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“You sure about this?” you ask, sat naked on the bed beside an equally-bare Sevika, silken tie in hand, harness tight around your hips.
She squints up at you, head tilting atop the pillow. “Wasn’t this your suggestion?”
“It’s called consent, Sev.” You stretch the tie out, wrap it around your hand, stretch it out again as she stares up at you, fingers massaging over your thigh. “We’ve never done this before, and I know how big of a power freak you are.”
She smiles wide, front teeth—that adorable little gap—showing between her parted lips. “Nervous?”
“I’m terrified that you’ll break our bed. Paid good money for the headboard.”
You swing your leg over her hip and take a seat on her lower belly, the hair of her happy trail bristly against your pussy. She lounges back into the sheets, tucking her arm under her head.
You smooth your hands over her chest, tweaking at a pert nipple. “Alright, so—“
“If you make me repeat the rules one more time, I’m leaving.”
You lean down to give her a pouting kiss, tits squished against hers, fake cock trapped between your bellies as your hands rise to cup her face. “So grouchy.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Oh, I’m not allowed to kiss my beautiful woman?” She gives you a disapproving glare, lips curling into a frown (though you know that she secretly loves being referred to as yours). “Alright, fine. Give me your arm.”
She holds out her hand with a grin, and you tie her single arm to a notch in the headboard. Fit two fingers beneath the knot to ensure that it isn’t too tight. Her prosthetic lies abandoned on the kitchen table—she didn’t want to wear it, saw no point in putting it on when the idea of this whole ordeal revolves around vulnerability and submissiveness.
Your lips pepper a loving trail of kisses down her arm, fingers ghosting over the muscle of her bicep. “If you wanna stop, just—“
“Red. I got it.”
You lave your tongue over the pulse of her neck, teeth scraping against the skin. Bite your way up to the curve of her jaw, hard enough to hurt—just the way she likes, if the inviting tilt of her head means anything.
You work your way down her body, kisses languid and loving and wet, stopping long enough to suck on each nipple. She grunts, spreading her legs to fit your body until you're knelt before her, face level with the wiry curls on her mound. With both thumbs, you spread her open then lick a slow trail from clenching pussy to puffy clit.
Your head fogs up at the first taste of her, clean from the earlier shower you shared, musk mild on your tongue. Already wet after a little kissing, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't inflate your ego a bit. You moan against her, dipping your tongue into her cunt, and she parts her thighs with a shaky exhale. Cusses under her breath when the tie around her wrist refuses to budge from her fidgeting.
The first press of your fingers, the sharp suckle of your mouth around her clit leaves her back arching, hips tilting into your face. Begging for it. Under her breath, her orders for more, harder, faster sound like pleas. But you obey them regardless.
Your hand curls over the top of her thigh to keep her still when her legs begin to twitch. Her pussy tightens around the heavy thrusts of your fingers, all slick velvet heat.
She groans. “Fuck. That's it, honey—shit—”
Another rough suck of her clit sends her into her first orgasm of the night, and she rides it out with tensed-up muscles and a clenched jaw, breathing hard through her nose.
Too quiet. Something you intend to fix.
Sevika goes all-in with everything she does, and sex is no exception. She wants everything, all at once, as much as you can give her. Won’t accept any less. If you can still form words by the time she's done with you, then she didn't fuck you good enough.
Which is how you got this idea in the first place. Turnabout is fair play and all that.
She sags against the bed as the last of the aftershocks leave her, but you keep your mouth right where it is. A lighter touch against her clit, fingers slowing their speed to build her up to another. Her whole body freezes, thighs closing around your head, hips tilting up into your mouth.
You look up at her, fingers clenched into a fist around the silk tie, head thrown back to elongate the line of her neck. She heaves a gasp when you add a bit more pressure, fingers speeding up in their rhythm. Before too long, her thighs begin to quiver against your ears. And then she's coming on your face, gushing into your mouth.
And you start all over again.
She heaves out a sigh, headboard creaking as she twists her arm against the hold of the silk tie. “Honey—”
“Just one more, Sev. Please.”
It takes her a moment to respond, and you pull your mouth away to stop the fog of her brain. “Fuck, okay. One more—” She grits out a moan when you dive back in, unoccupied hand shoving her thigh to the side, opening her up for you.
She's never been this noisy before, never been this wet between the legs. The lower half of your face is soaked, the curls framing her pussy matted down flat, sticky and slick. You could stay here forever, could drown in her and die happy.
Once again, she flutters around your fingers with a pain-pleasure sigh, grinds her clit against your tongue to both chase and escape the sensation. And then it’s over, each orgasm shorter than the last, and you keep your end of the deal—no matter how much it pains you to pull away.
“You trying to kill me?” she huffs, gives a poor imitation of a glare as you rise to your knees and massage over her inner thighs. A sticky smear from your fingers catches beneath the light.
The fucked-out look on her face directly contradicts her supposed irritation, eyes lidded, mouth twitching at the corners, threatening a smile.
“Like you didn't almost drown me.”
She exhales a breath through her nose when you mouth over her tits, working your way up her chest to the sensitive pulse of her neck. “Whose fault is that?”
“Yours.”
She clicks her teeth, hair spilling over her jaw as she turns her cheek into the pillow. “Brat.”
With a final suck to the curve of her shoulder, you sit back on your haunches, hand curling around the base of your fake cock, thrumming with warmth, soft as the silk restraining her hand to the bed. You smack the tip against her clit and her thighs close on instinct, nerves still sensitive.
“Keep ‘em open, honey.” A swipe of your cock between the lips of her pussy, so slick and noisy your ears muffle with cotton, but she obeys, knees hooking over your hips.
You slide into her with a wet squelch, and she sighs, teeth catching on her bottom lip, head falling back against the pillow. You peer down to where your bodies meet, hips flush against the back of her thighs, and slowly pull out, moaning at the way she stretches around the toy—soaks it so thoroughly it glistens beneath warm lamplight. A hand rises to grab at her waist, stilling her as your free thumb circles over her clit. The tip of your cock catches inside her as she clenches hard around you, hand fighting the tie knotted around her wrist.
You understand now why she loves to fuck you. Seeing her all sweaty and submissive, tender at once-sharp edges might just be your undoing. It's intoxicating, addictive. You want to tear her apart, unravel her atom by atom.
She groans when you thrust your hips forward to bottom out inside her, the headboard creaking beneath the pull of her strength.
“I swear I'll kill you if you break that,” you whisper, leaning forward to suck a pebbled nipple between your lips, teeth a teasing pinch around the skin as she arches up into your mouth. You pull away with a wet pop, breath a hot exhale against her chest as you rock a steady rhythm into her. “Been needing this for a while, haven't you?”
Above you, she huffs out a shaky groan, hips fidgeting then rocking against yours. “Shut the fuck up.”
A smile stretches your lips as you sit back and begin to pull out, the slick noise of her cunt blurring your vision, frying your brain. “Fuck, so pretty like this—”
“Stop.” You almost can't believe your ears at the whine that comes out of her mouth, at the way her nose scrunches up and she hides her face against her arm.
She’s so fucking cute, so pretty all consumed by pleasure—embarrassed by it.
“What, honey?” you coo, leaning forward to press a messy kiss to her sternum, cock bottoming out with each thrust. “Feels too good, doesn't it?”
You back away to circle a hand over her throat, thumb pressing against her jaw to turn her head.
She looks up at you with galaxies in her eyes, like she's falling in love all over again. A reverent kind of beauty, so bright it almost rivals the burn of the sun. Sevika is much like that in many ways: all-consuming, a force of nature, a creature of habit.
You stop.
“What the fuck are you doing? Keep going.”
Her stubbornness to keep up the act while creaming around your cock is nothing short of admirable.
“I'm looking at you. Can I not look at you anymore?”
“No,” she says, deadpan, and you cough out a laugh, and a moment later, she laughs, too.
Your chest fills with warmth, like a patch of flowers has sprouted between the cage of your ribs. Love. Blooming and sweet. Has to be.
You lean forward to kiss her soft on the mouth, sweet and tender, hips grinding your cock into her. “Love you so much.”
“Don't start with the sappy shit.”
You pull away to pout at her, but still at the gleam in her eyes, soft and tender despite her mocking words. She won't say it, but she doesn't need to. Not when she looks at you like you're the only thing that matters.
“Don't be mean.”
She grins against your mouth, tugs your bottom lip between the blunt edge of her front teeth. Teasing, her way of saying I didn't mean that. Hard to read until you know what to look for, and then every action she takes likens to the pages of a dictionary. Color-coded and alphabetized.
"Untie me."
An order so desperate, gasped out, that you have no choice but to obey. You balance on an elbow and yank the end of the tie, and she pulls you close with a hand on the back of your neck. Licks into your mouth with a slow exhale through her nose. Keeps you still so she can kiss you breathless, and you almost forget that you're supposed to be fucking her, hips choppy in their rhythm.
"C'mon," she whispers, hand reaching down to squeeze at the curve of your ass. "You can do better than that."
"Not my fault you're so distracting."
A teasing quirk of her lips. "Excuses."
You give her a bruising kiss then lean back on your knees, shifting your weight to adjust the angle of your hips. She paws at one of your tits, sucks a breath through her teeth when your thrusts begin a slow, pounding rhythm, when you circle a thumb over her slick clit.
"Good?" you ask, a bit breathless, your other hand cupping the curve of her waist.
With squinted-shut eyes, she nods, hums low in her throat. Fully focused on the sensation of you fucking into her, hips slapping against the back of her thighs. Her hand grasps at your wrist, grip so hard the joint creaks, breath heavying inside her chest.
Each thrust inside her pussy accompanies a noisy resistance as she begins to pulse around you with the onset of orgasm. You quicken your thrusts to push her over the edge, and she reaches her peak with a panting moan, thighs tight around your waist.
She slaps you a few times on the ass, sighs out an, "Alright. I'm tapping out."
You groan. "Thank the gods. My thighs are killing me."
"Weak."
"Says the woman who does nothing but exercise all day."
You pull out of her with a wet schlick, hands immediately moving to undo the straps of the harness. You set it near the edge of the bed, reminding yourself to clean it once she's taken care of, and brush your hands over her toned belly.
"Need anything?"
She swallows, clears her throat. "A glass of water would be nice."
With a nod, you move to climb off the bed, but a hand around your arm stops you.
"By the way, love you, too. Shithead."
You smile at her, eyes crinkling at the corners, and she smiles back. A bit of mirth bleeding through all the sappiness.
Next on your list: a glass of water and a wet cloth to clean her up with. Maybe you can coax her into sharing a bath, letting you wash her hair. Maybe if you beg hard enough.