'd been holding in, groaning as he did. Joe's hands had also found their way underneath your T-shirt, going slowly up and down your sides. It made you shiver, his hands inching up the sides of your chest, almost grazing your breasts, before slowly cascading down towards your shorts and back up again.You felt Joe shifting his hips under you, one hand escaping your body and roughly readjusting himself in his boxers. "Oohh, hello," you joked, suddenly feeling his throbbing bulge against your lower stomach. Joe grinned and went straight back to touching you under your shirt. Slow hands and soft fingertips.

You pushed yourself up from his body, your legs spread over his crotch, knees on either side as you sat back on your calves. Your hands made its way down to the waistband of his underwear. Joe looked at you, smitten. The most relaxed man ever, you thought as you grinned widely, palming his penis over the fabric. Joe’s full body jerked at your sudden pressing touch. You remembered the first time you'd touched Joe like this. It was well before you confessed your love to each other, and you had both been very drunk. Too drunk. Neither of you properly able to consent in the state you were in, but both horny and eager and there. You were both there, wrong place, wrong time, wrong amount of alcohol in your systems. The whole ordeal had been clumsy, bumping heads, clashing teeth, scratching fingernails and it was all over way too fast. You weren't sure either of you had properly finished, but it had stopped just as quick as it had started and the day after, you both only vaguely remembered snippets. Joe had convinced himself for months that nothing had actually really happened. But you remembered sloppily tugging on his member, because it had made Joe growl in your ear and the way your body had reacted to the sound had really surprised you. The next time, you both knew that this was something you both also wanted in sober states, the situation had been nerve-wracking. You’d shared your first kiss, both of you with clear minds this time. You remembered that right in the middle of the two of you touching each other up, the vibe had suddenly shifted and Joe had changed demeanor in an instant. Confidence. You had asked him about it later. What was that? Joe had smiled and shrugged, knowing exactly what you were talking about. "Just realised right there and then that you were all mine."

If back then Joe had started stroking your back the way he had been doing tonight, you'd be long finished by now. Your hands would always clammer at each other, eager to be under each other’s touch, quick to take off clothing items and get straight to it. But you were a few years older and had learned to take your time. The rewards grew the longer you'd spend on each other, and you both knew it was well worth the extra attention. Joe's hands were under your shirt now, kneading your breasts, playing with your nipples and you felt yourself swell in tandem, pressure slowly building inside your body.

The sudden unlocking of the front door interrupted you. Joe froze completely as you ducked down over him, hiding his hands in your shirt and his boner pressed between the two of you."Don't come in here!" Joe's voice was shaky but loud as he called out to his flatmate who'd just entered the apartment. You tried to hold in laughter, barely able to, the feeling not unlike earlier today when Joe had tried to hide you from a photographer. Except this time, you were sure that if his flatmate walked into the living room, he could see your wet patch in your underwear as you hunched over Joe with your knees wide apart."Ggggot it!" you both heard a sloppy voice from the hallway, followed by three loud footsteps. You both waited to hear a bedroom door open, but it stayed silent. Joe called out again. “Are you still there, mate?” Joe tried to look around you to peek at the doorway. “To be honest- I’m vvvery hungry,” his flatmate was obviously plastered, wanting to get into the kitchen. “Did you not just come back from dinner?” Joe started a conversation, making you roll your eyes. This was taking too long. “Go in the bathroom a minute!” you yelled, the directions loud and clear for his flatmate. And he obliged. You heard him mutter “all right,” before you heard the bathroom door open and close, followed by sloppy fiddling with the lock from inside.

You nearly jumped off your boyfriend and leapt your way to the fridge. “Quick!” you instructed Joe, “Bedroom!”. Joe got up, picked up the remote to turn the TV off and made his way to his bedroom. You quickly grabbed two bottles of water before following him, finding him in the hallway, one foot and two palms pressed up against the bathroom door, making sure it wouldn’t swing open as you were about to walk past. You flew right past Joe into his bedroom and heard Joe slap the bathroom door with an open palm. “Thanks mate, coast is clear,” before jogging after you and closing the door behind him. In the bedroom you barely have enough time to set the water bottles down as Joe grabs you by the waist and slings you onto the mattress. You squeal in delight, immediately clasping both hands over your mouth, now very aware there was another person inside the apartment. Albeit drunk, he still had ears. “Enough with all this slow teasing shit,” Joe says before letting himself fall on top of you, mouth straight to you neck, finding the sweet spot that gave you goosebumps. “Teasing?” you breathe, your hands finding Joe’s dick in his boxers. “I thought we were loving on each other,” you grin, one hand slipping into his underwear, grabbing a firm hold onto him. “Oh, I’ll love on you,” Joe copies your moves and slips a hand into your panties. Your breath catches and Joe grins deeply as he makes strong eye contact with you. His fingers are everywhere, outside, inside, on top of, behind, pinching, rubbing, tracing – it makes you whimper, and you forget you’ve got a hand full of hard flesh, twitching, begging for your hand to move. But your brain-space is completely taken up, not a single thought behind your eyes, stilling your arm as you enjoy what Joe’s doing to you. You start to wiggle, trying to snake your way out of your undies. Joe helps, pulling them down your legs for you before his hand is back at you, pressing hard, feeding touches right where you want them as he hovers over you. “My God, Y/N,” Joe looks down in between your bodies and sees the shine on his hand, not stopping his fast firm movements. Joe said it like he was surprised, but it was like this every time. This man could shoot a simple look at you, and you’d feel moisture escape you. It was embarrassingly easy for him to get you wet. But Joe was surprised. Always afraid that one day, he wouldn’t be able to get you there anymore. And so he kept his expectations low, not allowing himself to get used to anything, even after years of the same. You felt yourself edge closer to ecstasy, and Joe could tell by your facial expression, the twinge of your eyebrows, the high quick breaths and so he stopped at exactly the wrong time, leaving you panting. “Fuck you,” you muttered through a smile, your orgasm ebbing away from you fast. Joe was quick to guide his penis into your warm squeezing walls, going excruciatingly slow at first. It felt great, but you needed more after Joe left you aching. Your hand finds your bundle of nerves in between your bodies, but Joe is quick to try and stop you. You swat his hand away from yours and place it right back where you want it most right now. “You- you gotta let me,” you pant, applying pressure and moving in quick circles. And so he lets you, picking up the pace in his thrusts and it doesn’t take you long to get back to the point you were before. Joe is still wearing the opened short sleeve shirt; it’s hanging down between the two of you as he hovers over you. You decide to bite into the fabric of it, plastic buttons slotted between your teeth, as you feel your orgasm inching closer. “Oh, shit” Joe pants, his face falling into the crevasse of your neck, his body heavy on top of yours, your arm stuck in between the two of you leaving just enough room for your hand to keep moving. His thrusts become deeper, and you whine – it’s high pitched and shaky from Joe filling you entirely. “You’re close,” Joe grunts into your ear. It’s not a question. “Joe,” you’re louder, warning Joe to keep doing what he’s doing. “Shh, he’ll hear you,” Joe hisses, trying to shush you, but his hips keep rutting into you in the same pace, steady on. It finally tips you over, your pants and moans high and loud. Joe quickly caps his hand over your mouth to muffle the noises escaping you as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your walls clenching him inside you. It makes him moan, closing his eyes and pushing his forehead hard into yours. Joe doesn’t let up, now chasing rapidly after his own satisfaction. You let your hand escape the tight squeeze of your bodies and you bring both up to rake through Joe’s curls. Joe’s grunting, making intense eye contact you’re scared to break. He’s working up a sweat, and as you notice his breaths becoming shorter you decide to toy with him the way he had toyed with you earlier. “Quick,” you pant, doing your very best to sound as sexy as you can. “Do an American accent for me,” your voice is breathy, but Joe detects the laugh stuck in your throat. He immediately halts, pulls out and rolls off of you, annoyed, still rock-hard, groaning at you for absolutely killing the mood. “Fuck you,” he says, copying your earlier statement, emphasis on you. It only makes you laugh louder. It had been a couple weeks ago when you’d told Joe to listen to an audio file you had sent him. Joe had absolutely hated you for subjecting him to it, and absolutely hated himself for listening to the full 25 minutes of it. “Does he not sound like you?” “No!” “I think he does. That’s Eddie.” “It’s fucking disgusting, is what it is.” Back in bed, Joe glares at you from his new spot next to you on the mattress. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” you’re still laughing, two hands apologetically clasping one of his biceps, not meaning a word of what you’re saying. “I had to!” “You absolute bitch.” Joe grins catching his breath, head turning and staring up at the ceiling, his dick twitching in the fist of his right hand. You watch it for a second before positioning yourself on your knees next to it. You move his hand out the way, flip your hair over to one side and start treating Joe with you mouth. Joe reaches behind him, positioning a pillow folded under his head, propping it up so he can look at you. You take him like a champ, occasionally looking up to see him staring right at you with your sucked in cheeks as he pants and groans. “Louder,” you instruct, your voice stern. His noises do something to you. Joe shushes you through a grin, eyes shooting from you towards the door and back. The two of you can hear clattering in the kitchen, and if that noise can travel to your ears, Joe knows that whatever’s happening in his room is making to his flatmate’s. So you direct attention to his balls. If Joe doesn’t want to be louder, you were just going to have to make him.It's works. Obviously. Joe’s hands fist into your hair, his head tilting back firmly into his pillow, loud growls escaping his throat. Your hand works fast along his shaft, the other cupping his nuts, tickling, and your mouth covering his tip, tongue swirling. You keep up the pace until Joe’s breaths scatter and his built up pleasure breaks, riddling through his body and right into your mouth, hips spasming under you. Joe tries so very hard to be as quiet as he can, bottom lip tightly tucked and bitten into. It’s exactly what you don’t want to see and you pinch the skin of Joe’s balls, making him cry out in pain loudly. The instant karma is evident as, in turn, the hand that's still in your hair yanks a clump of it harshly. Joe’s hips stop bucking and he relaxes, his breathing heavy, his voice seeping through his exhales lowly. He then reaches over for a water bottle, passing it to you, knowing you don’t like the lingering bitter taste in your mouth. You take a sip and look at Joe’s face, skin glowing, flushed cheeks the perfect colour and that fucking perfect lone curl stuck to his forehead. “Pretty,” you compliment him, using his usual praise for you on him for once. He really was. “Prettier,” he breathes back at you, the hand that previously had strongly pulled at your hair now apologetically combing softly through your strands. When you twist the cap back onto the bottle, Joe grabs your arm and pulls you close to him into a cuddly position. You wipe your mouth on the linen fabric of his open shirt on his shoulder and swing your right leg over his lap. But it’s hot, and you’re both sticky and sensitive so your limbs only linger there for a second before you roll back off of him.“Nooo,” Joe whines, reaching out, doing his best to place your body back where it was. “This room is a sauna,” you fight against Joe’s grip. He manages to pull your face close enough to press a kiss against your temple, then relaxes his grip and lets you find your own space on the bed next to him. �� But Joey’s a needy man and he craves at least some physical touch, so he opens a leg to stick out his knee to touch yours. You move away again, just out of his reach and instead inch your right foot over to his.“We can touch big toes,” you tap yours against his, “That’s it.” You state, opening your water bottle once more, rehydrating as you take big gulps. Joe shakes his head as he laughs and does as he’s told, resting his foot against yours. This was usually prime time for the two of you to talk, your thoughts would flow freely as you slowly came back into your brains, your bodies recovering from the physical activity. Except you didn’t have words to say, so for too long, it’s just the two of you, next to each other on the bed, looking at your feet as you both wiggle them in an out of contact. “Man, if I had foot fetish, this would be such a turn on.” Your random statement made Joe smile before he frowned in thought. “You don’t have any strange fetishes, do you?” he asks, genuinely interested, trying to think back to previous escapades but nothing out of the ordinary coming to mind. You peek at Joe from the sides of your eyes, confused. It had only been a couple of minutes since you referenced it. “Well…” you start. “There’s one…”. You know he knows what it is – had you not just mentioned it to him? You also know he fucking hates it. It takes him a second to get what you’re hinting at. You peer at his expression when suddenly he squeezes his eyes shut in a deep frown. “Okay,” he groans, moving his foot away from you, regretting innocently bringing the topic up. “Oh, you have it so difficult,” you couldn’t be more sarcastic. “Oh no, my girlfriend’s celebrity crush is me, this is the worst thing that could ever have happened to me! Woe is me!” you mock him, crying out theatrically. Joe grins softly, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “It’s so weird!” he complains, wanting to forget how he had discovered this pivotal piece of information you had withheld from him. Sure, Joe knew you liked him in the wig; he had sent photos and short clips from early fittings, and you had replied with heart eye emojis. But Joe was disturbed to find out that it was just the tip of the iceberg with you.

You snapped your laptop shut fast as lightning and quickly squeezed your thighs tightly together spinning onto your stomach, head propped up on your hand. You’re facing Joe who’s standing in the doorway, who had clearly just seen you scramble before pretending to be casually relaxing on your bed. What had he just walked in on? “…… hi.” he states, side eyeing you suspiciously, absolutely not trusting the situation in front of him. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown wide – you’d obviously been caught red-handed, but you tried not to let Joe catch you smelling yourself on the fingers underneath your chin. “What’s going on here?” Joe circles his finger at you, his eyes darting to your closed laptop before finding your eyes again. “Nothing. I was just… reading, something.” You stutter, trying your best to sound super casual, wishing Joe would turn on his heels and leave, the whole thing far too embarrassing to confess to. “Reading, huh? What, like, an article?” But Joe doesn’t leave, instead stepping closer to your bed, suspiciously slow legs taking suspiciously slow steps. “Mmh mmh,” you nod all innocently, big doe eyes look up at him and holding his stare. Joe’s too quick for you, pouncing towards your laptop, landing his full body on top of it. You shriek as you try to get to it before he does, obviously failing. Joe gets back up onto his feet, now holding the laptop and threatens with wiggling fingers to open it. “No,” you warn him. “Do not open that.” Your arms are stretched out in front of your body, reaching for him to give it back to you. “Oh no,” Joe’s face suddenly falls. “Is this where I discover you’re into some obscene shit, like beastiality or something?” “Ew, no!” It’s worse than that, you think. Joe’s eyes linger on the device in his hands, seemingly pondering his next move. “Want to tell me what I’m about to see before I actually look?” his eyes twinkle, but you’re seriously petrified. The way Joe had told you time and time again to not search his name on the internet so much. To stop spiraling down deeper into fan sites of his. It’s unhealthy, Y/N! And he’d been serious about it too, not a hint of playfulness in his voice. You think it over half a second before clambering up to your knees, sitting on your calves and taking a deep breath. “So,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut tightly and pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re not sure where to start. How you were going to break this to him without him absolutely losing all interest in you for the rest of his life. “Okay. I was browsing the internet-” “You were watching porn.” Joe translated your statement. “I wasn’t.” you defended immediately. “Not- … not watching porn.” you corrected your boyfriend, wincing at your confession. Joe’s face broke out a wide grin, eyebrows raised high. “Look at you, so intellectual!” You held your breath a second, wishing your very hardest that time would rewind, and Joe would put the laptop down back next to you on the bed and walk out of your bedroom in reverse. “You were reading porn.” Joe nods encouragingly at you when you take too long – the truth of his words pushing the air right out of you, almost in an annoyed sigh. “What kind?” Joe pressed, way too into what he had walked in on. “You’re not going to like it.” You squeeze your brows together apologetically. Joe studies you for a second and then groans loudly. He knows. “Y/N….” Joe wants you to say you’re joking. You can’t lie and instead just nod, your face a painful grimace. “Fan fiction?” Joe cries out. “Joey, it’s so good! These girls are unbelievable writers and Eddie-” you reach for the laptop, now wanting to show him, but before you can take it from his hands, he hugs it tight to his body. “If I had known…” Joe can’t even look at you, his voice raised, very stern. “That this,” still not looking at you, but flailing an arm in your direction. “Is what Eddie fucking Munson was going to do to you-” “Not Eddie.” You interrupt, regret washing over you fast, your brain apparently on the truth-train and needing to get all of it out. Joe’s eyes snap back to you again, studying you face, hoping you were about to deliver some good news. “Not just Eddie, anyways,” you face still reads apologetic to him, but he’s not following you, so he decides to check for himself, now opening the laptop and scanning the screen as it lights up. “Who the fuck is Steddie?” “It’s- it’s Steve. Steve and Eddie.” The disgust he had shown you before had now ten folded. “Steve?! You’re fantasizing about fucking Joe Keery?!” he is practically shrieking in your direction, and you grow frustrated, because no, you weren’t. He’s not getting it. “No, I-” “Right. That’s it.” His voice suddenly way softer in volume, but still just as annoyed. “We are – you are, never hanging out with Joe Keery again, especially- especially! not without me!” “It’s Steddie!” Your frustration made you find your voice too and you decide to argue back. “It’s Steddie - not Steve!” Joe is taken aback slightly, but his stance remains. He’s not backing down. “Fuck Steve!” you say, but when you hear it, you backtrack. “Wait- no, that’s not- Not fuck Steve, I mean – yes, but not me- it’s Eddie. It’s Steve,” you hold out your left hand. “And Eddie,” you hold out your right, and then fold them together, your hands too close to Joe's face for his liking. “This isn’t helping!” Joe had finished the shouting match. You didn’t know what to say to help the situation. Joe didn’t know what else to add about what he had found his girlfriend doing. You thought he was overreacting. “It’s just innocent fun,” you tried to carefully to save yourself. Joe had had a long day, and really didn't know how to cope with anything that was going on at the time. This had been the last drop. Joe looked at you for a bit, trying to make up his mind but then granting you your wish as he handed you your laptop back and left you in the room by yourself. Joe had needed to step out, have a think by himself, just some quiet time to reflect. He had gone for a walk, and when he came back he just walked in and before you could let any words pass your lips, he had hugged you, squeezing your body tightly. It was a hug that told you more was at play; an emotional embrace that only broke when limbs grew tired of gripping. He had nuzzled apologies into your neck, he’d been silly, and you had done the same, saying you’d never google his name again, and everything was fine after. It had all turned back to normal; Joe had cooked for you, and you had told him about things that happened earlier that day at work. Normalcy is what he had needed, and walking into your apartment earlier, he had come in looking for you to ground him. Instead, you had thrown information his way he didn’t know how to process. You didn’t talk about it for a while, but it popped back up after you had gone to a concert with a group of people. Joe Keery had been there too amongst others, and your boyfriend had been dangerously touchy that night, hands barely ever leaving your body. He mostly stuck to your shoulders, upper arms and the top of your head – places where he would quite literally touch his stepsister – your privacy always at the forefront of his mind. But hidden in the crowd, people closely surrounding you and with the safety of everyone’s attention on the stage, Joe had held your hands and would touch your hips and he’d sometimes rest his head atop of yours as he hugged you from behind. It felt like a dangerous game, but you weren’t the focus of the night. It also helped that Andrew fucking Garfield was stood at the edge of the balcony. It had made Joe feel the most anonymous; when people weren’t looking at the stage, they were looking up to see if Andrew Garfield was still there. No photos of that night had found its way onto the internet afterwards and you’d been glad, because you didn’t need reminders of how flushed your cheeks had been. Head bopping along to the live music, you had admitted silently to yourself that, yes, reading Steddie fanfiction was a fucking weird thing to do, because now you were there, in a crowd of people, Joe’s hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you, easily looking over you and the rest of the crowd and a few people over was Joe Keery, clapping hands and cheering as the band finished a song on stage. They weren’t Steve and Eddie, but at the same time, yes they were and it was icky. So very icky. And then Joe had teased you, threatening he was going to tell on you, his eyes on his friend. The absolute embarrassment you had shown in your cheeks had made it up to him completely.

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe x reader #joseph x reader #smut #fluff #rpf #fanfiction #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #joey quinn #caught red handed

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your-divine-ribs · 28 days

Text

Caught Red-Handed

Words: 6.3k

Doesn't Van ever think about knocking?

Friends to lovers // eventual smut // I have a Sam version of this story on my Wattpad too xxx

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

You'd been friends with Van for years, right back when the notion of recording platinum-selling albums and touring the world was just a dream. He was that friend who you could talk to if you had a problem. He never judged you and he always had your back. He was the one person you could call on if you needed anything. So when you'd had a huge bust up with your friend and house-mate and he asked you to move into his house in Chester you didn't think twice. Larry had moved out just months before and there was Van, rattling around in the house all by himself. He'd never been any good with just his own company… and you were of no fixed abode. It was the perfect solution. There was just one small problem...

The past few months you'd started to see Van in a different light. His striking ocean eyes captivated you like they never had done before. The feel of his body pressed up next to yours when he greeted you with a hug made your heart race. And seeing him with his female fans fawning all over him just set off a sharp sting of jealousy which you had no business feeling.

Now here you were on a Sunday night, lounging on the sofa watching TV and feasting on takeaway pizza, trying not to react to the fact that your pulse had started to quicken the moment Van took his seat next to you, barely leaving a gap between your two bodies.

"Give us another slice of yours," he says, not waiting for your consent but reaching over into the cardboard box on your lap.

"No way!" You protest, slapping at his intruding hand and then snatching the box away out of his reach. "You've already had two slices you greedy git!"

"Come on, yours is well nice," he pleads. "I'll swap ya."

"Ughhh not a chance. It's not my fault you ordered the worst pizza on the menu. I mean who has pineapple on pizza anyway?" You wrinkle up your nose in disgust.

"Well, I'll just have to take control of this then if we're not sharing!" Van announces, grabbing for the remote control and switching channels.

You groan as Match of the Day fills the TV screen. You hate football and Van knows it. He's obviously just trying to wind you up and it's working.

"Hey that's not fair, it's my turn to choose what we watch tonight. Spider-Man's on in ten minutes and I wanna see it."

"Do you really wanna see the film, or just perv over Tom Holland, eh?" Van chuckles, holding the remote control higher as you swipe for it. "Ah that's it, isn't it? Ooh Tom, Tom! You're so sexy!"

He mimics you in a silly girly voice, throwing his head back and laughing as you narrow your eyes at him. God he's bloody infuriating sometimes, like a big kid.

"Shut up and pass it here!" You whine, setting your pizza box down on the empty seat next to you so you can reach up to grab the remote.

It's no use though, he passes it over to his other hand and stretches right out so there's no chance of you getting it from your current position.

"If you can get it you can watch what you like," he taunts. "And if you don't I get the rest of your pizza!"

You rise up out of your seat, leaning right over him, one hand on the back of the sofa near his head, the other reaching over as far as you can, fingers straining.

"You're so bloody annoying!" You complain, kneeling on the seat next to him so you can reach even further.

He just laughs with the widest shit-eating grin plastered across his face, riling you up further. You're almost there, your fingers practically touching the remote, just an inch further and it'll be yours…

And then your foot slips out from under you and you find yourself sprawling forwards, toppling right over into his lap. You're practically straddling him, your chest thrust right in his face.

"Woah! If you want my body you've only got to ask!" Van jokes, his whole face creasing into laughter at your obvious embarrassment as you scramble up on to your feet, your cheeks glowing.

You'd normally laugh it off, come back at Van with some cutting remark, but for once you're lost for words, a combination of your self-consciousness and the fact that being so close to Van has made your body react in all sorts of inappropriate ways.

You have an urge to get away now you're on your feet, putting your head down and heading for the door, mumbling something about not feeling too good.

Van springs to his feet immediately, catching hold of your arm just as you're about to exit the room, gently bringing you to a stop.

"What's up? I've not really pissed you off have I? I was only joking you know. We can watch whatever you like... Y/N? Are you alright?"

You've no choice but to turn and face him, your awkwardness increasing. You just hope you sound convincing.

"I'm okay, it's not you... I've just... come over feeling a bit funny... a bit sick. I think I'm just gonna go and lie down upstairs for a bit..."

Van's face falls with obvious disappointment and then creases with concern. "Hope you're okay..."

You pull away, saying you'll be fine, hurriedly rushing up the stairs and into your bedroom, pushing the door closed behind you and flopping down on to the bed, frustrated.

This has got to stop. You've known Van for so long he should be more like a brother to you. If anything happened it would just make things weird. Not that he's probably remotely interested in you at all romantically or sexually. The trouble is, now you've started to see him that way you can't get the thoughts out of your head. There's no way you're going back downstairs now to torture yourself all the more.

You sigh, resolving that you may as well just call it a night and try and get some sleep. You get undressed and shimmy into the little silk slip that you sleep in. It's far too hot to get under the covers so you lie on top, closing your eyes and trying to clear your mind, hoping that sleep claims you soon.

It's useless. Images of Van scroll through your head ceaselessly. His disarming smile... his stunning blue-green eyes... that cheeky way he looks at you, waiting for a reaction when he's winding you up...

It starts out innocent enough, but then your mind really starts to wander. You recall a morning last week when you'd bumped into Van in the hallway when he'd just stepped out of the shower dressed in nothing but a towel, his pale skin still flushed from the warm spray. Imagine if his towel had slipped...

Warmth floods your body at the thought and you squirm on the bed, pressing your thighs together.

Think about something else Y/N, for fucks sake...

Your thoughts drift to yesterday afternoon. Van was messing around with lyrics for a new song he was writing and he wanted your views on them. A smile springs on to your lips, you love the fact that he values your opinion so much.

This is a safe topic to think of. You picture the scene from yesterday. Van was sitting on the sofa in front of the window, strumming away, his eyes screwed shut whilst he sang, completely lost in the music. You'd been grateful for that so you could watch him uninhibited. The sun was low in the sky and it was streaming through the window, bathing him in a soft golden glow. God he'd looked gorgeous.

You'd been focussing on his hands, his long, slender fingers flying up and down the frets, expertly picking out the notes. His hands...

Oh god.... here you go again. You must admit you've become quite obsessed with his hands recently. His fingers are just so... long...

Just imagine...

Fuck... now your mind's really working overtime but this time you don't try and divert it. It's been months since you've been intimate with anyone after your prick of an ex dumped you, and he treated you that badly you've not felt sexy at all since... until now. Why not just enjoy the feeling? It's only a fantasy anyway.

Eyes still screwed shut, you hitch up your silky slip around your hips, spreading your legs apart. You start to touch yourself over your underwear, imagining it's Van's fingers instead of your own. That's when you realise exactly how turned on you are. In no time your heart's racing and your breathing heavy as you writhe on the bed. Your panties feel damp to touch as you curl your fingers around the edge of the lace and move them aside.

You start to caress yourself, dipping one finger inside you to gather the slickness of your arousal, then spread it upwards over your clit, moving in tight circles.

God that feels good. You tip your head back on the pillow and spread your legs even wider, moving your hips in time with your caresses, little whimpers of pleasure escaping your lips. All the time you're thinking about Van and imagining his hands on you, that familiar tightening feeling building in your core.

What you don't realise is that you have an audience. Van came upstairs a few moments ago to check on you, worrying about you feeling poorly.

He didn't knock. He didn't even think. Now he wishes he had... or maybe not...

He knows what he should do. Back slowly and quietly out of the room, pretend he's not seen you, then carry on pretending he's not seen you. But he can't. He's transfixed. He doesn't think he's ever seen a sexier sight in all his life than you pleasuring yourself. Hair spread wantonly over the pillow, brows furrowed a little, your mouth a perfect O shape. Your body's rising and falling with your deep breaths, your fingers gliding over your slick skin. Christ, those little moans that you're making. He can feel his dick stiffening, pressing uncomfortably on his jeans. And then...

"Oh Van..."

What the fuck?

The shock suddenly snaps Van out of his trance and he steps back quickly, kicking the door as he does, alerting you to his presence.

What the fuck?

Your eyes snap open in a heartbeat and you sit bolt upright, confused for a second until you see Van lingering in the doorway, a stricken look on his face. Did he see... everything? Did he hear his name?

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest and you grab for the duvet, horrified, wrapping it tightly around yourself.

"Jesus Van, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" You cry out, mortified, feeling the colour instantly drain from you in shock but then swiftly return with your humiliation, staining your cheeks scarlet.

Van appears to be speechless, his mouth opening and closing like he's a fish out of water. All the time he's shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Finally he manages to string together some stumbled words.

"I... I'm so sorry. I was... errr... worried about you... 'cause you said you felt sick. I was just... errr... coming up to check on ya."

"Yeah well I'm okay!" You say, your voice coming out high-pitched, your eyes darting around so you don't have to look directly at him.

"I can see that!" He blurts out.

You allow yourself to look at him now, and there's a moment where your eyes lock, and it's like there's a million things you both want to say but you can't find the words.

And then it passes. Van backs clean out of the room, still muttering his apologies, and you sit there in shock... absolutely mortified.

What now?

As soon as your eyes flicker open the next morning it all comes flooding back in a wave of red hot shame and humiliation. How the fuck are you supposed to face Van again after he's seen you in such a compromising position? And, even worse... did he hear you moaning his name? How the hell are you even going to look him in the eye if he knows you've been fantasising about him?

You hurriedly shower and dress and make your way downstairs to find that Van's already there, he's obviously rolled right out of bed and come straight down in the hunt for breakfast.

He stands in the kitchen in just a pair of trackie bottoms, no t-shirt, hair all mussed up and looking every bit as delectable as the full English he's frying up on the stove. Your mouth's watering and you're not sure whether it's the aroma of the bacon or the sight of him.

Your gazes lock as you enter the room and for an awkward moment you don't think anyone's going to speak, but then Van does, and it's an admirable attempt to make things seem normal but it just falls flat.

"Oh... morning love. Want some of this? There's plenty. I was gonna come and ask if you wanted some but..."

You thought you might disturb me finger-fucking myself on the bed?

Of course he doesn't say it but you're both thinking it. You can tell by the tiny hint of a smile that plays on his lips, the way he trails off, looking down, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Errr... no... thanks, I... errr... actually have... a meeting first thing. Thought I'd get to the office early, catch up on some stuff. I'm so busy at the moment. Honestly the emails... they never stop coming..."

Now you're babbling, and you have a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that what's happened will taint your easy-going friendship with Van. You really don't want a silly moment to ruin the precious bond you have. You panic, still mumbling about your heavy workload as you grab a banana out of the fruit bowl and make for the door.

You cringe all the way to work and by the time you get there you're in such a state over it that you vow to try and put the whole thing to the back of your mind or you'll just drive yourself crazy. Thankfully work is busy and you throw yourself into it, managing to completely switch off your whirring brain. In fact you almost forget all about it until your phone buzzes with a text notification mid-afternoon. It's Van.

Van: Hi hope you're ok. Me and Bondy are having a few drinks down the local tonight if you fancy it? x

Usually you wouldn't hesitate, especially if Bondy's down from Newcastle. You love seeing the guys, but you realise that you can't face it and you find yourself grudgingly typing a reply.

Sorry Van, I'm having a rough day and I'm tired already. Have fun and say hi to Bondy for me...

Van obviously does have fun as he's still not back home by the time your eyelids have grown heavy and you've taken yourself off to bed that evening. You can't sleep though, lying there on your back staring up at the ceiling, going through scenes in your head where you and Van sit down to discuss what happened like two sensible, mature adults. The only problem is every single scenario you dream up has the same outcome: Van sniggering like a naughty schoolboy and you ending up red-faced and flustered and even more embarrassed than you were beforehand.

You're still chasing sleep when you hear the key in the lock and heavy footsteps traipsing into the kitchen at gone midnight. You sit up in bed, wondering whether you should get up and speak to Van but then you hear a loud clattering noise, followed by some curse words and muted laughter. He's definitely drunk.

You sigh, sinking back down into bed, listening to Van clumsily banging around in the kitchen, then you hear his footsteps on the stairs. You even find yourself counting the steps, waiting for the moment he'll walk past your bedroom.

And then there's silence... He's stopped... right outside your bedroom door.

You can just make out his shadow in the tiny gap of light filtering under the door. He's standing right there! Your heart almost stops beating and you realise that you're holding your breath, waiting for a sound... his voice, maybe a knock, or maybe he won't knock... again. Maybe he's standing there imagining you like you were last night...

And then you hear him move away.

The rest of the week carries on in the same vein. You blatantly avoiding Van by way of feigning imaginary illnesses or tiredness and enduring awkward encounters in the kitchen that have you quickly scurrying away, and by the time Friday comes around you're running out of excuses.

You've had another exhaustingly long, hectic day at work and when you arrive home you breathe a sigh of relief when you stand quietly in the hallway, listening for any signs of life in the house and you hear none. Great... that means Van's more than likely out, so you've got the whole place to yourself. No sneaking around, no hiding away, you can just relax.

You kick off your shoes and make for the kitchen, on a mission to find the largest glass you can to fill with wine before heading upstairs for a long soak in a luxurious bubble bath. It sounds heavenly...

"Surprise!"

You practically jump out of your skin at the sight of Van in the kitchen as you push through the door. He's standing there holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other, the widest grin on his face practically splitting it in two.

"What's all this?" You exclaim, eyes wide, heart pounding from the shock of discovering that you're not as alone as you thought.

"Thought I'd treat ya... 'cause you've been working so hard and I also thought you needed cheering up 'cause you've been dead grumpy..."

"I've not been grumpy!" You protest, aware that you do, actually, sound extremely grumpy. You smile despite yourself.

He continues, placing the glasses down on the kitchen table and beginning to pour out the wine. "And you've been avoiding me."

Shit...

"I've not been avoiding you at all, I've just been... busy, and tired. It's been a long week."

He pauses, looking at you with eyebrows slightly raised. "Oh really? So you've not been avoiding me since..."

Uh-oh. Here it comes. You brace yourself, feeling your cheeks warming, watching his face scrunching in second-hand embarrassment for you.

"Since... The Incident..."

The Incident? The way he says it, even pausing for effect, like he's talking about some award-winning feature film he's bigging up, leaves you in no doubt that you're not going to be able to get away with pretending like it never happened. He wants to discuss it. Right now.

You shoot out a hand, reaching for one of the wine glasses and gulping at the contents, hoping for the alcohol to dull your embarrassment, but sadly it doesn't work that fast.

"Did you have to bring it up?" You say, swirling your wine around in the bottom of your glass to avoid looking at him.

"Actually yes, I do," he says. "If we're gonna live together we need to clear the air. We can't go on like this. I feel really bad that I didn't apologise properly as well, so I'm saying sorry now. I really should have knocked. I just didn't think..."

"Okay, okay!" You interrupt, relieved that he actually seems to be handling the situation maturely and not descending to adolescent level. "Apology accepted. Can we just forget about it now... please?"

"Uh-huh..." Van nods before taking a sip from his own glass, but he's eyeing you over the rim in such a way that you know it's not the last you've heard of it.

You try for a distraction. "Shall we get a take-away? I'm starving."

That seems to have worked. Van immediately clutches his belly announcing how hungry he is and you suggest Chinese. Van places his phone on the kitchen counter and you spend a while hunched over it, perusing the menu. Then you wander into the living room with your wine, leaving Van to phone the order through.

You smile to yourself. Well... that was pretty painless. Hopefully now you can just get back to being housemates and carry on hiding the fact that you're secretly in love... hold on, no... LUST...with Van. There's no way that this is love. What made you even think that?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Van entering the room, grumbling that the restaurant are busy tonight so your food will take at least an hour.

"Well... we may as well have more wine then," he says, holding out the bottle to offer you more and you gratefully accept.

"Woah, not so much," you protest as he fills your glass so full it's practically slopping over the top. "You know how drunk I get on an empty stomach!"

"Lightweight!" He teases, setting his glass down on the coffee table and taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

To your surprise he doesn't sit facing the tele but angles his body so he's facing you, and when you glance over at him him he's got his eyes fixed on you with a grin. You look away but you can feel his eyes on you still.

"What?" You finally say. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Anxiety squirms in your gut and you take another large swallow of your wine. "Well... I'm sure you're just going to ask me anyway..."

You pretend to pick at an imaginary piece of fluff on your dress so you don't have to look at him.

"Do you... errr..." he pauses for a second before carrying on. "Do you do that... all the time?"

"Do I do what all the time?" You say, playing dumb, but you know damn well what he's talking about.

"You know... last weekend... when I caught ya..."

"Oh my god Van!" You cry. "What sort of a question is that?"

He shrugs, still grinning. "C'mon Y/N. How long have we been mates for? We can talk about anything can't we? I'm just curious... that's all."

The embarrassment is radiating off you in waves, but Van's completely unbothered. Your instinct is to tell him to mind his own business, but you don't. There's something about the thought of discussing such an intimate topic with him that's made your heart thump with excitement.

"Of course I don't do it all the time!" You giggle shyly. "Why? Do you?"

"When the mood takes me. Which is... errr... quite a lot actually!" He starts chuckling, while you shake your head. "Well? It's not like I've got anyone else to do it for me is it?"

"What are you talking about? You're not exactly short of female admirers are you? And probably male ones too! You could be shagging someone different every night if you wanted to!"

Van pushes his hair back off his face. He's still wearing a huge smile. "And why would I wanna do that? You know I don't sleep with fans. And I don't go for one night stands... not anymore."

You consider Van's words. He's right. He's certainly not the horny 22 year old he used to be who took full advantage of having girls throwing themselves at him everywhere he went when the band first started getting a following.

In fact since you've moved in with him he's not had any lovers over to stay the night at all. It was one of the things you were worried about when he'd asked you to move in with him to be honest. The thought of having to smile sweetly at a parade of loved up, freshly fucked conquests each morning whilst eating your breakfast just made you feel sick to your stomach with what you’re now realising is jealousy.

Van hasn't finished. He reaches over for his wine glass whilst he's talking. "It's funny isn't it? Back then I thought I was living the dream, but now I realise how kinda shallow I was. I guess as you get older you realise the thing about sex is it's not quantity but quality that's important."

This surprises you. You weren't expecting the conversation to take this sort of turn, you were anticipating Van teasing you mercilessly about what he caught you doing. You'd been dreading it, but the realisation hits you now that it would have been a lot easier to cope with. Hearing Van talking frankly about his love life is just making you realise how much you want to be a part of it. And it's not just the sex. You want all of him.

"Yeah well it's alright if you find someone you're compatible with I guess..."

Van drains his glass, reaching for the bottle and topping himself up. "You're so right. I mean why settle for a quick meaningless fuck with a practical stranger when you can have a real connection with someone?"

And then he looks at you. Really looks at you. You can feel yourself melting under his gaze. You want him so bad. And maybe he wants you too...

But maybe you're getting this all wrong. Maybe it's just wishful thinking and the wine and the talk of sex that's making you feel like the atmosphere in the room has changed. Your head's spinning with thoughts and you panic.

"I hope the food doesn't really take an hour! I'm starved!" You suddenly blurt out, making to rise up out of your seat, but Van darts out a hand to gently grip your arm, stilling you. He's still got that look in his eyes, a certain intensity that makes your belly flip and your heart stutter.

"I heard you," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I heard you say my name... last week. You were thinking about me weren't you? While you were..."

Oh shit! How are you supposed to get out of this one? You can't deny it.

"I... I..." you start but trail off. Your cheeks are burning and your head feels light and there's nowhere to hide.

Van takes your wine glass from you and places both his and yours on the coffee table. Then he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours, entwining them together. He has an earnest expression on his face as he speaks.

"It's okay... don't be embarrassed. I have a confession to make actually..."

He shifts in the seat, moving closer, his eyes not leaving yours. The air between you is thick with a heady kind of tension which only increases as Van speaks again.

"Since I saw you... like that... I've not been able to get it out of my mind. I think it was the hottest thing I've ever seen. All I can think of is seeing you like that again. I really wanna be the one to make you feel like that... for real..."

"I... I..." you stutter, struggling to form anything coherent, your mind fogging over with lust, imagining what might happen.

Van pulls the hand that he's holding towards him, urging you to move your body around to face him more fully and you comply. He's getting closer still, now just inches away.

"Because I reckon I could make you feel good. Really good... if you'll let me?"

He reaches forward with his other hand, gently cupping your cheek. You want to surrender to him, your body automatically responding, your breathing deepening, nerves bristling, but you find yourself holding back.

"I... I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to... it's just... I don't wanna complicate things. I like you Van. Actually... I really like you."

You feel your cheeks warming from the unexpected confession you've just let slip, immediately fretting that you've said the wrong thing, but you don't need to worry. You feel Van's fingers brushing your cheek, his eyes simmering with desire but affection too. "You don't know how happy that makes me to hear you say that... the feeling is definitely mutual."

His gaze drops down to your lips and back up and you find yourself doing the same to his, waiting for the moment they meet, eager to taste him. But still you hesitate. "Can we... can we just... go slow?"

"We can go as slow as you like..."

You both lean in together, too hasty, teeth clashing. It's silly and awkward and you laugh breathlessly, pulling away.

"We'll try that again shall we?" Van chuckles softly and this time he takes the lead, his hand going to the back of your neck, winding through your hair, pulling you closer.

Your mouths meet and this time it's tentative and slow, your lips brushing each other's gently. You sigh into the kiss as it deepens, your tongues entwining. It's like a release, you've dreamt about this moment for so long and now it's actually happening.

Van's free hand goes to your waist and he pushes you back on to the sofa. You grasp at his hips, wanting to feel the weight of him on top of you and he obliges, pressing himself on to you, his knees sliding between your legs. Just the feel of his warm body flush next to yours makes desire pool down deep inside you and you feel your hips push upwards to meet his like they have a mind of their own.

"Hmm... someone's eager," Van whispers, as he pulls away from the kiss, hovering over you.

"You have no idea," you smile back, your hands sliding between your bodies and going to the buckle of his belt, hastily unfastening it. Ideas of going slow are suddenly the last thing on your mind.

He smiles wickedly, and he catches his bottom lip in his teeth as he looks down on you. "You're a fucking vision, you know that? I've been dreaming about this for so long. What I'd like to do to you..."

"Oh yeah?"

His belt's unfastened now, and you slide your fingers under the waistband of his jeans, but you don't get far before you feel Van's hands on your wrists, gripping them gently but firmly, guiding them away, pushing them back against the chair.

"Nuh-huh, this is all about you," he says. "Told you I wanted to make you feel good didn't I?"

"But..." you start to protest, stopping when he raises a hand and presses his index finger against your lips.

"All I wanna hear from those lips is how good it feels, okay?"

"So I've just got to lie here?" You say, biting back a grin at the smirk on his face as he rises up slightly, placing a hand on either of your thighs, pushing your dress upwards until it's bunched up around your hips.

"Yeah... think you can manage that?"

You feel a little vulnerable and exposed in front of Van in such an intimate way for the first time, feeling the flush on your cheeks, the adrenaline flooding your body with excitement.

His fingers trail down your thighs slowly, tracing little patterns on your skin, and you can feel the small callouses on his finger tips. You're so sensitive to his touch your body shivers every now and again and he watches you intently, a smile playing on his lips as you gasp as he inches closer to the edge of your underwear and then moves away.

"You're a fucking tease McCann," you say, watching his smile widen, his eyes light up with mischief.

"It'll be worth the wait... trust me," he says self-assuredly.

Christ... your heart's beating double time, your breathing getting shallow. You need to feel something, your hips twitching as Van places a palm on either of your thighs, slowly pushing them even further apart. Then he dips his head down, and you feel his lips pressing against your inner leg by the knee. He plants delicate kisses all the way up one thigh, then moves to the other side, repeating his actions. Little tremors shoot through you in anticipation.

"Van..." you breathe, yearning to feel his touch where you need it.

"What's up love?" He asks teasingly, fingers trailing along the edge of your underwear. "What do you need?"

"You know damn well what I need," you whine, impatient. All you can think of is his hands. Those long fingers and how they're going to make you feel.

"Let's get rid of these then," Van says, his fingertips hooking under the waistband of your panties.

He begins to inch them down your hips, not taking his eyes off you as he does it and there's something about this that builds the tension in such a way that it's almost unbearable. When you feel his fingertips connect with your skin, one skimming over your your sweet spot, your body reacts instantly with a shudder of pleasure.

He leans over you to kiss you again, fingers exploring the folds between your legs, repeatedly flicking over your clit. It feels better than you could ever imagine and you moan softly into his mouth, bucking your hips upwards, chasing his touch as his fingers start to stray away.

"Don't stop," you plead in between kisses.

"Mmm... I have no intention of stopping," he purrs. "Tell me... how does this feel?"

He pushes one finger slowly inside you, followed by another, stretching you out deliciously. You whimper underneath him. "Fuck that feels good..."

You words tail off into passionate sighs and you close your eyes, tipping your head back. His long, slender fingers reach parts of you that you could never hope to, and before long you're writhing on the bed as he pumps them slowly inside you, moving your hips in sync with his motions.

Suddenly his touch disappears, and your eyes flick open. He's hovering over you, eyes glazed over with lust, and you watch as he raises his hand, slipping the fingers he's been pleasuring you with between his lips.

"You taste fucking amazing," he says, licking his fingers clean.

The action simultaneously makes you blush furiously but also stokes the fire that's already burning between your legs. You're so turned on you feel like the lightest touch might make you explode.

"Don't make me wait... please!" You implore, rising up slightly, reaching for his hips, feeling desperate now.

"But I don't wanna rush this, you look too good," he whispers, gently pushing you back down by your shoulders, before placing a sweet kiss on your lips. "In fact I'd say you looked good enough to eat."

Fuck... Your body's pulsing now, the heat between your legs intensifying. Van moves completely off the sofa, his fingers curling around your thighs, easing your body around so he's kneeling in between your splayed legs.

You look down to see him moving closer, and he keeps his eyes on you as he leans in, licking a slow stripe to your aching heat. Then he starts to work you with his tongue, concentrating all his efforts on the sensitive nub of nerves. Watching him pleasure you like this whilst he's looking you right in the eye is probably the single most erotic thing you've ever experienced, but you find that you can't maintain his gaze for long. The sensations are just too powerful and you can feel your eyes rolling back in your head.

"Fucking hell..." you breathe, and he hums an approval, the vibrations travelling through your core, making your body quiver.

You can feel that familiar tight knot starting low down in your belly, sure you'll peak soon, and as if on cue, Van suddenly hoists your legs up on to his shoulders to get even closer. He buries his head between your thighs, lapping relentlessly at your clit, easing two fingers inside you, curving them at a spot that has you seeing stars. You can feeling yourself unravelling at an increasing pace, hurtling towards your climax.

Your hands thread through his hair, tugging it roughly at the roots, losing yourself as the first swell of your orgasm hits you like a hurricane. Then it's wave upon wave of indescribable pleasure, moans falling from your lips, your legs trembling. Van doesn't stop until the last of the shudders wrack your body.

"Oh my god," you breathe, slowing coming back down to earth as Van emerges, leaning towards you with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"That alright then?" He grins cheekily, pulling your dress back over your body to cover you up, then resting his hands across your lap.

"Bloody hell, that was... a bit better than alright!" You say, still panting slightly.

Your body feels wrung out but in the best possible way. Van kneels there looking up at you, hair dishevelled, pupils blown wide, his lips still glossy with your arousal, and you think you might have just been transported to heaven.

"I suppose I should... repay the favour," you say with the most flirtatious of grins, raising your eyebrows at him.

Van's smile mirrors yours as he rises up from the floor, taking his seat next to you on the sofa and wrapping an arm around you, drawing you into a close embrace.

"Oh I'm definitely going to hold you to that love..."

#caught red handed #catb imagines #van mccann #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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