Work Text:
Reyes has to take a minute to prepare herself before she steps out of the shower.
She hasn't felt the need to wash her hair today. That's twofold. It doesn't usually take very long, trained by a lifetime of rolling out of bed and into the workforce. It gives her curls a fun side effect of sticking up all over the fucking place. When she does have time to do it properly, she won't deny it looks better, but it's such a pain in the ass that most of the time, she can't be bothered.
This is not one of those days. That's not what she's preparing for - and fun joke about a pain in her ass, by the way. It's more that the old man hasn't kept his fucking hands off her the whole day. And it's not that she's upset about that. Maybe more surprised? It's not that he's not normally clingy, either, always a hand on her waist or ruffling her hair or pulling her in for a hug, but -- different, today. He'd seemed sort of weird and twitchy when he'd got into bed last night, and equally weird and twitchy all day. Like he was simmering about something.
God only knows what. Weird old man shit. Anyway, when she'd managed to ask him about it, he'd been surprisingly forthcoming about how he couldn't wait to get his hands on her. Can't have been the only thing bothering him, but that was as far as she got.
"We could find a room." he'd mumbled, into her ear, in the process of biting it. "I know-- it's 7, I think, where the cameras don't work. Nobody's fixed it for years. So no one would know."
And Reyes was a bit like, yeah, they would, and she didn't really want to risk her job for a quick fuck in an interrogation room, very romantic,
- (absolutely not something they've done before, of course, but that was the middle of the night)
so maybe the old man could keep it in his pants a little longer. Long enough to get home.
Long enough to get out of the damn shower, anyway.
Clearly London couldn't wait. By the time she heads into to his* bedroom, he's evidently decided she took too long and has resorted to jerking off. Figures. Couldn't have been longer than ten minutes since they got here. One track fucking mind.
- *She's been living there so long she might as well call it their bedroom. Still, something about that makes her weirdly apprehensive. Feels a little too real, then,
- which means she could lose it at any moment.
Reyes is half expecting to sit on the bed and have an actual thoughtful discussion about what they want. She's not experienced enough to be used to anything, but she has come to expect some sort of check in. It's not as much a lack of confidence or spontaneity - he has both in spades - but seemingly more a residual fear of hurting her, or the inability to produce either without disclaiming it.
Clearly, today she gets no such luxury. The moment she gets close enough to be pulled, she is, and suddenly she's sprawled out and London is on top of her, kissing against her neck and jawline and anywhere else he can reach.
She could tell him to ease up, of course, if she wanted to. She doesn't. Also it's really fucking hard to talk all of a sudden, but no worries, because London's doing it for her.
"You have no idea what you fucking do to me." Somewhere between a gasp and a growl. She's only been here five minutes and already he's pushing her legs up, settling himself between them. Here, he stops.
"Or maybe you do." The smirk doesn't feel dangerous. Logically, nothing bad is going to happen. It's not like he's going to start chopping her up or whatever. Maybe it's more that she's worried something is going to put him off.
- Really, she always is. She just hides it well.
"You just like being a tease." Reyes can't see very well from this angle, but she can feel him, pulling and twisting at the plug inside her. Her abdomen cramps up, definitely unhappy with the arrangement, but something else inside her is, and that's a lot easier to focus on. She lets out a little stammery moan without meaning to. London, thankfully, doesn't acknowledge it. Too busy studying her hole like some kind of... holeologist…
....creep.
"You just walk around like this, Sunshine? For what, like, ten hours at a time?"
"I put it in just now. To--" Reyes barely gets any further than that. It's not like she doesn't feel a little awkward in the gut, like she's eaten something horrendous, but she does also feel a pang of something whenever he moves the damn thing around. She tries to keep her voice level. "To fucking -- make it easier for you, so you know, you're welcome."
"Sure. Well. I appreciate your enthusiasm." Why's she sleeping with this smug prick? It's not working on her or doing anything at all, by the way. "Maybe I'll make you wear it in sometime. That could be interesting?" Emphasised by the fact that he's now taking it out, slowly, doubtless enjoying the way she stretches over the widest part and the noises she's definitely not making in response. "If we're going to sit there doing nothing all day, might as well make it fun, right?"
Reyes appreciates the we. She knows it's more a comment on the pointlessness of their jobs, as opposed to saying she's specifically bad at hers. Not really a time to think about that, or how she's a little scared of it. Not with more pressing issues, anyway.
"You can't wear them for too long." Her mouth is dry. "The lube dries out and it gets stuck." Ask her how she knows.
"Oh." says London. The plug is out now, but replaced with his fingers, stretching her out and feeling around. Reyes is a little surprised that they're here already. He's usually far more into foreplay. Not that she minds, but maybe she can gripe at him about being desperate when she finds an appropriate moment.
- She can gripe at him about not unlocking her. That happens consistently enough that she considers it a reasonable expectation.
- (Sometimes, though, she prefers it when he doesn't. There's a sort of psychological reassurance in having it that feels better than an orgasm? Hard to explain).
- (She can, technically, get off just fine with the cage on, but it's a rarity. Takes a hell of a long time, too.)
"No worries. I can just keep you topped up." His fingers are gone. He's doing something else, now, that she can't see. She's going to pretend she's not mourning the loss of sensation. She likes being full. Maybe she's desperate.
"How often do you reckon I'd have to do that?"
Shit timing. He's literally pushing inside her. How the fuck does he expect her to reply under these conditions? Not that she's not collected-- Reyes wishes she was collected-- but she's not, not with London gripping her thighs hard enough for it to hurt, inching himself further with surprising restraint for someone so insatiable five minutes ago. Is he that worried about hurting her? Not like her legs, she can deal with that, but her feelings? Weird.
She makes a sort of "ugh" noise, which doesn't really help or answer the question. London doesn't seem to care.
"We can take a break. Every couple hours." It's more like twenty minutes, but she doesn't really feel like interrupting him. "Bend you over your desk. Keep you comfortable." Reyes hadn't thought he'd bottomed out yet, but London pulls back, anyway, thrusts back in immediately, setting a nice rhythm. It takes her aback slightly, and her foot twitches. She's given up on being quiet, especially when she feels him hit the back of her leg with his hand and oh, her leg kicks again, purely involuntarily. London tucks his head in, briefly, to kiss more at her neck.
"I know you'd like me to show you off. That's your kind of thing, right? Everyone who walks through there gets to see you on display." She'd never admit to that being her kind of thing, but he's making a pretty hard sell. She might be biased. "I think," says London, instead, and bites down at Reyes' neck hard enough to make her shout, again, squeezing a hip in each hand, "I much prefer keeping you to myself."
"Uh." Reyes isn't sure if she's moaning or agreeing with him. Wise words, anyway, for someone who tried to fuck her at work earlier. London needs his hands to stabilise himself, but he can spare one to move up and squeeze her breast, instead. Reyes whines. She'd be proud there was enough to squeeze if she wasn't otherwise distracted.
"This is mine." Apparently it's important enough that he has to pull back and look at her properly, though he never stops thrusting, moving his other hand to keep her knee pushed back instead. "Not just this. All of it. You. You're mine. You understand?"
Reyes nods, as much as she can. This must be how it feels to be interrogated. It's like London is searching her face for any hint she might disagree with him. Still-- "Good." --apparently it's good enough. He squeezes again, thumb tracing her nipple and the piercing through it, and maintains pace.
She's never seen him look like this before. Outside, he spends most of his time looking bemused. She's seen focus, before, and sometimes, when conversation veers a particular way, there's a flash of something else that she can't quite place, but if she had to, though, she'd say more... angry, or scared. Only ever looks happy to see her, though. Gets a light back in his face which only ever seems to coincide with scooping her up for a cuddle. Weird. Even in here - it's not like they've never had sex - when they do, he always seems more concerned. Like she said. Worried about hurting her.
Now, he looks a little more like he might start chopping her up after all.
She does usually like to look at him, but there's something in his eyes that makes direct contact difficult, so she concentrates on the rest of him, instead, neck and shoulders littered with tiny scars - big one on the right shoulder, there, left as she looks at him - the sort of muscle she'd expect from his line of work and the sort of thin layer of fat she'd expect from a fifty five year old man who lives on terrible food. It doesn't translate to his limbs, no less muscular but long enough to look scrawny anyway, but collects more in his torso. She thinks it's cute.
It does occur to her, momentarily, that she hasn't actually seen him microwave anything since she started showing up, but she doesn't have time to ponder that much before he thrusts deeper and catches her off guard.
"You must like being mine, if you've let me lock you up."
Which is true. Reyes wouldn't trust most people with the key to her sock drawer, let alone an actual part of her body. She knows where it is, and there's nothing stopping her from using it. Even if she wasn't allowed to - and really, that much had never been established - he was hardly going to do anything to enforce it that she wouldn't already find fun.
Maybe that's what makes it comfortable. Maybe she'd hate it more if he hid it.
"You like that I'm the only one who gets to make you feel like this?" Reyes nods, hips stuttering. "I get to decide when you feel like this, right? And I–” He hits the back of her leg again. “Decide when we're done." Reyes nods some more. It's a little rushed, hysterical in the face of the other stimuli.
"Good girl." says London. "You know exactly what I want."
"Mhmm." says Reyes, which is about as much as she can manage. He's not looking at her any more. It's like he can't keep his head up, hair falling in his face. Reyes reaches up to brush it out of his eyes. It's shaky and clumsy, but she manages it. London kisses her hand, in return, and takes her wrist, pushing it down and pinning it to the bed.
"Stay there." It's enough of a surprise that she barely notices him take her other wrist, too. What the fuck is his damage, today? Whatever it is, it's going straight to her dick. The cramping in her abdomen has already morphed into a more pleasurable sensation. It's familiar. London kisses her, hard, and Reyes kisses back, before he moves back down to sink his teeth into her neck. She was already being loud, every breath a noise, but that makes her yell, and she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to her.
"So pretty." London mumbles. "Pretty girl. I'm not saying I'm not lucky." He kisses around her neck, where he'd bitten her, lathes his tongue over the injury. He doesn't stop, keeps his hands around her wrists and the pace in his hips, fucks into her relentlessly. He might have quickened, actually. It's not like Reyes would know. She scrunches her face as he nibbles at her collarbone.
"Ugh." Psychological comfort aside, she might like the cage off after all. It feels unbearably tight. "Daddy--" she whines, and she feels London smirk, somehow, even if she can't see it.
"Huh?" It’s less confused and more goading. He pulls back to look at Reyes' face again, which does put a little more pressure than she'd like on her hands, but she ignores it in favour of literally everything else going on. London does stop, for a minute, but only for long enough to gather her wrists together, and somehow he manages to pin them both in one hand.
- (Is that a surprise? She tries not to think about how much bigger he is than her.)
- (Or maybe she does like to think about it, actually. No point lying to herself here of all places. The fact he can manhandle her like it's nothing might be a fucking massive turnon. She might have made an embarrassing noise about it.)
London's other hand gathers the longer hair near the front, the messy fringe and choppy parts that frame her face, and he grips it tight in his hand, tugging against her scalp. It's not uncomfortable in a bad way - it's close enough to her head that it doesn't hurt too much, but Reyes moans anyway.
His voice sounds rough. He has been straining himself. "Tell me who you belong to."
Reasonable question. Unfortunately Reyes' brain has deactivated at some point in the last twenty minutes. Calling him daddy was the most coherent thing she'd said since they got here. She tries, lets out more of a "gnhnhn" noise, which isn't an answer. London tightens his grip. He's sort of pushing her head back into the pillow.
"Tell me." There's more of an edge to his voice that unnerves her a little. "Who do you belong to?"
Reyes tries. It comes out more like "Hnnnyou?". London's grip stays, and his pace quickens, and Reyes manages more of a "You, you do--" rutting her hips against his abdomen in pursuit of any extra friction.
"That's good." London sounds out of breath. She's not surprised. "Who owns you?"
"You do!" Reyes gets there quicker, also breathless, pushing her hips up to meet his as much as she can. She feels close. The cage, though, stays tight around the base of her dick. It's like it's cutting her off - she can barely even get hard in this thing. Which, again - sometimes she likes it, but right now she's feeling it more than usual.
London's hand spasms. She's not sure if it's deliberate, but it has the effect of tugging her head slightly. Reyes wails. "You do, fuck, daddy--"
"You stay where I fucking put you," London gasps, "You understand?" And maybe he doesn't hear Reyes reply to him. It's entirely possible it doesn't even go in. His hand spasms again, and Reyes keens, and his hips twitch - slams into her two, three more times before stopping. He can't keep himself upright - his grip falters and he slumps against her. Reyes grinds against his cock, still inside her, before stopping as he softens, her heart thudding in her chest.
There's a brief minute or two where London is very quiet, and Reyes considers he might be dead (that the excitement got too much for his fragile and ageing heart) before, shaky, uncertain, he pushes himself back up on his hands and knees.
"....Are you okay?"
"Uh huh." says Reyes, still dazed. London looks her over. She can see his eyes moving. He settles on her neck and winces.
"Shit." Concern immediate, he pulls back and out of her to sit on his knees, hand tracing over the bitemark. Reyes can't see it, obviously, but she wonders if it might bruise. It sure hurts like it.
"Did I--?" Pulls back, like he's worried he'll do more damage, somehow. "My god. I'm-- shit, Sunshine, I'm so sorry."
" 'm good." says Reyes. She's far more focused on the loss of contact, squeezing her legs together. London looks down, briefly, and then back up, moves to brush her hair out of her face.
"You didn't even get off." he murmurs. "I don't know-- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-- I let myself go. I wasn't thinking about you." His hand is shaking - not like earlier, which in hindsight she can assume was more orgasmic, but now more like he’s scared.
"Should have kept a fucking lid on it. Baby-- Farah. I'm sorry. That won't happen again."
"Oh." Reyes mumbles, still half dazed, still wretchedly horny. "I liked it."
London pauses, hand still resting gingerly on her cheek.
"Huh."
" 's the fucking-- hottest thing I've ever seen." Now that she has enough brainpower to string a sentence together. "Don't tell me you're gonna stop already. That was-- so cool, and now you've just gone back to being weird--"
And enough strength, now, to push up from where she was laying down, and drape herself into his lap, slotting a thigh between her legs that she can grind against. London stares at her, incredulous.
"And no!" she gasps, "You didn't get me off."
"No." says London, and at first Reyes thinks he's refusing, and is about to say something about that, but then he says "No, I didn't." and wraps his arms around her, holding her around the waist. "Alright. You promise me you're okay--"
- "Yes," says Reyes, impatiently,
"--then I'll make it up to you." London kisses her again, gently, and Reyes kisses back, fidgeting against him.
He has to let go of her for long enough to rearrange their pillows before he can lay her back down. This time, he’s looking at her with his usual sort of... reverence, and when he kisses her face, again, moves his mouth against her jawline, it's gentler.
"Alright. Here, let me--" She watches him fiddle around atop his bedside table, returning triumphantly with the keys to her cage. "Here. You want this?"
"Uh huh." Reyes fidgets in place. When London raises his eyebrows, she swallows, hard. Her mouth is still dry. "Yes, please." A little sensor in the back of her mind helpfully points out that she's dehydrated. She chooses to ignore it.
London's still looking at her like that. It's a different kind of smile than before.
"Please...?"
"I thought you said you were making it up to me."
"And I will. But I thought you said you liked me bossing you around, right? So--" London jingles the keys in front of Reyes' face. She stares back. "Please."
She could argue with him. She'd have every right to. But also she's desperate for something to happen, and the heat revolving in her gut begs her to relent, so she does.
"Please unlock me, daddy." she mumbles, and London smiles.
"Good girl." he coos. Reyes considers kicking him in the head, but he sure as hell wouldn't unlock her after that. (She'd be lying, anyway, if she said this wasn't doing anything for her, either. And she doesn't have the wherewithal to lie. How annoying.) London keeps his word, at least, reaches down to unlock her cage and set it gently on the table. The relief is palpable. Reyes whines, pushes her hips against him the moment she's released. London massages her gently with his other hand. If she wasn't hard before, she is now.
"There we go. Is that better?" London settles himself back between Reyes' legs. She watches, mutely, as he presses a kiss to her thigh, finger and thumb wrapped around the base of her dick, just tight enough to relieve some pressure. Reyes mumbles an affirmation, and London moves, desperately slowly, dragging his hand upwards to the tip.
"See? I can be nice."
And-- oh, now a kiss to the side of the shaft. He takes a moment to move his tongue around the glans at the base, squeezes near the tip and, most likely, ignores whatever noise Reyes makes in response, before pulling back again.
"Let's see--" Oh, she'd forgotten about the plug, actually. She's not sure where he'd stashed it, after he was done playing with it earlier, but now it's back in his hand again.
It's not like she's not already pretty well-- lubricated, back there, a combination of various different liquids, but London has the good sense to coat the plug a little more before he works it back inside her. And not that she's not mourning the loss of contact, still desperate for more, but - it feels nice inside her. It feels right. Maybe he had a point about keeping her like this all the time.
Maybe London thinks so too. He's gone back to kissing the side of her dick, one hand keeping her thighs apart and the other stroking her - slowly, but properly, this time. Reyes isn't sure when her hand ended up in her mouth. Her leg twitches.
"Maybe I talked a little too much earlier." London mumbles, and even the vibration from that sends a jolt of electricity into her gut. "You were nice and loud, Sunshine. You know I like that. I just don't think I gave you the chance to say very much. Maybe that's not fair of me." He kisses her again. Reyes whimpers. "You did say how much you liked what I was putting down. So how about you tell me some more about that while I take care of your little problem?"
Fat chance of that. Not when he takes her into his mouth straight afterwards, and even if Reyes could say anything to that, it all sort of liquefies out of the side of her head the moment he starts sucking. She can feel London's other hand press against the plug inside her, and she yelps, instinctively reaching down to cradle his head, pushing him down and her hips up against him. London pulls back, moving his hand from her thigh to push her back down by her stomach.
"Now that's not very nice." Reyes could actually kick him in the head now, now that she thinks about it. She could probably jerk off successfully in the time it would take him to recombobulate. For whatever reason, she doesn't. "We need to keep those hands out of trouble, princess. Behind your head?" Might be easier if he tied her up, but maybe less fun. Obediently, Reyes moves her hands, cushioning them against the back of her neck. "Good. That's good. What was it you liked so much, anyway?"
"Uh." Reyes scrunches her face closed. It's not as difficult as it was before, where she was too overstimulated to string a sentence together. It was London pounding into her and holding her down and talking like that that made it so hard to think. Now, it's a streamlined sort of pleasure, a sort of ache in her core that seems to heighten the more he relieves it. So-- okay. She opens the eye that works. Maybe she can talk through that. No problem.
"I--" she tries, which is clearly a good attempt, because London keeps going. "I liked it. Um." Barring the fact this sort of thing would be humiliating to say out loud if she was in her right mind, which she definitely still is not, but it's for a good reason this time.
"You said you were gonna... keep the cage on. And the plug, and-- stuff." London makes what she assumes is an approving noise, moving his head up and down. It's not like he needs to accommodate her - she was hardly big before, and all of the hormones seem to have caused a slight amount of atrophy. Small price to pay, honestly, and one that she's entirely happy with. Especially with London delicately licking the underside of her shaft like he's actually trying to eat her out.
"And um-- I guess it was. You just-- the minute we got in you're telling me what to do and pinning me down, fuck, I liked it, okay? I like that you can do what you want with me." Maybe her tone is getting a little more desperate. "Whatever crap you were saying about using me whenever you want. I want you to do that. I want you to d-- do that more."
She feels London move his tongue back across the tip, and she shudders, takes a cursory look back down to him. In a weird way, she feels like she's looking for his approval, though it would hardly be reasonable for him to complain considering all of this was his idea in the first place. He definitely doesn't look particularly put out, though he's focused enough not to notice her looking at him. He does, though, evidently hear her stop, and spins his free hand around in a carry-on sort of gesture.
So Reyes does. Though she's sweating a little. She scrunches her face again.
"It feels g-- good. To belong to someone. Like I feel wanted. Like if I can do that for you--" Hng. She's not going to last much longer than this. Her hands flex, behind her head, fighting the urge to grab his head again and fuck his mouth. Maybe another time, she thinks, barely, when she's not feeling so submissive.
"Like if that's my purpose that's okay, you can own me, you can use me, fuck, Qaz, c'mon--" Her hips spasm, involuntarily, and London holds them down with his hand, and Reyes shakes her head, not out of refusal but a drive to move something lest she explode. "Daddy." she whines, instead. "Daddy, please--"
Was that what he wanted? London pushes her thighs up, her legs further in the air. Takes her wholly into his mouth again, uses his thumb to jam the plug as deep inside her as it'll go. Reyes short circuits. There's a brief error in her peripheral advising her of elevation to her heartrate and blood pressure. It barely registers in the midst of anything else. It's not quite behind her head, as such, but she finds herself gripping the bedframe, like her whole body's spasming, and then it stops, and then there's–
--Nothing?
There is nothing. For a brief and beautiful moment, Reyes is primordial soup. Then, somehow, slowly, she comes back to her senses. London is here, she half realises, and makes her way over instinctively, crawls or rolls or something, to cuddle up against his chest.
She's rewarded with a hug. She's rewarded with a hand in her hair. "That was fun." says London, and Reyes tilts her head to squint up at him, her brain whirring back into gear.
"Yeah." she says, and then, fully loaded, "What the fuck was all that?" Now, she can fidget up to look at him properly. "You just fucking jumped on me and said all that--"
"I know." London looks embarrassed. It sort of sits on top of his default expression of vaguely bemused. "I don't know where that came from. Guess I had some stress to vent." Reyes' hair barely comes down past her chin, but he brushes it aside anyway to peer at the damage to her neck. "Sorry." he adds, sheepishly. "I got carried away. I-- did you like it?"
"Wouldn't have said all that shit about liking it if I didn't." Now that she can think, Reyes has the capacity to also feel embarrassed. She hides her face in London's shoulder in an attempt to not have to look at him any more. "We could do it again." she mumbles, heat rising to her face, and London squeezes her in return.
"You've given me a lot to think about." he murmurs, and leans in to kiss the top of her head. Reyes might have made a happy little noise about it, which is frankly more embarrassing than all the begging she was doing earlier. "Okay. I'm not gonna argue with you. Next time I need you, I'll let you know, yeah?" Pulls back to kiss her face, just on the bridge of her nose, and Reyes smiles back at him. "I always need you." he adds, quieter, "But you know what I mean."
"That you're a weird, sappy old man." says Reyes, with absolutely no malice at all behind it.
"Sure."
Her cage is still on the table. London picks it up, looks it over, before holding it out. "Do you want a break from this for a minute?" Which Reyes considers, because on one hand, she does enjoy the security. And she does enjoy the feeling of being... loved? Wanted. But she's still sensitive from earlier. She can feel vague aftershocks through her gut whenever she moves.
"What do you want?" she asks, which seems to be the most diplomatic option. London turns it over in his hands, before putting it back down.
"Alright. Maybe... I want you to-- come to me tomorrow. Just like this--" Naked, he means? Dishevelled? "--And beg me to lock you back up." he murmurs. "Maybe that's what I want."
"You keep talking like that," says Reyes, "You can get me off again." London actually seems to consider it.
"I could." he admits. "But I'm hungry." He stretches. "And kind of beat. Not everyone has your kind of refractory period, Sunshine."
"Cause you're old." says Reyes, but she follows him out, anyway, sliding her hand into London's as he tugs her away into the kitchen.
- “Maybe I’ll get you a collar.” says London, one day, apropos of nothing, and has to duck out of the way as Reyes throws an empty can at his head.
- (Still, it’s not a no).