Work Text:
Fuck. When did it get so hot in here?
Had the AC always been churning out hot air?
Were your palms always this sweaty?
Your body squirms on the silky leather of the passenger seat, a sudden heat engulfing you in an unpleasant warmth. Miguel's hand naturally on your thigh, unaware of the sexual visions flashing through your mind as a result of the contact alone, veins bulging from his sun-kissed skin, his other hand wrapping around the steering wheel as he drove. You attempt to mask the neediness in your eyes, smiling at him, a coating of sweat building on your temple, and it may appear like he isn't paying attention to the sheen of sweat layering on your face, but he is.
You find yourself longing for him to snake his hand further up your pencil skirt, to slide your panties aside and indulge himself in pleasuring you, have you bouncing on him as he plows into you, showing little to no mercy on your sensitive pussy. Yearning to have his name slipping from your lips religiously while he pounds your cunt until it's raw and pink and oozing with his seed.
But you huff out an exhale.
You're going to work. Suck it up, Y/N.
You huff again, this time, a shaky sigh leaving you.
Each turn, stop light and stop sign that comes across, he takes it as a chance to look at you.
His eyes skim over your face and it doesn't seem pale to him, and from what he can deduct with only his palm on your thigh, your body's temperature doesn't seem particullarly high either.
"Que te pasa, baby?" he asks, maintaining his focus on the road as he tightens his grasp on your thigh, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh.
"Hmh? Nothing, it's just.." you start to say, but stop yourself, turning to face your window instead and staring out at the blurry city that is whizzing by, too embarassed with the flush of your face to look at him. Miguel doesn't respond for about a second, the stillness eating you in a gap his words should've filled.
"'It's just' what? Tell me, amor." he persuades after some thought, hating how he can't exactly look at you, analyze your body language or properly ask what's wrong.
You tense up, heat rushing to your face as you somehow manage to mutter out, "I'll tell you in the parking lot."
To be fair, this isn't what you were expecting when Miguel had offered you to drive you to work this morning. Not that scenerios such as these didn't cross your mind, no. It's just that you didn't expect your mind to be the dirty one here. You'd expect Miguel to be the one practically drooling over you, those same obscene scenes flashing in his mind, but it was yours. Not his.
In what seemed like a second to you, he had already pulled into the parking space of your workplace, repositioning the hand on your thigh to your headrest as he looked back to check if anything's behind him. It feels as if your heart jumps in your chest, like you can't breath when he flashes you a smile, the swollen muscles in his other arm flexing as he turns the wheel to park in reverse, an almost inaudible grunt escaping his lips. And again, there's that urge, the need for him to just fuck you raw bringing butterflies to your stomach. For a second or two, you're lost in your own world, fantasizing about the many positions he could have you in right now, the-
"So, what'd you need to tell me? I'm getting worried, querida." he looks over at you, interrupting your thoughts and your eyes widening as you think of a way you could possibly tell him this without sounding...horny?
You heave as you turn your body to fully face him, his eyebrows raised as you grab his hand, lacing your fingers in between his bigger ones. "Miguel, nothing's wrong with me." your gaze falters for a second, but you soon return your focus on him.
"I just..want you to..fuck me."
A low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, only flustering you further. "You want me to fuck you?...That's whats got you sweating waterfalls?" His brow creaks up further, a slight tease in his voice and you pout, fluttering your pretty lashes at him in a sorry fit of need.
"Please, Miguel? Come on, you can't blame me when you sit there looking so..fuckable." You mumble, a smile tugging at your your lips when you notice his eyes enlarging in surprise.
"I'm fuckable?"
"Yes. Very."
Miguel can't seem to grasp his head around what what your saying, can't seem to think straight at your words.
He almost chuckles again at the thought. "You've gotta be high, baby." He grins, failing to keep up a serious facade and letting out low contagious laughs.
"Migue-l, i'm serious." You whine while looking up at him with those seductive, pretty eyes you know he can't help but be drawn to, taking his hand and placing it on your chest, forging his grasp on your breast.
"Fine. But, y'know you're going to have to limp in there, right?" He waits for your response, which he assumes will be a breathy "yes," before continuing, and he perhaps wouldn't admit it, but he'd wanted this too. More than you. How couldn't he when your tight little blush pink skirt rode up your thighs, when your blouse had that perfect fit that boosted your tits up?
As soon as your mouth opened and proved his prediction to be correct, he collided his lips into yours, overwhelming you in a powerful, heated kiss. Effortlessly, he then grabbed adhold of your waist, still kissing you passionately as he slid you from the passengers to the drivers seat where you straddled his body. Only then had you felt his erection, probbing the side of your ass, and he only grinned against your lips with the small gasp that left you, hand sliding down your torso to play with the hem of your skirt.
You moaned into his mouth, seeking the sweetness of his lips while grinding your hips onto him with a slow, sweet roll, earning a grunt deep from his chest as he pulled away.
"So needy and pretty f'me." he slurred, bunching your skirt up to your waist, revealing your lower half to him. "Y/n."
The whisper of your name is cold and chill against your neck, the sensation of his breath fanning by accomodating goosebumps to your skin and sending chills down your spine. "Unzip my pants for me, Hermosa."
Your fingers purposefully brushed over his erection as you yanked his zipper down, snaking downwards both his briefs and slacks just enough for his dick to spring up, slapping against his chiseled abdomen. You could feel your cunt gain a heartbeat, your walls clenching on nothing as you anticipated what you knew would come soon; the euphoric feeling of being stuffed to the brim by your lover.
The need in your eyes couldn't be masked.
"Want you," you breath, the pads of your fingers slipping aside the damp cloth of your underwear, showing him just how much you do.
And it's almost like you awaken a beast in him--a feral being that wasn't your husband, but would nonetheless pleasure you in indescribable ways. His irises grew a burning crimson, a slight emergence of his fangs that you were happy to catch, his hand making it's way down to his cock where he positioned his angry tip flush to your labia, grunting as he pushed in. Miguel can't help but bite back his moans, Instead wanting to hear your pretty mewls while his length abuses it's way inside your tight, rigged walls, engulfing him in blissful warmth. "Mhm, feel that, beatiful? Feel me stretching your pretty pussy out?" He groans, sucking in a breath as your hips finally meet his, your clit brushing against the base of his shaft.
"Mi-" you gasp, "Miguel."
God, how could you forget?
"The windows, are they tinted?"
You question why you hadn't noticed before, but it's most likely because you were too drunk on Miguel to notice.
He chuckles, bringing your hips up before slamming them down onto him with a wet slap, the moan he elicited from your throat snapping you out of your worried trance.
"Of course, amor. You think i'd let anyone have even the chance of seeing you like this?" He begins thrusting up into your cunt, mushing up your insides with his long, hard cock and poking his tip into your cervix--untouched prior to him--with every rut. Tears brim your waterline, threathening to spill over in a teary river of ecstacy, countless moans spilling from your lips, surely heard by anyone within proximity of the car, but you could care less when the only thing you can focus on is Miguel.
Miguels low groans and whimpers.
Miguels cock abusing your insides.
Miguels hands gripping your hips and forcing them in an up-and-down tempo.
"You feel too good, Mi luz. Can't believe you're all mine, All mine to fuck and love." He rasps right over your ear, pairing his words with a harsh smack to your ass. Miguel relishes how your ass bounces on his cock, how the pliable flesh molds in his big hands after a slap, the thought alone getting him harder.
"My pretty girl..." he whines, placing a hand on the small of your back and pulling you closer to him, your arms hugging around his neck. "Tell me you're my pretty girl."
"I'm your pretty girl." you whisper, closing your eyes in pleasure as you stuffed your face into the jucture of his neck.
"Louder f'me." he demaned.
"I-I'm your pretty girl." you blurted out, louder this time as your cheeks flushed in embarassment.
He only smiles as he rewards your obediance with hungrier thrusts, causing that familiar delicious pleasure to crash into your bodies in waves of pure euphoria. You melt in his hands, feeling like puty when he grabs at your waist, hand sliding under your tit to squeeze your clothed breasts, while his other is busy relishing in the malleable softness of your ass. The smack of your thighs against his, the prominent veins aligning his shaft sliding over your walls, it's all too much and your poor cunt begs you to stop, but your mind is too greedy and clouded in the vast realms of your high to do so.
"How would your boss feel if he saw this, Hmh? Watching his good little employee lose her mind riding her husband, crying because it's too much for her poor little cunt?" he teases, grinning at the cute gasp you let out. Heat bubbles in your stomach, that familiar, tight coil growing in your abdomen, your noises growing louder and more muffled, the fear of being caught causing your heartbeat to skyrocket. To your surprise, In an unexpected good way. The thrill of getting caught causes you to absentmindedly clamp down on him, Miguel sighing at the sudden, extra tightness.
"H-he wouldn't watch." you protest, standing by the fact that your boss was a good man. "He's not a pervert."
"Oh, he's not? Sure fucking looked like one when he watched you bend over to get something." he seethes, bringing his thrusts to an agonizing halt, stripping away your orgasm. His hand slid up your back, entwining in your hair as he jerked your head backwards, forcing a mewl out your mouth.
"Tell him that your mines, yeah? Mine to fuck, and mine to love. Mine to worship."
At that he picks up his once brutal pace, building onto that while still keeping a firm grip on your hair, your head hanging back as you moaned and hot tears streamed down your face. "Miguel!" you shrieked, feeling that tell-tale knot loosely form in your stomach once again, threatening to snap with every rut of his dick. "I'm gonna cum, gonna cum for you." You groaned, Miguel grunting out as he found himself unable to speak, heavy panted breaths of his filling the car. "Cum with me--fuck--please, amor. " He manages to whisper out.
You nod your head, too lost in the midst of your hazy mind to respond with words, the coil in your stomach unwinding little by little, thread by thread until---Snap.
Your orgasm washed over you, leaving you gasping and drenched in the waters of pleasure, shrieking out as he still continued to rut up into you, his own orgasm nearing. And soon after, grunt after grunt left Miguel's lips, his cock twitching inside you as he spurted hot loads of his seed deep into your womb, both of you left panting after bliss. Whining from the loss of your tightness, he eventually pulls out, your mixed juices pooling onto his thighs. "Did so good, mi reina." he praised, reaching over to the glove compartment to gab a container of wet wipes, hastily cleaning you up once he caught a blurry glimpse of the time on his watch.
It was 10:50. Hell, you're supposed to be in there by 10:20.
'What were you doing for 30 minutes?' would most likely be your boss's question, little does he know...
"You're all clean. We just need to check if you can still walk now.." he chuckles, no hint of actual worry behind his smooth words. You giggle, placing a sweet kiss to his lips before sliding your panties back in place, sighing at the fact that you'd have to change them in the bathroom. He grabs your bag from the back seat, handing it to you as you pull down your skirt, your hands running over your hair to fix any flyaways. While you're busy with that, he pulls up his briefs and zips up his pants, smoothing out his now wrinkled shirt.
"How do I look?" You ask, playfully, fluttering your lashes at him.
"Like you just got fucked hard." He replies, and you purse your lips as you nudge his arms.
"Miggy!.." God, he'd only ever let you use that name on him.
"I'm kidding, you look beautiful, as always."
"Thank you, handsome. I'll be going now." you smile as you press your lips on his, a sugary tang to them, Miguel frowning at your depature.
"I'll walk you to the door," he suggests, though it sounds more as if he's telling more than anything. You both exited the car in tandem, leaving behind the sex-like aura inside and finally getting to breath some fresh air. As soon as your heels hit the ground, your legs wobble and give out, and if it weren't for Miguels arms pulling you back, you're sure you would've fallen face first onto the asphalt pavement. A shaky grin etches onto your face as he practically just carries you over to the door, placing you down but being sure that your legs don't give away again, afterall, it's his fault. "O-okay. I got it from here."
He grins languidly, crashing his lips onto your forehead as he mutters out a quiet, "Bye, querida. Te amo, have a good day, hm?"
His breath fans by your forehead in small patches, making your legs feel even more wobbly than they were before. "I love you too, and I will," you utter, slowly starting to walk away from your husband, waltzing ahead into the glass doors with a sweet sway of your hips Miguel can't bring himself to ignore.
He'd surely be awaiting your arrival back at home.