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This is new. Beyond new, it's insane. He's got you laid completely bare on his lap, legs wide, the palms of his hands pressed flush against your inner thighs as he holds you open. The cold air is a relief against the heat, not only for your core but for your mind as you try to keep your thoughts clear despite them becoming more and more muddled the longer he holds you like this.
Since your outburst the last time you'd decided you wouldn't bring it up again, not until he brought it up himself. You'd decided you could deal with it; you didn't really need him to fuck you, it was just one of the many desires you'd have to push away and forget about. Clearly his boundaries went deeper than you'd thought, but he'd said he wanted you and that was enough. Whatever the reason for holding back, for not allowing himself to actually touch you, you could deal with not knowing.
But then tonight happened.
It's been one week since your last patrol with him, the patrol where he confirmed his desire for you, and you'd been expecting the usual routine as you situated yourself on the couch. He'd slowly approached you, expression unreadable.
"I wanna try something different," he'd said quietly.
You'd scrambled to sit up, eyes shining with interest as you perched yourself on the arm of the couch, "Yeah?"
He took one more step and then he was directly in front of you, standing tall and broad while you sat there feeling small and vulnerable, unsure what he was thinking. Slowly, carefully, he brought one of his hands up and traced your jawline with his fingertips, making you tremble. It was the first time he'd actually touched your face, the first time he'd allowed his skin to brush against yours apart from when his fingers had slid inside your mouth last time. It was heaven.
You'd closed your eyes involuntarily and leaned into his touch, practically purring at the feeling. You heard his breath hitch, the back of his fingers stroking your cheek as his thumb found a place at your mouth, tracing the shape of your lips. Without much thought you'd opened it, inviting him to slip his thumb inside. He'd exhaled deeply and you'd opened your eyes again to watch the cogs turn in his head, watch him decide what you deserved and what you didn't.
To your disappointment he didn't slide his thumb inside your mouth; instead, he pulled his hand completely away from you. You whined at the loss, shoulders falling as you peered up at him pathetically.
"Joel," you whispered, but your words ended there; you didn't know what to say, didn't know if any sort of protest would end whatever he'd decided would be different tonight altogether.
He just shook his head and stepped away from you, sitting on his end of the couch. He didn't put his feet up or lean back like usual, he sat on the edge of the third cushion and began to palm himself through his jeans . You watched with aroused interest, biting your lip as you gazed at the long shape of his cock, hard and firm.
You still weren't sure what he was thinking but you stayed frozen where y ou were, waiting for him to tell you what to do.
"I was thinking," he finally broke the silence, not looking at you as he thumbed the wet head through the denim, a small dark spot appearing in the fabric, "That you could sit in my lap tonight."
The rules are as follows:
- touch yourself the way he tells you to.
- stop touching yourself when he tells you to stop.
- come only when he tells you that you can.
- he will not be touching you.
You shiver in his lap now, looking at yourself leaking down your legs and soaking his jeans. God, you'd had no idea you were this touch starved; just the feeling of him beneath you, his fingers splayed firmly against your thighs, you think you could come without even touching yourself. But those aren't the rules.
"One finger," he breathes, tickling the side of your neck where he's resting his head, watching, "Nice and deep, lemme see."
You obey, bringing your shaky hand to your centre and pushing your middle finger inside to the hilt, exhaling deeply and trying your hardest to avoid even brushing against your clit for fear you might start to come already.
He hums in approval, breath hot against your skin, "Now pull it out," he murmurs, "Real slow, show me."
You slowly remove your finger, biting down on your lip. It comes out drenched and shiny, slick with your wetness.
"And back in," his voice is like honey, slow and sweet. You push your finger back inside, "And out again, just like that. Good girl."
You moan at your pet name; it's the first time he's used it tonight and you've been waiting to hear him say it. It's hard to believe how easy it is for some simple words to make you completely submit to him, hard to believe how badly you want to be good for him, to do exactly what he tells you. Earlier today you'd given him shit for forgetting to put the safety on your gun when he'd handed it to you. That version of yourself doesn't exist here.
"In and out," he whispers, sending waves of tingles up and down your spine, "Count to ten for me."
"One," you begin to count your slow thrusts, voice shaky and breathless, "T-two."
He flexes his hands on your thighs, curling his fingers into the flesh. For someone who's never actually touched you before up until this point, he's sure getting his fill now; you'll have marks tomorrow, impressions of hand prints where he held you open. The thought makes you throb.
"Nine," you whimper, fucking yourself once more, "Ten."
"Good girl," he praises again, nosing your shoulder gently.
The room feels stuffy despite being so large and open, and your whole body feels like it's on fire. You can feel the tension building in your lower belly; how the fuck are you so close already? You've never been able to get off this easily and now you feel like you could break at any second, directly contradicting one of the rules.
"Can I take my shirt off?" you ask quietly, hoping you're not crossing a line, "I'm really warm."
He chuckles, "You just wanna be naked on my lap."
"...Maybe."
"Add your second finger and I'll think about it," he murmurs against your neck, "Show me you can be good."
You swallow, nodding and slowly slipping another finger inside.
"You're so wet," he says, a genuinely awestruck air in his voice, "All this from just sittin' in my lap?"
They're not just words, he means them. He's questioning himself, questioning whether he's really capable of making you fall apart like this. And he is; you can't believe he doesn't see what you see, doesn't see how sexy and alluring he is, how he doesn't even have to touch you to give you an orgasm.
"Yes," you moan softly, leaning your head back and feeling his nose against your throat, "Feels so good, Joel, you have no idea," you plunge your fingers in and out, closing your eyes and shivering at the way his cock throbs beneath you, "I love feeling you."
"I know you do," he whispers, "Been thinkin' about it all week, wanted to give you somethin' more, you deserve it."
"I do?" the thought makes you smile; it pleases you that he thinks you deserve this, that he thought about it and wanted to do it for you.
God, you really are fucked.
"You do," his fingers stroke your inner thighs gently, tickling your skin, the tips of his thumbs brushing lightly against your outer lips. "Plus, I wanted to see this pretty little pussy a bit closer," his breath is so hot and wet against your skin, making your whole body shake as you continue to fuck yourself, "And now you can feel my cock, can't you? Just like you wanted, but without breakin' the rules."
You make the rules, you want to say, squeezing your eyes shut tighter, you can change them. You could fuck me right now if you wanted to. But you don't say anything, knowing deep down that asking for it again won't get you anywhere. This is a part of it now, a new factor in this thing between the two of you, and you know he'll hold it over you to keep the control on his side. You have to admit, he knows what he's doing.
"Third finger, pretty girl," he whispers and you do as you're told, adding your third and clenching tightly around all three digits, "Look at that, so full for me."
His cock throbs again, heavy and thick against your ass, and you keen at the fact that this is just as hot for him as it is for you. He's not doing this for your benefit, he genuinely enjoys it. He wants you.
"Thumb on your clit," he breathes, and your eyes open again, wide and unsure.
"I'll come," you whimper, feeling slightly ashamed at your admission, "If I touch my clit I already know I'm gonna come."
He smiles against your skin, "Really? From just a little touch?"
"Y-yes."
"So if I..." he trails off and suddenly removes his right hand from your thigh, moving it closer to where you're open and full.
"Oh my God," you breathe, voice barely a squeak, "Yes, yes, please touch it, please."
"Where? Where do you need me to touch?"
"Joel," you groan, shutting your eyes again and trembling in his lap.
"Use your words, pretty girl, tell me where you need me to touch you."
"My clit," you practically hiss, "Touch my clit, please."
You've stopped moving your fingers entirely, laying still inside of you, keeping you wide. He doesn't admonish you, just twirls his index finger teasingly near your pussy and smiles against your neck.
"But that's against the rules," he murmurs.
"Fuck the rules," you practically growl.
You regret it instantly, watching as his hand returns to your thigh and you hear him laugh lightly in your ear. Scowling, you let out a long groan of contempt and pull your fingers out, leaning back against his chest pitifully. The buttons on his shirt dig into your flesh, reminding you that he's still fully clothed. It somehow makes you wetter.
"For someone who claims to be my good girl, you're not being very good tonight, are you?"
"I am," you pout, "I told you, I'm just really oveheated."
"Poor baby," he whispers, and you watch his hands lift from your thighs to tug at the hem of your shirt, "Let's take this off, then. Arms up."
You oblige, lifting up your arms and allowing him to pull your shirt over your head. He freezes for a moment, the material bunching in his hand as he makes a fist.
"You didn't wear a bra?" it's barely audible and you smirk.
"No, I don't wear one when I'm on patrol with you."
"Ever?"
"Ever."
"Christ," he tosses the shirt to the floor and places his hands back on your inner thighs, pulling your legs apart more than they already are and pressing the thick length of his cock deeper against you. "You know, good girls don't do shit like that."
"Then maybe you need to punish me," you challenge, half joking but also not, wondering if maybe he'll finally give you what you want.
"Maybe I do," he mutters, "Fingers. Back in. Now."
You obey, pushing your fingers back inside and waiting for his next order, the tension of your orgasm still building in your belly. What is he gonna do? For a moment you're fearful that he'll stop touching you, leave you there to get yourself off without a second glance. You start to fuck yourself again, biting down on your lip and doing everything you can not to stimulate your clit.
His hands move again and you gasp in shock as he brings them to your bare breasts, cupping them in his palms. You lean back further into his touch, basking in the way his strong and wide torso envelops yours, holds you firm as you shove your fingers in and out.
"Well, aren't these pretty?" he croons in your ear, thumbing your nipples lightly, "Knew they would be."
The fact that he's thought about what your breasts look like makes your skin flush even warmer as you squirm in his lap, feeling small and breakable in his embrace. He rotates your nipples with his fingers, humming softly to himself in satisfaction. You continue to fuck yourself as you await your potential punishment...whatever it might be.
"You wanna come, don't you, baby?" he asks you softly, and you nod frantically, pathetically, "But do you think you deserve to come?"
You hesitate, brow furrowing, "P-probably not."
He laughs again, genuine and warm, "At least you're honest."
He lets go of your breasts and palms your stomach, the width of his hands giving you butterflies. He gently traces your belly button, your pubic bone, watching goosebumps rise on your flesh as he trails his fingertips along your skin.
"So pretty," he murmurs, hand dipping to your mound, the tips of his fingers only inches away from your clit, "Jesus, you're swollen."
You bite down on your lip, trying not to make any embarrassingly pathetic sounds; you can practically feel his eyes on your cunt and it makes you want to scream.
"Take your fingers out," he whispers, and you obey, hand shaking.
"You're gonna punish me, aren't you?" you finally whisper.
You feel him shake his head, "Not tonight, pretty girl," he inhales deeply, nosing your hair and gently stroking the skin just above your pussy with his thumb. "I think it's time I finally broke a rule."
Your heart races at his words, eyes widening. You're about to ask him what he means when he suddenly takes both your hands in his and brings them to your thighs, placing them gently down on your warm flesh. He keeps his left hand over yours, enveloping it as his right hand moves downward. Your eyes widen even more, watching as his big hand stills right in front of where you're wet and aching.
"You say it'll just take one touch, did you mean that?" he asks quietly.
"Y-yeah," you whimper, and you're not lying.
You watch with bated breath as he extends his fingers and gently prods your clit with the pad of his index. Just as you knew you would, you tense in his arms and let out a ridiculously loud moan, clenching around nothing as you start to come, body twitching wildly atop his lap. You feel his gaze on your face, watching as the smallest possible touch from him sends you into an absolute frenzy.
"Oh fuck," you cry, tilting your head back against his shoulder, feeling his beard scratch roughly against your cheek, "Joel, Joel, Joel," you repeat his name over and over until it's done, leaving you laying there motionless in his lap, limbs heavy and loose, his finger still sitting tenderly on your clit without movement. You feel your eyes close, head still firm on his shoulder as you breathe deeply in and out.
You lay there in his lap, legs still wide as your belly rises and falls from exertion. His finger rubs your clit once, just once, a soothing gesture that makes your hips buck lightly. He pulls it back and gently trails it to your entrance, hesitating for only a moment before he slowly slips it inside of you. You barely register it, still completely undone from your orgasm, body still processing the aftershocks. He doesn't say anything, just pushes his finger further inside until it's fully sheathed in your heat.
"You feel that?" he finally whispers to you, and you nod languidly, humming in affirmation. He keeps his finger inside of you, thick and long, filling you up, "Feel good?"
You hum again, still catching your breath. You swear you feel him smile against your cheek. Slowly, he pushes a second finger inside, and your lips part at the stretch, eyes opening only slightly as both of his fingers still inside you.
"And that? You feel that?"
"Yes," you whisper, slowly bringing yourself to move forward again, looking down to see where you're connected. You watch as he carefully pushes a third finger alongside the other two, your opening burning in the best possible way at the intrusion. His fingers are so thick, so wide, it's almost like you've got five of your own somehow crammed in there. You clench around him, your hand coming up to hold his wrist, small and fragile compared to his.
"Doesn't hurt, does it?" he murmurs when all three fingers are completely enveloped, his beard brushing your cheek again.
"N-no, feels good," you reply immediately, squeezing his wrist lightly, "Feels full."
"I just want to see how much you can take," he says softly, "I need to know your limits."
"I don't have limits with you," you whisper like it's a secret, and you mean it. He could do anything, say anything, and you wouldn't care. You should probably be ashamed of it, but you're not.
"You should," he replies, voice strained, "You know I have my own limits with you." He carefully adjusts you in his lap, turning you slightly to face him, "Look at me," he murmurs.
You turn around, finally seeing his face for the first time since you'd seated yourself in his lap. He's looking at you carefully, brow furrowed, gauging your expression like he's worried you're lying to him. He must be content with whatever he sees there, because you notice the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.
He slowly pulls his fingers from your core and brings them to your lips. "Suck," he orders softly.
You do as you're told, leaning forward and taking all three fingers in your mouth without hesitation, lapping yourself up as he watches. When you've gotten everything, he removes each finger one by one, then thumbs the corner of your mouth.
"Good girl," he breathes, and you smile in response, enjoying his praise. He smiles back and you feel him tap your thigh gently, "Get up for me now, okay?"
"'Kay," you whisper, shakily moving from his lap and bringing yourself to stand up. You turn around then, standing over him completely bare while he leans back on the couch, shuffling his legs open. You look at his crotch, see the outline of his cock, still hard and thick. Your cheeks turn bright red when you see the large wet stain you've left on his jeans.
He follows your gaze, smirking, "Yeah, you made quite the mess, didn't you?"
"Sorry," you whisper, and he shakes his head.
"Don't be sorry, pretty girl," he reaches for his zipper and tugs it down, pulling his cock out of the confines of his underwear and slipping it through the denim. You swallow, remembering the feeling of his come on your tongue, the hot salty taste in the back of your throat as you'd swallowed all he had to give you.
"Where do you want me?" you ask quietly, hoping against reason that he'll ask you to get on your knees.
He doesn't, as you'd expected, "Just stand right there," he says, stroking himself firmly and quickly, "Stay still, just like that."
You obey, staying very still and watching him jack himself off, his eyes trailing up and down your body hungrily. After only a moment, he shuffles himself forward and points the head of his cock upward, toward your belly. With one final stroke he grunts, deep and masculine, and you watch as his come paints your bare stomach, thick, white, and warm. You shiver, crossing your legs as your cunt begins to throb again, just like last time.
He finishes and releases himself, falling back on the couch and breathing heavily. He looks up at you from under his lashes, completely wrecked.
"Did I do good?" you ask softly, and you feel yourself grin as he shuts his eyes and tosses his head back with a groan.
"Yes, beyond good," he replies, looking back up at you and wincing slightly, "You're gonna kill me."
You giggle proudly and reach down to drag your fingers through his spend on your stomach, reveling in his eyes on you as you bring it to your mouth and push it against your tongue, swallowing it greedily. He groans shakily, carefully stuffing his dick back into his jeans and zipping himself back up. You scoop another finger of his come into your mouth and he stares at you, eyes dark.
"Might as well come directly in your mouth next time," he mutters, and you nod immediately.
"Yes, please."
His expression changes then, no longer playful or aroused. He stands up and walks over to your discarded clothes, picking them up and handing them to you without saying anything. You take them from him with a frown, watching as he picks up his gun from the chair near the fireplace and slips it back inside its holster.
"Are you mad?" you ask softly, unsure if you've said or done something something to upset him.
"No, I'm not mad," he replies, but the roughness of his voice betrays him, "Get dressed, okay? We've still got a few hours left."
You wordlessly slip back into your underwear and jeans, wiping the rest of his come off your stomach with the back of your hand before you pull your t-shirt back on. You look over to see him shrugging his coat on, facing away from you.
"Did I do something?" you ask, and you hate how weak you sound, how shaky your voice is. In any other circumstance you wouldn't hesitate to challenge him, but somehow after being so exposed to him only moments ago, so open and vulnerable, it's difficult to bring the real you back.
"No, you didn't do anything," he says gruffly, "It's me, I already told you we shouldn't be doing this. Should've ended it last week."
His words hurt, but somehow they don't cut you like he probably means them to. You walk toward him, still frowning, "What's the problem? I thought you liked it."
He doesn't say anything and you reach out to touch his shoulder, making him flinch and turn around to look at you again. Your eyes widen when you see that his are suddenly shiny with tears. Your lips part in surprise and you reach for his arm again, gripping his bicep tightly.
"Joel, what's wrong?" you whisper, "You're crying."
"Leave it," he says quickly, yanking himself from your touch, "I told you, we shouldn't be doing this. We can't do it anymore, this was the last time."
"Where is this coming from?" you're so confused, feeling helpless as he backs away from you, "Five minutes ago you were calling me your good girl and now-"
"You gotta stop letting me call you that," he grimaces, "I need to get ahold of myself, I can't keep letting this happen."
"Letting this happen?" you repeat, feeling anger begin to bubble in your throat as the real you finally begins to surface, "You're the one who asked me to sit in your lap, Joel. You're the one who started this whole thing to begin with."
"And I never shoulda been so weak," he spits, shaking his head, "You're a fucking kid, this is messed up."
You stare at him in disbelief, mouth agape, "I'm a grown ass woman, Joel. You know that better than anyone."
"I'm almost thirty years older than you, I should know better."
"Why are you being like this?" your anger betrays you as you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes, "Why are you being so mean? I didn't do anything wrong."
"Exactly, you didn't. It's me," he repeats, turning away from you again, "I'm gonna tell Tommy not to assign us together anymore, this is over."
"No it's not," you stomp forward and try to grab him again but he's already halfway out the front door of the ski lodge.
"Stay inside," he says firmly, still looking away from you, "Leave me alone." The door slams and you stand there in shock, staring after him through the glass as he walks away from you.
What the fuck.