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Adam was never very good when it came to privacy. It wasn’t too much of a big deal— he was desensitized to your naked body and so were you with his. You had many intimate encounters together, laying beside one another naked, taking baths, dressing each other, hell, you even caught him once watching you strip into your see through night garments. It was normal despite the fact you two never even named the relationship you had with one another. Were you lovers? Was he just using you? Simply not the latter, he wouldn’t do such a thing.
You always wondered what you even were to him— you knew of his background after emotional conversations late at night beside a candle flame. You knew of the origin of his scars and super human strength abilities he possessed and the strange regenerative component of his very being. But you hadn’t exactly talked about why you would touch each other late into the night or how he would slide his enlarged and hard manhood between your thighs, feeling the slick that laid bare against him. You never spoke of the way he softly groaned your name into your hair, or the way you’d reply with his name, never say a word about when he would spill his passion across your skin. The morning after, he’d act like it was all a dream, like it never happened.
You didn’t know how much longer you could keep up with that.
It wasn’t until you had come home from tending to the sheep outside that you found Adam seated in front of the fireplace, loose brown shirt buttoned halfway up his chest, his chestnut hair falling across his face. You see him with a leather bound book in his lap.
“Found an interesting book?” He took to your bookshelf like a moth to a flame the moment you had invited him into your cabin years ago. You encouraged his passion and made sure to try to get at least two books every trip to the village market. He hummed in response.
He looks up at you, his cheeks tinged a darker hue. His lashes bat slowly as he contorts a sentence together. “Very interesting,” He says softly, turning his gaze back down at the pages. His fingertips follow the line of text.“‘Her silky dress slipped off the moment the ribbons came undone. Letting it pool around her feet, she steps out of her clothing and cups her soft hands over her breasts. Her nipples harden beneath—“
You snatch the book out of his grasp, leaving his hands only holding air, he purses his lips gently when he hears you slam the book closed. He turns to you.
“You oppose the book? Then why have it?”
You looked down at him with tinged cheeks, eyes glancing back at the erotica in your hand. “I— I don’t oppose the book—“
“I can tell,” He says, sitting criss crossed on the wooden floorboards, there’s a smug look on his face and he points his chin at the wooden box he took out from underneath your bed. “You’ve got a whole collection you were hiding from me.”
You stumble over your words, blushing profusely and curling your hands into fists. “Th—that’s simply not— That preposterous— it’s ridiculous— I don’t— I—“ You look to Adam who stares at you with a knowing gaze, his pupils blown out till they look like two black marbles. His lips part, hand reach out as he lets out a plea.
“May I continue reading? I promise to not read out loud.”
You look at each other for a moment, the internal fight within you a raging fire as two halves fight over if you should give it back or not. He already knows half of these things by now, he might as well keep reading. Who knows? Maybe he could learn a thing or two from them.
Your outstretched arm gives Adam the book back who snatches it from your hand much like how you did earlier. His nose is deep into the pages, eyes tracing over the sinful words taking space on the pages. He’s enjoying these much more than you ever thought he could. You huff, grabbing the shears as you head out the front door again. “Adam,” He finishes the sentence he was reading before looking back to you, his eyes glazed over with only a look you could describe as sultry. “Next time ask if you find a hidden away box of things.” You shudder at the thought of him finding your journals and exposing himself to the deep desires you’ve written about him. Adam stares back at you with a pout.
“It wasn’t my intention to upset you. I am sorry,” he bows his head a little, tilting his head back to the book, closing the conversation.
“You’re forgiven. I’m not that upset. I’m more embarrassed than anything,” You admit. He acknowledged you with a grumble and you let yourself get back to tending the sheep.
That night, after having made dinner and serving a piping hot bowl to Adam and yourself, he has a book open beside his meal. One hand holds his spoon and the other bends the spine of his book back, eyes never leaving the pages. He blindly leads the spoon to his mouth and you watch the grace he has even in these candid moments. He tucks his hair behind his ear when he lowers his head and mouths the words on the page. You can barely make out the words he whispers.
“His mouth…mound…tongue slides across…fingers dip…”
You clear your throat and it seems to break him out of his stupor. “Enjoying the book?” Adam nods, his finger keeping its place where he stopped. He takes another big bite of stew.
“I’m on the third one,” he wipes his mouth with his thumb and toys with his spoon. “This type of writing is…fascinating.”
“Erotic writing?” You lean your elbow on the table— intrigued. “What’s fascinating about it?”
Adam looks up at you then from his bowl, he suddenly seems nervous, his throat bobs when he swallows hard and he rubs a middle finger over his temple as he comes up with his answer. “I suppose the language and choice of words…and the…actions of the characters.”
Taking a small bite, you mumble an understanding. “Mm, the sex acts?”
“Yes,” he says firmly, aware of the taboo implications of the topic. “The man…he…he does…certain acts on his partner. Ones we’ve done before.” It takes everything to keep your poker face in check. “He says things to her.”
“Like what?” Your cheeks redden, the room is beginning to get warm and your skin dampens under the heat. You’re sinful, asking him to read aloud the dirty talk in your erotic books. To hear Adam say the words you had imagined at every turn of the page, though, left you aching to watch it ooze from his mouth.
He finds a page, lips parting as his low voice fills your ears. ___“‘Pray tell, my love, how shall I have you? Shall I begin with my fingers or tongue? Work you open with one perhaps?’ His fingers find her, slipping one in with little effort. ‘I must beseech your indulgence and implore you to grant me this favor, please.’”___
His voice is like honey and better than you ever imagined. Your entire being shivers, eyes fluttering shut as the rest of the world dissipates around you as you listen to the hot promises that drip from Adam’s mouth.
“‘Forgive my improper entreaty, love, but I must add another,’ Two slip inside and she cries out her lover's name. Glistening with her own seed, it oozes past his fingers and the gentleman lowers his head. His mouth places itself over her mound, tongue—“
You stand up, the wooden chair toppling over in the process and crashing with a bang. It echoes in the stunned silence and Adam shoots a worried look. He didn’t notice that you wolfed down the rest of the stew as he read, your cheeks stuffed with food. You say something around your food that he doesn’t understand.
“Sounds like a lovely book,” you spit out after swallowing barely chewed food. “I— I remember the first time I read that one! Couldn’t put it down, it was very intriguing—“ Why in the devil's name are you telling him that, you fool?!
Adam looks dumbly down at the book, switching back to the page he was on. “It’s good, I suppose.”
No other word was spoken after that, he kept to his book and you to your sewing. Both of you taking your spots in front of the fireplace after dinner. The candles flame lick lights across the room as the sun settles in the horizon. The room grows a golden hue, Adam’s eyes glance towards you when he finishes another chapter— his glowing eye settles across your face. It trails down your figure, watching the way your gentle hands work the needle and thread. Something bubbles deep in the bowels of his stomach, his fingers grip the book tightly as the last scene in the book settles into the very forefront of his mind.
The man, holding his partner down, tearing her dress off and ravaging her body until she’s begging for mercy. His tongue working between her legs to the point where she thrusts against his nose and he’s forced to press his tongue deep inside her. The idea of you and him doing that very same act. He doesn’t notice his purring until you lift your head to meet his intense gaze.
“You feeling okay?” Immediately, you’re forgetting your work, setting it to the side to give him your full attention. The fluttering in your stomach hasn’t ceased since dinner, the sound of him turning the page a reminder of what exactly he was reading. Adam shakes his head, tearing his eyes away from you but the contents of the book in his lap didn’t help the blood rushing down his nether region.
He nods, “I am fine.” He’s usually not good at small talk— this you know but something was different tonight. Mayhaps you’re just reading too far into it or maybe he’s feeling the exact same way as you. You consider going back to your work before you hear the gentle bubbling of the boiling water in the fireplace. With a startling sound and throwing on your mitts, you’re up off the rocking chair and grabbing the pot of water. “Water is ready,” you mention over your shoulder. Adam towers behind you in tow, his anxious aura pulsating around you. He’s quiet, even his steps, despite how large he is, barely make a sound besides the one squeaky floor boarded steps across.
You pour the water into the small tub. Once a week you two share a bath, passing the sponge between you two and taking turns getting each other's back. You always let your thoughts wonder then, blushing deeply when he’d touch you or stare at you longer than necessary. He always looked at you like one admires the moon— eyes blown out in wonder and admiration.
You have your back to him as you submerge the sponge into the water, your clothing still damp with sweat and sticking to your skin from the egregious farm work. You sigh, standing to your full height and you can feel the warmth of Adam standing inches from you.
You feel his breath on your neck before you feel his fingers playing with the collar of your garment. A gasp escapes your mouth, louder than you expected and Adam pauses for a moment. After a few beats, he continues— his fingers glide over the winding ribbons that tighten your clothing. Hooking a finger into one, he pulls gently, it barely gives and you’re pulled further back. The back of your head gently presses to his chest, his chin drops to the top of your scalp. “Forgive me,” he mumbles into your hair. He tugs harder, your mouth falls open at the eroticism of it all and the ribbon comes undone.
His fingers feel cold against your hot skin. The threads fall over his hands, the cream color a strong contrast to his blue skin. His blackened fingertips dip past the open splice of fabric and he elegantly slides his digits across your back. It sends a trail of goosebumps across your skin, you breath through gritted teeth and shut your eyes. Everything is silent, only the sound of your heavy breathing and racing heart.
Like how he holds a book— his fingers drag across you, pushing the fabric like flipping a page. It was easy, natural, second nature to him and though his hands trembled with a new understanding of his feelings, he still holds the confidence to urge your clothes to fall into a circled heap at your feet.
You bite a breath, struggling to keep your hands at your sides when you feel his warm gaze on your skin, the heat already overwhelming. Adam lets out a breath and a rumble can be felt through your ribcage— he growls, turning into a purr and places a hand on your shoulder. He turns you around, you obey his touch, holding your stare down at the floor as his feet come into view.
The creature’s hand hesitates, hovering right over your breast. Your nipple pebbles hard under the cold air and your blood rushes to your ears like a storm. He tightens his hand into a fist and draws it back to himself. You look up then when he starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. His fingers— like they have a mind of their own— jolt and stretch out, making it more difficult for him to undo them. You understand now why he always took to the looser, simple shirts he chose out of your late fathers closet. With a small, understanding smile, your fingers guide his to undress himself.
There’s a comfortable but thick silence between you two in this moment. You, completely nude, Adam, stripping his shirt off with a shrug and then focusing on undoing his belt. You can’t help but notice the shape of him, that familiar girth pressing against the fabric. He catches your eye for a moment and as if in a trance, you stare back at him. He slowly blinks, an understanding written across his face. He’s very much aware of the tension between you two.
It’s impossible to not notice just how excited he is, clear as day even before he stripped his trousers off. Now it bobs with each step and you can see the relief flutter across his face when the cold air hits it. He draws his hair back with his large hands and you take the time to admire his scarred body. It takes every ounce of self control to not follow the thin scars that paint his beautiful skin. You couldn’t possibly believe how anyone could be afraid of this— his skin, like marble and soft as your pillows, practically glows under the candle light. Each strip of skin a different shade, different complexion but no less gorgeous.
“Do you want me to start first?” His question breaks you out of your trance and you notice your hand directly on his lower stomach. Index finger pressing to the scar that travels down his happy trail, you pull it back, feeling caught red handed. Lifting the sponge, you wet it with the warm water.
“Sorry, I— I wasn’t thinking…turn around please.” He does as he’s told. His shoulders seem tense, his entire being pulled taught like a rubber band ready to strike back at any moment. When the warm water slips down his naked back, he relaxes slightly, letting loose a drawn out purr you can feel when you brace your other hand on his waist. You wipe down his back, scrubbing the block of soap to agitate the suds and clean him proper. Adam grumbles like when you get the right scratch on a dog's ear, you can feel it reverberate throughout your body and it sends a shiver of need for him down to between your legs. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat, you rinse him off, tapping him with the sponge for him to take it. Adam turns around, ears tinged with a red-like hue, his lips grind across one another, jaw clenching. He can’t meet your eyes.
He asks in a small voice. “Would you…keep bathing me…please?” He rarely asks for anything— how can you deny him such an intimate act?
The sponge brushes across his chest, suds trailing across his moon kissed skin. The warmth of the water makes your heart race and you can feel his pattering against his chest when you touch a pec with your free hand. You clean his shoulders, arms, neck, his sternum and then travel down to his stomach. There you go lower and lower, your fingers curl and create crescent divots into his skin when you reach his navel. You both gasp, realizing just how close you are to where he’s the warmest and neediest. Adam can hear his incessant heart pumping blood throughout his body but he keeps his eyes fixated onto you, watching the way your cheeks burn bright, the edge of your ears becoming a similar color. He feels a sort of self-adulation knowing he was the one making you feel this way. It didn’t help with his sense of possessiveness over you he had grown to have.
You continue on, gathering your jumbling thoughts and avoiding the obvious hard-on of his. You barely feel when your wrist brushes across his tip as you scrub his inner thigh. Adam releases a hiss through his teeth, his throat purring at the tease. “I…I am sorry…I can’t…It refuses to calm…” He says so innocently. “I pray you’re not uncomfortable?” He’s looking for reassurance. You look up at him and smile.
“I’m fine, I think. It’s just…you know.” He seems sheepish now, drawing into himself and folding his arms across his chest like a woman hiding her naked bosom. It makes you laugh and you pry his arms away, fingers weaving. “We’ve done more than this, Adam.” His name on your tongue is like a hymn to him, you could say it over and over and he’d never grow tired of it. A name he chose for himself, something that belongs to him is said with such love and kindness— he has no clue what to do with himself. His eyes flutter shut, lips curling into a small smile.
“It is strange,” He begins, opening his arms to you and pulling the sponge from your hand. He wets it, squeezes it and bubbly water trickles over his wrist. “I’ve felt the most intimate parts of you with…my own,” he stumbles, he turns you around to scrub your back. The melodies of the creatures out in the night seem to drown out as Adam carefully washes you. “And yet this very act…the way I’m—“ His large hand presses into your lower back, indicating for you to turn back around. You do with bated breath, eyes screwed shut. You know your bright red considering Adam lets out a breathy chuckle. You can hear his purr as he pushes back the baby hairs on your hairline. “The way we are right now,” He scrubs at your breasts, under them and around your own navel. An electric current jolts from his body to yours. “It feels so much closer than ever before.”
Threatening to take a peek, you bravely crack open an eye to look up at him. His eyes radiate a certain marvel about them— like you hung the stars and moon into the sky. You feel more naked than before with his eyes caressing you in such a way that made it feel like your very chest opened up to reveal its inner workings. He can see your thumping heart, your rushing lungs, the beauty of a ribcage that holds it all together. The overwhelming warmth takes over and you step closer to him.
“I feel the same way.”
He seems to catch his breath in his throat, his hand faltering where a patch of hair sits between your legs. The sponge drops from his hand. His fingers just barely graze the small trail leading downward and you hold your breath. Lips parting, eyes frantically drinking up the beauty of your face with the candles flickering orange across it. He drinks up the scent of you, wanting so badly to draw you closer in and hold you, touch you, lay you down and—
“Can I ask you something?” He blurts, his voice sounding lighter and holding a level of anxiety. You only remembered him being this nervous the first time you two had met years ago. You nod, bringing a hand to his forearm to offer some comfort. His teeth tug on his inner cheek, eyelashes lowering before he finds the confidence to stare back at you once more. “Those books…I’ve been reading…I would like to experience one of the…scenes that was described to me…in which they copulated…”
Something washes over you, perhaps it’s the arousal ever growing inside you, or the nerves of the idea that he wants you. He asks so freely of it, aware of the uninhibited request that falls off his tongue and yet asking it with such reverence and innocence that it makes your chest fill with such an overwhelming feeling. You cup his cheek, letting out a laugh through your nose. “How shall you have me?” You play into a sultry tone, stepping close until your naked, wet bodies are pressed together. His desire for you pokes at your stomach at his full height and the girth and size of it does not get lost on you. You've felt it between your thighs before. You’ve stayed up late into the night with the company of only your hand to simulate what you wanted— needed from him. Your fingers could never be enough.
His hands now hover over your body, stopping where he begins to feel the heat radiating off of you as if you’ll burn him like the very fire lit across the room. Adam’s mouth quivers as he tries to come up with what to say— so many thoughts racing through his pieced together head that he looks to short circuit. Of course he thought of things he wanted to do to you, but having to choose one for the time being? How could he—
Then he remembered what he had read tonight; his fingertips guiding over the words that described an act of sex he had never even considered. Just the thought made saliva collect in his mouth, almost spilling over the edge of his lip. He sucks it back up before finally laying his hands on you and hugging you close so you were practically nose-to-nose. “Let me take you to bed…and I can show you?” So polite, so reverent, still asking for sanction. How can you say no?
He picks you up with minimal effort, his supernatural strength just another thing you adore about him, the very act of it making you giggle nervously. Adam smiles, his teeth barely showing past his blue lips. “Enchanting,” he purrs. Your breath is stolen from your lungs at the pure affection from him, you blush and let your arms wrap around his neck. You toy with his beautiful brown locks between your fingers, weaving them with your skin in hopes you can somehow become a part of him.
Adam knows the route to your room, you share the bed at this point. He lays you down, the room shrouded in black all except for the dripping moonlight creating a contrast over your bed. The light streaks across you like a lighthouse pointing towards salvation. You, the island and Adam, the boat caught in a storm. He crawls towards you— hair hanging past his shoulders and swaying with each move as he grows closer to you. His one eye glows when the light hits it just right and you can see the hunger licking like flames into his dark irises.
There’s an animalistic sound that comes from the deepest chamber of his chest, it’s low and rattles the cage that makes up your ribs. Your heart hammers, leaning on your elbows to challenge him. He looks more monster than man like this— on all fours, bare and hairy, a hot and heavy hunger that lingers in his stare. His growl rumbles, parting his lips to increase its volume as if to intimidate you. You spread your legs to give his large frame room. He settles between them, stitched arms bracing you down on the quilted bed and he leans in close. His nose brushes against yours then, nostrils flaring when he breathes in deep.
“I can…sense it…” He says, breath fanning your face. Swallowing around nothing, you dare to ask. “Sense what?”
“Your pruriency,” His nose slides against the side of yours. He’s never been this close and your chest heaves with each heavy breath. It grows warm between you, his pale, broken, cracked skin losing any of its icy coolness against your ever growing warmth. Adam’s lips hover of yours, threatening a promising kiss to yours but never makes the connection. Instead, he curiously looks up at you through his lashes as he lets his discolored lips trail down your cheek. Feeling your blood rushing through your red veins, he feels his way down your neck, pausing where your pulse thrushes blood at the base of your neck. He presses his lips there experimentally, smiling when he can feel the air get caught in your lungs. There’s that incessant purr that flows from his chest and he continues his exploration across the curve of your clavicle.
Something feels strange within you. A sort of twisting desire that digs its roots deep into your nervous system and holds you down with its incredible strength, paralyzing you as Adam slowly makes his way down.
He’s a tease— he knows he is because he has knowledge on your desires. He decides now is the perfect time to reveal his covert knowledge on your midnight endeavors.
“I have heard you. Were you ever aware of me?” His mouth breathes fire on your breasts, lips drawing across your nipple. Unaware of what he means, you lay your head down against the pillows.
“Wha—what ever do you mean, Adam?” You cry when his teeth brush against the hard peak. Those roots still buried deep inside you only increase the debilitation— refusing to let you move.
“Late into the night—“ His mouth travels down the hills of ribs, to your navel where your stomach rises and falls with every gasping breath. Adam says against your silky skin, “I hear you…calling for me.”
You still, your lips drawing together into a straight line as the shame of your actions are realized to you.
“I’ve seen it…your shirt unbuttoned…clothing bunched at your ankles.” He makes his way across your bellybutton to where coarse hair bellows freely, his chin finds the comfort and heat of it first, letting his mouth open wide and breathe in your desire. “Your hand…right here,” He presses his mouth to your pubic bone. “Traveling lower…and lower,” His back bends, puzzle pieces of skin that stretch along the muscle contort as he eases himself lower over the bed. He’s all limbs, long and nimble that he now kneels down at the foot of the bed. The floorboard digs into his knees but any discomfort is lost to him when he looks up to see the way your chest rises, the way your hands grip the sheets. Your knees draw close together, encasing his head between them. Adam tilts his chin lower.
“I am so curious to find what made you mewl the way you did.” One hand slides across your inner thigh, pushing it down to the quilt below.
You’re spread for him, open and glistening under the harsh cut of light trickling across your skin. Light reflects off of you and Adam feels his confidence waning slightly. This is unfamiliar territory— sure, he’s read about it, pictured it, watched you touch yourself and say his name with anguished, unfulfilled desire. He’s had you laying against him with his cock buried into the heat of your thighs but having it right here in front of him was a whole beast of its own.
He’s stuck, fingers digging into the soft fat of your thigh, his yellow nails creating marks into the pillow of skin. Your hand finds its way to his wrist, soft fingerpads slide across the scars on his skin and feels the dip of where incisions had been made during his creation. Your partner looks up to you at that moment, his expression softening when he witnesses the flushness of your cheeks.
You sigh, “Make me mewl.” Plain and simple. Adam feels his confidence grow, blood pumping through his body and his raging manhood presses into the mattress. The softness of the blankets feels cool against his scarred skin, a welcoming contrast to the fire he feels oozing from every pore.
His other hand slides to your other thigh, cupping the underside and forces your leg to bend. The hair between your legs parts and he bears witness to a glistening wetness only described to him on pages. Moonlight reflects off of you and Adam understands then how temptation and desire could break a man, draw him to his knees and devour him until there was nothing left. How can anyone resist such a beauty given to them so openly?
Curious fingers find their way to the coarse hair and the air stills between you both. Both bracing for the impact of your fervent and wicked proclivity for sexual gratification. Adam’s mouth begins to water the moment his index finger presses into the wetness, it’s warm— so warm that it almost feels like it burns his very skin. His eyes grow wide with wonder, pupils blowing out until they’re black marbles. You watch him with bated breath, once more bracing on your elbows and letting your mouth drop open when he slowly circles his finger around your soft hole. Adam looks up at you with wonderment.
“Like this?” He barely inserts it, almost too afraid to because how can one finger even fit into such a tiny thing? Giggling, you don’t intervene physically but you guide him with words.
“Bigger circles, try going up and down…” He obeys, almost immediately understanding. The books he read didn’t care to get into too much detail of the outer workings of the vaginal anatomy but having it right in front of him now— he wonders how anyone could ignore the clear pleasure button located just a little below the pubic area. Hidden partially by hair and a hood of skin, Adam lays his four fingers flat at the top of your pubic region and pushes, exposing your twitching clit. He feels his saliva trickle near the corner of his mouth.
An urge flows through him. With his other fingers, he slides your wetness up, using his index and middle finger to cup around your clit. He squeezes them together experimentally and your reaction is enough to encourage him further. You moan, a gasp breaks it and gets caught in your throat. Gripping a portion of your bedding, you attempt to draw your knees together but Adam uses his wide shoulders to deny them the privilege. A whimper escapes you and he laughs, actually laughs.
“Close to a mewl,” He comments. “But not quite.” He slides his fingers back down, circling his fingertip to where the liquid resides. He understands now what the book meant, despite its size, you easily suck him in. Your walls give around the girth of his finger easily and he gets to his first knuckle before pulling it back out to gaze upon the clear natural lubrication. His neurons make the connection— natural lubricant. He gazes back at you to see you’re bracing for more. An arm slings over your forehead and you gaze at him from your pillow. Smiling you draw into yourself and your knees squeeze reassuringly on either shoulder of his.
His animalistic sounds come forth from his chest, rumbling against his throat. Circling around your clit again— he strives to hear you moan again. Occasionally dipping into the ever growing wetness forming below, he focuses on the pulse and twitching of your nerves when he touches you at a certain angle or pushes a certain away into the soft, pliable flesh. His curiosity of how much you can handle gets the better of him and he finds himself toying with your clit and daring to press his other finger to where you're fluttering open and closed. His eyes flicker between each hand and putting all concentration on the way you react, he dips a finger in and you let your head drop back to your pillow. A sound escapes you akin to a cry and he almost pulls away but he hears it—
“Please…”
A need to hear it again invokes him to thrust a finger again, he has that knowledge at least— he knows a man uses what he possesses between the legs to penetrate in and out of one’s partner, surely fingers worked the same way.
He grunts, a possessiveness driving him to go harder. Two fingers encircle your clit, his other finger curling naturally with the curve of your inner walls and pushing so deeply that his palm begins pressing against the lower portion of your vulva. You release a sound, a broken plea that draws out into a moan and the sheets in your fists are subjected to torment as you are subjected to intense pleasure.
A filthy, slick sound coupled with Adam’s monstrous grunting fills the room and you cry out for him, releasing what can only be described as a mewl.
“There it is,” He says harshly, his words growling with a satisfaction lacing his tone. Sounding like a predator who’s finally caught their prey. “I implore for more,” He almost begs, his finger slipping out only to press his forefinger and middle one together— increasing the girth and stretch.
His fingers speak his promise of pleasure. The build up of your orgasm pressing into your lower abdomen when his long fingers drive so deeply you feel as though the shape of them will forever be engraved within you. You pray they do. You pray that your body carves itself into the shape of him.
Adam’s mouth is unbearably wet, his spit collecting against his teeth and it releases by a string from his bottom lip. It trickles from him and lands into the valley of your hair— something comes to Adam’s mind at the salacious view of it. He’s dumbfounded, jaw slack open and he slowly evens the thrusts of his fingers and removes his other from your clit. The light in his eyes brightens when you cry at the loss of his touch. To think he of all people could make you sound so pathetic, so needy.
“I crave for you,” He breathes against your pubic bone, cooling the wetness encasing your most private area. “Indulge me and I promise you’ll find contentment,” he states, not even giving you time to answer before he mimics what he read earlier today. His mouth latches to you, hair and all, his blackberry lips pressing firmly to your mound. Adam lets his lips draw in your juices, bringing them slowly together to a kiss just beneath the hood of your clit. The feeling is hot and wet, like boiling lava creeping across stone. He lets his tongue slide out from his bottom lip, coupling with the fingers planted firmly inside you. He thrusts once, twice, each push making your toes curl and his tongue captures the taste of your oozing cream. Salty and musky with that hint of lavender soap, he breathes deeply through his nose and every scent lacing his sinuses smells of you.
Eagerness gets the better of him and he forgets his strength for a small moment. His fingers work in quick succession— thrusting so deeply that it reaches his metacarpal knuckle. He feels something soft and plush far into you, ramming into it as he lets his tongue trail his spit toward your clit.
“Adam—!” You draw out with a shriek, your legs bending upward towards your chest. His warm hand palms at your thigh and he forces one leg open once more. He raises his head momentarily, strands of his hair sticking to the corner of his mouth, his chin glistening in the moonlight. Droplets of his spit and your desire trickle down and land on the bedding below. He catches his breath, hot and heavy against you and he cracks a smile.
“Say my name again,” he demands. So you do as you bring a hand down to card your fingers through the hair at the top of his scalp. He whimpers, a purr vibrating against you when his mouth finds your clit. Lips wrap around it, teeth softly press into the sensitive skin as he sucks the muscle into his mouth and slides the tip of his tongue up and down your hood.
He pulls away with a pop, drawing his thumb to your outer lip to stretch you open and get a good look at you. You’re twitching, hole fluttering around his perfect fingers. The creature gathers his saliva and sticks his tongue out to push out the clear liquid. It globs down onto your clit and the act is filthy and irreverent, especially when he coos at the way you beg his name.
“Mewl for me again, won’t you?” He requests, lowering his head once more. “Let me drive you to salvation.”
The overwhelming pressure inside you feels like it’s ready to burst at any moment and Adam’s wicked tongue has no intention of showing mercy. He moans into your mound, lapping at you like this was his final meal. His fingers are thick and soaking wet with your desire for him. The sounds bouncing off the walls— your moans, his name falling from your tongue, his fingers driving deeply into you only increase the pressure. The simmer in your lower abdomen comes to a boiling point. You begin to lose control of any bodily functions.
You cry, reaching for the pillow under you and biting your bottom lip in an attempt to hold back your exclaims of pleasure but there’s no use. “Adam…Adam…ah—my dear—please—!” You fight helplessly against his grip on your leg, attempting to draw your legs together due to the unbearable pleasure.
He almost falters, the petname making his brain become muddled but he doesn’t stop, instead he flutters his lashes open to look up at you. Drunk on the taste and smell of you, now all he can gaze up at is you. Your face flushing red, chest rising and falling rapidly. The feeling of your entrance spasming around his digits. Adam strives to find out what will happen if he pushes you further.
He’s barely been paying attention to his hard-on, it’s been on the very back of his mind as something to pay little attention to when your pleasure is the most important. He didn’t notice the way he was rutting into the bed or the sudden wetness of his precum that he felt against the quilt. The bed rocks as he begins thrusting himself into it and he lets out a monstrous groan at the satisfaction of it all.
There’s a tightness that’s grown to its peak inside you, you begin babbling, releasing a sling of pleas that sound incoherent. Your mouth locks open in a moan and the way Adam opens his mouth and shows you his pink tongue lapping at you—starved and needy— it drives you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you like a bucket of piping hot water, it makes you cry his name one final time. Hips moving on their own accord, hand drawing his hair into a fist and tugging on it as you grind against his face with all the strength you can muster. Adam takes it— going limp under your grasp and letting you fuck yourself on his face. His fingers go in rhythm with your swaying hips and the bed creaks with your incessant need to ride out this pleasure.
Clit pulsing, hole clenching and unclenching after the orgasm has reached its peak. Your bicep aches at the tenseness you used and you relax, releasing a sigh and flopping onto the bed. Adam looks at you, his fingers slowly pulling out of you— coated in your cum, he draws them to his lips and licks them clean. He looks down to the mess he made of your bedding. White paints the quilted squares and he’s almost ashamed for it had it not been for the lightheaded pleasure coursing through his veins.
Adrenaline runs through both of you, your heart beats in sync with one another as they calm after such an intense night. Your body is sticky with sweat and your legs tremble when you can finally draw them together. The remnants of your orgasm drips from between your legs and you roll to the side. Catching your breath, you crack an eye open to look over to Adam who’s sitting on his knees at the end of the bed. He’s looking at you curiously like a dog looks at a human— eager, impatient but aware that you’re in charge.
You pat the space beside you on the bed. “Come,” you gasp, breath still dissipated from your lungs. Adam’s long limbs crawl awkwardly back to the bed, laying beside you and drawing his naked body up against yours. He wraps a careful arm around your middle and rests his chin atop your shoulder.
“Satisfied?” He asks, his lips soft against the shell of your ear. You giggle at the tickle of his rumbling voice and nod in response.
He’s so warm, so large, and holds you as if you were made of porcelain. Careful and soft— afraid you’ll crack if he wraps his arms around you too tightly. For such a large man, or someone who would describe himself as a monster— he was the furthest thing from it. Your hand draws behind you to his naked thigh, rubbing your thumb across his skin, he grumbles something and sighs into your skin at the intimate touch.
“You should read more of those books…” You say quietly.
Adam giggles behind you, wraps his arm tightly around you and buries his face into your neck. How could you have gotten so lucky?