Work Text:
Your eyes fluttered open from your half-asleep stupor at the sound of the front door’s locks clicking. Sitting up on the couch, you quickly smoothed out your blouse and skirt. You just barely made it into the kitchen when Sonny got in.
“Sorry I’m back so late. I wanted to be home to put the kids to bed—“
You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine, Mr. Corleone. Frank and the twins are already asleep. There’s some sausage with peppers and onions in the icebox if you haven’t eaten. I can heat it up quick on the stove for you.”
“Jesus, you’re already doin’ us a favor staying the weekend while Sandra’s outta town,” he said, shedding his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. “And how many times do I gotta tell you, you can call me Sonny.” He playfully pinched your cheek. “I’m not that old yet, am I?”
“No,” you giggled. “Sorry, Sonny.”
The kitchen's layout was almost second-nature to you at that point, having done plenty of cooking for Sonny and Sandra's sweet kids when you babysat them. You grabbed a frying pan, setting it on the stovetop and pouring in a few drops of olive oil before turning on the flame. By the time you got the plate you saved for Sonny out of the refrigerator, the oil was sizzling, and the scent of sweet peppers and onions filled the kitchen again when you’d scraped the contents of the plate into the pan.
Sonny was quiet behind you, save for him tapping his freshly lit cigarette against the porcelain ashtray on the kitchen table. You knew the sound well. His gaze burned through your back to your rapidly beating heart as you became increasingly aware that you were alone with him, the man who you lusted after in quiet guilt, because he was married and you were his children’s babysitter, for Christsake.
After a few minutes, the sausage with peppers and onions appeared thoroughly reheated, and you transferred the meal back onto the plate. You grabbed a nearby loaf of crusty bread, cutting a piece for him and placing it with the rest of the food.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Sonny said, grabbing the plate from the counter.
“Anytime.”
You returned to the living room, tuning the radio to the station that was broadcasting Lights Out, a late night horror show that always sucked you in no matter how hard you tried to remind yourself it was only a radio story. At least it’d get your mind off of Sonny, out of the gutter–or into a different one at least. You sat on the couch, fidgeting with your hands as you let yourself get lost in the host’s voice as he told the latest tale of terror.
You nearly screamed when Sonny appeared in the living room with his plate of food and asked, “You listen to this garbage?”
“It usually scares me into staying awake.”
He snickered to himself, taking the spot on the couch next to you. “For what?”
“My roommates and I play it in the dorm during finals to keep us up when coffee doesn’t cut it.”
“How’s college goin’ anyway? Straight As, right?”
“I made the dean’s list last semester.”
He shook his head. “Smart and beautiful, whatever lucky guy ends up with you is gonna have his hands full.” He glanced at your chest, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a moment before going back to his food. “Your cooking might be a little better than San’s. Don’t tell her I said that.”
You smiled, keening at his compliment. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“You didn’t have to stay up for me, you know.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
“Why’s that?”
You faltered. “I just wanted to see you.”
He smiled, amused by your answer. “You’re sweet. Gonna give me a toothache if you keep that up.”
“Is that so bad?”
Sonny shook his head as he set his plate down on the coffee table. “‘Course not.” He got up to turn the radio off, the sound of his voice engulfing you in a warm haze, “Don’t get a chance to be alone with you enough.” He placed his hand on your knee when he sat back down, rubbing his thumb against your stocking-clad leg, the feeling frustratingly electric as the thin fabric was all that lay between the skin-on-skin contact you craved from him.
Your lips parted, trying to conjure up a response, but only managing a shaky breath and a weak nod of agreement.
“We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do, doll,” he whispered, his voice low.
“I want you, Sonny,” you assured him.
He kissed you with a passion you swore only existed in movies, not the hesitant or sloppy handling you’d experienced from past boyfriends, but the certainty of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Heat rushed over your skin at the confirmation that he wanted you, his hands on your body, sliding up your skirt as he grabbed your ass, pulling you closer to him so that you were practically straddling his lap. You steadied yourself on his biceps, giving them a squeeze, letting yourself feel him, acknowledge your desire for him that had been latent until then.
You moaned into his mouth, his tongue capturing the sound, claiming your expression of desire as his. And who else would it be for? You’d always found him handsome and charismatic, always were a bit too curious about what was behind each vaguely flirtatious comment or sly wink he’d send your way when no one else was looking.
“Sonny, where–where should we–”
“We can do it out here, but you gotta be quiet. You can do that for me, right?”
You nodded eagerly.
Hunger glistened in his dark eyes as he smiled wolfishly. “Attagirl.”
A whimper escaped your lips at his praise, the way he made you feel naked with just his gaze. You unbuttoned your blouse, letting it slip from your arms and tossing it aside onto the floor. Sonny pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he kneaded your breasts through your bra. Soon, that wasn’t enough, and he pulled them from the cups, his hands on your soft skin as he squeezed. His thumbs brushed over your nipples. You gasped. You wanted his hands on you like that all the time, had imagined–secretly hoped, even–that he’d do it one day while you were in the kitchen or in the narrow hallway to the bedrooms, that he’d grope you, kiss you, do something to make you stop feeling so crazy about him. In that moment you realized getting what you wished for only made you want him more.
His lips burned deliciously against your skin, and you groaned at the gentle bites he left on your neck and shoulders. You rocked your hips against his, feeling his hard cock straining through his pants, desperate for more friction against your pussy.
“You feel that? You feel what you do to me?” he murmured against your tender skin.
“I need you,” you whined. “Please, Sonny.”
“Alright, doll. Lay back for me, alright?”
You did as he asked, shifting off of his lap to lie back on the couch. You watched intently, hungrily, as he unbuckled his belt, pulling his cock free from his pants, slowly pumping his length in his hand. You nearly choked. Sandra had made jokes about Sonny’s size before, ones that made your face heat up in embarrassment at her talking so crudely about him, but you’d always thought she was exaggerating.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, silently wondering if he could even fit inside you, an almost morbid curiosity only further fueling your desire.
A tender concern spread across his face as he searched yours for any sign of hesitation. “You sure you’re alright with this?”
You nodded. “I’ve wanted you in a bad way for so long.”
“How bad?” he asked, his voice husky and low.
Your lips nearly touched his as you whispered your answer. “Shameful.”
He kissed you again, this time with an intensity that nearly knocked the wind out of you. His fingers dug into the waistband of your panties and stockings, pulling them down so you could kick them off. You ended up with one leg hanging off of the couch, exposing your wet pussy for him. You buried your fingers into his hair, the kiss desperate and wanton, your mouth open for him in a soft gasp as his pushed his tip inside you.
It wasn’t enough, the primal part of your brain screamed. You needed more. Digging your nails into his scalp, you lifted your hips, taking more of him in you.
“Don’t hold back, Sonny. I can take it,” you insisted.
He licked his lips, staring at you for a split second before determining you meant what you said. He filled you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he thrust into you, finding a rhythm that would’ve been painful if you weren’t already wet for him.
“Y’know, I used to get off thinkin’ about this,” he grunted, “bending you over the kitchen counter or up against the bathroom door.”
“Sonny–I–”
“You know how long I’ve wanted you? Now I’ve got my pretty college girl coming apart for me.”
“Oh my god–fuck–Sonny–” Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes struggling to stay open as his thrusts became deeper, more erratic. He was close, his cock twitching inside you, hitting that spot you’d only ever reached with your fingers before. No faking it, no having to do the heavy lifting yourself.
He had to put his hand over your mouth when it hit you, white hot pleasure bursting in your brain, pulsing through your pussy as you grabbed at him, digging your fingers into his arms to ground yourself, feeling as though you’d lose control of your body otherwise. Your moans were muffled, incoherent nonsense as he fucked you through your climax to reach his. With another hard thrust, he came inside you. Overwhelmed by the sensation, your hips bucked and your pussy clenched hard around him, milking his cock as he came.
“Look at you, takin’ it all–fuck–” Sonny hissed out through gritted teeth, trying to maintain what little self-control he had as to not make too much noise. “So fuckin’ good for me–”
You whined at that, your overstimulated, fucked-out brain going into overdrive. You wanted to be good for him. You were good for him.
You weren’t sure when it got so still, so quiet, but the only sound in the room was your and Sonny’s heavy breathing. He pulled out of you, your pussy feeling achingly empty. You looked at the ceiling, mildly aware of Sonny staring at you.
“How're you feeling? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.
“I’ll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow,” you said breathlessly. “But that was great. Really I–I don’t know what else to say.”
He caressed your cheek, bringing your attention back to him. “I’m gonna get you a towel, alright, sweetheart?”
You nodded, smiling a bit when he kissed your forehead before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom. And there were still two whole days left before Sandra got back. You smiled wider.