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It’s hot and heavy, rough hands feeling at the walls when they’re not groping all over you as he leads you back to your bedroom. He refuses to separate his lips from yours, his eager tongue delving inside of your mouth in ravenous exploration. It’s hardly the first time you’ve made out with Johnny, but it’s never gotten further than dry-humping on the couch or a pathetically quick handjob because he’d gotten so worked up. It’s not that you don’t want to have sex with him—a lot of times, you’d press a vibrator to your aching clit after he left, pretending it’s his mouth instead—it’s just that you don’t want to disappoint him. He means everything to you and it’d destroy you if he ended up finding you boring or just simply not good enough and left.
Honestly, you’re not even sure why you’re allowing it to happen now, on a random Thursday after he just devoured the entire batch of cookies you spent all day making then washed them down with, literally, an entire gallon of water.
Johnny wraps his arm around your waist, hand supporting your back, as he carefully lowers you onto the bed. You hum softly as his kisses slow down, still hungry but less desperate than before. When you break away, he cups one cheek in his hand, pulling at your bottom lip with his thumb. His eyes bore into yours with that familiar fond gaze, love and adoration shrouded in those baby blues.
“Ye’re so bonnie,” he whispers, face hovering just centimeters above yours. “Why dinnae ye lemme touch ye more?”
His accent always gets heavier when he’s feeling something strong. You’re still not entirely used to being the cause of it. You draw your fingers up his back beneath his training shirt, chewing on the inside of your cheek nervously. Your silence worries him, and he guides the both of you to sit up.
“Hen? Ye alreit?” He questions softly. “We dinnae have tae do this if ye’re-”
“No, no, I’m fine,” you breathe, moving to sit on his lap as he rests his back against the headboard. “I’m… I’ve never…”
“Are ye tryna tell me ye’re a virgin, hen?” He asks gently, brows furrowed with concern. “It doesnae matter tae me! Ye know tha’, baby.”
“No! I’m not a virgin, Johnny, I just…” you trail off, your hands moving to massage his broad, tense shoulders. “I don’t have as much… experience, as you. I love you so much, and I-I don’t wanna disappoint you.”
Johnny frowns deeply. His hands squeeze your waist and pull you even closer to him to where your foreheads touch. Those baby blues scan your face, lingering on your lips before he meets your gaze again.
“Listen tae me,” he says sternly. “There isnae a damn thing ye could ever do tae disappoint me. D’ye understand tha’?”
You nod sheepishly but your boyfriend is far from convinced. His hands grab your face and he pulls you in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Tell me ye understand,” he whispers.
“I understand, Johnny,” you sigh, smiling a bit to try and prove your point. “I don’t deserve you and your patience.”
“Och, but ye do,” he hums. “Ye deserve tae feel good by somebody who adores ye, who’ll take their precious bloody time w’ye. Ye’re jus’ lucky enough tae be sittin’ on tha’ very man’s lap.”
You roll your eyes playfully, but lean down to press an appreciative kiss to his lips. His fingers immediately tangle into your hair as his free hand slides down your spine to grope at your ass. Johnny nips at your bottom lip and tugs just hard enough to make you gasp, then runs his tongue over the bitten flesh.
“Can ah take yer shirt off?” He asks breathlessly.
“Yeah,” you respond eagerly, already lifting your arms so that he can slide the t-shirt over your head.
“Cannae believe ye’re wearin’ a bra at home,” he chuckles before reaching around your back and expertly undoing the snaps.
“Me fucking either,” you huff, a little rush of insecurity running through you at how easily he undid the garment.
Your boyfriend is an excellent observer, to your dismay. He tuts gently, pulling you down for another short kiss as you whine in embarrassment.
“Nae need tae feel all jealous, lass,” Johnny teases against your lips. “Dinnae plan on ever undoin’ another bird’s bra s’long as ah’m alive.”
You pull away with a drawn out groan, covering your face with your hands. Your man just laughs and gently coaxes you onto your back once again, making sure you’re adjusted comfortably on the pillows before he settles between your pretty, plush thighs. He presses kisses along the sensitive skin there, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his so that he can see your face once again.
“Cute knickers,” he winks. “Shame ah’m gonna have tae take ‘em off.”
He doesn’t move an inch, though. Not yet—not until you meet his eye and nod your head to give him consent. You lift your hips so that your boyfriend can slowly slide the garment down your thighs, carefully pushing your ankles through the waistband until you lay completely bare before him. He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth, lidded eyes staring up at you.
“Fuck me, princess,” he groans. “Ye ever been eaten proper?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t cum,” you frown, trying not to melt from the heat in his gaze.
“So tha’s a no, then,” he muses. “Cannae believe someone could look at this pretty cunt an’ not wanna make ‘er gush in their mouth.”
You shudder and it makes the man between your thighs hum cockily, trailing another line of kisses from your knee right back to where you need him most. His fingertips just barely swipe over the slit of you, collecting the slick that shamelessly greets him.
“Soaked,” he smirks. “Gonna be drenched by the time ah’m done w’ye, lass.”
Johnny’s tongue greedily replaces his fingers, flattening against your entrance and dragging up to your sensitive clit. He circles there a few times before suctioning his lips over it, immediately moaning when your hands fly down to grip the hair of his overgrown mohawk and tug.
“Havenae even started, yet,” he pulls away from you, shooting you a cocky look. “Already tuggin’ at me. Tha’s a new record.”
You remain silent, but your hips buck desperately in the air, searching for the pleasure that was just ripped from your grasp. Johnny takes the hint and dives right back in, licking down and back up again before his tongue works its way inside of you. He thrusts in and out of your cunt, beard getting wetter with each pass of his head. The sight has you reeling, leaking even more slick into his mouth. Your boyfriend just gets louder and louder, groaning lewdly and shaking his head between your legs like a wet dog. It’s too much, overstimulating although you haven’t even climaxed, but Johnny isn’t done—he digs his fingers into the fat of your thighs and pins them over his shoulders, lifting your hips both for better access to your core and to stop you squirming away from his eager tongue.
“Johnny, please, I c-can’t- holy shit,” you gasp for breath, trying to shove his head away to no avail.
His bright blue eyes are half-lidded as they stare up at you, gaze laced with either mischief or lust—both, if you had to guess. The man is drunk on your taste, unable to resist swallowing down the sweet tang of your arousal. He needs to make you cum on his tongue. He has to, and he murmurs that exact sentiment against your pussy, the vibrations of his voice bordering on unbearable. It’s too good that it hurts, and yet, despite the way you’re wiggling, the thought of him stopping now makes you fucking nauseous. Beneath the fire in your core, there’s a promise of release blooming like roses on a thorny vine, and with every stroke of Johnny’s tongue, he brings you closer to that garden of ecstasy.
“Oh, shit, I’m gonna- fuck, Johnny, don’t stop,” you babble, and he growls against you in response, continuing in the very rhythm that has you panting, begging.
All it takes is making eye contact with the man eating your cunt like it’s his last meal, and then you’re melting on his tongue, tremors rocking through your body so harshly that Johnny has to hold you down even tighter to stop you from breaking your arching back. Once the shivers have died down, your boyfriend rudely gives your clit one last good suck before finally granting you a break. He carefully lowers you onto the bed completely, grinning widely at the sight of you all spent and sprawled out.
“Ye alreit?” Teases Johnny, laying on his side to face you, running a hand over your bare stomach in an attempt to soothe.
You hum noncommittally, staring up at the ceiling. The man chuckles, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. You wince at the feeling of your own slick on your face, since the filthy fucker didn’t bother wiping his mouth.
“Since ye seem too fucked out fer anythin’ else, ah’m gonna go take care o’meself in the bathroom.”
“No!” His threat—not truly a threat, but how dare he even think about leaving you alone in this state?—makes you jolt into a sitting position, horrified eyes landing on his face. “No, don’t leave me. I want… hmph.”
Johnny quirks an eyebrow, grabbing your hands and rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.
“Tell me,” he murmurs.
“No.” You jut your lips out, unsure of yourself.
“Gettin’ all shy on me, now, are ye?” He smirks, gripping your chin to make you look at him once again since you decided to shut your eyes petulantly. “Wha’ is it ye tha’ ye wan’, bunny?”
You huff a bit, embarrassed. You’re not even sure why—this man had his face buried in your pussy not two minutes ago, but now you’re starting to second-guess yourself. Johnny tuts, pulling you onto his lap once again. His eyes narrow in silent question, because if you’re truly uncomfortable he’s going to sprint out of your room to give you space. But there’s a spark there, one that burns bright, and it excites you. Johnny wants you. You turn him on. You are the one he cares about so much that he would put aside his own desires to make you feel safe. He sees the shift, running his thumb over the column of your throat before wrapping his hand around your neck—not tight enough to restrict any air, but enough for you to understand that he is staking his claim.
“Tell me,” he repeats, and the whine you let out tells him everything he needs to know. “D’ye wan’ me inside o’ye, hen? Hm?”
“Johnny,” you breathe, gasping as he uses his free hand to grind you down against him. “Oh, fuck-”
“Yeah? Ye feel how hard ah am fer ye?” He moves to grasp the back of your head, tugging you closer to start a line of kisses against your jaw. “This cock is all fuckin’ yers, bonnie. Ye’re the only one who gets me this hard.”
Your boyfriend rocks his hips up in time with the way he moves yours, and the friction of his jeans against your bare, sensitive pussy has you clawing at his shoulders. Shoulders that you have just realized are far too clothed for your liking. You lean away from his hungry lips, looking down at him with a newfound neediness settling in your bones. You run your hands up his stomach beneath his shirt, feeling the solid abs he works so hard to maintain, and the soft, scarred skin that covers it, before sliding them back down to tug at the bottom hem.
“Gettin’ greedy,” he teases, taking off his shirt for you. “Ah love ye like this, ye ken. Ye- shite, yeah- ye like mah body, baby? It belongs tae ye. All o’it. Every bloody inch. Every nerve, every cell, every hair on me heid.”
“I love it,” you whisper, placing your hands on his chest and flicking your thumbs over his nipples—he shudders with pleasure and you grin softly. “You’re so perfect, Johnny. I w-want… I want you to fuck me.”
“Oh, sweet lass, ah thought ye’d never ask.”
With that, your boyfriend flips you onto your back once again, sitting on his knees above you to unbuckle his belt. He shoves his jeans mid-thigh and leans down to kiss you, eager as ever, but you pout and avoid his lips. He furrows his brows, looking at you worriedly.
“Did ye change yer mind?”
“No. I want you to be naked.”
The man sighs with relief, nipping at your bottom nip playfully. He obliges, kicking away his pants and, to prove a point, yanks off his socks as well as yours.
“Only fair tha’ we’re in the same state o’undress, aye?” He grunts above you as he settles between your legs.
You know how thick he is, felt him in your hand, humped him and jerked him off more times than you can count, but feeling the bare weight of him sliding against your cunt without any layers of fabric is daunting.
“S’big, hen,” he warns, gently rubbing his nose against yours. “Can give ye mah fingers, first.”
“I can take it,” you respond, despite yourself.
“Dinnae be a hero. If ye need-”
“No, I-I’m sure,” you interrupt, hooking your arms beneath his.
Johnny studies your face, and finding no sign of you feeling like you have to do this, he nods. He drags a hand between your bodies and gently nudges his tip against your hole, barely pushing in. His jaw clenches tightly as he holds himself there.
“Alreit. Take a deep breath in fer me. Gonna put it in, now.”
He doesn’t rush to slam into you. He takes his time, slowly working the tight ring of muscle open. When the head finally makes its way inside, you wince, and Johnny frowns.
“Now, breathe out. Ye’re doin’ so good fer me, lass. Takin’ me so well,” he coos, hands cupping your face and thumbing away the tears that form in your eyes. “Mah brave girl.”
“Is- is it in?” You ask through a whimper, taking in a few more deep breaths to make the stretch more bearable.
“Aye. All the way in ye, bunny,” he whispers. “Ye’re so bloody tight. Never felt anythin’ like it.”
The compliment makes the tiniest smile tug at your lips, and Johnny mimics the gesture, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth. You adjust after about another minute, no more pain, only the feeling of being incredibly full. He throbs inside of you, and your hands grip the back of his neck.
“You can move,” you murmur, pressing your forehead against his.
When he pulls away, you can feel each vein that protrudes from his dick rubbing against your walls, and when he thrusts back into you, his cockhead knocks right up against your sweet spot. Your nails scratch at his scalp as he starts to rock his hips at a leisurely pace, ensuring he gets as deep as possible with every stroke. His breath stutters, and you can feel the sweat starting to bead at his hairline.
“Does it feel good?” You ask shyly, closing your eyes to try and hide the fact that you’re absolutely terrified of what he might say—he hasn’t made one sound since he started fucking you, and of course, you’re thinking the worst.
Johnny grabs your jaw with one hand, shaking your head gently until you blink up at him in confusion. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips when you do.
“Ye have no bloody idea how good ye feel,” he grunts. “Ah’m tryin’ tae last fer ye. Creamy li’l cunt’s already gettin’ me- fuck. Ye feel so good, lass. So fuckin’ good.”
You can’t help the way your walls clench around him at his words, a new wave of pleasure washing over the both of you. Johnny buries his face in the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there. The sharp pleasure-pain makes you gasp, your back arching into him desperately. He moans loudly right into your ear, uninhibited and unashamed. He needs you to know that you are the best thing he’s ever touched, that you are the only one who can make him feel this way. He’s never been good with words, but the intensity in his eyes when he once again moves to look at you is telling enough. His mouth hangs open and the hand that was on your jaw guides your arm down so he can intertwine fingers with you.
“Johnny,” you sniffle, hooking your legs around his waist. “I’m s-sorry I made you wait this long.”
“Nae, don’t be. Would wait centuries if it meant ah got tae feel ye fer the first time all o’er again,” he tells you, squeezing your hand. “Wouldnae care if ah never got tae touch ye, either.”
“But-”
“Do ye have any sort o’clue wha’ ye do tae me? How strongly ah feel fer ye?” He questions incredulously. “Ye really don’t, do ye?”
It’s impossible not to burst into tears at his sincerity—too much when it’s piled on top of a rhythm that has you threatening to cum again. Johnny stops thrusting but he doesn’t pull out. He stays buried deep while he hovers above you, forearms braced on either side of your head.
“I j-just… I know that you’ve sl-slept with a lot more people than I have, and I don’t care about that, I promise, but- but I…”
“Wha’ is it, baby?”
“Surely they were all… y’know. Better than me. I can’t be that special to you,” you sputter.
Johnny swears he feels his heart break right in two. He obviously hasn’t done a good enough job of making you feel like the absolute perfection you are. This time, he pulls out completely, laying on his side and contorting you so that you do the same. Both the loss of him and the fact that you know you’re about to get lectured makes you curl in on yourself. He catches your wrists before you get the chance to cover your face.
“Look at me,” he instructs. “Look. Hen, ah’ve never felt fer anyone the way ah feel fer ye. Ye’re the most important thing in mah life. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will ever make me feel better than you do. Ah dinnae care if we never have sex again-”
“I couldn’t do that to you,” you interject softly. “You love sex.”
“Aye, ah do. And if ah had tae give it up tae stay with ye, ah would,” he tells you firmly. “But if ye think fer a second tha’ jus’ because ye haven’t been with as many people, ye’re less worthy of mah love, ye’re wrong.”
Your bottom lip trembles as you try to will away a new onslaught of tears threatening to spill.
“But that doesn’t- haven’t you had better?”
“Nae,” he doesn’t hesitate for even a moment. “Never. Baby, all o’them were nothin’ but a means tae an end. They never meant a thing tae me.”
Your silence makes him sigh deeply, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. You can hear his heart racing as your head presses to his chest, and you can feel your own pounding just as hard.
“Ah never thought ah would make it this long,” he whispers solemnly. “Figured ah’d be dead by now. When ye- when ye’re out riskin’ yer life more days than ye can count on both hands, ye get… restless. Take wha’ ye can get while ye can still get it. Didnae think ah’d ever get in a serious relationship, so ah slept with whoever was willin’. Never learned their names. Figured it didn’t matter since ah’d end up in the ground anyway.”
This conversation is not making you feel any better. A larger pit forms in your stomach and you’re positive that if you make any sudden moves, the nausea will turn to vomit immediately. Johnny runs a hand over his face, then scratches the stubble on his chin absently.
“Ah wasn’t plannin’ on meetin’ ye. Sure as hell wasn’t plannin’ on fallin’ in love so damn quick. At all, really,” he sniffs. “But ah did, and- ye’re exactly wha’ ah needed, bunny. Best thing tha’s ever happened tae me. The second ye were in mah sights, nothin’ else mattered. Not me past, not nothin’. Jus’ you, and how in the fuck ah was gonna make ye mine.”
Johnny gently readjusts the both of you so that you can rest your cheek on his bicep, and a large hand rests on the side of your face that’s exposed. When you blink away the moisture from your eyes, you find that his are now glossy with tears of his own. He nudges his nose against yours, breathing out through his mouth. A little sob escapes him and it fucking breaks you.
“Ye’re mah everything. Even if- if ye didn’t feel half as amazing as ye do, ye’d still be the best ah’ve ever had, ‘cause ye’re mah baby. Mo chridhe.”
“Johnny…” you mutter, cupping his face in your hands, running your thumb over the scars on his chin and his cheekbone.
“If ye could see yerself the way ah see ye, ye’d never wonder if ye’re enough fer me.”
“Johnny,” you repeat, sucking in a shaky breath before hastily pressing your lips to his.
The kiss is far from perfect—messy, no tongue and all teeth, heavy breaths and snot that you can’t determine whose is whose—but it’s everything you need. Months of built-up tension and affection released into a single embrace. Somehow he ends up on top of you again, no longer hard, just soft and real and yours.
“Ah love ye,” he breaks the kiss to breathe but your lips still brush against each other. “Ah love ye so much. Scares the hell out o’me sometimes.”
You gingerly scratch the back of his neck, peppering more chaste kisses all over his pretty face. He sighs dreamily, each little peck a remedy for the raw admissions the both of you just shared. Eventually he starts to return the gesture, and the frowns and chapped lips turn upward into a smile.
“I love you, too, Johnny,” you lock lips with him again, briefly. “Can we-? I wanna keep going.”
“Aye,” he nods. “Gimme a minute tae get ready again.”
“Can I help?” You ask. “I-I just- I feel bad for the cryfest I just put us through.”
He huffs with amusement, playfully flicking the tip of your nose with his fingers, then flips onto his back and drags you on top of him.
“Ye li’l hellion,” he teases, breath hitching in his throat as you slide down his body and settle yourself between his legs.
You carefully spread his thighs a bit wider for better access, trailing a line of kisses from his knee down to his groin. When you reach your target, you grab the base of his cock and bring it to your lips, running your tongue through the slit in his tip. A salty bead of precum greets you, and you lick it up before wrapping your lips around him. Johnny shudders, already starting to become hard again. It doesn’t take more than a few more swirls of your tongue before your boyfriend gently tangles his hands in your hair and pulls you in for a slow, sloppy kiss.
“Ye’re bloody good at tha’, ye ken?” He grins, once more flipping you onto your back and climbing atop of you.
“I do know a few things,” you giggle, but the breath is stolen from you as he slips inside of you again.
He doesn’t worry about taking his time anymore. Instead, he instantly sets an erratic, frantic pace, needy and aching. You lock your ankles around the small of his back and wrap your arms around his waist, holding on for dear life while he thrusts into you.
“So good,” he slurs, holding himself up by his elbows and cusping the back of your head in his hands. “Not- not gonna last, hen.”
“Cum in me,” you keen, staring up at him through wide eyes. “Please, Johnny, I need t-to feel you.”
With a prolonged groan, Johnny obeys your command, holding his forehead against yours as his release floods into you. He rocks his hips in random motions until his cock is no longer throbbing, only twitching every so often while the two of you catch your breath. His tremors die down after a while, but he stays buried inside of you, kissing you until your legs are weak and he can no longer hold himself up. His huge stature pins you in place like an oversized weighted blanket, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s nice.
“Ye wreck me, lass,” he murmurs after a while. “Never been so happy tae be torn in two.”
You hum quietly, gasping a little when he shifts and pulls out of you before flipping you onto your side. Your back presses against his chest as he holds you close, nosing at the crook of your neck affectionately. He mindlessly caresses your stomach with his fingertips, and it makes you sleepy. Rest comes easy when you’re in his arms.
You’re unsure if the “gonna put a ring on yer finger” was a hazy dream your mind conjured up, or if it’s a promise from the man you adore with your entire being, who adores you with all of himself.
The latter idea makes you smile in your sleep.