Work Text:
Ironically, the longer I sleep
The further from the dream I seem to be
So this anxiety always crawling inside of me is sweet
‘cause it reminds me
It’s always fucking reminding me
. . .
Audrey's graduation is over. Grabbing a room at our usual hotel so we can avoid any more prying ears and interruptions… I'll be waiting. Love you. ~M
She sends the text quickly while the friendly but discreet concierge checks her in under a pseudonym, charging it to the card they keep on file for nights like these. The girl is fast and efficient and even promises to have a bottle of champagne sent up, on the house.
If she were in a different mood perhaps she'd invite her up to kill some time until Chris arrived. He always did like walking in on her with a pretty face between her thighs. She makes a mental note to call Maria later, stepping into the well lit elevator and smiling to herself as it climbs the floors to the very top.
They used to pick a different place every time. Sneaking in back doors separately. Tipping the staff to keep their secrets. Mariska finds she gives less of a fuck these days. Whether she's just getting old and tired, or if part of her wants people to know, is a question for a different day. Definitely a more sober one.
She had cheerfully drank her way through her niece's graduation, alcohol numbing the crawling feeling beneath her skin every time Peter wrapped a hand around her hip or stroked up her back each time they stood to applaud.
She swipes the key card carelessly against the censor, huffing when it takes a second too long to open, but quickly finds the delightful surprise of expensive champagne already chilled and ready to pour waiting for her. A poor bellhop must have flat out raced the elevator up the emergency stairs to get it here and get out before she arrived. She second guesses not fucking the desk girl after this impressive feat but shakes off the thought and pours herself an overflowing glass instead as she starts to pull off jewelry and clothes.
Right now, all she wants to think about is every way Chris is going to make her scream his name tonight.
. . .
He gets in much later than he had planned, tapping his foot with impatience as he waits for the elevator to take him to the penthouse and his most likely angry girlfriend. He had tried to get away earlier but he had promised Dante he could pick whatever restaurant he wanted for dinner after making the Dean's List this semester. He didn't expect him to pick a hole in the wall in bumfuck Queens that would be packed on a Tuesday.
Dante and Sophia were still in the middle of a shot for shot tequila contest when Sherm finally took pity on him and sent him out the door with a smile and a tequila flavored kiss. He lucked out marrying the most gracious woman on the planet that just happened to have a soft spot for his twenty plus year mistress.
The second key card the cute concierge slid to him as he flew by the front desk in his rush to get to his girl opens the suite easily, his suit coat tossed across the entryway bench with his keys haphazardly.
Everything is entirely too quiet and he eyes the three quarters empty bottle of Veuve Clicquot with worry as he ventures farther in, preparing for a tongue lashing (and not the one she promised him this morning) at any second.
Instead he finds her curled around a thick down pillow, lace underwear and a satin camisole the only thing covering her tanned skin, a halo of burnished hair hiding her face from his viewpoint. Her breathing is slow and even, her long limbs relaxed in sleep. She looks like an angel; he has a sudden, uncontrollable need to defile her.
He strips out of his clothes and shoes with a practiced ease, never a fan of wearing more than is absolutely necessary, and behind closed doors with Mariska that meant nothing at all. She sleeps on, so comfortable and trusting in his presence she doesn't even stir when he climbs behind her onto the bed and can't stop his greedy hands from touching.
Consent between them was intrinsic and had been from early on. Things like Can I touch you? and Do you want my hands on you? were reserved for teasing and heightening the anticipation but the yes was always, always implied. When they were together like this, nothing was off limits, nothing was denied. Her body was his to do with as he pleased, enthusiastic blanket consent given freely two decades before, and he'd be damned if he let the opportunity before him go to waste.
His fingertips traced the curve of her ass reverently, the expensive lace just begging to be ripped to shreds to bare her completely to him as fast as possible. But he doesn't want her awake yet. He wants to keep her under a while longer. So instead he inches them down her thighs (they're damp and smell like her and he has to fight off the crushing need to dive face first into her heat and devour her), slipping them off one leg and letting them drape around the other ankle.
She shifts slightly and sighs but doesn't arouse at the feel of his fingertips trailing across her lower back. He presses his cheek to the slip of silk that's barely covering anything, feeling the rise and fall of her breath beneath the cage of her ribs. The calm before the storm.
Burying his nose at the nape of her neck where the scent of her shampoo and perfume are the strongest, he finally gives into the overwhelming desire to taste her. His tongue laves hot and wet against the sensitive column of her neck and she moans in her sleep, responding to him even in unconsciousness.
"Shhhh, baby."
He shushes her as he chances an open mouthed kiss to the crux of her freckled shoulder, teeth dragging gently, the temptation to bite down into soft, vulnerable flesh an aching restraint along his hungry jaws. Soon.
He's painfully hard already, the iron length of him tucked against the curve of her hip, tortuously close to where he needs it to be. Sneaking around the front of her, his palm slides against more silk, up the softness of her belly and until he can fill it with a heavy breast instead. Her nipple rises to meet him, tightening immediately beneath his touch, her back arching in sleep to press herself into his waiting hands.
"That's my good girl."
His whispered praise finds its way to her even through the haze of wine and slumber, happy little sighs escaping her lips. He continues to stroke and pluck at her until the sighs become gasps and she's unconsciously grinding back into him, his cock aching and leaking for her.
"Fuck..."
He can sense her starting to awaken, her movements a little more controlled, her sounds a little more intentional. He could wait until she's fully conscious, tease her some more, level the playing field. But his need for her is a raging river that ceaselessly pulls him under, his only hope of breaking the surface again is to take refuge inside the safety and surety of her.
She arches back once more in half-sleep and he takes the invitation eagerly, thrusting up into her welcoming heat without warning. The strangled noise she makes as she spasms around him is one he already knows he'll replay over and over in his head for years to come.
. . .
Mariska is dragged into full consciousness as the cock she'd know anywhere fills her to the hilt in one dizzying stroke, Chris' name wrenched from her just as jarringly. The last thing she remembers before passing out was too much wine and too much waiting.
"Where the fuck've you been?"
She's only slurring a little and she takes it as a win, trying to keep the pleasure from overriding the irritation and impatience in her voice. As far as she knows he hadn't even tried to call (she's not completely sure where her phone ended up, but that's beside the point). He was late.
"Sorry baby, got here soon as I could."
He's still fucking her slowly on her side as he apologizes, trailing kisses up the back of her neck to that spot behind her ear that drives her wild. Goddamn him.
"Needed you, you weren't here…"
She'd kept herself occupied but that's not the point. She was perfectly capable of distracting herself with glass after glass of champagne, a bubble bath in the huge spa tub, flipping through Insta and (very briefly until she realized it's still a fucking hellscape) Twitter. When all else failed she'd given in to the eternal boredom solver of masturbating and hoped he'd walk in and get jealous of her own hand.
"Looks like you made out just fine, Princess– drinking yourself horny then touching that greedy little pussy and thinking about Daddy."
Damn him. How did he always know? She opened her mouth to protest but his hips snapped up at the same time and she quickly lost all train of thought besides more, more, more, more.
"God yes…"
He's grabbed her hips and pushed her over onto her belly now, knocking the pillow to the floor in the process. His cock is buried even deeper inside her at this angle, his weight stretched across the length of her back until her breath comes shorter and shorter, her moans hitched into gasping sighs.
"That's right, baby. Take it for me. Is this what you were thinking about while you were waiting for Daddy, hmmm? My cock so deep inside you you can't breathe?"
The orgasm takes her by surprise, as it so often does when he's fully in control of her pleasure like this, body pushed past her own control, his deliciously filthy words toppling her over the edge more than anything. She holds her breath and buries her face in the mattress, stubbornly trying to hide his effect on her, still not done being cross with him yet.
"Give it up, Mack. You think I can't feel you coming all over my cock without permission? Bad girl… You're lucky I'm feeling generous tonight since I did keep you waiting. No more free passes though."
He's pulling out of her before she can protest, easily manhandling her onto her back and dragging her over towards the edge of the bed, head tipped off the side. Everything spins for a moment, wine and endorphins heady in her bloodstream, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated as he positions her just the way he wants, posing her like a doll. He wrenches the thin satin camisole over her head and to the floor, tits bouncing as he frees them, baring her completely save the scrap of lace still tangled around her ankle that neither of them cares about enough to remove.
"Goddamn, baby. You look good enough to eat… but not yet. There's something I wanna do first."
His upside down grin is devilish as he looms above her, thighs either side of her head and the view never fails to make her mouth water. She promised him quid pro quo oral this morning and she was happy to deliver. She craned her neck back and swiped her tongue against his balls as he fiddled with something on the side table.
"Fucking minx. Behave if you want to come again at all tonight. And don't even think about touching yourself."
He swats at her thigh when she pouts, hard enough to leave a perfect hand imprint across the freckled skin there. She drops her head all the way back in resignation, her nails running along the backs of his knees soothingly enough to not earn her another smack. From her inverted vantage point between his legs she can see him propping her phone against the bedside lamp.
"What are you doing?"
Another sharp slap to her other thigh and now they match. In another life she'd gladly tattoo his handprints there for everyone to see.
"Hush. I'll do whatever the fuck I want and you'll like it."
He's right of course. He's never steered her wrong in this arena. Every perverted thing they've done with each other over the years has just added to their impressively long kink list. He's opened up her front facing camera and set it to record, the angle perfectly capturing the scene he's set. Besides, it's hardly the first time they've recorded themselves in compromising positions. Chris wasn't lying about that secret dossier.
"You promised Daddy he'd get to fuck your face later, didn't you baby? So that's exactly what I'm gonna do. Make it good, make me come hard and maybe I'll fuck you again."
He pulled back just long enough to clamp one big hand beneath her neck, her already wild hair tangling in his grip, the other hand wrenching her jaw open and guiding his thick cock into her mouth roughly.
"That's right. Take it all. Show me what a good little cockslut you can be for Daddy."
She opens her throat, opens her legs, and holds on for dear life as he fucks her face mercilessly. If he wanted to record this, she was at least gonna make sure she put on a good show.
. . .
He watches the image of them for a moment over his shoulder, the display on Mariska's phone lit up with the ongoing recording of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth as he palms her breasts, rolls her nipples. The wet gurgle of her moans as she takes him all the way down her throat is filthy and he knows the mic will pick up everything from experience. If a certain someone insists on eavesdropping, he should get the full benefit of his nosiness.
Eventually the novelty of watching them on the phone screen falls victim to the all encompassing need to witness it firsthand, a growl of arousal and frustration announcing that he's caught her with a hand between her thighs again.
"What did I fucking say?"
She whines around his length but doesn't remove her busy little hand until he does it for her, bending her arm quickly behind her back and pinning it there with her own body weight.
"Do I need to do the other one, too?"
She's still clutching onto his thigh with her left hand, shaking her head as much as she can in this position. He can't trust her not to try to get that one between her legs the second he's distracted again but at this point she's just giving him more fuel to punish her later.
"Pull that shit again and I'll make sure you don't come at all, Mack. Got it?"
She slides the hand on his thigh to his ass and uses her grip to drag him further down her throat in apology, mouth too full to properly answer but she seems to have gotten the message. For now.
"That's right. Such an eager little cocksucker for me, aren't you Rish?"
She whimpers and nods against him again, relaxing her jaw to let him fuck her face harder, deeper, whatever makeup she still had on surely ruined by now. What a pretty picture she'll make when he holds her face up to the phone later, when he tells her exactly who they're going to send it to and she's too spent to even fight him on it.
"You're putting on such a hot fucking show for the camera, baby. Those tits bouncing while you gag on my cock. Maybe I'll let you watch it. Let you finger that dripping little cunt while you watch yourself get facefucked on tape. Would you like that, princess? Want to make yourself come while you watch Daddy ruin you?"
She slurs out a barely audible please as he bottoms out and holds himself there for a long moment, enjoying the way her chest heaves at the lack of oxygen, throat completely blocked at this angle. He waits until she's digging her nails into the flexed muscle of his glute and kicking her feet against the bedspread, pulling all the way out suddenly as she gasps and splutters against the thick strands of saliva and precum that still choke her.
"Too much, baby? Maybe I should give you a break and fuck these perfect tits instead, huh?"
His hands are sizeable but somehow her breasts still fill them to overflowing, tawny skin spilling between his fingers and he can't stop himself from swooping down and pulling a taut nipple into his mouth, just for a moment. She husks a curse word between his thighs, voice still hoarse from the throat fucking, shoulder hitched up from where her arm is still tucked beneath her.
"I'm gonna move that arm back with your other one behind me, don't even think about trying to touch that pussy again without permission. Fuck, such a greedy little slut. Whose pussy is this?"
She hesitates a split second too long, his hand coming down harshly against the side of her breast, making her yelp. He smacks the other one just as hard then pinches at the base of both straining nipples, tugging hard enough her back arches off the bed to ease the pressure.
"What was that, baby?"
This time the answer comes out strong and sure, no further prompting needed.
"Yours, Daddy. My pussy is all yours."
Damn right it is. He brings his hand down hard against her clit for good measure, her thighs tightening reactively around his wrist at the sting. Trapped there for the moment he lets himself enjoy it, trailing his fingers through the plentiful wetness he finds, twisting a couple fingertips just barely into her opening until her legs pop back open with a predictable plea for more.
"Oh I don't think so. I'm not done having my way with you yet, baby. Now hold still like a good girl and let Daddy fuck your tits."
. . .
His big hands are clamped around both breasts, nearly containing them but not quite. They've continued to grow over the years and Chris revels in every opportunity he gets to play with them. The slight calluses on his palms scrape at her hard nipples as he kneads them, letting his leaking cock just brush over the top of the swells maddeningly. He's such a fucking tease sometimes.
"Fuck I love these."
She hides a pleased grin between his legs, her dark-tipped nails still tracing up the backs of his thighs and along his sit spots. He spits between her tits and lets it drip down her belly, making her muscles twitch. That shouldn't be so hot but everything he does somehow is.
"Do it again."
He bends himself over the length of her body and spits again, this time right between her legs, drawing a hitching gasp from her as it glides down her folds and adds to the growing puddle beneath her.
"Such a filthy little slut for me. Beg for it."
She doesn't beg anyone for anything besides him. She decides. But with Chris, the words come easy, so willing to do and say whatever it takes to get him to give her exactly what she wants, what she needs. Thankfully what she needs and wants is usually the same things he does.
"Spit on me. Please."
He rears back and drags her up by the hair, her jaw dropping open in anticipation, accepting his saliva greedily as he spits directly into her mouth this time.
"Swallow it. That's a good fucking girl."
He throws her back down into the upside down position that's still got her body buzzing and stars flickering behind her eyes, wasting no more time in shoving his thick, perfect cock between her breasts, strong hands squeezing them together as he thrusts.
"Goddamn, baby. Never get tired of watching my dick slide between your big tits. Should've thought to record it like this when you were pregnant. Leaking milk all over my cock, painting your belly with my cum."
She's panting with arousal as he talks to her, his filthy mouth one of her favorite parts of sex with him, the way he can push her to the edge of orgasm with his voice alone. She clenches her thighs together against the throbbing of her clit and begs him some more.
"Chris, please. Touch me."
He pulls her legs apart roughly and slaps her cunt again.
"Fuck, Mack. You look so hot with a baby inside you. Miss the days when every time I filled you up there was that chance it could happen. Could barely stand to cum anywhere else, just in case."
He rolls and pinches her nipples as he thrusts harder, faster. She can tell from his breathing and the tremor in his thigh muscles where she clutches him that he's getting close. He could take her with him if he wanted; squeeze a little harder, let her drop a hand down to circle her clit, get her to hold her breasts for him so he can finger fuck her himself. But she doubts he will. They both get off on the ways he denies her pleasure in lieu of his own on nights like this.
"A decade ago it wouldn't even be a question, would it? Not a chance in hell I'd be cumming on your belly instead of deep inside it."
She feels like she's floating, blood thrumming through her and making everything tingle and spark. Even if he doesn't mean to tip her over the edge she might fall anyway. She feels as close as he sounds at this point.
"Please, I'm gonna–"
"Don't you dare. God, you're so fucking easy, Mariska. I'm not even touching your pussy and you're ready to pop just from me talking about putting a baby in you. Your husband had to jerk off into a cup and let a real man turkey baster it into you to get the job done."
It should have been him fucking one into her instead.
"It should have been you."
Her admission hurtles him over the steep precipice of his orgasm, cursing and growling her name as he shoves himself between her swollen breasts one last time and shoots his seed all down her belly and over her sex in hot, pulsing jets.
She's too far gone to care about any consequences, her hand releasing its death grip on his thigh to immediately gather as much of his cum off her skin as possible and push it into herself. She's got three slick fingers curled against her g-spot and her palm scraping her clit before he catches his breath and reaches for her.
"That's right, baby. So needy. So desperate to get it all inside you."
He's swiping through his mess now too and adding it to hers, two of his thick fingers pressing against her own inside her and she's so full she could weep with it.
"You gonna come for me, Rish? Look at the camera and scream for me. C'mon. Be a good girl and scream my name while I help you fuck my cum into your greedy fucking pussy."
She was helpless to do anything else.
"Daddy!"
. . .
She's draped bonelessly over his side as he strokes her tangled hair softly in the aftermath. He can tell from the pattern of her breathing she hasn't drifted off but she's still drowsy and content, deliciously warm and soft up against him. He's hesitant to break the peace but if he waits until she's fully recovered this may not go his way.
"Can't wait to watch that back, watch you perform for Daddy. You did such a good job I think we should show it off."
She hums against him sleepily, nuzzling her nose against his chest hair.
"You can send it to Sherm and Abby if you want. Jus' tell 'em I expect one in return."
She giggles and presses a kiss over his heart. He almost feels bad about going through with this when she's being so sweet and agreeable. Almost.
"I actually had someone else in mind."
He feels her brow scrunch in curiosity.
"There's someone else we trust enough to send them our sex tape? No offense but this isn't really Maria's thing. Now if you wanted to film me without you in the scene I'm sure she'd love a copy."
Definitely keeping that in mind for the future.
"Oh he'd guard this with his life. No worries there."
She props her chin on him and looks up with the most innocent expression, makes him want to fuck her face all over again.
"Dean would be thrilled but he's a walking disaster and would probably end up leaking it by accident."
Oh Dean would somehow manage to Livestream the damn thing, knowing him.
"Not Dean, baby. You know who we need to send this to. He needs to be taught a lesson. The eavesdropping, the interrupting. We can't have that. You took your punishment so well. Now it's his turn."
Her eyes are wide and frozen and he knows she knows who he's talking about now. Holds his breath to see which way this is gonna go.
"Peter can't keep disrespecting me like this, Mackie. You were mine first. I think he needs a reminder of that."
It's a calculated risk but he hands her the phone, finished video cued up and ready to send, Karl's name selected already at the top. The fact that she hasn't screamed at him or slapped him yet was a good sign. If she deletes it outright it'll be a damn shame though. He really is looking forward to playing it back together.
"Show me you're mine and hit send. Be a good girl and do what Daddy tells you."
Her eyes are dark and pleased and they never leave his, the corners of her smile turning up in mischief until she's beaming at him. She hits send wordlessly, holding the power button down after it chirps that it went through and pitching it onto the nightstand again once it's off.
He thinks he'll offer to drive her home tomorrow so he can see Karl's face for himself. But for now, his girl has definitely earned a reward.