Chapter Text
You like to think that your sneaky glances at your boyfriend are nothing but innocent little looks of endearment. But lately, you’re starting to think he knows something you don’t–something that you’re doing that you’re not even aware of. And that was the annoying thing about him because you were never able to read him.
The truth in this mess was that your gut feeling was right. Ajax knew much more than he showed. Your little stares of “endearment” were never directed towards him in the entire gist of it all.
It was all directed at his hands. His nimble fingers that stretched whenever he held his bow; the same fingers that made everything seem so small in comparison.
The theory he proposed in his head only became empirical the moment he heard your breath quicken when he grazed your hip. He thinks you’re cute. But he thinks you’re a lot cuter when your eyes dilate and your tone turns brusque in need. What’s even more amusing to him is that you didn’t even realize that your little hand kink grew larger and larger everyday. And what’s even better is that every finger movement of his is done with intention, with a motive to tease.
Now all he had to do was make you admit to this kink of yours.
There is no noise in the house except his mouth against your own. Everything is moving. The slight breeze from the open window that hits your bare neck; the tousle of red hair that moves against your own; his hand that lifts you on his lap. The moment his hand touches your naked skin you can feel that alarming desire to crumble before him. That very touch that makes you want to rut into his palm and get off on that shame that bubbles in your throat–only for that shame to release and form whimpers of your own.
His hand is slender but long, with a slight tinge of red that dusts his knuckles that forms a blush. They fit perfectly around your neck and are long enough to curl deep in your walls. You can feel that desire that threatens to take over all over again, and you have a feeling he’s up to no good.
“I’m starting to think you like these fingers more than your own boyfriend,” he says, sighing in faux pain. And as if on purpose, he moves his fingers up closer and closer to touch the hem of your panties languidly. It’s subtle, but it hinders your ability to think clearly. “And you’re not even trying to deny it? Don’t tell me… you like this don’t you? You like my fingers touching you? I didn’t think you’d have such a cute kink, (Name).”
You didn’t even know why you had the heart to deny it. Maybe it was his all-knowing smile he wore so proudly that made you want to prove him wrong. But the wet patch on your panties was enough evidence for the both of you. “No,” you shook your head. “You’re wrong!”
“Oh? You think I’m wrong?” He whispered against your ear in a voice done half to mock you, the other half to irritate you. He slips his fingers underneath your panties in one solid movement and the pleasure spreads all over. The sheer coolness of his fingers was enough to make you jolt in his lap. “You think I’m wrong? C’mon, tell me I’m wrong.”
You’re near the limit of what you can take and he knows it. Yet, he still wanted to play this game with you. He wanted you to admit that you got off to the thought of his fingers and the moment you’d tell him, he’d introduce another game to tease you. That was just the way he was. But who could blame him? You just knew how to rile him up with how adorable you were.
His arm slithered around to clutch at your neck. He’s got his chin over your shoulder where he can get a good look at your soaked folds that are just barely out of your cotton panties. “You can't, right? You’re too much of a prude to lie to me. Then… should I praise you for being good? Praise you for being a slut for my fingers?”
Childe thinks he’s being mean when he slips his fingers in knuckle deep into your hole with no regard to your mewls. Then again, the high he gets when he sees you so powerless just because he’s got his fingers up your pussy makes him strain against his pants. You were so just too easy to tease.
“A-Ajax please-” You swirl your hips to feel the friction of his fingers against your walls. You don’t know how long it is before you begin acting on your own desires. Your hands clutches his other one around your throat as you start to rut against his fingers. And all he does is watch, absorbing the scene with a sick smile filled with awe and amusement.
“Hey,” he hums against your neck. “Did I say you can start moving?”
“‘M sorry, I’m sorry,” he thinks you don’t sound sorry at all. He’s still waiting for your confession and he applauds himself for his patience. Your little frown that crossed your features in pleasure makes him want to take you on the surface of the living room couch, but he waits. He wasn’t going to let you come without his permission either way.
“It’s okay pretty baby,” he coos. “But don’t you think I’m being too nice? You think you deserve to come?”
You mutter incoherent affirmations that serve its purpose. This time, instead of words, he holds your hips down so you stop your movements. Instead, he starts moving his fingers deep to hit that little spot. The slight slaps of his palm against your clit and the wet noises your walls make is ample enough to throw you off the edge.
“My girl is such a pervert,” He teased, though he was just as guilty for enjoying this. “So greedy. You’re lucky you have a boyfriend like me. I’ll make sure you get your fill on my fingers. So make sure you cry for me later. Don’t blame me for being too mean, okay?”