Stars

by Prxttyvixens

Summary:

Most people would have a talk about trying out something new…

Adrian’s not most people.

Chapter 1

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I’m definitely serious.”

“You know, people have, like, discussions about these kinds of things.”

“We’re discussing right now?”

You stare blankly all around the clearing the two of you stand in. There’s an evening chill in the air but you can’t tell if it’s the reason you have goose bumps on your skin. It might be what your boyfriend is proposing instead.

“What even gave you the idea that I’d be into this?” You’re trying your hardest to keep your voice even and not anything other than neutral.

Adrian scoffs.

“The porn on your phone,” he says accusingly. But there’s a slight curve to his lips that shows he’s rather enjoying this.

Your eyes widen before settling into a scowl as you watch him finishing up with his suit.

“I’m never leaving my phone unlocked around you again, and for your information, literature is hardly porn.”

“Literature!” He laughs, then glances at an imaginary watch on his wrist. “Alright your two minute head start starts now.”

“Wait! I’m wearing wedges!” You point out, gesturing to your feet and the heeled sandals you chose for the night. Originally when he suggested you wear a dress for your outside date, you expected a sunset picnic. Maybe a stroll in the park? Not…this. It’s clear the dress is for easy access. And once you realized he was bringing you deep into the forest, and that, yep, the Vigilante suit was definitely in his backseat, things started to make sense.

“Take them off,” he says as he shrugs, as if it’s the most logical conclusion ever. Easy for him to say. He won’t be the one running through the forest barefoot. But…maybe it’s better than breaking your neck and—wait, are you seriously considering this?

“What if I’m not—y’know…into this?” You twist your hands together as you stare at him. There’s only about three feet between you two and of course you’ve seen him in the suit before, but it’s always different. He seems different when he wears it, as if it’s the suit that allows that dark side of him to come out and play. He’s always a bit brutal and strange, but it’s definitely amplified when that helmet and visor is around.

The visor tilts with his head, like a curious robotic puppy or something.

“Do you not want to?” His voice is softer when he asks it. He cares about what you want. You know he does. And if you absolutely said no, he’d stop without question.

But the knowledge that he’d be so willing to stop has something inside of you twisting. It grows restless with the threat of this…thing…never happening. He knows you well. You do want this.

“I want to,” you decide, lowering your head as you stare up at him from beneath mascara’d lashes. Of course you did your make up and hair. Maybe you would have toned it down if you had known your fate. “What about a safe word?”

“Okay…Peacemaker?”

“What!?” Your screech surprises even you. “No, Adrian. Never in a million years am I bringing him into our sex life in any way.”

“A shame,” he grumbles, hands on his hips as he angles his head towards the sky.

“What about something normal, like—“ You glance around yourself, around the forest, even casting a lingering look at Adrian’s car. He’s still mysteriously looking up at the sky and when you follow his gaze you see a few stars starting to twinkle in the evening sky. “Stars!”

“If you say so,” he sighs dramatically. “I don’t know how normal ‘stars’ is, but sure, let’s use it. Or hope not to use it? You have one minute by the way.”

“Adrian! That’s not fair!” You balance on one foot as you quickly undo the strap on your sandal before switching to the other. You give him one last bewildered look, only earning a silly little wave from him, before taking off into the forest.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you grumble as you tear past trees and undergrowth. Thankfully the Pacific Northwest allows for a softer forest floor. Your feet don’t hurt that bad.

The longer you run, the more your mind falls victim to the notion that you’re being hunted. You don’t know why. Is being a human truly that simple? Your mind equates running and being chased for fun to being…chased for nefarious purposes?

“It’s just Adrian,” you whisper to yourself between haggard breaths as you pick up speed. It seems ridiculous that you have to remind yourself of that.

When you hear noises far behind you, you swear your stomach drops.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

It takes three seconds for you to suddenly tap into Olympic-level skill that you definitely never had before. Dodging low hanging branches and leaping over rocks and the random fallen tree, you start to feel—well, a little invincible, honestly. You’re great at this. Will he even catch you or will you be able to circle back to the car?

Just when you’re sure that this game isn’t a game at all because you’ve won so easily, you glance over your shoulder. Somewhere between your own loudness and heavy breathing, you didn’t realize Adrian was very quickly gaining on you. Had you even been alone at all or was he always five feet behind and just humoring you? You should have known. He’s taller, faster, and spends plenty of time running in that suit.

You chance another look over your shoulder as you attempt to speed up.

“Is this the best you can do?” He taunts, laughing maniacally when you almost trip.

Jesus Christ. How many people have seen that black and teal suit and red visor just like this? How many have been chased only to die by his version of justice?

He’s not doing that to you though…

There’s a fire in the pit of your belly now. You bite your lip as your fear turns into anticipation. You want him to catch you…but the chase is so fun too. And what will he do when he catches you? Will he keep the mask on? Will he push you down right on the ground or will he have you up against a tree? Either way this is definitely better than any kind of smut you(and he apparently) read.

Clearly you’ve lost all sense of survival instincts because you don’t notice the root sticking up out of the ground in front of you.

A girly yelp escapes your lips as you dive forward. Face inches from the ground, you feel an arm wrap around your waist. Not to keep you from falling, just enough to break your fall.

Adrian manages to turn his rescue into a full blown tackle. Your back hits the ground hard, enough that it feels like you can’t breathe for a moment. There’s a break in the trees above you and there’s more stars in the sky now as dusk turns to night. Funnily enough, you can only focus on how pretty it looks. Your view is blocked by a familiar red visor, and you can’t help the crazed grin.

“Anything to say?”

Perfect goofy angel. Giving you an out even when you can feel how hard he is from where he presses himself between your thighs. You shake your head, a lovesick smile on your lips.

It disappears when he grabs your wrists and yanks your arms above your head. There’s a stick poking the back of your left hand and the weight he puts on your wrists as he uses one of his hands to pin them down makes you ache. It’s only now that you realize you’re completely, one hundred percent at his mercy. But the whole primal thing means you can fight back too right?

A thorough conversation beforehand would definitely have been preferred. But Adrian doesn’t do thorough unless he’s hyperfixating on something. Oh well, he knows the safe word.

The ache in your wrist deepens as he tugs the low neckline of your dress down even further. He palms at your breasts, whistling lowly as if he’s never seen them before. He’s too distracted to notice you bringing your knee up.

Your knee connects with unfortunately not his dick.

“No fair. You have padding over your crotch?” You ask, and the answer seems obvious as to why by the time you close your mouth. He’s probably constantly getting hit in that area. “Wait, I thought you were hard. Are you?” You pout, bucking your hips in a last-ditch attempt to get him to let go.

“Am I hard? Baby, I’m halfway to cumming in my pants.”

He seems inclined to give you back use of one of your arms. Deep down you knew he was either going to go beyond committing or that he wouldn’t be comfortable enough to commit at all to potentially hurting you. He’s a bit of a wildcard when it comes to what he’s comfortable with regarding sex. Every once in a while he’ll be rough, but more often than not, he babies you. It’s in his nature to care deeply about who he loves.

You reach for the seam near his neck and he even helps when you try to pull the face covering off. It lands somewhere near your spread out hair. You don’t really notice because he was leaning down to press his tongue against your nipple the second the helmet came off.

You moan, your eyelashes fluttering as you stare up at the sky, as you rake your nails across the back of his neck since it’s the only skin you can touch. The wrist his gloved hand is still wrapped entirely around takes more pressure as he presses his groin against you, clearly desperate for any sort of friction. The loose skirt of your dress makes it easy to squeeze your thighs around him. The fabric has pooled around your waist, not in your way at all.

His teeth scrape against your nipple just as you pull his hair, drawing him away from you so you can pull him in for a kiss.

Hardly a kiss. It feels like some sort of battle. A clashing of teeth and tongues. He tastes like the fruity pomegranate drink you got from a coffee booth drive through on the way over. You nip at his lip, harder than usual, and the taste mixes with iron. As if the taste of blood awakens something inside you, your overcome with a desperate urge to have him. This isn’t enough. You need to possess him, and he you.

You drop one leg, firmly planting your foot on the ground as you keep your other leg hooked around his hips. He’s not exactly a small guy, and that’s evident in the way it takes most of your strength to push him onto his back. And still, you know it only happens because he’s letting you. He lands on the ground with a noise that’s somewhere between a grunt and a moan.

“Fuck,” he breathes, adjusting his glasses so fast you barely even notice the movement.

Your wrist is free, and you take control, locking your hands with his and holding them against the ground on either side of his head. His chest rises and falls, his gaze locked onto your breasts as you roll your hips. The pressure against your clit is too tempting. Chasing your own pleasure as he watches is far too appealing. You grind against him, over and over, your cheeks reddening with either heat or some subconscious embarrassment, you’re not sure.

You let go of his hands, grinning when he wraps one around your neck. It’s not a foreign feeling. But the pressure is new.

His bottom lip is between his teeth as he watches you, green eyes glassy with lust. He swears he can feel how wet you are. You’re probably making a mess of his pants, grinding against him like you’ll die if you don’t.

Adrian wants to feel you. You can tell when the hand on your throat lets go, only for him to hold it in front of your parted lips. His index finger prods at your bottom lip.

You understand, your teeth catching the tip of his gloved finger. You bite the fabric hard enough for him to pull his hand free, and the glove falls, caught somewhere in the gathered skirt of your dress. He reaches between you, his fingers brushing against lacy fabric, inching closer and closer to that heat he’s so hungry for.

The fabric of your panties is bunched near your center, soaked and hot to the touch. He’s never envied something more. He can’t push them out of the way like this.

You feel him getting ready to flip you on your back again and you whine, chasing your orgasm like a little fiend.

He grabs your hair instead, and you cry out, obeying as he pushes you to the ground, moving you exactly where he wants you.

You expect him to tear your panties away, but he’s gentle when he tugs them down your legs. He grins at you when he shoves them into one of his pockets.

For a moment, you think he’s going to go down on you. He’s staring at your cunt with that lovedrunk look he gets in his eyes sometimes. You’re pretty confident that your pussy is his favorite meal. The only time he’s quiet is when his face is buried between your thighs, which is more often than you’d think.

He’s leaning back on his knees, just staring at you all wet and ready as he unbuckles his belt. You can see scratch marks on the side of his neck, reminding you of your wrists and what he might have inflicted on you. Surely enough, they’re bruised, one more than the other.

Once his cock is free, red and weeping with desire, you expect this to be over. You think he’ll crawl right into your arms and study your face as he makes love to you. He likes to be gentle. He likes the intimacy.

That thought is shattered when he gives you an evil grin. You think your heart skips a beat, and there’s a new gush of wetness waiting for him at your entrance. He reaches forward, grabbing you by the hips and manhandling you onto your hands and knees. You try to resist, and almost laugh at yourself because why would you not want this? You absolutely do.

His knee nudges your thighs apart, and your body tenses as he sinks into you with one, deep thrust.

“Adrian.” You don’t quite scream his name. It comes out more like a gasp. A warning. A pleasantly surprising betrayal.

You’re so full it hurts. But god it feels good too. Your body struggles to catch up, to adjust to him, and for a few glorious moments he’s just pounding into you, using you in a way he never has before. You shouldn’t like it so much.

You’re so wet that you can’t tell if the squelching sound is louder than the skin slapping or not. You can barely hear any of it when he fists your hair and forces your face to the ground. Cheek against mossy earth, your fingertips digging into the soft dirt, you start to unravel. There’s only pleasure now, heavy and hot and almost overwhelming.

You arch for him, earning some praise that you can’t decipher because his hand buried in your hair is covering your ear and your other one is flush with the ground.

You know your moaning, whimpering, maybe even screaming in pleasure as dirt gathers under your nails from the force of you digging into it to feel some sort of control. Every muscle is tensing. Your knees sting from pebbles and twigs but none of it matters. Not as you cry so loud that your chest feels like it might burst and fireworks explode behind your eyes. It doesn’t matter that your ears go fuzzy. You can barely hear anyway.

Adrian keeps going, drawing out your orgasm and the stars behind your eyelids.

Stars.

Why did you ever think you’d need that?

His hand against your head shakes as he cums, as if he’s holding back from pulling your hair. His body slumps over yours, and you can feel him trying to catch his breath just like you. You don’t mind it, you could use the rest.

It doesn’t last long.

Adrian’s yanking you up to your feet with a bashful expression on his face. He fixes the neckline of your dress, pulls a leaf out of your hair. He even bends down to retrieve his nearly-forgotten glove.

“Are you okay?”

You nod happily, maybe lazily, maybe slightly drunk from that orgasm.

He looks you over, eyes widening the lower they go.

“Your knees…your feet!”

You glance down at all the scrapes and scratches, wincing when you notice his cum dripping down your leg and totally starting to mix with your wounds. Part of you wants to raise an eyebrow and ask what he thought would happen, but once he puts his helmet back on, you silently raise your arms up.

“Yeah?” he asks, picking you up and watching your face as if you might declare that that’s not what you wanted. You snuggle closer to him instead. “Alright. Princess treatment the rest of the night. You got it.”

He doesn’t sound bothered or irritated at all. In fact, he sounds ecstatic. And why wouldn’t he be? Doting on you might be his favorite pastime.

Chapter 2: Scout’s Honor

Notes:

well I guess this is becoming a series of blurbs/one shots *sigh*
Jk I needed this outlet lol

Decorum was never Adrian’s strong suit.

You knew that.

Respected it even. Thought it was funny sometimes. Found it endearing at others.

But this was forward even for him.

“What did you say?” you ask. Just to make sure you heard him right. It’s not that you’re a prude or anything. You’ve done it before. You enjoy it. But it’s not usually so…sudden or whatever. You’re still wrapped up in a towel and dripping from your shower. A solo shower by the way. Just a normal, all-business shower. Nothing at all suggestive.

“I asked if you wanted to sit on my face. You seem tense.” He speaks so casually, as if he’s offering a shoulder massage. But he’s already lounging on your bed, his arms folded behind his head, biceps looking absolutely delicious.

Honestly, you did have a rough day. So rough that you’re not sure you can even get in the mood, but…he’s there. And he looks really good.

You nearly rejoice when you feel that familiar heat at your core, that tempting little tingle.

“I guess if you’re offering,” you say quietly. It’s not that you’re shy, but once again, usually there’s some making out or something that happens before this.

“I’m on the verge of begging actually,” Adrian says, his voice pleasantly genuine. Then he sticks out his tongue, moving it from left to right. “I’m parched.”

“Ugh, god,” you groan, dropping your towel and climbing onto the bed. “Why am I so attracted to whatever it is that’s wrong with you?”

He grins at you as he slips his glasses off. He holds them out to you, whistling a low catcall when you put them on your self. You even shake out the low bun you wore in the shower, knowing the after effect is probably a little bed head-ish.

“Sexy,” Adrian praises, though you know he can barely see you right now. Just as you can barely see him. “Hop on.”

He grabs your thigh, half-pulling you onto him. You barely get any time to get comfortable before you feel his tongue, strong and wet, on your pussy.

There’s an immediate relaxing effect taking over your body. Your relieved sigh accompanies it. How did he know you needed this to unwind?

Adrian eats pussy like a champ. There’s never an alternative. He’s never tired, never decides to give up, never gets irritated when you’re taking longer than expected. Really, he’s just there for the fun of it. And tasting you is half the fun.

His tongue moves like he’s trying to gather everything you can give him. It’s mind numbing in the best way possible. Everything melts away and you can only focus on him, the way his tongue laps against you, the way his nose nudges against your folds, the way his hands hold onto your ass, urging you tighter against him as if he wants your cunt to suffocate him.

It’s the noises that always get you. The slurping. The way he hums when your hips buck after he’s touched a particularly sensitive area. The little whimpers he gives when you’re shaking and close, as if he’s dying to taste your release. It’s all so erotic.

There’s a frantic moment when his tongue starts to move quicker and he holds onto you even tighter. You don’t know if you want to cling to the headboard or tangle your hands in his curls, so you do both. One hand holds onto the headboard, your nails digging into it so hard that you think it’ll leave a mark. And one hand in his hair. He moans as you start to ride his face.

His tongue stops moving and you almost cry in frustration until his lips lock around your clit. He sucks hard, relentlessly forcing your body into an uncontrollable orgasm. Your muscles lock up so tight that you’re vaguely of a cramp in your thigh, but none of it is a feeling even close to the earth-shattering pleasure you’re experiencing.

His name is falling from your lips like a chant, as your body still shakes and convulses and he keeps lapping at you like nothing happened at all.

Adrian makes a pleased sound, an ungodly groan as he tastes your release. He won’t stop. You pull his hair, try to climb off of him, but he won’t give in. You’re over-sensitive and tears gather in the corner of your eyes as your jaw falls slack.

Another orgasm hits you. Softer. Smoother somehow. It washes over you like a gentle rolling wave. Your body is covered in goosebumps and you feel like you’re losing control of your limbs. You can barely keep yourself up.

Adrian can tell.

He pushes you to the side and you don’t bother pretending that you want him to stop when he takes his place between your spread thighs.

You take his glasses off just so you can see the way he stares up at you, something like mischief and awe lurking in his gaze as his mouth covers your pussy again. If he can see your face, you’d be surprised. Just as you’re about to offer his glasses back to him, he grabs your thighs and pulls you until your bottom is nearly off the bed. He’s crouched over you, holding your cunt to his face, feasting like he’s starving. His tongue plays with your clit. Flicking against it over and over again.

The image of him behaving so primal is too much.

“Fuck, Adrian,” you cry, back arching, thighs tightening around him.

Another soul-shaking orgasm.

You can’t move. Your legs feel tingly. Your pussy is thoroughly well-handled.

Adrian finally releases you and grins like a happy puppy dog.

“Good?” he asks, eyes bright and hopeful, even though he knows it was good. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Amazing,” you tiredly say. “You’ve ruined oral for me. No one else will ever compare.”

“No one else gets to try,” he declares, hovering over you until he locates his glasses. And when he finally has them on, he graces your lips with a kiss soaked with your own arousal and cum.

“You promise?” you ask when he pulls away just enough.

“Scout’s honor.”

“Wait, were you a Boy Scout? Because that actually—“

He cuts you off with another toe-curling kiss, one that you’re glad you’ll never have to live without again.

Notes:

tell me what you think :)