Work Text:
You hear the front door shut, heavy and deliberate. Someone has had a bad day.
Robby’s groan carries across the living room, low and frustrated. You shift your feet under you, setting your glass of wine down, feeling the tension rise again despite the hours you’ve spent at your own shift.
“Bad day?” you call out, voice more tentative.
But you are met with only the sound of boots thudding against the floor and keys jingling.
“Robby?” you try again, a little louder.
Still nothing.
“Michael?” you call a third time, finally standing and moving toward the entryway, but he’s already rounding the corner, hands on your waist, pulling you close.
“Shit. Today was shit,” he mutters.
You reach down instinctively, fingers brushing his hands in a silent attempt to ground him, pull him from the tension he’s carrying — but he’s already guiding you back toward the couch.
“Michael… what — what are you doing?” you ask, a mix of confusion and concern in your voice. There’s intensity in his eyes you’ve never seen before, a determination to get you naked — especially after a grueling 12 hour shift.
And he does. Stripping every last bit of clothing from you and discarding them to the floor. You both have had sex plenty of times but this feels different.
“Condoms are in the bedro—“ you start to say, but he interrupts with a sudden intensity that makes your heart still.
“No condoms.” his response is dry, clear with intentions. He wants you, completely.
Your eyes widen, his rough hands squeezing one of your now bare tits before leaning down to pull the nipple between his lips, sucking it till it’s pebbled into a hard peak.
His work pants come off next, belt sliding free from the loops and landing somewhere across the living room. He moves with a focused intensity. His briefs left tented as his work pants make it around his ankles. You can even see pre-cum puddling at the very center.
Robby wastes no time. Spitting into his hand and stroking the length of his cock until it’s covered from tip to base.
“Michael, I’m not on the pill.. I—” you start, a mix of protest and denial, you can already feel yourself dripping wet with the thought of him raw inside you, but you’ve only been together for a few months. Was that enough time for this?
But your thoughts disappear the second he slides in, and God it feels fucking amazing.
You nearly throw your head back from the sheer sensation of it and he’s already lifting your wrists up above you, pinning them to the cushion of the couch.
“Everyone just wants to bother me, everyone just constantly needs me,” he rambles, as he thrusts inside you again and again, the force of his frustration radiating through every movement.
The feeling of his bare cock sliding through the mess of your obscenely wet pussy is a sensation you could get used to. You are already feeling yourself slip, becoming obsessed.
“And yet when they bother me, when they constantly need me… they never listen!”
He slams into you hard at the last word of his sentence, it makes you yelp into a deep moan, your eyelids grow heavy as you stare up at him, his expression tight, every line of his face set with fierce determination.
This is the most he’s ever stared at you during sex. Missionary never stretches this long — by now, he'd have you flipped onto your knees, claiming you from behind, ensuring you feel every relentless inch of him.
But tonight something is shifting as Robby moves inside you, each thrust hard and deliberate, your pussy welcoming him deeper, while a quiet storm brews behind his eyes. The way he looks at you like he’s mustering up something achingly profound.
“What?” you gasp, your voice trembling through soft, desperate moans, certain he hasn’t blinked once.
Silence hangs for a moment, broken only by his ragged breaths and the rhythmic slap of his balls against your ass, filling the room with echoes of it.
Then he speaks, “Look at me. Really look at me.”
A whimper escapes you, and you nod, swearing your eyes are locked on his, but his hand releases your wrist, fingers seizing your face with fierce tenderness, anchoring you so not even a flicker of movement breaks the connection.
“Full eye contact,” he commands, “don’t you dare blink.”
His hand continues to cradle your face with a fierce grip, his lips hovering small hot breaths over yours, brushing them with fleeting, tender kisses before a deep, guttural groan escapes him.
“Robby, you’re gonna come…” you whimper to him, as yet another, even louder groan reverberates through you. You feel his cock pulse inside you, a telltale sign of what’s next.
“Fuck, I need you to lock eyes with me,” he growls, his voice full of desperation, “look at me while I come inside you.” His hand jerks your face upward, the urgency igniting a moan that spills from your lips, drenched in longing. Both of your eyes are pinned into a deep stare.
You feel it — the moment tears through you as he thrusts one final time, deep so that both of your hips begin locking together. His soft, rounded belly presses warmly against you, keeping you leveled into the couch as he pulses inside, filling you with wave after wave of his hot cum, his body shuddering with each surge of it.
“Michael!” you cry, and still he holds your gaze captive, refusing to let your eyes stray even a fraction from his. Sweat beads on his brow, his groans raw and unrestraining, as he claims your trembling lips with a desperate kiss. “Been wanting to do this for so long,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust, “to come inside you and keep pushing it deeper…” His cock nearly gliding out, then sinking back in, slow and deliberate, sealing his wishes with every movement.
The feeling starts to settle into a hypnotic rhythm, soothing you… calming.
His cock, still buried inside, drives his cum deeper with each thrust — the wet, intimate sounds weaving a pornographic lullaby that lulls you into a trance you never want to end.
Your eyes remain locked, an unbroken tether of raw vulnerability, even as his hand snakes between your bodies, finger finding your clit. He rubs with fervent intent, coaxing your walls to clench around his unyielding cock, amplifying the warm, pulsing sensation of his cum inside you.
When it’s all over, when you finally stand, he guides you to move right in front of him as he lounges back on the couch, his gaze heavy with satisfaction. His lips part, a soft, reverent whine escaping as he watches his cum spill from your swollen lips, trickling a glistening path down your thigh.
“I’m never using a condom again,” he says, gently nudging your thighs wider to savor the view. You begin to flush, heat rising to your cheeks, as his cum trails nearly half down your calf.
“I’m okay with that,” you mumble back, meeting his awe-like gaze. The once taut tension from his long day seems to be gone completely, replaced by a serene ease, even as his eyes lift from the glistening mess between your legs to reconnect with yours.
Who knew you’d love this much eye contact.
You’ll be sure he does it again, and much more often.