He’d said to get out. You didn’t listen. That’s all there was to it.
Except there was so much more to it than that.
You’d spent the last two weeks worming your way into Melinda Bash’s inner circle, pretending that you were just as cruel and callous as her high society friends. For fourteen long arduous days you put on a face of make-up, dressed in the kind of slinky dresses that Sophie had taken you shopping for before she left, and smiled charmingly at the other women who you privately referred to as a coven of witches.
All of this was done in service of your client, Caroline Bash, Melinda’s stepdaughter. You’d taken one look at her face as she shyly sat down at the booth in the brew pub and began explaining how Melinda had been using her late husband’s fortune to fund her own lavish lifestyle at the expense of the charity that he had willed the bulk of the money go to, setting aside enough to comfortably raise Caroline of course.
“It’s been five years since he died,” She had explained, tapping on the side of the glass of water you’d brought over and set in front of her, staying to listen. “Cancer,” she went on after a minute. “He was older, my mom was his second marriage, I never thought she’d go first.” She broke off and you glanced at Parker before pushing a napkin across the table to her. “Thanks, anyway, uh, my mom died when I was 11, car accident, and then, Dad got sick right after that, he did four rounds of chemo, but it didn’t take. Melinda was his in-home nurse and I guess he saw something in her.”
She’d gone on to explain that her father, Alan, had written a will around the same time and she’d seen it, knew that he was leaving the bulk of his money and assets to a support network for children who had lost parents. Somehow, Melinda had convinced a judge that his wishes changed at the last minute and he left everything in her care.
“She played the loving stepmother in court, I really thought that things would be ok between us.” Caroline said bitterly, “but almost as soon as the ink dried, I was enrolled in an all-girls school upstate and she got bodyguards that she told me were for my protection, but mostly they just watched me all the time and told her when I did anything wrong. I graduated in the spring and finally figured out what she’d been doing with Dad’s money. I know none of it went to the support program. She’s been touting herself as a society widow and, she didn’t even care about my dad you know?” She’d wiped away a tear then and you saw the set in Parker’s jaw that told you that you would be taking the case.
It was Caroline’s face that wouldn’t leave your mind when one of Melinda’s security guards followed you towards her office, and it was Caroline’s face that wouldn’t leave your mind when Hardison gave you all a warning over comms that you were blown.
“Y/N, they know you aren’t who you said, get out of there, she’s going to have security swarming you any second.” Eliot urged in a hushed whisper. He was in as one of the guards but was currently at the other end of the sizable estate, no way he’d get to you before another of the guards did.
“I’m not leaving, I’ve talked my way out of worse things than this,” you murmured back, digging through desk drawers for some kind of paperwork that might prove that Melinda was dirty.
“You have to leave, these guys aren’t just street thugs, a bunch of them are ex-military. She doesn’t skimp on security.” Eliot sounded out of breath, like he was running.
“I can’t, we’ve spent too long on this, we can’t tell that girl we have nothing to show for it!” Caroline’s face, eyes spilling with tears, you couldn’t see anything else but that.
“I’m calling it, it’s my job to keep you safe, get out!” Eliot snapped, and you could tell he was worried about you, but that was why you had him wasn’t it? You couldn’t be worried about yourself now, who was worried about Caroline Bash?
An hour later you were on the road home, slinky dress torn, ankle twisted, and hair mussed. That was the extent of your injuries, the guards who had you backed up to a wall fairly interrogating you by the time Eliot arrived, they had fared less well.
It had been a mistake on your part, thinking that staying would be better than trying a new approach with more planning time. You could see that now. And the tenseness in the back of the van wasn’t helped by the fact that Eliot wouldn’t let go of your hand, though he hadn’t said a word to you past a brisk “you scared me” as he pulled you into a relieved hug once he’d dispatched the guards.
Neither Parker nor Hardison were speaking much either, and they both chose to ride in the front of the van, leaving you and Eliot and the rather obvious elephant between you.
“I messed up,” you murmured biting your lip. You kept your gaze trained on the stain on the floor where Hardison had spilled orange soda on the last job. “I blew the job for all of us.”
While that wasn’t exactly true, the odds of getting another of you in tight enough with Melinda Bash to find the kind of proof you needed for Caroline were slim. There was still a chance that somewhere in cyberspace, Hardison could pull out something.
“I’m sorry,” you went on, tears stinging at your eyes. These people were your family, your friends, your team. They needed to trust you, and you needed to trust them.
You still had comms in and knew that everyone in the van could hear you when you spoke.
No one said anything in reply, not even Eliot, though the hand holding yours gave a brief squeeze and his thumb started running over the back of your hand in acknowledgement.
You didn’t speak for the rest of the trip home.
Arriving back at the brewpub wasn’t the celebratory affair it usually was, but as you climbed out of the back of the van, Hardison stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.
“You messed up, but I forgive you,” he said, gaze flicking away from you as he spoke. He wasn’t over it yet, but once he was, he wouldn’t hold it against you. “I’m glad you’re ok,” he added, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze that reminded you of what Eliot’s hand had done with yours before.
“Thanks,” you nodded, still embarrassed at your behavior earlier.
Parker didn’t say anything as she passed, and it hurt for all of three seconds before she turned back around and wrapped you in a slightly too tight hug and whispered fiercely in your ear “don’t do that again!” She was crying, you could feel it against your shoulder.
“I won’t,” you agreed eagerly, the tears spilling over now, “I promise.”
“Good,” She didn’t let go for another minute, and you gripped her back hiding your own tears in her shoulder.
When you both pulled apart, you nodded to her in assurance that you understood. She was your best friend, the closest thing you had to a sister. She was also the mastermind of the team and in that way, responsible for all of you. You knew how seriously she took that responsibility, and a new wave of guilt washed over you as you realized that your actions probably made her doubt her plan.
“I should have stuck to your plan, listened when Hardison warned me, when Eliot called us to get out, I, I love you guys, I’m sorry,” you glanced past Parker to where Hardison was hovering at the entrance, and you knew Eliot was somewhere behind you near the van, you wanted them to know the sincerity that you felt saying the words, hoping that your expression conveyed that, at least to those who could see it.
“We love you too,” Parker agreed with a small smile. “That’s why we’re mad.”
With a long breath you looked down again and nodded. Mad you could take, mad you deserved, but as long as they didn’t hate you.
A warm hand landed softly on your shoulder, the one where your sleeve had ripped, so you felt it on your bare skin. Rough, even if you hadn’t known Eliot was the only one behind you, you would know his touch anywhere by now.
“I’m gonna take her home, get cleaned up, we can regroup in the morning?” he proposed, and Parker nodded agreeing.
So, you let Eliot steer you toward his car, he’d brought the Challenger today rather than the truck, and deposit you in the passenger side. He closed the door, ever the gentleman, even when it was clear that he was upset, and then crossed back in front of the car, settling in the driver’s seat.
He didn’t say a word as he pulled out of the lot and made his way out of downtown towards his apartment. You were unsure how to break the long silence at that point, he’d said nothing beyond the necessary since you got into the van over an hour before.
Finally, after several minutes he smacked the steering wheel and you jumped.
“Damn, sorry,” he murmured, “Just, don’t you ever do that again! Do you know what Hardison, or Parker would do if you got hurt? Or worse!” He was agitated, volume rising quickly as he let out all the words that must have been pounding around his head since he got to you. “Do you know what I would do? I couldn’t…” he broke off and reached across the console to grip your hand tightly in his, just this side of too much, and you swallowed, realizing just how scared he had been in that moment.
“I know, I’m so sorry. El, I never meant to make any of you feel like that, I swear, it won’t happen again!” you were dangerously close to tears again already and stubbornly ran the back of your hand across your eyes, make up smeared to hell already anyhow. The grip on your hand relaxed as he glanced over and saw your expression.
“Alright, Alright, calm down,” he soothed and pulled off on the street where his building was. “I know you mean it, I do, just, I don’t like feeling that way.”
You knew that was the truth. He lived an unpredictable life, you all did, but of the team, Eliot was the one who most needed to be in control of his reactions to situations. You knew he’d built himself into someone capable of handling pretty much anything the universe, or a bunch of security guards, decided to throw at him. The part he’d never been good at was potentially losing one of his people.
“I’m sorry, I love you El,” you replied earnestly as he pulled into a space and turned off the engine.
“I know sweetheart, love you too, so damn much.”
You relaxed a modicum as you climbed out of the car. He’d called you sweetheart, that was an improvement from earlier.
He came close to you are you both entered the lobby of the apartment building and rested a familiar hand on the small of your back, frowning when he felt the low tremor that had started on the ride back from Melinda Bash’s estate and been intensifying slowly since.
“Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” he murmured and shrugged out of his jacket. “What’s wrong?” He draped it around your shoulders, pulling the collar closer together to envelope you in the warmth.
“What’s wrong?” you scoffed back and shook your head, “Really El?” did he need you to explain just how badly you felt about worrying them all so much?
“Alright, fair enough,” he relented and pulled you close to him again as the elevator arrived and you both waited politely or the few residents to exit the car before you got in. They all took pains to avoid looking at you and Eliot directly, something you’d noticed about most of the neighbors in the building. Probably a holdover from when he came in in various states of injury and bloodied at odd hours, scowling at anyone who looked too long. You’d been breaking him of that habit, but just then were grateful for the privacy it afforded.
“I’ll make up something easy for dinner and then we can just relax tonight hmm?” he asked as the door slid closed, and you gave a vague nod, not really committing to the idea. It wasn’t right that he was being so sweet.
The van ride home wasn’t pleasant, but it felt right after your actions earlier. It was important that the team work seamlessly, and you’d compromised that. You could have put more than just yourself in danger, all of those thoughts swirled around with the guilt of your interactions with Parker and Hardison earlier and created just enough of a sick feeling in your stomach that you knew you wouldn’t ignore directives on a job again.
But Eliot was clearly trying to make you feel better. That was so like him, he did it to all of you. Making desserts and leaving them casually around the brewpub where he knew Parker would find them. Throwing whatever sport was in season up on the big screen in the apartment upstairs and producing a six pack of beer handing one to Hardison as he passed to claim the other end of the couch.
With you it was usually more direct, touches or words or sometimes just gathering you up to him for a while until you relaxed. You suspected that sometimes those small actions weren’t about the rest of the team feeling better but about Eliot feeling better. He’d proven years ago he was more than just the hitter, but sometimes he needed to be reminded that you all knew that.
Now though, it felt wrong. You didn’t want that sweet understanding Eliot. Not yet. You needed to feel the hurt, to embed that feeling so deep in your subconscious that you never even considered replicating the feeling again.
But you couldn’t make him stay mad at you, how would that even work? So, you settled on one of the barstools at his kitchen counter and stared at the back of your hands as he pulled out sandwich fixings and threw together two plates that would make a New York deli jealous.
It tasted delicious and settled like a rock in your stomach. You didn’t say much besides thanking him and kept your eyes downcast to your plate as you fastidiously ate the whole thing. His eyes were on you, you could feel them. The few quick glances up showed you that concerned crease in his brow, and you looked down again, preferring not to see that just yet.
“Try and relax, would you?” He asked as he took the plates to the sink and turned back to you, leaning against the counter, and crossing his legs while he drummed the counter with his fingertips.
The way he spoke snapped you. The undercurrent of care, of tenderness that usually made you feel warm and floaty inside. This time it left a sour feeling and you sat bolt upright and snapped your eyes up in a challenge. “That’s just it though! I shouldn’t be relaxed, not after today. I mean, you all said it and I’ve been thinking it. It was too close, I got cocky, and I could have gotten us all into a lot more trouble than we are!”
“Well yeah, that’s why everyone was so mad but-“he had started back towards your seat as he spoke but you didn’t let him finish.
“Was!” you cut in, “Was mad! It’s not- I’m not ready for- I just need to…” you broke off multiple times as the emotions mingled with exhaustion, and you struggled to put words to your feelings. Frustrated you stood and reached for him, and he came in an instant with arms raised to hold you, but that wasn’t what you wanted.
You grabbed his shirt in one hand and the back of his head in the other and crashed your lips to his with enough force that he grunted in surprise but did kiss you back for a few moments. One of his hands tangled in your hair and the other rested at your waist.
You pulled back just enough to murmur “I just, I need to prove I can do it. I need to show you I can listen and-“
“Sweetheart, I know that, we all do. You don’t need to-“
“I do! For me, I need to. Please?” you whispered against his lips and the hand gripping his shirt slid down to his belt. “Please El, I can’t ask anyone else, and you can- I know you can help me.”
Even as he hesitated to speak you could feel that he was interested but wasn’t completely convinced yet.
“Tell me what to do, I trust you, I need to trust myself too.” You went on.
For a few seconds he hesitated, and you wondered if he’d say no but then he lifted his chin a fraction and the hand in your hair jerked you forward so he could kiss you quite thoroughly.
“I love you, and you scared the hell out of me today,” he growled against your lips, the arm around your back crushing you into him. “Thought we might lose you and I can’t do that, I can’t lose you sweetheart, understand me?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” you breathed out, clinging to him as much as he was to you.
“You said that, and I know you are, but we all have jobs out there and mine is to keep you all safe. If you don’t let me do that then we don’t work.” He explained in a low and surprisingly serious tone. No patronizing, no joking, even his expression when you opened your eyes and pulled back enough to read it was deadly serious.
God bless Eliot Spencer. Through your badly mangled words and half hysterical gestures he had sussed out exactly the attitude you needed for the evening and slipped into it without difficulty.
“I know,” you replied, feeling ridiculously pinned by his gaze, even more than his hands. The desire to show him, to prove the truth in what you were saying flooded your system and you felt your breath regulate and swore your pulse slowed down.
“Prove it.” The two small words made you shiver, and you let out a tiny nod as you bit your lip. “Close your eyes.”
You did so with barely a thought, the briefest hint of disappointment crossing your mind. You liked to look at him.
Waiting eagerly for further direction, you were confused when instead he carefully removed himself from your grasp and guided your hands down to your sides before pulling away entirely, leaving you standing near the counter with your eyes firmly closed.
Each second that passed ticked your awareness of the small sounds in the room up a notch higher. He’d been right in front of you, but then you heard the rasp of the plate that held the remnants of your sandwich as it was picked up. The soft shuffle of steps across the tile floor and then the familiar sounds of the sink turning on and the dishes in it clinking. You could picture the scene perfectly; he’d have rolled up his sleeves to just below his elbows and fastidiously worked the soap on the sponge into a lather. Usually, a strand of two of hair would escape whatever method of containment he had adopted for the evening, and he’d absentmindedly shake it back. You were sure at this point that the gesture was unconscious but that did nothing to quiet the butterflies that it awoke in your stomach every time.
The sink shut off and you expected again that he would come back to you then or at least say something. Instead, you heard the soft creak of the floor off towards the bedroom and then a minute later…was that the shower?
Curiosity almost got the better of you, but that was why you were doing this right? You had asked to be uncomfortable, out of control. You wanted, needed really to prove to yourself that you could handle it. Like he’s said earlier, the next time something like that happened on a job could be very very bad.
Seconds ticked into minutes, and you shifted your weight back and forth very aware of your other senses now. The shower switched off after an indeterminable length of time and you strained for any noise from the bedroom that might give you a clue. But there was nothing.
You were getting restless, fingers twitching and tapping against your legs if only for some kind of stimulation to focus on.
“Just where I left you.” The low purr made you jump and nearly open your eyes. It had come from the wrong side, and you whipped your head away from the bedroom and towards the sound of his voice. Based on your best guess, he’d managed to get within swatting distance of you without giving even a hint of his position. “Maybe you can listen after all.”
You nodded with a little shiver, trying to keep your breathing under control. Usually when you played games in bed there was a distinct shift between your Eliot and whatever character he was going for. This time though, you couldn’t place what was off about his voice right away and you realized it was because he wasn’t playing a part. That was con voice, job voice, hitter voice.
The thought sent a jolt down your spine that settled right between your legs, and you didn’t even try and understand that reaction, choosing instead to just ride the waves.
“You really waited here the whole time I was gone?” he asked, sounding the faintest bit impressed, “didn’t even peek?”
“No sir,” the title slipped out as you breathed your answer, and you definitely heard his short little intake of breath in response. You didn’t know where it had come from, but it felt appropriate for the situation. You knew he had a power kink and hadn’t considered until just then that this scenario played perfectly into it.
Well, two birds, one stone, perfect. With any luck, the combination would get you railed into next week and so blissed out that you forgot how shitty you’d been feeling all day.
The touch of rough fingers on your forearm made you jump again, but he didn’t say anything right away, just softly ran the fingers down to your hand where he twined your fingers through his and gave a gentle tug.
You walked blind through the apartment, your only guide the hand firmly gripped in yours. You could imagine the path clear as day after so many nights and morning spent in the walls, and then you’d just unofficially moved in back around Christmas and rarely went back to your place anymore. Your shoulder brushed a doorframe confirming your suspicions that you were in the bedroom.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he murmured and let go of your hand.
“Yes sir,” you replied mostly because you wanted to earn another of those noises. It worked and what followed reaffirmed that this was definitely a play into his power kink.
“Bed’s behind you, sit down.” Eliot ordered, and you did. “Now, just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I can’t have a little show.” Your thighs were pressed together now, and they gave a little involuntary spasm that sent a jolt right to your center. He noticed the resulting twitch and let out a low chuckle. “Getting ahead of yourself there, sweetheart?”
A feverish nod was your reply.
“Well, you’re on the right track anyway. Now then, since you are so good at following directions, you’re going to get a lot of practice. First thing’s first. You have too many clothes on Sweetheart, time to start losing ‘em.” He was getting lazy with his words, dropping off beginnings and endings and running whole phrases together. As you hurried to comply, he kept up the commentary in the same loose drawl that told you this was as much a treat for him as it was for you. “that’s it, not too quick now, I said a show not a commercial.”
You tried to measure your responses, keep things slow like he wanted, but that was difficult when you were getting so riled up already. Soon enough your outfit was pooled on the floor in front of you and you could feel the texture of the bed spread on your bare skin as you waited eagerly for another direction.
“You have pretty tits.” He said without preamble sending another zing down your spine. He rarely straight up dirty talked, preferring murmured praise so close his breath tickled your ear. “Pretty other parts too,” he went on, “why don’t you get yourself warmed up huh?”
You moved quickly when given permission and an admonishing “Slow down” reminded you that though you couldn’t see, he was likely watching intently. That made your cheeks burn in the best way.
You started with light brushes and in your mind’s eye imagined that it wasn’t your hands, but his skimming across your body. You smiled.
“Go ahead and lay back sweetheart, look so pretty like that, all spread out for me.”
You let out a happy little sigh as you rocked back onto the bedspread, it was more comfortable that way and let you rest your feet up on the edge of the bed as your knees fell open and you stalled momentarily at the sound of a zipper.
That voice, you didn’t dare disobey it. Not tonight. Not that you wanted to in any case because your little plan of imagining his hands was working rather well and the coil of pleasure had begun to twist low in your stomach.
“Don’t be shy baby, god you’re gorgeous,” his voice had taken on a strained quality, and you wondered if that had something to do with the zipper sound you’d heard.
You’d been working in a slow steady rhythm to your clit with two fingers while the heel of your hand pressed to your pubic bone. It was familiar, comfortable and had served you well in the past, but sometimes it wasn’t enough, tonight was one of those times.
“Please?” you breathed, wondering what his reaction to that would be. You hadn’t established a rule against asking.
“Not yet, soon but not yet, you could take the edge off a little though,” he rasped, and you were relatively sure now that his hands were otherwise occupied anyway.
The first press of your own finger to the outside of your slit made you outright moan. The warm wetness gathered there made you at once feel incredibly horny and absolutely filthy as a soft groan from across the room reminded you that you had an audience.
“Go on,” he egged you on and you let the digit slip all the way inside in a slow controlled slide that had you both making mirrored groans of pleasure.
Yours had no defined word to it, but his was a long drawn out “fuck” that shot right into your headspace and intensified everything.
“How’s that feel?” he asked in a wrecked voice punctuated by a harsh puff of breath, you could imagine the set of his jaw as he spoke, half distracted by his hand in his own pants.
“God,” you mumbled, other hand mindlessly tweaking your nipple, “so good, I just, more.”
“Go on.” He was just as eager to move things along it seemed. “I know you can take more than that.”
The dirty talk was different, exciting, surprising, somehow all of them at once.
You let out another involuntary sound as on the next thrust you added a second finger and curled them inside hitting just the right spot.
“Didn’t take long at all to get you this worked up huh? You ain’t shy about it either sweetheart,” He sounded closer and as he kept talking and you were able to track his movement around you, “Goddamn if that ain’t just the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
There was the familiar praise, akin to reverence that at once made you feel utterly beloved and completely undeserving. It buoyed you up a little higher and you could feel the first inklings of an orgasm creeping into the edges of your perception.
“Yes” you moaned, half to yourself and half out to him, “God, yes.”
“Getting close baby?” he asked, and you were sure he was just at the end of the bed, probably with his eyes glued to your writhing form.
“mmhmm” the pathetic whimper was all you could manage as the waves kept building, God you were so close, a few more, just a bit more and you were sure your toes would curl and your eyes, still closed would roll back in ecstasy.
“Don’t cum.” The order was harsh and firm and growled right in your ear and with a monumental strength of will, you withdrew your fingers and pressed your knees far apart, leaving you teetering on the edge in desperation.
But that was the game. That was the test you needed to prove it to yourself.
You could tell he was right there. Even though he made no noise, not a creak of the floorboards or a dip in the mattress. His breathing had been ragged and stilted moments ago and now if it still was you had no way of knowing.
Seconds passed and you waited for some kind of direction, a comment or praise or otherwise. Anything.
Nothing. A full minute passed; you knew because you were counting now, still twinging and breathing in short gasps as the orgasm slowly receded. Very slowly.
After a full 90 seconds you couldn’t bear it and made a soft whimpering noise in the back of your throat and tossed your head on the mattress, eyes squeezed shut for fear that you would give in and open them before you were allowed.
“Keep them closed,” this time the order was gentler, and was immediately accompanied a dip in the mattress by your right foot that you would guess was a knee. “I’m right here sweetheart.” His hand settled on your knee in an affectionate pat that at least gave you some other kind of sensory input than the unresolved tension between your legs. “You’re doing so good, so good for me hmm.”
“Please,” you whispered again, teeth clenching as you trembled on the bed, “please I want to cum.”
“I know,” he replied in that same soothing voice and the hand slipped delicately up your thigh, but didn’t quite land where you needed, petting, and teasing just around it instead. “Up to you sweetheart, we can end this right now and get on with it, and I promise it’ll be good after that show for warm up. You have nothing to prove to me.”
You were tempted but knew that in the morning when the afterglow of what you were sure would be at least one, maybe several, amazing orgasms faded, you would still have to deal with the fact that you screwed up. This wasn’t a punishment by any means, self-imposed or otherwise, but it was a test. You needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the next time Eliot called a job, you wouldn’t think twice about obeying the command.
And here you were, still tempted to.
“No.” you shook your head, “I’m not ready yet.”
The dark little chuckle that he let out did absolutely nothing to quell the feelings in your stomach.
“Well then, in that case, you keep those pretty eyes shut tight till I say, got it?”
You nodded, and immediately his hands and mouth set to petting and kissing along every inch of skin he could reach except the place you really needed him.
The amount of sensation in other areas finally made a diversion from the quivering mess between your legs, and you were able to regain some sense of equilibrium.
You must have let him know somehow. A change in your breathing? A slight movement somewhere? Either way, he knew, and before you could take another breath there were two fingers inside you curling and flexing in just the right way and you let out a strangled shriek, hips jumping off the bed. His fingers were larger than yours, but it still wasn’t quite enough, he’d made sure of that, wrist angled just far enough to avoid brushing against your clit and sending you into a mind-numbing orgasm.
On the next breath you let out a slurred and half moaned “fuck me” that had him chuckling again somewhere near your knees.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
Normally that would get a good-natured eye roll, but you barely registered that he spoke, eyes squeezed shut tight, fists clenched into the bedspread. A running undercurrent of senseless moans and noises spilled from your mouth punctuated every so often by a recognizable curse or a gasp.
His hand withdrew and settled on your hip instead and you whined at the loss for all of a second before you felt the edge of the bed dip again from that you presumed was a knee and felt Eliot climb between your thighs giving a few comforting pats as he got situated.
“God you’re beautiful, I swear,” he muttered and despite everything you couldn’t help but smile.
Then the next moment he was slipping into you with barely a stutter, the way slicked liberally by all that had come before it.
“Shit,” he groaned leaning over you, taking a minute to settle in and you reached up groping until you found his neck, locking your fingers together behind his head to finally give yourself some leverage as you bucked up. “Alright, alright, I gotcha sweetheart, I gotcha.”
Eyes still closed, all you could do was listen and feel, and on your next insistent buck, he pulled back and thrust to meet you with a deliciously sinful groan that was half drowned out by your mewling.
It didn’t take long before that spring was back and winding tighter and tighter and you realized that you were not going to be able to stop it for much longer.
“El, I’m gonna, I need to, fuck, I can’t.” Each time you started a phrase another thrust cut you off with a gasp, but it didn’t seem to matter, he got it.
“Tell me when, fuck,” he managed a coherent three-word phrase, but that was pushing it.
“Just, almost, god, yeah, yeah, there, yes, please, fuck, now, I need to-“
“Open your eyes.” The order was in such a low register that you knew it was on purpose, and you didn’t really process then what that did to you, but you were certainly going to think about it over and over again later as you replayed the events in your mind. At present, all you managed was a meaningless sound and dutifully following his directions. Not that it mattered, you were pretty sure your eyes rolled back and all you saw were starbursts of light as you shrieked your way through the long-awaited orgasm, fingernails digging into his shoulder blade.
Slowly you came back to yourself, first the awareness of your breathing, ragged and shallow, and then gradually other things, you registered colors first, brown, blue, pink, and then began to identify what you were actually seeing.
Brown was his hair, wild, hanging down in his face and stuck to his neck in some spots. Blue was those eyes, always appraising, searching, observing you now with a thousand questions he didn’t need to speak to ask. Pink was the tinge to his cheeks from exertion and the effort of holding steady.
“Hey there,” his voice pulled your eyes back to his face, “You good?” his lips pulled back into a soft smile, and your awareness spread a little more. You realized he was still hard inside you.
“Great, you?” you replied with a little jerk of your hips, giving a pleasant tingling aftershock to the waves of pleasure that sent you somewhere soft and floaty.
“I’m uh, a little,” he couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his face, spending all his brainpower split between keeping as still as he could and talking coherently.
“Go on, feels good,” you gave another little jerk and watched as his jaw tensed. “Please?” you asked sweetly, fingers tracing little circles on his shoulders.
With a muffled “fuck,” he dropped his head into your shoulder and rutted into you a few times, eliciting low groans from both of you.
“That’s it, so good, god that’s good,” you muttered into his ear encouraging, and within a minute you felt him stiffen and groan as he released inside you.
“Jesus,” he mumbled, accent on full display with just the one word. “You alright, you sure?” He asked as he finally slipped out and rolled to the side, chest heaving but grinning.
“Awesome.” You confirmed and rolled onto one hip.
“C’mere,” You leaned into the open embrace, never mind the sheen of sweat on both of you, the shower in the apartment was wonderful. “You still want me to be mad at you? Cuz, I’m not.”
“I know,” you sighed and stretched happily, finally out of your own head about the earlier events. “That was, so perfect El, exactly what I needed. Thank you,” you leaned over and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and felt it pull up into a smile under your lips.
“I ain’t saying you should ever do something like that again, but we could always just skip to this part if we wanted, right?” He asked running his free hand through his hair and pillowing it behind his head with a mischievous smile at you.
“Anytime you want, just say the word, I’m a great listener. I promise.”