Chapter Text
On the 39th day of dating, Spencer was pretty sure he’d fucked it up.
Thirty nine days of holding her hand, splitting the bill, watching their shows, walking the neighborhood, calling from hotels, kissing her cheek, kissing her nose, kissing her mouth, kissing her.
And for the tenth time in six weeks, they had ended the night on his couch with her mouth on his throat. She was in his lap— her knees resting on either side of his thighs, her ass nestled neatly against where he was straining painfully against the zipper of his trousers. Her hands were in his hair, tangled up in the curls and tugging lightly, drawing the tiniest moan from his lips, and she smiled as it buzzed against where her mouth was hot and wet and sucking just to the left of his Adam’s apple.
And then she brought one hand down to fumble with the button of his pants, and he was breaking away from her mouth and snatching her wrist.
“Sorry,” she rasped, voice thick with lust, and he wanted to bang his head against the wall and then bang other things.
“No, no, don’t— don’t apologize,” he sighed. He closed his eyes, steeling himself to drop the bomb.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to—”
“No!” he interrupted. “I— I want to, I just—” He mumbled the next part so quietly that he knew she couldn’t have heard him.
“Hm?” she hummed, so sweetly that he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.
He mumbled it again, and she furrowed her brow. “What? I don’t— sorry, I can’t hear—”
“I’m a virgin!” he finally blurted out, putting them both out of their misery. He resisted the urge to cover his face, begged the crust and mantle to crack and swallow him up into the boiling liquid iron beneath.
“Oh.”
She tried to school the shock off her face, but he was a profiler, after all. He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah. I know it’s— it’s so weird. I just— I haven’t dated that many people and the people I did date just never got that far and it’s not like I don’t know things but I’ve never done things and I’m not one of those people who can just fuck anyone, you know?”
At her raised eyebrow, his eyes widened and he asserted, “N-not that there’s anything wrong with that! I just— personally, I can’t really— get into it, so… I’m a virgin.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ready for her to hightail it out of his apartment and out of his life. “Again, I’m sorry, I know it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” she breathed out.
“It’s kind of weird,” he corrected with a grimace. “I’m forty years old.”
“It’s not weird,” she repeated, and her voice was so soft that he had to look at her. Her eyes were as soft as her voice, and his chest tightened painfully, because of course she was being nice about it.
She cradled his face and ran a gentle thumb over his cheek. “It’s not weird to wanna wait for someone special. I’m just— I’m just kind of surprised, I guess?” She phrased it as a question, and she looked at his mouth rather than his eyes. “You’re just… really hot, so I wasn’t— I wasn’t expecting that.”
He was sure his eyes had that animated woodland creature twinkle when he asked, “You think I’m hot?”
She laughed a little nervously at that. “Well, yeah. You don’t think I’m hot?”
He lifted his hands from where they’d been resting carefully against the couch cushions to grasp her face in his hands, surging forward to crash their mouths together. She brought her hands back to his hair, held him close as he mumbled, “So hot, you’re so, so hot,” in between kisses.
She laughed against his mouth, pressed another chaste kiss to his lips and then looked at him so earnestly that he couldn’t help but squirm a little underneath her. “Do you, um. Would you want to just, like— try some things?”
He nodded dumbly, and she raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, yes,” he confirmed.
She smiled a little. “Tell me to stop whenever you want.” She leaned forward to kiss him again, shifted a little in his lap, and he knew the only reason he’d want to stop was if he was about to pass away right there on the couch.
She hummed, and it vibrated against his lips in the most peculiar way. Then she pulled back, dragged her finger across the sharp angle of his jaw, and asked, “So you haven’t done any of it, but have you… thought about it?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, as nonchalantly as he could with a pretty girl sitting in his lap.
Her finger traced up over his chin and to his bottom lip. She dragged over it and watched it snap back into place before slowly dropping her hand. “Have you thought about it… with me?”
“Yes,” he breathed out immediately. “Have— have you?”
“Have I thought about having sex with you?” Her lips twitched, and then she pressed them together.
He nodded, a little embarrassed but much more nervous. She ran her hand through his hair, bringing it to the nape of his neck and twisting the curls in her fingers. She brought her mouth to ghost over his, and whispered, “I think about it more than is probably healthy.”
He opened his mouth to respond and found that there was not a single coherent thought in his brain. She continued, “What do you think about?”
“What do you think about?” he asked incredulously.
“Mm-mm,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I asked you first.” She brought her arms to rest around his shoulders. “What do you think about, Spence?”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips, which were suddenly so, so dry. “I think about— about touching you. About the sounds that you’ll make.” He should have been embarrassed, but she’d just admitted that she thought about him like this, and his brain was glitching. “I think about— um, tasting you. And I— I think about fucking you.” He nearly whispered it, and she smiled.
She shifted her hips again, just barely grinding her ass against him, and he was certain she could feel how hard he was beneath her. She smoothed her free hand down the line of buttons on his shirt, stopping just above his waistband. “Mm, I think about that, too. When you think about it, how do you fuck me?”
He’d thought about her in just about every position— jacked off to the thought of her underneath him in his bed, bent over his kitchen table, up against the door of his apartment, on his living room rug with her legs over his shoulders— and then felt absolutely filthy about it in the light of day. “In… all kinds of ways.”
“Oh, really?” she teased. “Well, what’s your favorite way then?”
He’d thought about that, too. And without fail, one fantasy in particular always had him finishing within minutes, her name falling from his lips and his come painting his belly. He gestured to their current position. “Like this. With you in my— in my lap.”
“Oh, yeah? Why is this your favorite?” She ground her ass down again on his now rock hard cock, and his hands flew to her hips, nails digging in over the fabric of her dress.
“I-I read that, um— that you can—” She rolled her hips down against him and he choked a little, then rushed out, “I read that you can achieve deep penetration from this angle.”
She dragged her mouth along his jaw, pressing hot kisses up to his ear. “Mmmm… so you wanna… get deep?” she murmured with another roll of her hips.
He bucked up into her and stuttered out a, “Fuck, y-yes.” He turned his face to meet her lips, capturing them in a sloppy kiss, his tongue darting into her mouth.
“The literature also says that it’s a good position for the female orgasm,” he gasped.
She moaned as she circled her lace-covered core over his dick, and the sound echoed off the ceiling and through every single crevice of his mind. “The literature, huh?” Before he could apologize for being weird, she threw her head back and rolled her hips and whined out, “Shit, that’s so hot, Spence— so hot that you looked it up.”
He surged forward to attach his lips to her neck, sucking hard and thrusting up into her when she drew in a sharp breath. He bunched up the fabric of her dress over the fullness of her hips and then held them in place, fucking his clothed cock up into where her legs were spread so wide over his lap.
She set a steady pace with her hips, grinding in his lap and using her hands in his hair to pull his head back. She sucked a mark into the sensitive spot behind his ear, and he whimpered pathetically when she dragged her teeth over it. Her breath was hot in his ear as she gasped, “This is one of my favorites, too. You wanna know why?”
“Please,” he begged.
“I get to watch you come undone— see all the faces you make. You’re so pretty, Spence. Such a pretty boy.” He let out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine. “Mmm, I’ve been dreaming about that sound,” she teased. She nipped at his ear lobe and murmured, “I like it this way because I get to set the pace for you and take care of you. Do you like that?”
He could only nod as she pressed down over his dick. He felt his underwear sticking to the head of his leaking cock, and then he felt the wetness of her cunt seeping through the fabric of his trousers. That had him digging his fingers into her hips and grunting out an animalistic sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making.
“And yeah— I want you to get deep, too, Spence,” she agreed. She kissed him sloppily, nipped at his swollen lower lip and then sucked his tongue into her mouth. Then she yanked his head back by his hair, and he could feel the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. “And then when you’re as deep as you can get, I want you to come inside and fill me up.”
At that confession, three things happened simultaneously: Spencer forced her hips down onto his throbbing cock, threw his head back in a mortifyingly loud moan, and came in his pants.
His orgasm was sudden and long and had him groaning and clutching at her hips. He soaked the inside of his underwear with what felt like a liter of come, leaking hot and sticky from the tip of his cock. She whined and brought her hands to cover his where they were holding her down, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m s-sorry—” he started, completely mortified that he’d come so quickly and in his pants without even having done anything.
She shushed him immediately. “Don’t be sorry, Spence.”
He stared up at her in awe, registering the way her pupils were dilated and the way her brow glistened with a sheen of sweat. “Do you have any idea how hot it is that you just came in your pants from the mere thought of fucking me? God, can you feel how fucking wet I am?”
She brought one set of their joined hands across the top of her soft thigh, rose up a little on her knees, and brushed their fingers across the soaked fabric of her panties. “What’d the literature tell you about that, baby?”
His spent cock throbbed and he whimpered— quite literally whimpered. She used their joined fingers to rub against where she was dripping wet, then whispered out, “Is this okay?”
He allowed her to guide his fingers, pressing them together and drawing firm, small circles around her clit. “Yes, fuck, I wanna— wanna make you feel good, too.”
“You already do, S-Spence,” she stuttered out, and somehow it was the hottest thing she’d said to him yet.
“Wanna make you come,” he breathed, sucking a kiss into the soft skin exposed by the neckline of her dress. “What do you need?”
“You,” she answered, and his heart soared. “I’m s-so close, keep going. Just like that.”
Their fingers worked together over her drenched panties, and he kissed and licked and sucked a sloppy path over her chest and up the side of her neck. When the frequency and pitch of her whines began to increase, he sped up the circle of his fingers. He pressed a little harder against the tiny mountain of nerves, foolishly wondering if it was possible to leave his fingerprints on her clit in the way that hers were already on his heart.
And then suddenly she was dropping her head back, and her thighs were clenching around his wrist, and her hand was fisting in his hair, and her mouth was gasping out his name, and he’d never seen anything quite so incredible in his entire forty years of existence.
She left her head tilted back as her thighs and grip on his hair relaxed. He watched the movement of her chest rising and falling with her labored breathing, the subtle silhouette of her throat as she swallowed, the radiant way the afterglow washed over her. Being underneath her in this moment felt a little like magic— and not in the silly card trick way he was a connoisseur of.
It was magic in the way that it felt supernatural— inexplicable and extraordinary and verging on mystical— and like every dream he’d ever had come to life.
He didn’t move for fear that he’d shake her out of this tranquil state, jostle her into reality, and remind her that he was decidedly not the ethereal, supernatural, celestial being that she was.
And then she slowly lowered her head with an exhausted sigh, a soft smile blooming over her features.
“Wow,” she breathed.
“Wow,” he agreed.
She brought her clean hand to his face, stroking along his cheek and then running it over his disheveled hair. “Was that okay?”
He couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. “That was more than okay.”
She grinned at him and leaned forward to brush their mouths together. “Good. I think that’s probably enough for now.” Her stomach rumbled loud enough for both of them to hear it, and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my god, I’m— I swear that was just a tummy grumble.”
He tipped his head back in a laugh and pulled her forward into his chest. His arms came around her middle and he pressed a kiss into her shoulder. “I have lots of snacks.”
He felt her smile into his hair as her arms came around his shoulders. “Fuck me and feed me, is that what this is?”
He squeezed her tightly. And love you, too. “Yeah, that’s what this is.”