Chapter Text
They’ve been at this game of his for a long while.
Two weeks, by her count, just since they’d been back here in Katolis: two weeks of Callum pleasing her, two weeks of Callum denying himself…
Two weeks of begging him to let her reciprocate.
He makes his way up her body, his lips starting at her parted knees, his tongue detouring too briefly between them, his teeth nipping at her hips—
Two weeks of torture.
—and Rayla groans.
Two weeks too long.
She gets it now, though.
She knows how to win his game…or at least she thinks she does.
Callum goes on, kissing her tensed abdomen, leaving a wet trail along the outline of every ripple of muscle, his breath hot in her navel…and she lets go of everything but that.
If she just enjoys it—
If she just allows the moan of approval when he nuzzles his way across her ribs…
If she just lets her hips writhe against his mattress…
If she just tolerates the impatience…
Eventually—
Callum stares at her with so much warmth and love and attention, his hot, hot mouth closing over top of a breast while his fingertips tease the other—
Eventually, she’ll win.
Eventually, he’ll fuck her.
It’s only a little bit of an act when she whimpers his name: it does feel good.
“Mmm, Callum,” she hums, arching up off the pillow, burying her fingers against his scalp. “Yes.”
That last little hiss had been a little too much, though, it seems, given the way that Callum’s tongue stops flicking against her. It’s not an act at all, though, when she protests, gripping lightly into his hair.
“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes narrowed, still playing with her peaked breasts.
He’s on to her, clearly…but what could he possibly have against her enjoying herself?
She’s not breaking his rules.
She’s not losing his game.
“Showing you how good this feels,” Rayla simpers, committed to the bit at this point, having been caught. She bites her lip, bats her eyelashes, and squirms some more—enough so her sex brushes against his thigh between her legs—and moans again. “See?”
Callum quirks an eyebrow at her, smirking while he circles her nipples the way she likes, sending a real shudder down her spine.
“Hmm…and you think that’ll get you what you want?” he wonders, head cocked…and the question is a challenge.
He knows what she wants.
Her answer is the trick, she’s sure—making this about her and not about him, nevermind her real objective.
“What I want—“ she tries, pressing his huge hands tighter against her chest, encouraging a harsher grip. It doesn’t actually feel better at all compared to his delicate, careful touch, honestly…but maybe getting to touch her is persuasive? “—is to come.”
“And…how exactly do you want to do that?”
That’s an opening…so she drops the act.
She’ll take it.
“Callum—“ she starts, and he doesn’t stop her when she reaches for him, lightly gripping the hard-on his underwear can’t hide.
…and, apparently, winning is that easy.
Callum quickly pulls his clothes away and stands at the edge of the bed, setting himself up, bare and erect between her legs…and Rayla sucks in a breath, bracing herself as he takes his length in his hand, studying her sex.
“Like…this?” he asks, smile tilted, and before she can even quip about how nonchalant he’s being…she understands why.
He hisses to match her as he touches his cock to her clit, using her slick to gently glide against her instead of into her…not quite ready to let her win yet, it seems.
“Yeah,” she gasps, somehow finding room in her chest for another gulp of air, her heart in her throat. “Like…that.”
Callum backs away just a bit and strokes himself, the tip of his stiffness still so near to her sex that she can feel its warmth, and she keeps holding her breath, thinking that obviously the next arc of his hips is going to end with him inside of her—
—but it doesn’t…and that's on purpose, it seems, from the smile still curving his lips between shaky breaths.
Callum thrusts slowly between her folds again, teasing her—and himself, clearly—and she watches as her sex wets him, shuddering again when he crests.
“What—what are you doing?”
He stares there between her legs, guiding his cock to trace a spiral, face red, licking his lips: “M-making you come.”
As if rubbing against her like that isn’t doing something for him too.
She can’t say that, though.
This has to be about her if she’s playing by his rules…so, she scoffs and shifts her hips for him, selecting her words carefully still.
“Might be better if—mmm…”
He rocks against her again—and again—at that new angle, and she throbs, smirk swiftly swept off her lips. He’s clearly affected too—flush deepening, eyes bleary and unfocused, cock harder and harder—and before long she can’t help but beg, trembling at his next pass.
Rayla whimpers: “Please.“
He sucks in a long, loud breath, noticeably flustered, and she flinches as he taps himself against her sex, the sensation sharp and tingly, like lightning.
A gentle hand on her leg and a softly-breathed, unneeded apology is as far as he gets after the newfound bolt of desire that runs through her from horn to heel.
Nevermind how carefully she’d intended to choose her words, all she can do now is insist—
“Fuck me, Callum.”
—and hope a kiss will set her victory in stone.
She catches Callum around his neck, pulling him down over top of her, his lips searing-hot and sweet-tasting against her own.
“Please, Callum.” she gasps, breaking away as his hand wanders between them. “Please, I—oh!”
And suddenly he’s sheathed in her fully, buried to the root, his mouth hanging open while he gapes at her…and Rayla’s reaction is just the same. Her lips parted in a gasp, she blinks at him, overwhelmed and wide-eyed, shocked to have been taken so abruptly by careful, considerate Callum. He’s still now, at least, letting her adjust…
…but that’s because he’s coming, she realizes when he grunts and shivers, feeling how he twitches within her despite how he holds his hips still. She scrambles to reach for him, holding his cheeks in her hands, wanting to memorize this—
This is what she’d wanted so badly for him—the speechless ecstasy on his face, the trembling rapture tensing every limb, the warm satisfaction of emptying into her…
His eyes, though…aren’t quite right: pleadingly sorry again beneath shuddering pleasure.
“Oops,” he manages, breathless, lips twitching into a lazy smile as the tension in the rest of his body lets go, his touch gently—apologetically—wandering her skin.
It’s okay, though. More than okay, Rayla thinks, grinning and then pulling him in by cupped cheeks to kiss him some more, ankles tucked behind his knees, heart fluttering.
“Oops,” she repeats, snickering, forehead-to-forehead and perfectly content.
He’s still close and hot inside her, and she’s still aching after that single swift thrust, but…
That’s besides the point anyway. He’d needed to come—not her.
That won’t do for him, though, of course.
His thumb traces a line down from her navel to where they’re still connected, finding the nub he’s gotten so, so good at teasing.
“I can…make it up to you?“ Callum asks, familiarly smitten with half-lidded eyes and a sideways, playful smile.
She shudders as he teases her, but—
That sounds suspiciously like things that she’s not been allowed to say.
So, there’s only one thing to do: Rayla pulls his fingers away from her clit, knitting hers between…
…then pulls his knuckles to her lips.
She tilts her head, squints her eyes…and hopes the smirk on her lips looks as smug as she feels:
“…make it up to me?”
Callum’s color drains as it dawns on him:
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
She flips him over—mostly stifling her sigh when he slips out of her—and straddles him, nevermind the messy puddle she makes on his belly.
“Now, now, Callum,” she starts, imitating—poking fun at—that sweet, patient, infuriating tone he’s been using with her all along, pinning his wrists by his head. “I don’t want you doing that for the wrong reasons.”
“But I love you, Rayla!” Callum grins at her—goofy and lovesick and copying her right back. “You deserve to get off, way more than I do! I would never get to come at all, if I had it my way!”
“I never said that,” she insists, laying down against his chest so she can nip and nuzzle at his neck, enjoying all the bare skin between them.
“Oh, please, Rayla!” he teases, squirming out of her grip, practically whining in her ear…immune apparently to her attentions, post-climax.
She’s not immune, though, still on edge and wanting…so, of course, she can’t help shivering as his fingertips trace her spine, her words shaking too: “I do not sound like that.”
All the more dramatic, he goes on, anyway, hands covering her back, her waist, her hips: “Oh, please, please let me make you come! I’d do anything! Anything! I love you so much! I’m begging—let me touch you!”
“Shut up, dummy. I love you more,” Rayla snickers and sits up to kiss him again…and he twitches behind her, barely poking her backside. “Do you think we can keep going—both of us?”
“Uh—just, uh—give me a few?” he explains, sheepishly looking to the side when she feels for his half-hard arousal. His light touch on her hips shifts to a stiffer hold at her waist, moving her chest in reach of his lips. “In the meantime…?”
Coaxing her closer, he sits the both of them up against the headboard, she finds herself with his mouth caressing her breasts again—one and then the other, with his hands hard at work kneading her too—and she hopes he doesn’t mind the mess of slick and seed she knows she’s spread across his stomach.
“I guess—guess if I’m playing by your rules,” she sighs, letting her hips move her sex against his skin, wetter and wetter with every swipe of his tongue. “I’m—mmm—I’m not allowed to come now.”
“We’ll see about that,” Callum chuckles…and reaches for his length again.
It’s a little awkward, fumbling to find the right angle for him to slip him into her again…but then he does, and, oh—
It’s better than before: less abrupt and a little less harsh…and almost certainly, it won’t be over as quickly as that first time, either.
“Oh—that’s…yes,” he sighs once she’s completely seated over his lap, fingers digging into her thighs…then pulling at them, wordlessly asking her to move against him, muscles tensed beneath rune-covered skin.
Despite herself—despite her intentions to please him—it’s her own need that drives her rhythm: slow, at first, feeling that little raised seam at the tip of his cock against every little ridge within her and then faster as she finds herself moving in just the right way that the both of them are soon sighing and gasping.
“You feel so good, Callum,” she whimpers, bouncing a little harsher in his lap, addicted to how it feels to have him thick and hard inside her, how fucking him brings her nearer and nearer to oblivion with every stroke, how hot his skin is under her hands.
She slows down, though, finding herself precariously close to the edge and doubting her resolve to not come.
“I want to feel you, Rayla,” Callum pleads knowingly, sweet and smiling, his hands greedier than before on her body. “Please come.”
He punctuates the offer with an upward buck, thrusting himself deeper than she can manage taking him on her own, and—
“S-sources, Callum, I—”
“I want you to, Rayla. Please don’t stop.” he insists, flushed and feverishly hot…and what can she do, then, but ride him harder?
The steady, percussive friction of the pace she quickens to is almost enough, almost what she needs, almost satisfying...but then his hands grip her hips when she’s fully penetrated, encouraging shallower arcs and quick circles of her her sex on his, over and over and over and—
“Oh—Rayla.” Callum outright moans, head thrown back into the pillow. “Fuck, you’re tight.“
—which is because she’s close—so close—and then he bucks again, his cock hard and hot and hilted in her completely, and—
Raw pleasure in the place of restraint, Rayla calls out his name. That’s all she can think of, after all: Callum’s palm cradling her cheek, Callum’s cock buried deep inside her, Callum’s lovely, low voice whispering encouragement as she comes undone—
“There we go,” he says, his other hand tight on her naked hips, then gentle on her breasts as she comes, crashing into him over and over, riding out this orgasm she’s dreamt of, whimpering through the whole thing. “Love you. Love you so much.”
She’s spent, then: a breathless mess, warm with sweat and red with pleasure, bliss bringing her crashing down against his chest.
…but he’s not.
He needs to come again, nevermind how satisfied she is, she recognizes through the euphoria.
“Keep going—fuck me, Callum,” she manages a gasp in his ear, between sloppy kisses to his jaw. He’s already halfway through laying her on her back, but she goes on anyway, needing to make it clear: he can have her however he likes. “Whatever you want, just—don’t stop til you come.”
Callum listens, and Rayla cries out as he drives into her harder and harder on each thrust, knocking the air from her lung when he bottoms out, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her every time. He sputters, holding her knees open. “Tell me if—if it’s too much?”
She grits her teeth as his hips slam into hers, over and over: it feels too good to be too much—even if it’s a little rough.
“Harder,” she insists, nevermind the ache building along with her next orgasm. “Oh, fuck—yes. That’s—that’s it!
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters under his breathe, warm with effort and flushed hot like her. “I’m gonna come, Rayla—”
She’s not sure if he actually does come first—his rigid cock twitching within her, his hips erratic, and thrusting through it all this time—or if she does—her sex pulsing harshly around him with every stroke, her body shaking and sensitive from all that sensation—but…
By the time she sorts out breathing and thinking and speaking again, Callum’s weight is heavy on top of her, his hands lazily playing with her hair, his face sweetly buried in the crook of her neck…
…and she can’t help but brag.
“I won,” she whispers, more than a little proud to see him so satisfied, her voice more than a little hoarse.
She hugs Callum tighter, pressing a kiss in his sweaty hair…more than a little in love.
“Nuh-uh,” he counters, muffled against her shoulder, his lips puckering lazily there.
“You came,” Rayla explains, shrugging beneath him, “so I won. Twice actually.”
He perks up at that, incredulously leaning up on an elbow. “So did you!” he says, disbelief softening to a whole new smug, self-satisfied smirk. “I won and you lost, and you’re just sore because I’m better at this than you.”
“You’ve had two weeks more practice!” She scoffs…then softens herself, shifting to her side to match him and resting a fond, suggestive hand on his stomach. “That’s not why I’m sore, though, I promise you.”
“I told you to stop me if it hurt—”
“Good sore,” she clarifies, kissing him then grinning—and hoping that’ll wipe the frown off his face—before she collapses to her back again, stretching. “Plus…definitely worth it.”
But…Callum’s still frowning when he leans over her, sighing.
“Rayla…”
His fingers find her hand…and his lips find her knuckles.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”