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Tell Me, Tell Me

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You made no secret of how much you adored him.

Unfortunately, that was the problem.

You’re so graceful in battle, V! It’s almost like watching you dance.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it—you deserve to rest. Besides, you look so peaceful!”

“Thank you for all your hard work, today. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

He used to be able to accept your kindness with a charming quip and a sly smile, but as you became closer to one another, your words grew to carry a depth they hadn’t before, one which made warmth blossom beneath his chest whenever you paid him compliment. You had always been generous with your affection, yet the more freely you gave it, the more it left him wanting. You’d driven him to covet more than fleeting words and passing gestures; every time, he longed to hold your attention, if only for a little longer.

One rainy evening granted his wish. In a rare moment of shared solitude, he finally had you in his arms and your privacy all to himself, as his teasing kisses turned into restless hands beneath your clothes. You were straddling his lap, lavishing him in the attention he’d secretly grown to crave—he didn’t quite understand why the words had such power over him, but now that you were here, he wasn’t about to complain.

“So handsome,” you smiled, tracing your lips along the slender tattoos vining up his neck. “How did I get so lucky?”

“The luck is mine, for having caught your eye.” He pressed his nose into your hair. “Your affection continues to be my sweetest privilege.”

As you hid away against him, all blushes and smiles, he was reminded you weren’t immune to his words, either.

“Sweet boy.” You traced your nose along his jawline. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He felt his stomach twist, delightfully.

You had never called him that before.

“You deserve the world,” he whispered, his mouth going dry.

“I already have him.”

The situation was affecting him worse than he thought possible; in spite of himself, he could already feel the warmth of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks, curving around the shells of his ears. It was his turn to nestle against you, to bury himself into your neck in a feeble attempt to hide himself away.

“Precious starlight, you flatter me so.”

You blinked in surprise.

Was he feeling bashful?

Impossible. The man could make the dirtiest of intentions sound like poetry of old while whispering to you in a room full of people, but your cheesy little compliments were what made him feel shy? There was no way.

You held his face in your hands and pulled him away from your neck, just far enough to meet his eyes. He watched your vision drift across his face, awed by every line of his skin, gazing at him like he was everything.

You did not blink. “You are transcendent, my love.”

His reaction was immediate. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense at once; he inhaled, sharply, and you could feel him rousing to life between your straddling thighs. He touched his forehead to yours, but he would not meet your gaze; it was impossible to tell who had turned redder at the sudden revelation, you or him.

He dipped his head, hiding an eye behind his fringe. “...is this strange?”

Still cradling his face in your hands, you kissed his worries away.

How could anything that made him come undone like this be strange?

Only after you freed your tongue from his did he dare to glance up at you. “Then...may I ask you to continue?”

You were helpless when he looked at you like that.

Anything. Anything for him.

Biting your lip, you slid a hand through his hair, running soothing fingers along his scalp; the way he tilted his head back with your lead, his green eyes fluttering shut, his lashes dark and full against his reddened cheeks—it was maddening.

V had a way with words you felt like you could never rival, but this—this, you could do.

“You really are the most ethereal man I’ve ever seen,” you said, barely loud enough to hear. “It’s a wonder I can keep my hands off you at all.”

V’s mouth was at your neck again, his intentions this time much more heated and much less shy. He made quick work of the front of your jeans; you smiled as he all but yanked your pants down your hips, his slender hands sliding down the curve of your ass until you shimmied off the clothes completely, one leg at a time.

“And your eyes,” you continued, pulling his belt from its loops, “sometimes you look at me so deeply, I feel like I’m drowning. Sometimes when I look at you, I have to remind myself to breathe.”

And he kept those eyes on you—those powerful green eyes—as you drew down the zipper of his own jeans. His watchful gaze on your flushed face drove you insane, but when you slid a hand down his hardened length and brought him into the open, the way his mouth fell open sent shivers spilling down your spine. You immediately felt a hand slide between your thighs in return, palming down the front of you, his eager fingers working you into a slow build that made your knees tremble as you knelt over him.

You breathed a quiet laugh. “You’re lovely. Too lovely. I’m trying to do something for you here, and you’re still trying to take care of me.”

“You know not how selfish I can be.”

“Show me, then.”

With little warning, a fingertip slipped inside of you, and you gave a soft gasp at the unexpected jolt of pleasure. One finger, then two, then three, stretching you at a slow, eased pace until you were squirming in his lap, searching for something more to fill you. Not one to leave you wanting, his fingers were soon replaced with the head of his cock, and he buried himself into you with a single, fluid motion.

“God—fuck—”

Biting his tongue to keep quiet, he stayed seated within you, and you felt yourself twitch around him as you accommodated his size. Already breathing hard, you steadied your trembling hands on his shoulders, grasping at the dark leather of his coat. One of his hands worked at the front of you, steady and slick with your arousal; his other hand was on your waist, guiding you to start moving in his lap.

His every touch was heavenly.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” you breathed, “so perfect, V—like you were made for me—”

His body responded well to your praise. As you rolled your hips against his, you could barely register his fierce kisses against your neck, marking you over and over again. You could tell from his slight hums against your skin that he was trying to muffle himself against you. You drew yourself from your daze just long enough to make a request.

“Your voice is music, love,” you breathed past his ear, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Will you let me hear you play?”

His fingertips dug even harder into your waist, and the soft, hushed moans that followed had you seeing stars.

His voice left you weak at the best of times, but hearing it drip with pleasure and reckless abandon sent your mind spinning like nothing else. He’d reduced you to drunken mumblings of your affections, loose words of scattered praise you weren’t sure made sense anymore, yet every gentle word somehow seemed to spur him harder, faster, deeper into you.

“Fuck, f—fuck, you’re so good—you’re so, so good to me—”

“...am I?”

There was a sliver of vulnerability in his voice you could barely pick out through the fog.

“Yes,” you sighed desperately, voice breaking, “yes, you are—you’re everything—god, V, please, please, please—”

He watched you ride him out, watched what remained of your coherence drift away as you chased your peak—and when you reached it, he made sure you buried your cries against his lips where he could greedily swallow each and every one. He didn’t relent his brutal pace as he fucked you through your orgasm, not easing for a moment even after the waves of your moans ebbed to oversensitive whimpers.

You slung your arms around his neck, your body languid and spent, revelling in the feeling of his hands on your waist now tight enough to bruise.

“I love you,” you slurred, your mind brimming with static as the only sensation left to you was him and him alone.

“I love you,” you said again, feeling his hips stutter at your words, his long, slender arms wrapping around your body and holding your body tightly against his own.

“I love you,” and you felt him shudder beneath you, pressing his face into your neck and coming with a sharp, stifled cry, louder than you had ever heard him allow himself before.

Even after he finished, you could still feel him twitching deliciously inside of you in the afterglow; as he released his grip on your skin and caught his breath, you peppered chaste, drunken kisses against his still-ruddy cheeks.

“My beautiful boy.”