always only you (c.sc)
summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.
note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy
warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other
pairings: s.coups x reader
genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers
word count: 14.2K
It was a bad date.
Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either.
Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers.
You just wish you never told Mingyu.
I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.
Stupid.
You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure.
You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you.
Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it.
“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile.
“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”
“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth.
The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought.
Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you.
You do fast math, panic math.
After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home.
Your stomach churns.
You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”
He’s gone before you can say thank you.
You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain.
Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this.
The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots.
It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call.
You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?
No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing.
You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride.
The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box.
Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone.
The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,”
The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”
“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”
“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”
“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?”
“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”
“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?”
He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop.
“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.
“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys.
You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops.
“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,”
You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,”
“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,”
You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming.
The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first.
You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress.
Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care.
He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless.
Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.
Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately.
Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel.
A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse.
By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill.
When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air.
He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather.
“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way.
His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?”
“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,”
He blinks, “y/n,”
“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,”
Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality.
He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you.
You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,”
“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position.
The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.
“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?”
Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red.
He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I know,”
“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.”
Oh.
Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,”
He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words.
“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,”
“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact.
“I know,” You sigh.
“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?”
“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,”
Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish.
“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,”
“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.”
“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,”
“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”
He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait.
The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory.
He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,”
“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone.
“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.”
“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,”
“What, y/n?” He pushes a little.
“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,”
“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road.
“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,”
“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile.
“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,”
He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?”
“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,”
He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?”
“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,”
“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave.
You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,”
“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in.
“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain.
“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.”
Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?”
You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,”
“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,”
“I know,” You breathe.
He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?”
“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,”
“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,”
“I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,”
He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,”
You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?”
“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.”
You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly.
“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,”
His hand tightens on yours.
“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,”
You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour.
“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you.
“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,”
His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,”
“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.”
“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,”
You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green.
He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,”
“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty.
“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,”
“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?”
“Shut up,” He sighs.
“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?”
He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?”
“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,”
His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,”
“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,”
He grimaces, “Ugh,”
“Exactly,”
“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,”
He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal.
Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?”
“You want to come up?”
“If you don’t mind,”
“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol.
He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times.
It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.
“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,”
“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here.
“So,” He clears his throat lightly.
“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,”
You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride.
But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding.
Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s.
He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go.
“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,”
“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands.
Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps.
“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,”
“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,”
“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,”
“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?”
“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,”
He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom.
It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself.
But then he laughs again.
You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?”
“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf.
“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,”
“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign.
“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile.
“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,”
He nods, “I remember,”
“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,”
“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,”
“Mm,” You laugh.
“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee.
“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise.
“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’”
“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,”
“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,”
“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,”
“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,”
“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little.
“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,”
“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,”
Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?”
“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,”
He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you.
“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,”
Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back.
“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,”
“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue.
“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,”
“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.”
“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,”
He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,”
“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee.
“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question.
“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”
His eyes flick over you and then he nods.
The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”
You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash.
“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,”
“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply.
“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning.
It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it.
“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him.
He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least.
You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,”
He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,”
“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,”
“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,”
“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,”
“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has.
“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”
He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours.
You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist.
He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?”
“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird.
“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?”
“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in.
You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,”
This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you.
“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,”
He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,”
“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw.
“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,”
“Yeah?” You’re breathless already.
“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants.
A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss.
“God,” He shivers.
“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,”
Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away.
“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,”
“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,”
“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back.
“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,”
“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth.
“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart.
“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms.
“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip.
“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?”
“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,”
“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small.
“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,”
“Okay,”
“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?”
Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards.
“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.”
“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, ���Seungcheol, look at me,”
“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze.
“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,”
He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?”
“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,”
He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,”
“Yeah,”
“And you wanted me?”
You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,”
“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,”
“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,”
He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity.
“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,”
“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out.
He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,”
“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat.
“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,”
“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders.
His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?”
“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,”
“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,”
You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again.
With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.
“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,”
His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,”
“Baby?”
He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,”
“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley.
“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,”
“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?”
His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,”
For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you.
“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,”
Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?”
He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?”
“Please,” You whisper.
He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric.
“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess.
“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,”
You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else.
“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,”
You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,”
“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,”
This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises.
“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,”
“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again.
A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction.
“Yeah?” He prompts you gently.
“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,”
He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,”
“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.
“Can I eat you out?”
Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,”
You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you.
You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you.
“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,”
“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze.
“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,”
“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile.
His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”
Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly.
“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,”
“Cheol,” You whisper tightly.
“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,”
Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest.
“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?”
“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam.
“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip.
“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this.
His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?”
“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.
“y/n,” He squeezes you a little.
“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,”
“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?”
“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high.
“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?”
“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?”
“Of course,” You kiss him back.
“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”
Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast.
“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,”
“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,”
His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?”
“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,”
“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?”
“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,”
He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,”
Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,”
“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,”
You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth.
“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,”
“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,”
“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue.
You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you.
“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,”
“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,”
He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts.
Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap.
“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,”
He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,”
He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder.
“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”
He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit.
“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,”
It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure.
“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,”
Everything you are is trembling in his hands.
“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,”
You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin.
“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,”
“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open.
“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,”
Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”
“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,”
“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,”
He sighs, “This pussy,”
“Cheol,” You blush hard.
“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,”
“Anything?”
He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.”
“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?”
He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,”
“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,”
“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench.
When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen.
You want him inside you so badly you could cry.
“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his.
“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder.
“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs.
“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,”
He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,”
“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.
He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,”
“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?”
He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder.
“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?”
It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.
“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance.
“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand.
You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,”
“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls.
You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper.
“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,”
“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,”
“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,”
Your muscles clench down around his fingers.
He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?”
You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,”
“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?”
“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again.
“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,”
All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you.
When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz.
“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again.
“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you.
“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams.
The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go.
Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease.
When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down.
“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms.
“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?”
“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,”
He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?”
You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,”
“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?”
He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone.
He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?
“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,”
“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him.
You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,”
“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock.
“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,”
He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him.
“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,”
He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him.
He nods, just a little.
“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,”
His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers.
You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this.
“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,”
He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?”
You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,”
Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs.
You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel.
“y/n,” He pants tightly.
You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down.
“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,”
“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early.
“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,”
He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,”
“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again.
“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips.
The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest.
“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,”
You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,”
“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards.
“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,”
“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,”
Your eyes slam shut.
“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,”
“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter.
“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming.
Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”
He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,”
You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.
“So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss.
“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,”
Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm.
“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,”
As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you.
“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,”
“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together.
You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move.
When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?”
“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,”
“Yeah?”
“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,”
You laugh against him, “Next time?”
He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,”
You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,”
He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,”
Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,”
He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?”
“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly.
“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,”
You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,”
“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,”
“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,”
“Good,” He sighs.
You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,”
“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you.
“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,”
“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs.
Maybe you could rally.
Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,”
“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,”
“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing.
Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed.
You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours.
You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine.
In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads.
“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,”
You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest.
“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”
Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake.
“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention.
“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,”
“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,”
Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”
He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,”
“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,”
“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,”
“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups.
“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,”
“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,”
He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?”
“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest.
His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,”
Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog.
“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel.
“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,”
“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”
“Go?” He asks.
“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,”
His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,”
“You what,” You blink.
“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,”
You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go.
“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,”
You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side.
“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”
“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue.
“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,”
Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you.
You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,”
“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap.
“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,”
He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?”
“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,”
“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand.
“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,”
“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,”
You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.
When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch.
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𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇
pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader
genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni
word count: 9k
summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.
warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink
additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!
a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀
edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist
Joel was lonely.
He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college.
Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.
But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like.
Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name.
Ravish
Ravish
Ravish
It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was.
Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen?
Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard.
JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him.
He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps.
“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.”
Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most.
While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later.
Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug.
Liked! Added to your queue for later.
Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore.
Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself.
Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet.
Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks.
Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop.
“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!”
“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I’m ready to put on a show.”
“Patience everyone.”
“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .”
Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—
He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor.
Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . .
His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out.
“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?”
Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles.
“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.”
Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible.
He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again.
“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.”
What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet.
He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got.
Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it.
Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal.
“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.”
Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.”
A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good.
“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.”
Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone.
Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm.
“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?”
Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias.
“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?”
Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.”
With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud.
“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.”
You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter!
A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come.
He wants them to come at the same time.
Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up.
Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera.
“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time.
She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet.
He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes.
“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”
Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor.
His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release.
Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop.
“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline.
Good girl.
Joel is a weak weak man.
Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him.
Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling.
Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets.
Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious.
He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little.
And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her.
He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat.
Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable.
The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly.
A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.
“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?”
He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look.
“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.”
Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice?
“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?”
His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively.
“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.”
You always call me that. Why?
. . .
Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean.
Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.” she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.”
Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks.
“Can—Can you hear me?”
Her eyes sparkle.
“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.”
She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?”
“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?”
There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.”
“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.”
Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.”
“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”
“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.”
She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?”
Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement.
“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?”
“Would you laugh if I said no?”
“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily. “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?”
Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use.
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.”
Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.
“Anything that you like, sir?”
“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—”
“The heart-shaped ones?”
Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.”
“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?”
“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.”
“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.”
Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples.
Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch.
“Are you touching yourself, sir?”
“Yea.”
“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.”
She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted.
His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?”
Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it.
“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.”
“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?”
Fuck.
“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword.
But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough.
“Harder.”
She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release.
She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders.
It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it.
“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.”
“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?”
“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.”
“P-Pillow?”
She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.”
“Shit, say that again.”
“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—”
She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat.
“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.”
With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?”
“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight.
“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.”
With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him.
The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips.
“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.”
Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking.
“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.”
You hate visiting home.
You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.
Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of.
JMiller.
You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again.
You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online.
You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood.
Of course he did, he was perfect.
Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late.
Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you.
Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line.
“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.”
“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.”
“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.”
He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.”
“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull.
You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind.
“You know what—”
“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”
You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice.
The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you.
“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?”
You’re not but you kinda wish you were.
“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.”
The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after.
“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.”
He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor.
“Don’t mention it,” he mutters.
You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale.
“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask.
“You don’t have—”
“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?”
“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.”
The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment.
Your rake your brain for answers.
Why?
Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle?
His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.”
“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.”
You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow.
“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.”
Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.”
“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.
“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”
Oh shit.
Shit shit shit shit.
It is him.
JMiller—J stands for Joel.
Fuck.
“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .”
He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.”
“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.”
“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.”
“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.”
Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that.
Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel.
“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Technically you bought it.”
“Right. . .”
The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly.
“Are we still on for tomorrow?”
You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.”
He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction.
After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself.
He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice.
It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him.
“Is something wrong?” you ask.
“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.”
“Ask away.”
“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss.
“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward.
He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods.
“Is that okay?”
This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.”
His grin is infectious.
“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.”
You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home.
The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had.
He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company.
You found it incredibly charming.
As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too.
Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall.
“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.”
Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.”
You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall.
Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs.
“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .”
“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.”
You gasp, “P-Please.”
He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze.
He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy.
“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled.
Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock.
“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—”
Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face.
Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—
“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!”
A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper.
“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—”
You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing?
“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.”
“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.”
Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs.
“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.”
He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean.
Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing.
“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild.
When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth.
“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.”
“You really had low expectations, huh?”
“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.”
“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.”
You smile, heart fluttering.
“Me too.”
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