Chapter Text
Outside the window, the city’s noises had faded to a murmur, but you barely noticed, your world having narrowed to the overwhelming presence of Bob. The scent of his shampoo clung to the sheets, the taste of him on your mouth.
The bedside lamp was the only thing casting light between you, and with every movement, your shadows swayed across the wall. Your body ached as you wrapped around him, yet the discomfort was easily drowned out by the way he held you. Your bare calf brushed against the heat of his back, and a warmth flowed through you with each touch.
You could hear the rhythm of his breathing and beneath it, you caught the frantic flutter of his heart. Where your shirt had ridden up, his fingers skimmed the delicate skin exposed around your waist in a feather-light touch; his rough callouses against you drew a soft gasp from your lips.
In response, you slipped your hand beneath his shirt, your fingertips grazing the firm lines of his stomach. His muscles jolted, his breath hitching as you traced the lines of his stomach, memorizing the way his body shifted under your hand. His mouth withdrew from yours, but his eyes stayed locked onto you, his pupils dark and wide.
Without a word, he leaned back, peeling his shirt away in one swift motion before throwing it to the side. Your gaze lingered on him, drinking in every inch now that nothing stood between your touch and his skin. You reached out again, your fingertips brushing the curve of his collarbone, trailing slowly down over his chest and leaving goosebumps in its wake. A fragile exhale broke from him, like his body was starved for what only you could give.
Finally, he reached his lips back down to yours. His hand cradled the side of your face, you opened your mouth, tongue sliding against his even as your teeth clicked together in a desperate plea for more. Your hands travelled up his broad back, one resting at his waist while the other tangled in his hair.
His fingers crept beneath the hem of your shirt, lifting it higher until the fabric caught under your chin. You raised your arms wordlessly, and he peeled it away with a kind of lightness that left your mouth dry. Leaving you in wine-red lace, delicate and nearly sheer, hiding almost nothing.
His eyes swept over you slowly. He looked at you like nothing about this moment was insignificant, as if he could burn the image of your body forever in his mind.
And when his eyes met yours again, they said what he didn’t: You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
His fingers brushed the lace at your shoulder, tracing the thin strap where it met your skin. He looked up, tensing his muscles as if he expected to be stopped. But you didn’t move him away, and so his touch deepened.
His thumb passed just beneath the curve of your breast, grazing the edge of the fabric. A soft gasp escaped you, and he paused, clearly enthralled by the sound; you watched his lips part slightly. He was learning you, teaching himself the gospel of your body. His fingers stretched further apart, exploring the shape of you through the barrier of lace. His hand slipped lower, fingers dipping beneath the edge of the bra.
His other hand came to rest against your ribcage, anchoring himself as he explored you, gently tracing circles, waiting for each response. You exhaled shakily and tilted your hips ever so slightly toward him. A soft moan left your lips as he continued to knead the tender skin of your breast.
His thumb brushed over your nipple, and the sound you made, sent waves through him. His mouth found your collarbone, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the line of your throat. Every inch his mouth felt seemed to warm your skin with the ache for more.
He began kissing lower, his mouth brushing the top of your breast, before his hand came up from your ribcage to cup the bottom. He mouthed against you through the fabric, teasing your hard nipples. And still, his eyes were on you: through every shift in your breath, every tremble.
His mouth continued to swirl over your chest, making you arch with every exhale of warm air on your wet skin. You could feel the lace of your underwear dampening the longer he stayed. Your hips tipped up again, inviting him to take more, but his hand paused on the waistband of your shorts. You gave him a small nod. He grabbed the band tighter and tugged the thin cotton down.
The fabric slid over your thighs, then your knees, then off entirely. Now, you lay bare in red lace, entirely dressed for him. You watched as his tongue darted from his mouth to lick the side of his lips, as if he could taste you just by looking.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the words blurring into a shaky exhale.
You wanted to deflect, to push the thought away, but the way he said it dragged you under; made you want to believe it. You reached for him, your fingers brushing the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath caught at your touch but he didn’t stop you. He raised his hips to help you as you shimmied the fabric further down his legs.
Your mouth went slightly agape at the sight of him. He was hard, straining against the fabric of his boxers. The shape of him was thick, his cock defined in a way that made your thigh clench. He shifted under your gaze, uncertain of the meaning behind your staring.
You reached forward, placing your hand at his hip, and traced a line down his hipbone with your finger. You continued your path up his abdomen, reveling in the feeling of his muscles twitching as you teased him. He leaned forward again, kissing you desperately. His mouth tasted like stale toothpaste and warmth as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping lightly at the spot just beneath your ear before dragging his mouth along the curve of your shoulder. You felt heat bloom at the tips of your ears as his hand slid around your back, fingers searching for the clasps of your bra.
He fumbled briefly before unfastening it. Instinctively, you brought a hand up to catch it before it could fall, and then, with a slow exhale, you freed your grip. His palm cradled your breast again, thumb brushing across your nipple. Then his mouth followed, lips brushing, tongue flicking gently over the sensitive peak.
You couldn’t stop the string of moans that fell from your lips, his touch felt intoxicating. He hummed against your skin, you could feel the vibrations deep to your core. His hands never stopped moving, instead, travelling down your thigh, one of his fingers poking underneath the lace. He stroked the edge of the underwear, as if testing how much you’d allow him to have.
You spread your legs for him; his fingers curled around the band of the lace and dragged it down your legs. His eyes dragged over every inch of your newly exposed skin, and you didn’t cover yourself. His eyes moved slowly, achingly slow, down your body.
He traced your collarbones with just his gaze, lingered at the swell of your breasts, over the softness of your stomach, the curve of your hips, the inside of your thighs. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly losing his composure, and let out an exhale. Then, finally, he reached for you, palm settling on your waist, his thumb brushing the dip just above your hipbone.
You felt so bare — completely naked under him. You reached for his boxers and slid them down, peeling the fabric from his hips. His cock sprang free, flushed and heavy. You let your eyes trail over him, taking in every detail: how hard he was, where the tip gleamed with precome, how his chest rose and fell, how his hands curled into the sheets.
You reached out with a tentative hand, wrapping your fingers around the base of him. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before locking back to yours. You leaned forward just enough to press your lips to his, lingering there while your hand moved with gentle strokes.
His hand moved slowly, fingers dragging down from your waist, and sliding between your thighs. He touched you over the softest part of yourself, his fingertips gentle as he brushed the wet of you. Your grip faltered on his cock, your head falling into the crevice of his shoulder as you bit back a moan.
“You’re already so…” He bit his lip, unable to hold back the moan escaping him as you continued to stroke him.
His fingers continued to draw gentle, continuous circles on your clit. Your back arched, your body pushing itself further into his touch. You already felt breathless and unravelling under his steady touch. The heat continued to build slowly, but you wanted this to last. You released his cock from your grasp and pulled his hand away.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
You shook your head, trying to push down the desire to come from his fingers alone. “I don’t want this to end yet.”
A soft gasp left his lips. “What did you want?”
“You. I want to feel you,” you couldn’t handle the space between you any more, you laced your fingers through the back of his hair and pushed him into you. “Please.” You moaned into his mouth and grabbing his cock in your grip again, which twitched in response.
Gently, he pushed you back down into the mattress. His body covered yours in one steady motion, his chest brushing yours; skin meeting skin.
He paused, “I don’t have any protection.”
“Me neither.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes darted between yours, trying to look for any trace of doubt that you wanted this as much as him. “I want this,” he said. “God, I need you, but I need to know you’re okay with… no protection.”
“I want this.”
A slow, approving nod, then he leaned in, lips brushing yours again. He wrapped his hand around yours and lined himself up with your slit, rubbing himself on your clit. Your breath hitched, a delicious ache rising inside you.
His erection lined with your entrance.
He looked down at you once more, making sure you were certain you wanted this. When you nodded and kissed him again, he delved in you. The stretch was tender, deep, and overwhelming. Your breath caught in your throat as he filled you, inch by inch, your body adjusted around him, every nerve alight. You clung to him, your forehead press to his as he began to move.
He moved unhurriedly, trying to savour every moment. He had yearned for this exact moment. After weeks of whispered conversations, stolen glances, this was the moment when all the waiting and longing poured out. Now, all that quiet longing spilled over in waves of heat. Your lips met his in a harsh, yearning kiss.
A heat climbed higher with every stroke, every brush of skin. His hands roamed your body, fingers tracing slow circles over your breasts, flicking over your nipples until you gasped for more.
His breath hitched with every deep plunge, as he drove himself deeper and deeper, filling you completely, his need more than desperate. You could feel your tightness around him, how desperately he needed you.
“I need you,” he purred, your name pouring from his mouth alongside a string of urgent murmurs, each one a confession of his need as he began to empty himself inside you.
His pace became almost frantic, and the constant brutal pace became overwhelming. The intensity built in your core as he slid in and out; the feeling of his come filling you, a torment that pulled you to the edge.
Then, suddenly, waves of bliss crashed through you in a flood. It stole your breath and left you trembling, you couldn’t stop the twitches of your hips against him. A choked sob escaped your lips as you clung to him. His body shuddered within you, pulsing with the last tremors of his release.
He shifted gently towards you, pulling his head from the pillow beside you to look you in the eyes. He reached for one of the many out-of-place hairs and tucked it behind your ear.
He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I've wanted you for so long,” he murmured, “I just want to hold you forever.”
You smiled, giggling at his tenderness, and you reached up to give him a quick peck on the forehead. “Me too.”
His thumb brushed softly over your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” You leaned into the touch, your heart swelling. Slowly, he pulled away from you, leaving you dripping with him. You couldn’t hold back the sigh that left you at the sudden emptiness.
He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed a bottle of water, and offered it to you. You took a small sip before collapsing back onto the pillows. “I don’t think Walker would call that ‘resting’”
Bob took the bottle from you and laughed as he took a sip of his own. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him?”