Work Text:
“Thank you so much for inviting me over-”
You stand from the couch. “Mhm.”
“I really enjoyed your company. Ya know,” he chuckles and it warms you. “I never really thought I’d enjoy a documentary on tulip-”
His head cocks as you unzip your sweater. It drops to the floor. The sight of the thin black satin camisole hugging your breasts, your bare arms, throws him before he shakes his head.
“Uh-about tulip…bulbs…"
There’s a quiet ‘tink’ as you undo your belt, just loud enough to shut him up. Your jeans drop to reveal it’s actually a teddy, frilly and lacy.
Mouth watering at the sight of your curves, of the swells of your hips, your ass, Paul swallows thickly. His gaze rises to yours and he looks like a lost puppy, sweet and cow eyed and confused.
"Sweetie?” You coo, leaning over him just enough to flash him a good bit of cleavage before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.
Dark brows high, Paul stiffens under you. He blinks, owlish and innocent as you rub his shoulder. “Yes?”
You swipe your nose against his earlobe and take immense satisfaction from the little shiver he gives. Lips against his ear, you purr, “I’m seducing you.”
Paul stiffens under you. “Oh. Oh! Oh?”
“Mhm.” Your hand smoothes over his chest.
He’s warm and solid and so much bigger than you. He smells incredible, the spice of his cologne subtle and classy, and it’s been driving you wild all night.
When he shifts, uncertain, you smile, teasing the curls at the nape of his neck with your fingernails. “I hope that’s not too forward.”
“It's…a little,” Paul stammers, seeming unsure where to put his hands. He settles for rubbing the outside of his thighs, careful to avoid touching you where he can. “Forward, I mean.”
The erection pressing against the inside of your knee says otherwise and you offer it a friendly rub.
“Oh! Oh, God,” Paul blushes and stammers as you undo the first button of his shirt. “I look- I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression, but I-”
The second button goes. It gives you just a hint of chest hair, and you perk up a bit straighter, wanting to see more.
“I just got divorced and it’s- it wouldn’t be appropriate.”
Your head cocks. “Appropriate?”
His cheeks are pink under his beard. “Yeah.”
You slid your hand inside his shirt. Rub his shoulder under his undershirt, as you ask, “What’s inappropriate about two adults who like each other having a good time?”
“You barely know me,” he turns his face from you, away from your inquiring eyes and soft touches.
When you smooth his hair back, you say his name and he’s helpless not to look back at you and there are those big brown eyes again. “I know enough. I’ve seen enough.” Your smile turns impish. “I’d like to see more.”
His eyes caress your face. “Is that right?”
You nod. Smoothing his hair back again, you let your thumb linger on his cheek. His beard is soft. You tease your nails over the stubble and rub your slick folds down on the warm plain of his thigh. “Let me treat you right.”
He stares at you for a long moment, eyes reddening as he nods. Sniffs, before he nods again, firmer.
His hesitation makes your heart ache. You’ve only known Paul a few months, ever since your parents moved into the house next door. You had liked him immediately, found him…disarming. You weren’t often comfortable around people, but something about Paul had put you at ease.
Which was why watching the friendly, easy going man fall apart had been so hard. The divorce had clearly done a number on him. If the rumor mill was to be believed, his wife had left him for another man and that was something you simply could not wrap your head around.
On more than one occasion when you were housing sitting for your parents you had watched him garden. Peeked from a window as he got sweaty in the dirt, panting in the hot sun as he so tenderly cared for his flowers and you had begun to want.
This bear of a man with such a delicate touch.
You weren’t about to miss an opportunity to sate that desire. Standing, you take his hand in both of yours and lead him to the guest bedroom where you stay. His gaze stays locked on your face the whole time, like he’s scared to look anywhere else.
The threshold makes him hesitate, but he follows you inside with only an apologetic smirk of explanation.
Your touch smoothes up his arm. Unable to resist giving his bicep a squeeze, you get a little greedy as he groans.
The noise seems to embarrass him, but you love it, can’t wait to hear more. You’re gonna make him moan your fucking name-
Fingers winding in his dark hair, you drag him down to your level. His eyes sparkle as you slot your mouth against his as you kiss him, deep and slow.
The hand that cups his cheek tips his chin down and he takes the hint, opening his mouth for you to gently explore it with your tongue.
Fuck, he hasn’t been with anyone but his wife since-
Paul moans. He can’t remember the last time someone’s kissed him so thoroughly, drawn out and sensual, like you’ve been waiting for it, each little suck of his tongue filthy and right-
You pull back, fingers immediately finding the buttons of his grey shirt and fumbling to undo them. “Wanted you for so long, Mr. Weller…"
He blushes. "Call me Paul.”
“Why?” A wicked grin crosses your lips. “Mr. Weller sounds so much dirtier.”
Fuck, he can’t argue with that, doesn’t get the chance to, before you’re kissing him again.
Your hands find his face and cradle his cheeks, your touch tender and smile sincere as you tell him, “But I like Paul, too.”
He lets you kiss him, but his hands stay stubbornly high on your back. Placing your hands over his, you guide them down. The slow drag of his hands over your curves makes you weak kneed and wet. With them secure on your ass, Paul gives your cheeks a sharp squeeze.
The squeak you give snaps his hips, his round belly firm against yours, and suddenly his mouth is on you.
He has to stretch down to do it, and he’s quick to haul you up. The grit of his beard is intoxicating. Lightheaded, you giggle as he all but tosses you on the bed.
Feverishly, Paul shrugs off his shirt. The white undershirt he wears extenuates his wide shoulders, the stretch of his stomach, his hand pauses on his belt buckle and you nod eagerly, spreading your legs.
His dark eyes drop to your lace covered slit. Fumbling the belt off, he unzips his slacks, kicks them off and joins you on the bed.
“Hi,” you greet, giving him a quick peck on the mouth.
He chuckles nervously but stays close. “Hi.”
The smile just will not stay off your lips and you kiss his cheek, his temple, before you latch onto his neck and suck.
It’s a primal sort of taunt, you suppose, wanting to mark him up. You want everyone to see it, to know he got some, for his stupid ex to know you got what she was missing-
You lick the small hickey left behind, and slowly drag your tongue up his neck. The musk of cologne on his skin, the faint scent of soap and the salt of his sweat-
Paul lets out a low moan that goes straight between your legs and you’re quick to direct his hand there. Nipping his earlobe, you pant as shaky finger tips skim along the frill of lace that lines your sex. The pressure increases and soon he’s cupping the crease of your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh-
Arching into his hand, you whine his name and he takes the hint. A thick thumb eases the gusset aside. Paul bites his lip at the sight of your cunt, and he can’t help caressing your folds. His fingertips are callused, the touch featherlight.
You spread your legs wider.
Your eagerness earns a chuckle and when he meets your gaze, your heart melts a little.
This was the Paul you had fallen for so quickly. The warm smile, the lines that crinkle his eyes-
“Fuck me, Paul.”
The man nods, but only briefly, before he grabs you by the hips. Manhandles you under him like you’re nothing but a doll and a little thrill shots you as he pushes his white boxer briefs down.
Oh, fuck, flashes through your mind as he pulls his cock out. Drool floods your mouth, your hips shifting. He’s huge, thick as goddamn your wrist-
Paul must notice your wide eyes, because he begins to sheepish chuckle, “Uh, I know it can be a bit-”
“Awesome,” you interrupt, scootching closer. “It’s awesome. Can I touch it?”
He nods, a smirk crossing his lips at your obvious enthusiasm.
Wrapping your hand around his shaft is a challenge, but you manage it. Just fucking barely; your fingers don’t touch as you guide the fat tip between your soaked folds.
Up and down, slow and sweet, you drench his cock, coating him with your juices. Paul groans, rubs a hand through his hair at the sight.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, fucking perfect-” Your free hand trails up his chest, over his collar, to cup his cheek. You pull him down to your mouth and kiss his cheek, his jaw, to whisper in his ear, “Fuck me, please, please, Paul, I wanna feel it, wanna feel you stretching me open, want it to hurt-”
He pants as you tap the tip on your clit. Each little touch radiates through your body, like a harp string being plucked. Your hips stutter as he grinds down. The swollen nub throbs, and soon your pushing back, fucking against each other like a couple of horny teens-
Then he slips inside.
He freezes as the fat head catches your rim, but there is no fucking way you’re able to stop, and you moan, head falling back as you split yourself open on his cock.
Paul pants as you quiver. Offers consoling rubs, at your hips, your thighs, each little squeeze pulling you a little closer, pushing his fat cock a little deeper. Toes curling, you whine as the top of his thighs brush the back of yours. Unable to tear his eyes from your face, from your scrunched up expression, the sweat that beads off your temple as your back arches-
“I-” Your voice cracks as your eyes flutter. “I’ve never had a cock this big, please, fuck, I- I just-”
Big warm fingers fall to your clit, offering it slow, tender circles that immediately set you off. Shrieking, your back arches as your legs shake and you gush.
Meaty hands grab your hips and a gasp escapes you as he begins to fuck you in earnest, using you like you’re nothing but a cheap toy.
The sound of your wet slapping bodies, of the squeaks of your mattress, the light bang of your headboard against the wall, makes you flush.
It’s loud and hot in the room, incredible, his weight pushing you deep into the mattress. Your hands search his sturdy frame. His freckled shoulders, his chest, his round belly rubbing against yours. A few droplets of your spend drips down the curve of his stomach, his white undershirt dotted with sweat.
When he leans in to kiss you, there’s no more hesitation. He shoves his tongue in you just as forcefully as he does his cock, and you’re happy to lick and suck on it, drawing him into you as you wrap your legs around his waist.
His hips slow, switching to hard punctuated thrusts that grinds into a sweet spot that makes you see stars.
Whimpering his name into his mouth, you dig your heels into his ass and pull him close. The cotton of his undershirt tears under your nails. His mouth drops to your jaw, your neck-
“Paul-”
He sucks a little harder.
“Mark me up, please, I want it, I want everyone to know what a slut I’ve been-”
His teeth latch down and you shriek as he bites you. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to indent it, to leave a deep bruise, one you’ll wear for weeks-
Fuck, you hope you have it for weeks. Hope people stare and comment and ask where you got it-
“Paul!”
Licking the tender skin, he runs his hands up to your tits, squeezing them through the thin satin. You moan, arch into his touch as he tweaks and plucks at your nipples, bending to take one in his mouth-
You thread your fingers through his hair and hold him close. Mewling his name, you kiss the top of his head. Keeping him close, you murmur frantic praise.
“Yes, fuck, just like that-”
Quick nips scatter across your chest as his thrusts become erratic and heavy. His hips dig into yours, your clit grinding against his stomach as he groans your name.
That breaks you, and you come again, clenching down on him as your legs shake and you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders.
Paul’s teeth meet your collarbone in kind.
It’s good, it’s so fucking good, but- “Wait, wait- I can’t-”
“Yes, you can,” he growls, practically bending you in half as his hand keeps working your clit, the slow steady rubs never giving you a moment of reprieve and a knife of pleasure twists low in your belly for the third time as you shriek.
“Where-” Paul rasps, “where do you want it? Huh?”
You moan as he pulls out, but keeps pumping, grinding his shaft through your drenched folds. Weak, boneless and satisfied, you can only offer weak quirks of your hips. “Inside-”
“Can’t,” he nudges his nose along your throat. “No condom-”
“My mouth!” You huff, whining as he stills.
His dark eyes lock on yours, disbelieving, and you nod eagerly, licking your lips and echoing, “I want you to come in my mouth, Paul.”
His hips stutter. The man swallows, unable to help the gush of come that paints your mound. He leans his weight off you, sliding out from between your folds and groans at the sight of them, swollen and eager and gooey with his precum.
It takes a second for you to sit up, but thankfully it also takes him a moment to settle against the wall. His cheeks are flushed pink, the same shade as the tip of his cock, you note, and you’re quick to give one of them a peck. Nip at his jaw (give that brewing hickey another once over) before you kiss your way across his chest, enjoying the warm flesh underneath the thin cotton. Your lips press over his belly, and you lick your juices from the curved underside of it before taking his cock in your mouth.
Paul groans, fisting your hair as you open your throat to him. The burn, the stretch, the head rush from your lack of air-
The strap of your teddy slips and Paul helps it off your shoulder. Long fingers caress your throat and he groans as he feels himself there, the fat head of his cock bulging in your throat as he fucks your mouth.
It doesn’t take long, no more than five thrusts before he’s flooding your mouth with a grunt. He warns you, tries to do the gentlemanly thing and pull out, but you pull off entirely.
Eyes locked with his, you point the fat tip against your tongue. His come gushes across it, and you’re quick to suck him, swallowing and lapping at the salty spend as quickly as it (pardon the pun) comes.
“Fuck, I-” He swallows, panting. “Well, fuck.”
You lick a bit of his spend from the corner of your mouth and nod. “Yeah.”
“I mean, fuck, I…I didn’t- I didn’t know.” Paul stammers as you straddle his legs.
You kiss back up his stomach, up between his pecs to nip at the lingering purple mark on his neck, before you offer him a gentle kiss. “I know.”
“You do?”
You nod and kiss him again. His beard tickles. “I do.”
He smiles at you, small and sheepish. “I’m glad one of us does.”
You chuckle.