Chapter Text
From your spot learning on the wall, you watch Jason all but shove Dick out the door of your new apartment, a yelp barely making it out of the man's lips before the door is closed on him. Jason locks the door the second it latches like his family was seconds from breaking the door down before he could. You laugh as he turns to sag against the door, a fondness heavy in your chest.
“They're not allowed back for at least a month,” he groans.
“Jay,” you shuffle til your toes meet his, “they just helped us move into an apartment. You can't ban them for a month.”
He squints down at you, a teasing smirk slowly shifting onto his lips. You slide your hands around his stomach. His arms settle heavy on your shoulders.
“Two weeks is my final offer, no sooner.” He playfully grumbles. You snort at the comment. Like anything he says would keep them away.
“I’m not dealing,” you murmur. You step as close as possible, hands slipping under the back of his shirt to press into his spine to hug him. He sighs, warmth against your forehead as he hugs you back.
The quiet is a relief after the cacophony of the vigilante family moving furniture and boxes. You finally had your own space again. Your own space with Jason. Alone. You tip back slightly to look up at him at the thought.
He'd been grumpy looking the entire moving day. You think it had more to do with his sibling giving him shit then it had to do with the actual move. Now he's smiley, grinning down at you with indescribable joy.
“We live together,” you whisper to him and his cheeks dimple slightly from a smile.
“Together and alone,” he whispers back as he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.
“Premarital,” you speak against his lips and he pulls away with a flat glare pointed at you. That had been what his siblings had teased him. You and Jason weren't married and were still going to live together. Like any of them had a right to tease about it. Like you two hadn't been sharing a bed for a year.
“We were having a moment, sweetheart, and you ruined it,” he shakes his head. His arms pull slightly from your shoulders but you continue to hold him, arms tightening around him and nails digging slightly into skin.
He takes a step away from the door and towards you. You rush to shuffle your feet backwards before you can fall, clinging to him. He continues his course into the apartment, taking you with him. You giggle as you slip slightly down his body and his hands wrap around your back to keep you upright.
Your butt hits the counter of your new kitchen and he doesn't hesitate to lift you up for you to sit. He spreads your legs, fitting himself against you. Your hands slip from under his shirt to wrap around his neck, pulling yourself more flush with him. Your noses bump into each other.
“Hi,” you mutter. His hands take their turn of smoothing up under your shirt, warm rough hands pressing into your skin.
“Hi, baby,” You grin at him and finally move to kiss him, soft and languid. There’s an edge to the way he kisses you back and you almost stop him before remembering, you’re not at the manor anymore. You won’t be interrupted this time. A thrill runs up your spine at the thought and your fingers curl into his hair with a gentle tug. His breath huffs against your lips as he pulls away.
“Sorry,” he breathes out.
“It's okay,” you give him a quick peck, “you can get carried away if you want. Nobody's gonna interrupt us this time.”
You watch the way his eyes shift, his cheeks turning pink. You don't think he’d realised how much freedom you both have to do whatever you want now. His hands slide from the skin of your waist to hold at your hips. He pulls back slightly, a small amount but enough that your arms tighten and you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him close.
He laughs at you, something boyish that makes your stomach flutter, “Whatcha doing, baby?”
“Stopping you from running away.”
“I wasn’t running away. I was just-”
“Pulling away? That's the same thing, babe. I’m serious. You can do … whatever you want to me.” you tell him. It's too broad and you know it, but you really would let Jason do just about anything to you and he’s never done anything other than make out with you.
“Don’t say that, sweetheart.” Jason’s cheeks darken more, his hands squeezing your hips. You can't stop yourself from teasing.
“What? Got something really dirty you want to do?” you giggle. It's light and giddy but you can't help yourself. You wanted to jump Jason long before you two had admitted your feelings to each other and now you actually can do something. Jason was giving you some weird vibes but you assume it's the same excitement.
“You are a terrible, terrible woman.” He buries his face into your neck and you're pulled from the counter. Jason lifts you with ease, hands in an odd respectful hold of your lower half. You cling to him as he walks to the bedroom and climbs onto the newly made bed with its fluffed pillows. He manages his way to the center of the bed, holding you like a koala before settling against the propped pillows,, your legs shifting to straddle him. Finally, you're getting somewhere.
You lean forward to kiss him again and he stops you, "sweetheart, we need to talk.”
You're a little stunned honestly. At this point you thought he’d be calling you sugar in the husky voice he does. Instead he looks nervous. For all the almosts you’d both had, you can't fathom what he could be nervous about.
“Okayyyy, about what?” you sit up right and Jason presses his lips together, a quiet noise escapes his throat. Your head ducks to where you’re sitting on him. Fully clothed and pressed hip to hip. You can feel him, semi-hard despite his nervous appearance.
“Sorry,” you mutter.
“It's fine, just don’t- don’t move. Please.” his eyes close for a second, hand squeezing your hip.
“What do we need to talk about?” you wonder if he’s worried he’ll blow it too soon. You two had been doing your weird courting dance for a year before now. His hand would've been his only company during that time. Nothing wet and warm to keep up his stamina.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I promise. Jay, why would I even laugh at you?”
“It's stupid,” His features turn from nervous to full embarrassed and you start to become worried, “remember how I told you I died?”
The topic transition is astonishing and it takes you a moment to resituate your mind, “yes?”
“I was 15 and Robin. I didn't really have the chance to get around to this.” he gestures between you both and you think you are starting to understand. Your hands ease over his chest, in what you hope is soothing.
“It’s okay if you don't have a lot of experience, Jaybaby. I promise I won't hold it against you,” you give him a smile and he shakes his head.
“You’re impossible.”
“I haven’t done anything!” you laugh and his hands move to squeeze at your waist in a light tickle. He stops the moment you start to squirm, a barely contained sigh escaping him.
“I haven’t done anything,” He mimics your words quietly. At least you assume he is only mimicking you. It takes you a moment of him staring at you to realize that he means it entirely differently.
“What do you mean you haven’t done anything?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh and you take one of his hands and hold it, nodding encouragingly.
“I died, and then I was trained, and then the whole crime lord thing and being a vigilante. I haven’t ever had time for something like this. I never had a reason until you.”
“Am I your first girlfriend?” The question comes out far too giddy. He just told you he was a virgin but his previous relationship statuses seemed more important.
“Not exactly? There was this girl at Gotham Academy. We used to hold hands in the library.”
You give him a tight lipped smile because you promised you wouldn't laugh. You didn't promise you wouldn't tease, “You held hands in the library? What if someone saw you?”
Thankfully Jason takes your joke lightly, his body relaxing into the mattress more. You shift slightly, his breath catching as you lay down on top of him. His smooth up under your shirt, fingers tapping against skin in familiarity.
Your breath softly against his neck and he shivers slightly. Despite the way you can feel him under you, you offer neutral ground.
“We don't have to do anything yet. Whatever pace you want.” You murmur.
“That's not it, sweetheart. Trust me, I've thought about this way too much,” he pauses, “is that weird?”
“No, it just means you find me attractive, Jay. It's quite the boost for me actually.”
“Well, you are the prettiest girl I know.” He says quietly.
“Shut up,” you playfully chide and his fingers pinch lightly at the skin on your back. You flinch against him at the suddenness of it.
He huffs another breath, hands appearing at your hips again, squeezing like they can't decide what to do, “Hold still, Jesus."
“You pinched me!” Your hands press into the sheets as you sit up just enough to look down at him.
“I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking,” he nearly grits the words out, hands still holding your hips tightly.
You decide to cut him some slack for the virgin he is. You can't believe you didn't know, that you couldn't tell. Looking back you just assumed Jason was just a tease, dragging you both too close to something before pushing away..
“What do you want, babe? If it's not about waiting to do something, what is it?” you manage to get your hand to his face, softly stroking the scar along his cheek. He leans just slightly into it and his hands finally ease their hold in your hips.
His cheeks, still pink, darken again, making even his tan skin red. He gnaws on his lip before he answers you slowly, "I want you to teach me. I want to make sure that you feel good.”
“I always feel good around you,” you say softly before the first part filters through your mind. Your stomach flips at what he's asking you.
“You really haven't had any sexual interactions?” You don't ask to patronize, you just want to know what he knows.
“I mean,” he turns embarrassed again, “I've watched some porn.”
You click your tongue, “that's such a guy thing to say.”
He shrugs, "I thought I was losing my mind when I came back to the dead. Me and Bruce never really had any talks like that before, so the internet was my next bet.”
“Don’t believe any of it.” You say sitting back up with an unintentional grind against him. He makes a startled noise from his throat before coughing lightly. It makes you snort at his attempts to cover up the noise.
You take in a deep breath before tugging up the hem of your shirt just above your belly button, “is this okay?”
Jason's eyes that were focused on the bare skin of your stomach snaps up to meet your eyes. He nods slowly and you're not sure he understands what you even asked.
You pull the fabric higher and then up and off your body. It's only after the fabrics cleared your head that shyness takes over. This shouldn't be as unnerving as it is. Jason's seen you in your underwear before, nearly a year ago when he bathed you. You'd never asked if he looked, if he liked what he saw.
Your arms cross slightly over your stomach as he stares, eyes tracing every exposed inch of you. You want to squirm under his heated gaze. You wonder if you should have waited, worn a nicer bra then the ratty one you were wearing for moving day. Maybe you should have showered, slathered yourself in sweet smelling lotions, or even shaved.
Your shirt was off and you were starting to regret the longer he looked and then his eyes met yours. Your breath catches in your throat at the tender look he gives and you can't believe you'd worried.
His hands find yours to pull your arms away from your body and his eyes drag down again, wanting, “Oh, my gorgeous girl.”
Your hands squeeze his at the way he says it, quietly, near reverent. He squeezes back before letting one hand go to hover over your waist, a question in his eyes. You nod, smiling slightly. He acts like his hands hadn't just been there moments before when you had your shirt on.
The wide warmth of his hand on your skin makes you want to wriggle in his lap. It moves up your waist and hits the bottom edge of your bra. His hand stops and then goes back down.
“Jason,” you say quietly, trying not to break the intimate energy of the room, “you can touch me more if you want.”
“Yeah? I don't-” he lets out a near frustrated sigh. You remember what he'd asked, teach me.
You wouldn't call yourself an expert. The only difference between you and Jason is that you had a tad bit more experience then him and you knew what your body liked most of the time.
“It’s okay,” you start, taking his hand in yours and guiding back up to your chest, “you have surprisingly good instincts, Jason. You had me hot and bothered plenty of times before and you didn’t even know you were doing it. I'll tell you if I hate something.”
You encourage his hand over your cover breast. The moment he squeezes lightly, you wish you'd taken your bra off first. You'd wanted Jason to touch you like this for months but you don't want to scare him by your apparent unadulterated lust for him.
Your hand leaves his to let him explore a little, enjoying the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the skin of your cleavage. Your head tips to the side as you watch the way he stares, enamored. You'd laugh if you didn't feel so pent up.
One of his fingers hooks into the point where the strap of your bra meets the cup. He looks up at you, pupils slightly blown and asks quietly, “can I?”
Honestly, you have no idea what he's asking but you meant it that you'd let Jason do just about anything to you. You nod slowly and he easily tugs. Your strap slips from your shoulder, the fabric of the cup crushed as he pulls it more out of the way.
Breast bare, his hand touches your skin, gentle and soft as he cups it. You sigh quietly when his thumb ghosts over your nipple. Ever the observer, he repeats the motion, eyes glancing up and down between your breasts and your face.
Jason hadn't thought too hard about all this before simply because if he did, he got rock hard in seconds, just like he was right now and he always felt guilty when he touched himself to the thought of you.
He understood what you'd said about porn not being real. Early in his sexual experiences he hadn't thought much about it but after he met you, started to think about you like that, most of the videos felt negative and rough. He'd never want to treat you like that.
He'd do the opposite, warm and affectionate, soft. You deserved that after everything he'd put you through, you deserved to be handled gently. Part of him worried being him would make that impossible, rough around the edges, forever simmering anger, but you hadn't faltered away from him and his feelings. You leaned into it like now.
You stared down at him, eyes already lidded, lips parted. You were such a sight. He wishes he could control his dick more with the way it jumps under you when you lick your lips.
“You can-” you pause, humming, “pinch, can you pinch?”
“You were just complaining about me pinching you,” he murmurs, thumb still gently swapping over your nipple as it peaks up from his touch.
“Not like that,” you let out a shuddery laugh, head falling back as you suck in a breath. Jason watches your hand tug the other cup of your bra down, releasing your other tit. His hand stops just to stare as you touch yourself. You grapple with your breast, squeezing it a moment before your thumb and pointer finger find your nipple and just like you'd said, pinch.
Jason watches for a moment and then he copies you. Pinching the hardened nub between his fingers.
“Like that?” He hums and you nod, eyes returning to his.
“Yeah, and you could like, twist a little,” your lip slips between your teeth and Jason worries he's pinched too hard, but your eyes have this hazy look he's never seen before and he's finding it a little addicting so he does what you ask. He copies your movements again, a light pull and turn.
Your chest juts, a noise escaping your throat. Worst of all, your hips move in a shuttered motion. He pinches harder on accident as a groan escapes him. It makes your hips shift more and Jason's hands leave your skin in a rush. This was not working.
You blink at him from the loss of his touch, still pinching your own nipple. You wonder if you got too excited. Before you can open your mouth to apologize, Jason is.
“Sorry, sweetheart. You keep moving like that, I'm gonna cum in my jeans.”
A thrill runs up your spine at his words. You'd just started and he was already struggling. Sure being virgin doesn't help him much but the idea that some second base touching was doing it for him made you giggle.
“Think that's funny?” He chided with a soft smile.
“Course I do” you tease and he sits up, hands sliding around your bare back to hold you chest to chest. The fabric of his T rubs against your pebbled nipples and it makes you want to squirm but you stay still for his sake.
“So mean,” he murmurs and you do squirm then because that the voice he'd use that had gotten you riled up for months, “just trying to do right by you, sugar.”
You kiss him then because you think you might lose your mind if you don't. His fingers follow up your back to the clasp of your bra. You keep kissing as he fiddles until he pulls back with a sigh.
“What?” You murmur, ignorant of his plight when you can kiss along his cheek and jaw.
“Your bra, sweetheart. I'm sorry.” he sounds only mildly embarrassed over the manner and you kiss him for trying as your hands move back to undo the clasp.
“Not your fault. This one's finicky, the hooks are a little bent.” You lean back to pull the fabric from your body and fling somewhere in the room. Your back on him the moment it's left your fingertips, arms circling his neck so you can kiss him again.
One of his hands returns to cup your breast between you, giving your nipple a light pinch as your tongues slip past each other. You can't help the whine that escapes you, hips shifting again. Jason pulls back and shakes his head.
“Can’t do this,” he mutters and you cling to him as he rolls over, laying you on your back. Your hair spills as you settle and Jason kisses you for it, “my pretty girl.”
Your heart thrums from the light possessiveness of the term of endearment. His lips trail from yours to your cheek, jaw, neck. They turn wetter at your clavicle and it makes your back arch in anticipation.
“Jay,” you sigh as his lips move lower and lower, body squirming under him. He presses against the top or your breast, moving slowly around your nipple.
“tease” you hum and his lips wrap around your nipple in retaliation. He doesn't do anything beyond that, just letting the heat of his mouth envelop you. You chest juts uselessly and you remind yourself that Jason wanted to learn.
You feel a little embarrassed for the words that leave your mouth but you say them nonetheless, “suck a little.”
Your eyes drop to his as best you can, skin hot as you add, “please.”
He's gentle about it, because of course he is, a soft suckle that makes your chest press into his mouth more, a whimpered noise escaping you as your hips attempt to grind up against him. He keeps himself hovering above you, too far for your clothed center to rub against. You settle back down on the sheets with a shaky noise escaping you in a complaint that grows louder when his mouth leaves you.
“Fuck, what was that?” He mutters against your skin, kissing softly around your nipple. His voice, low and gravely, makes you squirm again, a hand sliding into his hair to tug. He groans, pressing his face into the valley of your breasts.
“More. Don't want you to stop,” you pant, feeling wired from so little touching, wetness seeping into your panties. Your tense body eases as he breaths against your chest and you release his hair. You shake your head trying to clear it, “sorry.”
“Hmm?” he hums in questions, lifting his head to meet your eyes.
“I don't want to be too much for you,” you admit, “it’s just that I’ve been waiting for you to touch me like this for a while, Jay.”
“Too much,” he kisses at your sternum, the words mumbled like he's been insulted, “you could never be too much. Want all of you all the time.”
His lips move to proceed his kissing and sucking on your other nipple, just a bit more than the other. A sighed whine escapes you and you arch again, less jerky as your fingers pressing into his shoulder.
One of his hands presses into your waist as your arch, hot and rough against the bare skin. Then he smooths down fingers dipping accidentally into the waistband of your pants. He freezes, as do you, anxiously awaiting his next move.
His mouth leaves you and his eyes meet yours again, communicating without words. You use the hand near his neck to pull him down to kiss you. Despite the heated touches, he kisses you softly, the same way he had the first time, like he was trying to figure it out or you.
“What do you want?” You whisper when he pulls away, heartbeat loud in your chest. He kisses you again, stalling. His fingers fiddle with the button of your pants, more intentioned.
“Show me,” he pants against your lips.
“Show you?” You question, “you have to take your shirt off then.”
His hands pause and he pulls back, settling between your legs on his knees with a small grin, “what?”
You follow, sitting up on your elbows, “you're gonna have me naked, you have to at least take your shirt off. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
He does laugh then, a wide grin on his lips that makes you smile. Oh how you'd missed the ease of that smile. His hand finds your ankle slowly slipping up your leg with tender squeezes.
“I love you,” he states once his laugh dies down. Your heart swells, smile widening. You don't know that you'll ever be used to that, hearing him say that without fighting some unknown source.
“You mean the world to me,” you answer and he shakes his head.
“We're not doing that anymore, baby. Come on, be honest with me,” he tugs at your knee, wiggling your leg.
“I love you, Jason,” you tell him sincerely, chest aching with the weight of it, “so much.”
“That's my girl,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your knee, “you want my shirt off?”
“Yes, please,” you sit up more on your hands.
“So polite,” he teases and you know he didn't say it with the intent to make you squirm but his tone, the words do make you squirm, hips shifting, thighs attempting to close.
Thankfully, he's distracted trying to get his shirt off. It's only helpful to that point because then there's a shirtless Jason Todd between your legs and it makes you want to squirm worse.
“Oh my god,” you lay back down to hide your face. Control yourself, “how are you this attractive? It's unfair.”
He snorts and you’re suddenly tugged closer to him, a squeak escaping you. You peek between your fingers. He's got your thighs settled over his, knees pressing into his hips. He's closer and closer means you can touch.
“Shy?” He teases again but you ignore him, one hand moving to push you up and the other making its way to press against his stomach. The muscles twitch under your fingers and he clears his throat.
Your fingers trace over a few scars before it bumps against the autopsy scar, “it doesn't hurt, does it?”
Your eyes meet his and he shrugs, hands pressing into your hips, “not usually. Can we save it for later?”
His fingers find your button and zipper again. Your own hands mimic his, dropping down his stomach to press at the bulge in his pants. His hips buck at the pressure, a choked groan escaping him. He grabs your wrist, tugging your hand away.
“Let's not do that,” mumbles with reddened skin. You watch the blush grow from his cheeks down his chest with a pleased smile.
He finally undoes your pants, hands curling into the waist band and tugging them down, lifting your hips for you. Your legs are awkwardly pressed to your chest as he pulls them off your feet. You giggle the whole time, uselessly letting him get the job done.
His fingers hook into your underwear and he pauses, legs pushed over one of his shoulders. He gives you a guilty look, “sorry, sweetheart. Is this- is this okay?”
“It's perfect, Jay. Keep going. I told you your instincts were good.” You tell him, squirming from the pause, almost being entirely bare to him.
“Are you sure?”
“You want me to show you or not?” Your words are a little heated but it's only because this has been months in the making. You want him to touch you sooner rather than later, though you're not entirely sure what he was asking when he'd said show me.
“Bossy? What happened to being polite?”
“You're the worst,” your words trail into a squeak when he lifts your hips for you again. Your panties are pulled from under your butt and slipped down your thighs. Jason resituates you once you're naked back to where you were with your thighs spread over his. Either out of instinct or overt shyness, your hands drop to cover your cunt.
“Sorry,” he apologizes again, hands moving up and down your thighs in what you're sure he thinks is soothing, all it does is make you squirm more. Your hand covering yourself bumps against him in his jeans.
“Jesus, stop that,” his hands find your hips holding you still.
“You got me all worked up,” you complain, “what do you want from me?”
“Want you to show me, sugar.”
“What does that mean?” Now you were flustered because Jason was staring at all of you like you'd disappear in a moment's notice. His eyes stop where you cover yourself.
“Want you to show me how you touch yourself.”
Your stomach drops at his request, “you wanna watch me masturbate?”
Jason looks as anxious as you feel about the matter, but one of his hands finds your cheek, “we don't have to if you don't want. It's- you know your body better than anyone.”
“Ah,” you understand now. You collect all the snippets of your conversation. He wanted to learn and he wanted you to feel good. He wanted to learn how you made yourself feel good.
“I’ve never- nobodies watched me like that before,” you tell him shyly.
“It's just for a little bit, then I can help.” Despite the implication of his words, his thumb strokes your cheek lovingly.
“Okay,” you muster up the courage to move with his words. He was going to touch you, you just needed to show him how first.
You shift slowly, one hand moving to hold his at your hip and the other presses against your lower lips, collecting wetness. You look up at the ceiling instead of staring at Jason. Your damp fingers drag up pressing softly to your clit.
“Can you-” you pause to clear your throat, “can you see alright?”
“Yeah,” Jason’s answers, voice heavier, deeper then you’ve heard before. You chance looking at him and you feel yourself grow wetter from how he stares. His eyes glued to your fingers as you move them in slow circles. It was like he was entranced by your pussy.
“You're so wet,” he murmurs as his free hand moves to push your thigh wider. You have to remind yourself to breathe.
“Shit,” you whisper, head dropping back against the bed and closing your eyes. Your thigh twitches in his hold as you press slightly harder against your clit.
“Why’re you so wet?” He asks lowly and you flinch when you feel his thumb presses at your entrance gathering slick.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back, “I couldn't help myself.”
“I’m fuckin’ horny, that’s why I’m wet. You can’t just-” you trail off, sexual frustration hitting you square in the chest. You press down on your clit even more, hips shifting up.
Jason just laughs, a surprised snort, no doubt from your language, “fuckin’ horny, huh? I can't tell.”
“Jason,” you whine, back arching.
“Fuck, okay I’m sorry,” his hands hot and rough, spreading your thighs more, “tell me what to do, sugar. Let me help.”
“Okay, okay,” you nod, squeezing your eyes shut, “your fingers.”
“My fingers what? I get the feeling you think I know more than I do, honey. Tell me.” His words ring true. Jason bleeds sex appeal and it was killing you a little that he wasn't just going for it.
“God, this feels so embarrassing,” you mutter but pull your hand away from yourself, “like this.”
You press your ring finger and middle finger together and press your pinky and pointer finger down. You drop your hand back to your cunt, slipping past your clit to press the fingers into wetness. You push slowly into your entrance with fingers with a sigh, thrusting lightly before pulling your fingers back up to your clit.
“Okay?” You question him, opening your eyes to make sure. He's still staring down at you, fascinated. You'd feel like a science experiment if it weren't for how you could see him twitch in his pants.
“Yeah,” he breathes out after a beat, “ this?”
He mimics your finger place and brings his hand down. You clench from the anticipation alone.
“Yes,” you fingers still on your clit, body focused on him and his movements.
The press of his fingers makes your breath hitch and a shaky breath escapes him. His touch is different, so used to your fingers, but then he presses in more and, “oh.”
“Oh?” He questions, hand stilling. Your hips squirm and his other hand grips at your thigh like that would stop you. Your cheeks burn from the feel of him, his stare, and the very thought that made the noise leave.
“Your fingers. They're, um, they're thicker? Then mine?” You stutter out and he presses his fingers deeper. You gasp at the stretch.
“Yeah?” The question given the circumstance, the word could be taunting, teasing but Jason's voice is only curious.
“Yeah,” you nod, slowly starting to pant as his fingers slide back out slowly, “it's, uh, you're stretching me.”
“What?” His hand stops and it makes you release a sagging laugh.
“It's okay,” you placate, "it's just my fingers don't usually make me feel a stretch but yours do cause your fingers are bigger than mine.”
“You can feel it?”
You laugh again, "you'd feel it if I slid my fingers all up and down your dick wouldn't you?”
“Please don't talk about that,” he mutters and promptly pushes his fingers back into you. You clench because how could you not.
“Can feel you sweetheart,” his hand that was on your thigh moves to lay on your lower stomach, “that's insane.”
You want to kick him. Sounding so enamored with his fingers stuffed in you and his hand pressing down on your tummy. It wasn't doing as many favors as you thought.
“If you could, just-” you make a come motion with the two fingers.
“If I could,” he scoffs. He pushes fingers in entirely and does as you ask, rough fingertips brushing against that spongey spot in moments.
Your hips twitch and you sigh, “yup, yup. That's it. Just do it again and again and aga…”
Your fingers return to their slow circling around your clit. Your hand is promptly smacked away, replaced by the pads of his finger. A pitchy moan leaves you and you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the feeling of him but then he starts talking.
“So wet, sugar. Jesus never seen anything like this,” his voice, low, makes you squeeze around his fingers, hips bucking as he strokes your clit, “tighten right up, my god. Thank you, honey. Thank you for letting me help.”
You flinch at the heat of his lips against your inner thigh. He sucks softly at the skin as he slips lower.
“What are you-” you start sitting up chest tight in anticipation because you think you know.
“Porns porn but there is some truth to it right?” He murmurs, hot breath ghosting over your clit as he removes hand, fingers still curling inside you.
“I, uh, I guess,” you stare at him in wait hips halted in the squirming by his hand.
“You guess,” he coos and presses a soft close to your clit. You jump solely from nerves.
“Relax, sugar,” he mutters as his fingers curl. His tongue slips out to lick over your clit. You drop back against the bed, hand smacking over your mouth to stop the wanton moan that attempts to leave you, pleasure coursing up your spin.
Regretfully, you're very pleased Jason's watched porn because you would have never asked him to do this.
His tongue slips softly against your clit as his fingers keep curling inside. Your body tenses, hips searching for more. Noises escape you that you don’t even recognize from yourself. Then his slips cover your clit and just like your nipples, he sucks.
“Jason,” you moan, body tensing and squirming. He hums against you or moans, you're not entirely sure but all you know is your vision blacks for a moment. Your thighs squeezing around his head as he sucks and licks at your clit, making you thrash slightly.
Your hand smacks at his head as it becomes too much all at once, though your thighs still squeeze him. His hand easily presses into your thigh, fingers wet, as he pulls himself away from you.
You stare at him wide eyed and panting, “sorry.”
“What for?” he grins just as out of breath, skin red, “sweetheart, that was the hottest thing I've ever been a part of.”
He climbs over you with wet lips finding your neck in what feels like a too delicate kiss. He finds your own lips next. You thread a shaky hand through his hair as you sigh into the kiss. Your other hand trails down his chest, fingertips slipping into his waistband before he catches your wrist.
“That’s not-” he pants against your lips. “You don't need to do anything.”
You peck at his lips, haphazard and open mouthed, “wanna make you feel good too.”
“You did,” he whispers against your lips, embarrassment leaking into his voice.
“Didn't even touch you,” you push your head into the bed, look at him better but he chases after you, heated cheek pressing to yours. You can feel the hint of a grin against your cheek.
“Didn't have to,” he mutters. It takes you a minute to get what he's talking about and why he's hiding from you.
“Did you?”
“Told you that was the hottest thing I've ever been a part of,” he groans in full embarrassment.
You can't help the light giggle in your chest. You curl your arm around his neck to hug him.
“You're laughing at me,” he mumbles against your neck but doesn't pull away from you, just slips under your waist to hug you back.
“It's ‘cause I love you. I thought I was insane from how horny you made me feel but you came just from eating me out. I'm relieved.” You admit, fingers gently carding through his hair.
“relieved? Awful woman.” He kisses at your skin again, warm and delicate.
You laugh again then murmur in his ear, “still wanna make you feel good. When you're ready, let me know.”
He presses his face into your neck more and you barely make out the muffled repeat, “awful woman.”