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The thought of it came to you in a dream - a terribly sexy dream where you were on your knees, hidden by black robes, sucking his cock. The sounds he made in your dream were enough to send you straight to hell. You cannot believe you had a sex dream about Friar Errol.
Not only a sex dream, the hottest sex dream of your life. Breaking and seducing him until he was a whimpering mess for you… Fuck, fuck, fuck. The thought of it was so delicious you couldn’t ignore it.
You noticed something in the air when you were with him, something so bad it was good. The way his eyes followed you as you walked, glued to your ass, and the way his face turned red when you caught him staring were all telltale signs that he wanted you.
You dress in a pair of jeans that hug your ass tight and a shirt with a deep cut with a perfect view of your tits. You wanted to slowly seduce him, wrangle him little by little until he snapped. Breaking him would be a challenge, one you desperately wanted to take on. Your heart is fluttering as you enter the kitchen and your eyes find him immediately. He spots you, too, and he can’t help but steal a glance at your tits. His cheeks are pink when you approach his side.
“Morning,” you say cheerfully, brushing your front against him as you reach for a cup of coffee. He shudders from the contact and takes a step back like you’ve burned him. “How are you doing?”
He’s staring down your shirt, jaw slack. You poke him in the chest, forcing his attention to go from your chest to your face. “Huh, what?” he asks, puzzled. The clueless look on his face is adorable.
You laugh. Hook, line, sinker. “How are you doing?” you repeat. You watch the question make sense to him, watch the words sink in as he pulls his gaze away from your chest, and his blush deepens.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally speaking. “I’m fine,” he says. “And you?”
The spell is broken. He’s now acting like a fully functioning adult. Bummer. “I’m great,” you say, “now that I’ve seen you today.”
He blinks at you quickly. “Oh. Oh. Thank you. I - um - was wondering if you wanted to do something with me.”
It’s your turn to blink now. “Do something?” you echo. “What kind of ‘something’?”
“I need music written for one of my songs,” he says. “I was hoping you would accompany me when I ask Rainey for help… You’re a touch more personable than I am and, well, people respond better to you.” His eyes sparkle with hopefulness.
Laughter escapes you before you can stop it. “A touch more personable?” you choke, leaning against the counter to steady yourself as you laugh. “You and I know it’s a lot more than a single touch!”
“A single touch…” he breathes, rubbing his jaw. “A single touch. Perhaps you’re right.”
“I know I’m right,” you chuckle. “I’d love to go out with you, Friar. What time were you thinking?”
The words go out with you echoed in his head. “Noon,” he says. “Is that okay with you?”
You nod. “Absolutely.” You turn to go, but flip back to face him. “Actually, why don’t we grab lunch after we see Rainey? I’m sure writing the music will tire you out and give you an appetite.”
“Lunch?” Friar asks, his eyebrows raised. “Sure.” He immediately feels the need to punch himself for agreeing. Being near you in close quarters is already painful, now - lunch?
He watches your mouth close around the coffee mug and he has to bite back a groan. Since when was drinking coffee enough to send him into a frenzy? He wasn’t always like this, you know. He used to be able to stand next to you with no desire searing, bubbling, in his chest. Now…
He can’t breathe without wanting to taste you.
He may die if he doesn’t find out.
The double-edged sword of it all is he can’t seem to stay away from you, no matter how hard he tries. The need to feel your warmth when you stand side-by-side is overwhelming. The deep seeded hatred he feels when he salivates over your chest is overwhelming. The need to bend you over and have his utter, depraved way with you is overwhelming. The need to chop his hands off so he can never touch you is overwhelming.
You’re overwhelming.
But he can’t stop.
Wants to, truly. Needs to.
But won’t.
“I’ll see you at twelve, then,” you say with a smile. The way your lips stretch with joy because of the prospect of having lunch with him is infectious.
He swallows hard. “Sounds like a - ” he stops himself, “plan.”
You wink as you leave and he collapses against the counter, face in his hands. You were as tempting as an oil covered mozzarella stick, begging to be eaten. He just needs to learn how to live with the temptation and soon he’ll be able to ignore it.
Yes.
Exactly.
He can make space for you in his heart, oh so small the space you’ll have. Soon it won’t even exist.
He busies himself with his song - the tempo, the lyrics, the message. Above all else, he busies himself trying to not think of you. It’s not necessarily working, he’s painfully aware of each moment you’re not nearby. It’s a minute and an eternity before you enter the kitchen again, your fragrance filling the room with vanilla and almond. He watches you, memorizes you, as you saunter towards him. Your hand pokes his chest as you say, “Ready?”
His chin drops in a nod, his voice is not to be trusted right now. You lead him out of the kitchen and he follows behind - a planet helplessly stuck in orbit around you. He can’t stop even if he wanted to. The way your hips sway as you walk makes him picture devious things. His hands wrapped around said hips hard enough to leave bruises, reminders of him etched into your skin.
“Rainey!” you exclaim happily, pressing kisses into both her cheeks. “How are you?” She answers, but her voice is drowned out by the smile on your lips. Why are you always the most beautiful thing in every room you enter?
“Friar?” you ask, and his eyes snap to yours. “Are you alright?”
He practically chokes on his answer. “I’m fine.” Humiliation makes his face turn red. His brain is scattered today - his focus long gone. “My song,” he says, forcefully turning the attention away from him. “I need help writing my song.”
You’re practically buzzing with excitement. “His message is beautiful, Rainey. We’d really be lucky if someone as amazing as you helped write it.”
Rainey looks between the two of you for a beat before nodding her head. “Show me what you’ve got so far,” she says, holding out her hand. Friar passes his notes to her and watches as she scans the paper. Her eyebrows crinkle and she nods slowly. “I can work with this,” she hums appreciatively.
You squeal with excitement and throw your arms around his shoulders. He’s stiff as a board until you squeeze him and you feel his body melt into yours.
“Your song is being written!” you whisper into his ear. Your excitement is obvious as you rock him back and forth. He has no choice but to follow your sways, side to side, his nose swallowed by the smell of your hair.
When you pull away, his hands that were previously full of you, clench into fists at his sides to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing you. It would be so easy to pull you against his chest and hold you there until your bodies merged into one.
Working with Rainey is a much needed distraction from how badly his hands miss the feel of you. He doesn’t think of you when writing his song. This is how he’s supposed to operate; his church the first and only staple in his life. No distractions, no desires, no you.
Until his eyes glance to his left and find you, eagerly listening to Rainey’s music and his voice. Then he’s a mess all over again.
It would be so easy for a hand to slide under the table and touch your thighs, maybe even go as far to spread them, and touch the fabric of your panties. He imagines the look on your face if he did that, how you’d try to stay quiet as his fingers teased you. He can see you squirm in your chair as your orgasm builds. Would you bite the inside of your lip to stay quiet? Perhaps bite down on a knuckle as his fingers pump in and out of your pussy? How wet would your pussy be - loud enough for Rainey to hear?
The spell is broken when Rainey scoots her chair back and it drags along the floor, squeaking. His eyes flutter a few times as he tries to settle himself down.
That fantasy was absolutely deranged. He knows this. Really does.
But as his eyes glance to you for the millionth time and sees you staring at his bicep and biting your lip, he thinks maybe, just maybe, it’s not just him.
Maybe you feel it too. This electric pull, betraying his sound mind and sweeping him into utter madness. He cannot function without you, but cannot function when you’re near.
He inhales sharply.
This isn’t healthy. Obsessing over a friend the way he is… It needs to stop.
He doesn’t look at you for the rest of the writing session, politely thanks Rainey, and leaves as fast as he possibly can. He knows you were supposed to get lunch, but he cannot stay with you another minute longer. He feels like he’s going to explode.
“What was that about?” Rainey asks, staring at Friar’s back as he practically sprints away. “Your man ran from you like you have the plague.”
“My man?” you ask pointedly. “He doesn’t want me. He couldn’t even sit next to me for an hour without sprinting away to god knows where.”
Rainey places a hand on your shoulder and laughs. Laughs so hard she’s shaking. “Oh, honey,” she says, “he wants you bad.”
You chuckle softly. “We’ll see.” You turn and smile at her. “Thanks for helping with his song, by the way.”
“No problem. I would’ve said no if you hadn't talked to me about it earlier,” she admits. “Church music isn’t my style.”
“It’s not really mine either,” you say, “but you should’ve seen him this morning. He looked so nervous to talk to you about it, but he was so excited to write a song. It was adorable.”
Rainey laughs again, a shiteating smile on her face. “I think you’re the only one who finds Friar Errol adorable.”
“Don’t yuck my yum!” you exclaim, feigning offense.
“To that I say: to each their own. Your yum is your yum, even if it’s weird,” she says, turning to leave.
“Thank you again,” you say. “Seriously.”
She nods. “Anything for you.”
When she’s gone, you follow after Friar. Your guess is he went to the kitchen, but when you enter, he’s nowhere in sight. You see Beverly chatting with some regulars, you see Stephan cooking as Freddy offers up cold pizza, and you see Abel attempting to flee from Tony’s conversation. No Friar in any of the chaos. You genuinely have no idea where he would be if not in the kitchen.
“Looking for him?” Daisuke’s quiet voice surprises you.
You don’t know why, but you know Daisuke knows who you’re looking for. “Yeah. Have you seen him?”
Daisuke points. “Bathroom.”
“Thank you,” you say. Your legs move fast. What is he doing in the bathroom of all places? You stop outside the door, raising a hand to knock when -
Your hand freezes in midair when you hear a soft groan. It’s his voice, his groan caught between his teeth. You hear it then, the sound of skin on skin, and his helpless groans. He’s touching himself. You wish you could see him as he pleasures himself.
Where is his body? Is he leaning against the sink, one hand grabbing the counter for balance as his other hand strokes his cock wildly? Or is he facing the mirror, staring at himself as he loses himself?
The images passing through your mind are so selfishly sexy. This was his private time, but you can’t help yourself. You can’t get enough.
You turn sharply on your heels, leaving before you bulldoze your way through the locked door to catch a glimpse.
A very naughty thought occurs to you as you’re racing up the stairs. You could, in a roundabout way, get him to come to you and touch you. You’re in your closet moments later, changing into a new outfit.
There’s a hum of electricity in the air tonight. You feel it zap over your skin, dance on your fingertips, and wrap around you with every step you take. You’re not sure what’s going to happen tonight, but as you make your way to the kitchen, you’re excited. You’ve caught him staring at you the way a religious man never should; his eyes rake over your body, devouring you like a man starved.
So, perhaps, you’re wearing less clothes than normal. You’re wearing a baby blue nightgown, no bra, and your hair is down and messy. You weren’t sure if you looked sexy, but you wanted to find out.
You hear him before you see him - muttering to himself wildly. He’s hunched over the airfryer, tapping his knuckles against the counter. He’s focusing so hard his eyebrows are pinched together in an adorable fashion.
You want to break that focus.
“Friar,” you say, announcing yourself. You’re so glad the kitchen is empty. You lean against the kitchen doorframe and cross your arms so your breasts are lifted. He turns to you, and immediately all his attention is on you. His eyes swallow your figure, focusing hard on the spot where your nightgown ends against your thighs, and on your breasts.
He stands, forcing himself to stare at your face. “Were you about to sleep?” he asks, his voice thick. His hands ball into fists against his thighs.
You shake your head. “No,” you say. “I came to see you.” You move towards him and he watches your every step, hypnotized by the way your body moves. Your hand grazes his waist as you hop onto the counter, your knee touching his arm. He shudders at the contact, his whole body electrified by you.
“You came to see me?” he asks, taking a step back. His mouth is open and his eyes are wide. He’s genuinely surprised that you would want to be near him.
You look at him and bite your lip. His eyes bore into you, taking in every piece of your body. “Of course I did,” you say softly. “What are you making?”
He looks like he’s suffering from whiplash. The change in topic shocked his core. “What I’m making - oh. Right. I’m making a mozzarella stick.”
“A mozzarella stick?” you ask. “Just one?” You hold up one finger, looking at him quizzically.
“That is correct,” he answers. “Just one.”
The eye contact you’re making is intense and sexy. His eyes are hooded and dark, full of lust. You’re scooting closer to him and he takes the smallest step towards you. The tension between you feels tangible, enveloping your body.
The airfryer beeps and the spell is broken.
He’s opening it, doing his best to avoid looking at you, and he plates his single mozzarella stick. He turns to you and you sit a little straighter.
“Would you like to share?” he asks, offering you the plate.
“Ooh,” you say, “yes, please!” A devious thought crosses your mind, the urge to wreck him is dreadfully strong. You know he’s so close to breaking for you - especially since what you heard in the bathroom earlier. One gentle push should do it.
You pick up the mozzarella stick and hold it up to his mouth, waiting for him to take a bite. He looks positively alarmed as he shakes his head. “What are you doing?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“Take a bite,” you urge. “You made it, so you deserve the first bite.”
He stares you down until he realizes you aren’t budging, and he slowly wraps his mouth around the mozzarella stick and bites down. He pulls back and the cheese pulls and stretches, and you take a bite from the other side.
He makes a surprised noise, trying to move away from you but your hand finds his cheek and strokes his skin, shuddering at the contact. He freezes as you move closer, biting and swallowing the mozzarella stick.
You’re centimeters apart, one more bite and your lips will connect. All your dirty fantasies could come true right now, but you decide to wait. You want to watch him break for you. You bite down hard and separate your end of the mozzarella stick from his, and you use your thumb to wipe the stray crumb off his lip.
He looks puzzled. His eyes follow you as you swallow the bite and lick your lips after. He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving with each breath. “Go,” he hisses through his teeth. “It’s time for you to go to bed.”
His tone was dripping with utter authority - you squeeze your legs together and you feel your nipples harden. You didn’t know he had it in him to be so… sexy. He audibly groans at the sight of your nipples peaking through your nightgown. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides.
You bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “I don’t want to go to bed,” you say, turning your gaze to his tented pants. “I want to get on my knees and - ”
“That’s enough,” he snarls. “What do you think you’re doing here, huh?” He grabs your chin and tilts your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes. He’s fully in control of you, you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.
“I’m not doing anything,” you say innocently. “I just wanted a snack.”
A hand fists your hair, pulling you back, while the other grips the strand of your nightgown. “Wearing this?” His voice is gravel, his eyes are insane. You’re close to getting everything you want.
“What’s wrong with my outfit?” you ask.
“It’s - ”
He interrupts himself, dropping his hand from your hair and taking a step back. His cock is impossibly hard, straining against the zipper of his pants. He looks down at his hardness, then slowly moves his gaze to you. He takes you in, drinking in your figure. He memorizes you with his eyes from your head to your toes, before swallowing hard.
“I’m going to hell,” he whispers, before throwing himself at you in a hungry kiss. The kiss is searing hot, his lips moving against yours desperately. You kiss him back with equal enthusiasm, moaning into him when his hand catches your chin and holds you still. His other hand touches the bottom of your nightgown, playing with the fabric.
Everything he does is messy - his teeth clink against yours, his tongue invades your mouth so heavily it feels like he’s afraid you’re going to run, but it doesn’t matter. You love that he’s not practiced at this, that you’re his first. It’s driving you mad how hot he is when he’s breaking his own rules.
The moans that fill the kitchen are utterly sinful. You slide a hand down his chest and his body shudders, toying with the button of his pants. He makes no effort to stop you, so you undo his pants and slowly pull the zipper down. His cock is leaking through his white underwear, you can feel the wetness against your fingertips.
He bites your lip when you pull his underwear down and he hisses when you run a finger over the tip of his cock. He wraps a fist around your hair and yanks your head back, kissing and sucking on your neck. You moan when he nips the spot under your ear, then whimper helplessly when he sucks on it. You pump his cock in your hand, loving the way he twitches and leaks with every stroke. It’s big, your hand strains to hold him all and your fingers don’t touch.
He growls against your neck when you slow your strokes, teasing his tip with your thumb. Using his free hand, he lifts your nightgown up your legs so your pussy is exposed. He pins your legs open, sliding a brave and desperate finger between your folds.
“Is it okay for me to touch you?” he whispers into your ear, panting.
“Yes,” you gasp and you feel a finger slide into your pussy. Your pussy is so wet the finger has no resistance, curling inside you and teasing a spot that makes your head spin. What is in the air that’s making you whimper for one finger?
“Fuck,” he snarls. “I’ve never seen anything so divine.”
Oh. That. That’s what’s in the air.
Breaking this man… making him touch you… that’s what’s making you so hot and bothered.
You want to look down and see the mess he’s made of you and, equally as much, the mess you’ve made of him, but you can’t. He’s holding your hair, pinning your head still so you’re staring at his face. Not that it’s a bad sight, not at all, you just wish you could see.
His eyes are trained on your pussy, his lip is caught in a death grip between his teeth. His face is red and, you’re guessing, hot to the touch. He pumps another finger into you, hissing when your body buckles and tries to run. The pleasure is too much - you need a second -
“Don’t you dare run from me,” he snarls. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”
The hand around his cock squeezes tight, stroking him faster and faster. He fingers you with fervor, making you choke and gasp from the pleasure. His long fingers reach places deep inside you, torturing you with his clumsiness. What he lacks in technique he makes up for with enthusiasm and stamina. Your legs are shaking, your breath is sparse as you stare at his face. His eyes are so focused, watching your every movement as he touches you.
“Fuck,” you whine, and you feel your hand start to slow.
A sharp yank of your hair makes you cry out. “Don’t you dare stop,” he says, pumping his cock into your hand. “Keep touching me.”
You stroke him faster, trying to match the pace of his fingers. “Friar - ” you whimper, “I’m gonna - I’m gonna - ”
You feel him cum, spraying hot cum into your hand and against your thighs. He groans your name, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips wildly. He pulls his fingers out of you and lets go of your hair, taking a step back.
You feel your jaw drop as you look down at yourself, reeling from the orgasm he ripped away from you. You’re covered in his cum and his cum alone.
“Next time you try and tempt me,” he says softly, dangerously, “think about if you really want to be mine. I’m not a man who shares and I’m not a man who ‘messes’ around. If you decide to come to me again dressed like this, I need you to understand that you’ll be mine.”
You nod slowly.
“Do you understand?” he asks, grabbing your chin and forcing eye contact.
You nod again. “I understand.”
He pulls your nightgown down and helps you off the counter. “Go to bed.” He places a hand on your lower back and pushes you towards the hallway. You leave in a daze, heading upstairs to your bedroom. You sit on your bed, feeling the ache in your pussy. His fingers found places inside you that made you feel dizzy, and the sounds he made…
Goddamn.
The noises he made were electric. The goosebumps rose over your skin with every pant, groan, and hiss that left his lips. He was stunning as he touched you, the sweat that beaded over his eyebrows and the fire in his eyes… Fuckin’ hell.
He was hot.
So hot.
Devilishly hot.
You flopped down on the bed, a warmth spreading over your body. You had him in the palm of your hand. You’re picturing him, hand on his cock going a million miles an hour, your body fresh on his mind. Touching himself for the second time today. God, the thought of it made you so hot!
Your hands curl into fists at your sides, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The need to touch yourself burns through you, but you can’t. Won’t. You want to show him that your pleasure belongs to him. You needed a cold shower to calm yourself down. You slide off the bed and undress, moving to the shower and turning the water on.
You can’t sleep that night; you’re too keyed up imagining all the things you’re going to do tomorrow. You want to be on your knees, sucking on his marvelous cock. You weren’t able to see it, but you could feel it. The heaviness, the thickness, the way it twitched when you did something he liked.
You wanted to feel his hand in your hair, guiding you wherever he wanted. Forcing you to take more cock into your mouth, going deeper and deeper…
You wanted to be thrown, manhandled, and pinned down by him. You wanted him to do dirty, nefarious things to your body. The way he controlled your movements with one hand and the growl in his voice when he spoke to you. Fuck.
It takes you forever to fall asleep, your body is vibrating with excitement. Your dreams are sexy. The birds are chirping when you wake up, the sun peaking through your windows. You stretch your joints, letting the morning start slowly. You brush your teeth, comb your hair, spray your neck and wrist with perfume, and dress in your sexiest lingerie.
It’s black and lacy, oozing sex from every angle. Soft socks go to your thigh, connecting to your underwear with a strap on either side of your thighs. The underwear is almost see through, covering you just enough to drive him crazy. The bra is the same texture, with bows covering your nipples. You put a robe over your ensemble and head downstairs.
The kitchen is lively this morning. You stop to chat with Tony while brewing coffee before work, Freddy offers you a cold slice of pizza, and you tell Stephan the breakfast he’s making smells delicious. You feel Friar’s eyes on you with every step you take, his presence is like a magnetic force drawing you in.
You wind up at his side moments later, nursing a cup of coffee. One hand finds your hip, pulling you flush against him. Your heart is beating fast as his fingers dig into your waist, and his eyes smother you as you take a sip from your cup. He watches your throat as you swallow, watches you lick your lips afterward.
“Good morning,” you say softly. “Care for a sip?”
His eyebrows raise in an unvoiced question as he takes the mug from your hands. As he raises it to his lips, you’re untying the front of your robe and revealing your outfit. He spits, the coffee in his mouth spewing everywhere. You quickly tie the robe again as Tony is asking if he’s okay and smacking him hard on the back.
“I’m - ” he swallows hard, glancing at you before looking back at Tony, “I’m fine.” Tony doesn’t look satisfied with that answer, but turns and waves goodbye nonetheless. “What was that?” he hisses when Tony’s out of earshot.
“You said to come dressed like this if I wanted to be yours,” you say matter-of-factly. “So I did.”
“Showing me while I was taking a sip of coffee…” he says, taking a step forward and invading your space. He clicks his tongue and his eyes narrow. “Naughty girl.”
You feign innocence as you say, “I don’t know what you mean.”
He takes the mug from your hands and places it on the counter. The warmth against your hands from the cup is replaced by his palm grabbing yours and dragging you away. You’re bent over in the hallway, hands flat against the wall, seconds later. Your robe is gone, discarded to the floor.
“Wait,” you say, a bit panicked, “someone could see - ”
He laughs. Evil, villain from a movie, laughter erupts from him. “You’d like that,” he says. “You’d like if someone caught me fucking you, wouldn’t you?”
You’ve made something in him snap, his sanity gone, replaced by pure horniness. Not that you mind - you want to see him go crazy for you. “What are you going to do about it?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
You hear the zipper of his pants being pulled down and he rubs his hard cock against your ass. You turn to look, to catch a glimpse at his hardness, but he quickly grabs your throat and forces you to look at the wall.
“You win,” he growls. “All I’ve been able to think about is how your body would feel under mine. How it would feel to touch you and feast upon you. So, I submit. I submit to you. You’ve won.”
You shudder, your restraint breaking. “Friar - ” you plead, rubbing yourself against his hard cock. He groans deeply, letting you have your way.
“Drink it in,” he orders. “How does it feel, breaking me?” His hips roll sharply into you. You whine helplessly as the fabric brushes against your wet pussy.
You exhale shakily. “Fucking amazing.”
He laughs. “I knew you’d say that.” You hear the rustling of fabric behind you, but you can’t identify the noise. “We’ll make our altar here, then.” Something slides over your eyes, and your vision is gone. Darkness is left. You recognize the mystery item as the belt he wears now wrapped around your head. “This will be your punishment as well as your reward. Get on your knees.”
Your body moves with no thought - sliding to your knees and opening your mouth. This is where you’ve wanted to be for him, submitting your body to him, giving him whatever he desired.
“You’re not allowed to look,” he says, “since you were a naughty vixen who used her body to tempt me. Here you go, slut. This is what you wanted.” He grabs your hair the same way he did last time, guiding your head to his cock. You wish with every dime you have that the belt would fall and you would be blessed with the sight of his cock, but no. The belt stayed firmly in place.
Your lips wrap around the wide tip of his cock, immediately diving towards his slit and licking his precum right up. He tastes musky and manly, a perfect taste for him. He grunts when your tongue teases his sensitive tip. “Fuck,” he groans. “Your mouth is hotter than I ever could have imagined…”
You like that. You like that he’s imagining you on your knees for him, pleasuring him. You swallow him deeper into your throat and your mouth aches from the absolute stretch of it all. He yanks your hair and wraps it around his fist, completely owning you.
You slowly begin to bob up and down, his cock hitting the back of your throat. It stings terribly, but it's soothed by the sound of him grunting and cursing your name. You force yourself to breathe through your nose as you suck his cock. You don’t want to ruin the moment - the moment you’ve been waiting and planning for.
This orgasm has to be perfect.
“Fuck,” he sighs. “I never knew that - that this could feel so fucking good. Your hand was amazing, but your mouth? Fuck.”
You wonder if this is what he jerked off to. Was it your mouth he wanted? Or your pussy?
“I touched myself yesterday,” he hisses. “For the first time in my life - I stroked my own cock. I imagined you like this - begging me to ruin you the way you ruined me.” He lets out a shaky groan. “Open wide. I want to go faster.”
He was going to fuck your mouth already?
You couldn’t stop yourself from complying, so your jaw dropped and you felt him slam deep down into your throat. The sting and burn hurt so bad you wanted to quit. It was agony.
“Oh,” he cried. “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Sucking my cock like this… so perfect…” You moan around his length and the vibrations feel so good around his cock he almost cums right then. “Fuck, pretty little slut. Take my cock, just like that - ”
With a final snap of his hips, he cums down your throat. The hot, sticky substance goes everywhere, down your throat, down your chin, and all over your face. It’s messy and sexy how he claimed you. He’s breathing hard as he comes down from his orgasm, and eventually drops the hair he was holding onto for dear life.
He grins down at you, light as a feather, and slowly takes the belt off your eyes. You look overjoyed when the light hits you and you finally see his cock. Long, thick, and heavy, cum dribbling from his red and desperate tip, and absolutely perfect.
“Stand up,” he says and watches as you stumble up, enthusiasm matching your clumsiness. He grabs your hands and pins them above your head on the wall all while spreading your thighs with his knee. “Such a pretty girl,” he whispers, staring down at your body. You’ve never felt so seen before. His eyes send a shudder down your spine. “Such a perfect slut for me. Can my slutty girl keep her hands above her head?”
You nod, helplessly, and force your hands to stay up as he lets go of your wrists. His hands find your tits and he squeezes, eliciting a gasp from you. One nipple is rolled between his fingers and the other is pressed down, the material of your lingerie is tough and sexy all at once. Everything is making your head spin.
“Friar,” you whimper. “More, more, please!" Suddenly, he rips the front of your lingerie down the middle and your chest is exposed to him. The cold air hits your hard nipples and a hiss slips past your lips. “How did you rip that?” you gasp.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his mouth closes over your left nipple and he runs his tongue over your hard bud. “I like the noises you’re making,” he groans. “You like my mouth on you?”
Your hands want to grip his shoulders terribly, but you’re forcing them to stay upright. “Love it,” you cry out. “Can you… hah…” You feel fingers tease the material by your pussy and you feel it gain a pulse of its own. You whine when he bites down then soothes the sting away with his velvet tongue as a finger slides into your wet pussy.
“You are so divine scripture should be written about you - no, no, no,” he says, “for you.”
You feel his long fingers pump in and out of your pussy, reaching and teasing the most sensitive part of you. Your body is shaking and your mouth is slack, moans and pleads for more helplessly fall from you.
“Can I cum?” you whimper, tears falling from your eyes. Everything is stimulating you; his breath on your tits, his fingers sliding in and out at a wicked pace, and the look he’s giving you through his eyelashes. “Please, Friar? Let me cum?”
“Not yet,” he says. “I want to watch you break. The same way you made me break. I want to see it.”
You whine, legs trembling as he fucks you. “Oh my - fuck,” you cry. “You’re so mean! Please?”
He ignores you, slowing down his pace and ripping the orgasm right from under you. His mouth switches nipples, biting and teasing it. You’re not sure how you’re still standing, your body wants to fall over and collapse into a ball, and you feel like your body is jello.
You feel your body shake - your orgasm is close, painfully close. “Friar,” you sob. Your cheeks are wet with tears and you taste the saltiness on your lips. “Please?”
He pulls his fingers from you and licks them, moaning at the taste. “You taste like heaven,” he moans. “The kind of heaven that’ll send me straight to hell.” He looks up at you and presses his fingers against your thighs. “Spin around, hands against the wall. I want to taste this heaven for the rest of my life.”
You shakily drop your hands to your sides and spin so you’re facing the wall, pressing your hands flat against it for balance. You moan when the fabric is yanked to the side and his teeth graze against your wetness. You shudder when his tongue flicks against your clit, then dives in between your folds, making you cry out wildly.
“Your tongue - ” you cry. “It’s hot, feels - fuck - so good - ”
He fucks you with his tongue, eating you like he’s starving. The noises you’re making are dirty and insane, the whimpers and screams, but you don’t have it in you to care. You know everyone in the house can hear you, can hear this depravity, but you can’t stop yourself.
Your pussy is sensitive, from his fingers and now his tongue, so sensitive you scream when he takes this orgasm away from you, too. Your body needs release - and he won’t let you.
“Fuck,” you sob. “Stop doing that… Please…”
“You taste divine,” he whispers. “The taste of you is addicting. I’ll never get enough.” He dives his tongue as deep as it’ll go inside you, swirling it around and eating you. “That’s it,” he groans. “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”
You’re not in control of your body, everything is shaking and trembling, and even more so when he doesn’t let you cum again. You open your mouth to speak, but mindless blubbers slip past your lips. You can’t even think coherently anymore.
“You’re so wet,” Friar says, in awe. “I’m going to fuck you with my cock now. It’s my first time… I’ve never… ever been tempted like this before. And you’re going to be a good girl and take my cock, aren’t you? Every inch?” He turns your body so you’re facing him and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder.
You nod. “Every inch… I want it.”
He grabs your hips and rubs his cock through your folds. He pushes the tip of his cock into your pussy and right away - the stretch is enough to make you cry harder. “You’re so beautiful,” he growls. “Your pussy feels so goddamn good. Perfect.”
Your head is thrown back as you whimper. He’s halfway inside you, already stuffing you so full. He grabs your other leg and holds you completely in his arms, slamming the rest of his cock all at once. Your nails scrape down his back as you adjust to the size and his lips find yours in a heated kiss. Your toes curl desperately as his cock slams into you, over and over, hard and fast.
He groans into the kiss, his hands squeezing your ass. “That’s it,” he hisses. “Such a good girl.”
“Oh my - oh my god!” you scream, the pleasure overwhelming and terrible and everything and perfect.
“Not god,” he says, his voice gravelly, “just me.”
“You are god,” you gasp. “To me, you’re god - ”
“Oh?” he groans. “I’m god?”
You nod, pressing your lips to his, pleading for a kiss. God. He is God.
Finally, finally, finally, he sends you forcefully into your orgasm, and watches it tear through your body like a freight train. You scream so loud it echoes in your ears. He cums deep inside your pussy, pumping you so fast you cum a second time.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers into your ear. “You did perfect for me, taking my cock like that.”
He pulls out, letting your legs go so your feet touch the ground. You feel dizzy and collapse against his chest. “I wanna… ride your cock. Can I?” you ask, pressing kisses to his chest.
He’s on his back seconds later, watching you crawl into his lap and, like a kitten, hesitantly play with his cock. You stroke him up and down, teasing his tip with your hands. He bites his lip, growling from the pleasure.
“Sit your pretty ass on my cock,” he orders, “right now.” You move quickly, sliding down on his length, moaning at the length filling you up. “You’ve never looked more perfect than you do right now. You belong on my cock.”
You bounce, sliding up and down, grinding down on his cock, making love to his cock. He groans and grunts, watching your tits bounce as you move, and you damn near cum when he uses his thumb on your clit, rubbing perfect circles.
“Friar,” you sob, the whine in your voice loud. “Your cock feels so good inside me. It’s so good. So good. I belong right here, on your cock. I belong here. Friar, Friar, Friar - ”
Your babbling is interrupted by him sitting up and rolling his hips into you, meeting your thrusts with his own, thrusting his cock into your pussy hard. You’re crying out, rocking your hips and taking every inch of his cock.
“God,” you whimper.
“Yes?” he asks, teasing. “You want more, baby?”
“Tell me - tell me how I feel,” you gasp. “Am I doing a - a good job for you?”
He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, forcing your eyes to meet. He looks dangerous - clouded eyes full of desire. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me,” he hisses through his teeth. “The best thing.”
Tears stream down your face, from his words, from his endless teasing… It’s so much, too much, and not enough simultaneously. You reach back and place your palms on his thighs, moving to a new position.
“Fuck,” you choke as his cock hits you in a new spot. “I can’t even see right now - stars are everywhere - ”
Friar growls low in his throat. “Such a perfect slut, bouncing on my cock so desperately. Do you want to feel me cum in your pussy? Huh? Pump you so full of my hot, creamy cum that you’d be dripping?”
White spots envelope your vision as his words sink into your brain. “Yes, God, please - I want that. Please cum in my pussy. I want to feel it. Please, please, please!”
He grips your hips and starts brutally thrusting, his cock slamming into you so hard it hurts and feels euphoric simultaneously. One hand reaches up and slaps your tit, the sting making your nipple throb. He does it again - three, sharp slaps - and you sob. Being used like this… it’s everything.
“More,” you sob. “God, I’m gonna cum!”
“Cum with me,” he growls, and you feel yourself tumble over the edge at the same time as him. He fucks you through your orgasm, milking every last drop from you. You feel his cum, hot and creamy like he promised, dripping out of you. You tentatively reach a hand down and swipe your finger along your pussy, catching some cum on it. Raising it to your mouth, you whimper at the taste of it. You do it again, moaning. This is it: proof that you’d broken him. Forced him to claim you.
“You like that?” he asks, pushing his cock deeper inside you, forcing more cum dribbling out. “Do you like the taste of our cum?”
You nod, a weak, “Yes,” escaping your lips.
His hands run up and down your sides. “You need a shower, my perfect girl. You’re covered in cum.”
Your lips form a desperate pout. “Do I have to? I like having your cum on me.”
He bounces you on his cock and a gasp leaves you. “Fuck!” He flips you over so you’re flush against the ground. “You’re a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? You want everyone to know who you belong to?”
“Yes!” you whimper. “I belong to you. My pussy is yours. My body is yours. Yours to fuck and use.” His cock slams into your sensitive pussy, and you shakily repeat, “I belong to you.”
“That’s right,” he groans. “You’re mine. Your body is mine to use - and right now, I’m going to use this pussy until I cum. Your pleasure doesn’t matter right now, you hear me? Only mine matters. Your job is to make me cum.”
Your hand reaches back to grip his forearm, squeezing tight. “Use me, God, please!”
He ruthlessly pounds you, his cock grinding against the deepest part of you, until your body is shaking and trembling. You can’t even find it in you to think, all you can feel is his cock, using you, owning you.
Your nipples brush against the ground, making zaps of pleasure spark in your pussy. His growls and grunts in your ear make you dizzy. Everything is arousing you; the knowledge that everyone in this house can hear this is almost too much to handle.
Friar howls as he empties inside you, pumping you full of hot ropes of sticky cum. “Fuck,” he groans. He pulls out of you, watching the cum drool out of your pussy. “Such a good girl,” he whispers. “How did I get so lucky? You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect and so precious.” He pushes his cum back inside you, curling his fingers so you whine helplessly. “So beautiful. So submissive. So perfect.” He groans as he watches your pussy swallow his fingers. “Thank you for giving me this gift. The sweetest submission.”
You fuck yourself back on his fingers, two becoming three, the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked echoing in the hallway. Your whimpers grow louder, more desperate, as your orgasm grows in your belly.
“Friar,” you sob.
“Yes?” he teases, brushing a knuckle against your clit. You shudder in response, your ass jiggling with every thrust of his fingers.
“Can I cum? Please? I wanna cum so bad,” you cry, tears falling from your eyes freely. Friar thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.
“Come on, baby,” he cooes, voice falsely sympathetic. “Cum for your God. Cum on my fingers.”
You cum with a scream, every part of your body trembling from the force of your orgasm ripping through your body. When you stop, you crumble against the floor, too weak to move. Deep, uneven breaths find you as you try to come back to your body. You’re floating, so happy and carefree, pleased and sated.
“That’s it, precious,” Friar hums, scooping you up into his arms. “Let go. I’ll take care of you.”
And he does.
When you’ve finally come back to consciousness, you notice you’re bathed, clean, and laying in your bed in your softest pajamas. Asleep next to you is Friar, holding your body flush against his. You fall asleep again to the sound of his steady heartbeat.
Everything is perfect.