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This is almost too easy.
Despite being able to feel every tiny shift when you walk and occasionally worrying the damn thing is going to slip right out if you stand for too long, you’re not feeling particularly bothered. Granted, the vibrator inside you has yet to be turned on, but you were a little concerned that just knowing it was there would be enough to work you up.
The apprehension does get to you; your stomach is knotted in anticipation, but your will is iron and your self control is practically impeccable. No one will be able to tell a goddamn thing unless you allow yourself to crack, which won’t happen. Your shades hide the way your eyes continually glance at the pocket of Jake’s coat that has the control in it, which force yourself to forget about. The distraction the toy creates is easily ignored.
Actually, this whole setup is so cliché it makes you wonder if you should be reconsidering your life choices. You could’ve come up with something more creative than this without batting an eyelash. Nonetheless, you’re out shopping with a vibe in your cunt and the remote in Jake’s pocket. He suggested somewhere less crowded, maybe, but neither of you could think of anything better and besides, it’s easy to tap out here and you’re not going anywhere fancy. Gourmet Burger King is your kind of shit.
Jake turns to you when you score a parking spot in the mall lot. “So. You’re sure you’re all golden with this?”
“Yeah man, we’re doing it.” Like hell you’re backing out. Jake tried to stammer his way out of being the one to suggest whatever this is, then flusteredly assured you you didn’t have to do it, of course, it was probably a lame idea anyways- but it’s a challenge and you’re going to goddamn succeed. Whatever succeeding at this entails.
It probably means not letting Jake know if, hypothetically, you start having difficulties being subtle. Not that you will. You may not be able to control everything your body does, but you’ve made your brain your bitch, thank you very much.
Easy, easy.
No one’s keeping track, but he hasn’t done anything and you’ve been out of the house for almost half an hour. You debate between whether he’s too nervous to press the button or waiting for whatever he deems to be the right moment. Probably both. Maybe he thinks keeping you on edge like this- no, no, you meant maybe he thinks he’s keeping you on edge and that it’ll hit you harder when he finally does something.
You decided to stop thinking about it five minutes ago. Turning your attention back to your surroundings, you acknowledge that you hate the mall. There’s at least half the world population in the food court alone, peppered with straight couples that think 50 Shades is a good movie and moms who thought it was a good plan to bring their three children under ten with them. The scent of popcorn wafts from the upstairs theater, combines with Hollister’s contributions to air pollution, and makes you miss inhaling car exhaust back in the parking lot. Also, it’s loud.
Jake snickers at you. “You sure are jonesing to be here!”
“This is making my entire year, English. I want a smoothie.”
“Alright, your royal highness. We’ll get you your signature Orange Dream Machine, pronto.” You let him take your hand and trek to Jamba Juice. You wait very patiently in line, everything is fine and normal until you go to order.
“Hey, can I get a Orange Dream-m-” you stutter. You stutter halfway through your order because Jake chooses that moment to turn the vibe on. He bounces on his heels at your side, nonchalant as can be. Of course, right when you weren’t expecting it is when you should’ve expected it. You’re sure you and he are the only ones who even noticed you trip on your words, but you did and that’s what matters. The vibrations shut off seconds later.
Well, you won’t slip up again now that you know he’s starting things. You stubbornly sip your drink until the cold makes your teeth hurt, refusing to look at him out of spite. You do so until the vibrations start up again, and they don’t stop until you glance at him. He’s grinning.
He’s only gloating because he took you by surprise and he knows it. You’re not going to let on that you even notice the next time he does it.
You walk around, the hand not holding your drink in Jake’s. You’re using this trip to gather gift ideas for Jane’s birthday, after you shut down Jake’s plan of getting her more baking supplies. Everyone’s getting her cookie cutters and you refuse to do so. Maybe you can’t beat Roxy at gift giving, but you’re not going to go down without a fight.
You are decidedly more aware of the toy now that Jake’s brought your attention to it. When it flicks on again you’re ready for it, and you don’t show any sign of noticing it. It stays on and when you don’t react, increases to the next setting. Your fingers twitch against Jake’s and it stops.
He talks the whole time, like nothing’s up.
“It’s bustling in here! I didn’t think it’d be this busy on a Thursday.” There’s hundreds of people, all of them oblivious to your little endeavor. Hundreds of people to potentially give yourself away to. God, is your face getting hot? You didn’t think you had an exhibitionist streak. The part of this that appealed to you was control, but the idea of trying to hold yourself together in front of unsuspecting passerby doesn’t do nothing for you. Your stomach twinges. Not that you want to traumatize the fifteen year olds in Hot Topic and get kicked out.
The vibrations come back for exactly ten seconds. Jake has no plans to stop teasing you. Not that you’re already ready for him to stop, he’s barely even started. You’re getting wet, though.
Why does he know you so well?
“Just our luck, hm.”
“I know what you said about baking utensils, but I came here with the lady of the hour once upon a time and there’s a store she loves. I can’t recall the name for the life of me, but I’m sure we’ll stumble upon it! We should take a peek once we find it, even if there’s nothing to her liking.” It’s unsurprising that he’d forget the name, but equally likely he knows exactly where it is and is taking you on the longest route to it.
The mall is probably the least arousing place you’ve ever been, and yet.
“Sure. But unless we find something brilliant, I’m not getting her some goddamn rolling pin. She has an arsenal already.”
“Enough to rival my guns, I’m sure!”
“Exactly.”
“Can I have a sip?”
You hold your smoothie so he can take a drink. He could have gotten his own, but he likes to mooch off of you for whatever reason. He makes eye contact with you as his mouth closes on the straw and his hand goes into his pocket again. That motherfucker.
You huff through your nose, taking your drink back. The vibrations don’t stop after thirty, forty seconds, and with a flip of your gut you realize he’s not planning to stop them. Whatever, whatever, it’s the lowest setting. What does he know? You can handle this, no problem. It’s barely noticeable. You signed up for this.
Walking makes things move around. You wish you were sitting.
“Ah, I think it’s somewhere around here. If there’s anywhere you want to go we can stop there too.”
“I’m good, I think I’m getting my fill of this place already.”
He snorts, swinging your joined hands. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel about the mall, Dirk.” The vibrations go up a notch. You’re not ready for it just yet and your brows knit together for a moment. This is what you get for being uncooperative. It dies back down a moment later, not without leaving you tingling. If you were sitting you could totally shift your hips and try to push the vibrations towards your clit.
You’re not supposed to be thinking like that, damn it.
Jake halts outside a storefront. “Here we are!” It’s a cute place, smashed between a candle and a music store. A pair of orange headphones call your name, but like hell you’re going to give Jake an excuse to stay longer. You are tugged inside. It smells like frosting. Themed kitchen sets decorate the windows. It’s definitely Jane’s kind of shop, but you don’t know if you’ll find anything she doesn’t have. You also can’t imagine her coming to the mall just to go here.
“Charming,” you mumble. You allow him to lead you from shelf to shelf and try to focus on anything but the buzzing between your legs, but your eyes are trained on his free hand, waiting for it to slip into his pocket again.
“Hey, look at this.” It’s a cookie cutter set in cat shapes, and pink to boot. “Maybe Roxy would finally learn how to not burn things to a crisp with these. Motivational kitty cookie cutters!”
“We’re shopping for Jane, remember? I think Rox would rather eat things other people make anyways.”
“Oh, pipe down. You’re just set on being a walking raincloud today.” He puts them back and moves on to the next thing. In the few moments he has you distracted, the vibrations kick up a notch again, and stay there.
I’s melting you from inside. Every step you take makes it shift and press against you, and your clit gives a throb that makes you wish the toy was pressing against it instead of buzzing away inside you. You doubt you could come from this alone, but it’s definitely not doing nothing for you. Alright, Jake’s succeeded in really turning you on, now would be a great time to leave so you could get home and grind on him and make out until your lips bruise.
Not going to happen. You’re only just realizing how actually frustrating this is going to be. You are keenly aware of your heartbeat in your dick.
Jake gasping calls your brain out of your ass. “Jeepers creepers, look at this! Dirk, I know what you said but I mean- look at it, it’s a work of art.” He grins at you and you have to blink a few times to figure out what you’re looking at.
“It’s a mustache.”
“A mustache cake mold . And brilliant, at that.”
You have to admit she’d like it, and you’re certain she doesn’t have one of these. “It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”
He takes the damned thing from its place on a shelf dedicated to mustache-themed kitchenware. “Precisely! I’m buying it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very. I think we should get the chocolate doodads too.”
You sigh, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Sure, whatever. Maybe we can throw her a mustache themed birthday party.” You’re only half joking.
“Dirk, my good man,” he claps a hand on your shoulder and looks at you very seriously. “You are a genius.” He releases your hand to grab a set of mustache candy molds and makes his way to the cashier.
“Yeah, I know.” Jake very cheerfully greets the young woman working at the register. She compliments his choice of purchase very sincerely. All your focus is on his hands when they reach into his pockets for his wallet. Your knuckles go white on the counter when the steady buzzing turns to long, slow pulses.
Fuck. It’s impossible not to hone in on the feeling and you grind your teeth together. You offer the woman a brief nod when she wishes the two of you a good day and let Jake take your hand and lead you out. The vibrations revert through the stages it took to get to the current one and shut off. You’re torn between relief and frustration.
“You doing okay?” Jake asks once you’re out, looking at you directly. His expression is a mixture of self-satisfaction and concern; he wants you to tap out if you feel even the slightest need to but he definitely is aware of and enjoys his power.
You brush him off. There’s no way you’re giving in yet, you’ve barely gotten started. “I’m spectacular. Dunno about you, but shopping makes me hungry.”
His smile makes literally everything you do in your life one-hundred percent worth it. Even this stupid little sex game. “Alright, let’s go get some grub then! What’s striking your fancy?”
You settle on authentic Panda Express (you stutter on your order again when Jake goes straight back to the pulses) and manage to locate a corner of the food court that’s less populated. Not that it matters if you can hear yourself think or not; most of your brainpower is devoted to what’s going on between your legs. Your clit throbs as you walk and you have to fight the urge to squirm as soon as you sit down. You know it doesn’t look like you’re struggling, though, as you maintain a perfect poker face (which is more like a resting bitch face, but that’s just you) and eat your orange chicken totally normally. Your toes curl in your shoes and your knees rub together, but you keep everything else completely composed. Jake steals bites of your food despite having his own.
Your phone buzzes. “Roxy wants to know if we found anything for-” you clear your throat- “Jane.”
“Tell her we found art, Dirk.”
You get as far as Jake, predictably, located the single most cringeworthy object in the entire mall adnn before your hands start shaking too badly for you to type easily. Jake’s eyes are trained on his phone, but you know the hand you can’t see is slowly pushing the limits on the remote. Your thighs clench and you breathe through your mouth, too late to stop yourself from squirming in your seat. The toy is constantly bumping up against your God yes spot and you itch to fuck yourself properly with it.
“Jake,” you grumble. You are way too close to moaning for comfort.
“Yes, Dirk?”
Fast pulses, one right after the other, almost like your heartbeat You open your mouth but quickly close it and put your phone flat on the table, fingers trembling. Your breath is coming heavily, and it’s absurd to think anyone around you will notice but you can’t help but feel as though you’re exposing people to things they didn’t consent to. Your teeth dent your lip.
As long as no one notices, you don’t have to worry about ruining anyone’s day. The problem is that keeping people from noticing is getting exponentially more difficult.
You swallow your pride, just a little. “Maybe- mmn- lay off a bit, would you?” you request, fully aware that asking him to slow down is just prolonging your suffering. Getting off sounds fabulous, but you can’t do that here (technically you could but you don’t exactly want to) and you won’t leave until he decides to.
The pulses slow down, become gentler but leave you throbbing. You’re wet enough that your boxers are slick and it does not help the movement situation.
Jake is merciful but seems intent on making you miserable. You’re officially dying to fuck him, you want to drag him back to his car and kiss him silly and make him take you home and bang you properly instead of this Godawful teasing, but your pride is too far in the way. You said you could do this and you’re damn well going to do it. It’s only been an hour and a half, you’re capable of holding yourself together for much longer, you’re sure.
There’s another part to this, that you’re sure he’s well aware of but you’ll hardly admit: how much you want him to make you wait, deny you, render you desperate for him. Thinking about it is enough to make you groan.
“You doing okay?”
“Fuckin’ fabulous, bro.” You ignore how shaky your voice is.
Jake scoots his food around on his plate, licks his lips, then looks up at you innocently. “Do you want to watch a movie? There’s some decent ones playing.” His feet bump yours under the table.
Oh, that’s goddamn mean and he knows it. That automatically sets you up for at least two more hours of him working you up, but of course you’re going to accept. You have a hunch he’s paced things so you have time to watch one on purpose. “Decent my ass, anything you want to see is gonna be utter shit.” You pay for that, which is fair. You bite your tongue to keep from moaning.
“Well! I didn’t say you couldn’t pick.”
“I wanna see the furry movie,” you deadpan.
“Good god, of fucking course you do. I hate you.” He’s laughing. “While it looks darned adorable, you do realize there’s going to be a bunch of kids in there, right? If they aren’t sold out already, that is.”
“Don’t be a killjoy. It’s the middle of the week even if it’s busy, there can’t be that many. I’m makin’ you watch the furry movie.”
You get tickets to The Furry Movie (you refuse to call it anything else at this point) and Jake mercifully gives you a break (well, he reduces the toy to it’s lowest setting. You have a hunch it’s not going off anymore) long enough for you to pay for popcorn and find a seat, as close to the back as you can get. You both know you’re not going to be paying much attention to the film. You think Jake’s going to genuinely love it, but you don’t voice that.
You have virtually no interest in the movie given the circumstances. When the lights dim Jake starts the pulses up again, and you heave an exasperated sigh. You’re in for the longest two hours of your life.
You’re not going to let him in on that, though. While Jake surely knows you’re far more worked up than you thought you would be, you refuse to reveal that.
The two of you do a very good job of pretending to be absorbed in the adventures of some animated totally-not-furries. To his credit, Jake is actually absorbed in the plot just as you predicted. Maybe he’ll forget that he’s supposed to be making you squirm. If it stays exactly like this, you can probably sit perfectly still for the whole thing.
You have no such luck, of course. Maybe twenty minutes has passed when the intensity increases for ten seconds. You twitch and nothing more. Five breaths later and he does it again, for fifteen seconds this time. And then twenty. He continues the pattern all the way up to a minute, by the end of which you’ve lost count and are unable to keep from shifting in your seat. You close your eyes and focus on keeping your breathing in check. Jake’s face remains fixed on the screen the whole time. You have to quit voicing your snarky commentary or else you’ll be moaning it.
He gives you long enough to cool down, but not even ten minutes later he does it again. He doesn’t stop after a couple minutes, instead pushing it up to the next setting. You clench around the vibrator and your spine throbs and you kick the side of his leg to get him to stop. Does he want you to fucking come in the middle of the movie theater? You’re no screamer but surely someone’s going to notice something’s off.
At least it’s dark so no one can tell that your face is flushed even though you can feel it. Hopefully, they can’t hear your shallow breath. Or notice how you suddenly can’t sit still for a second. Or even hear the damn thing buzzing away inside you.
You wouldn’t say you’re truly desperate, not yet. You’re simply particularly eager for the damn movie to get over with so you can drag Jake back to his car and get home and have him touch you; this stupid vibrator is effective in pissing you off. You want his hands on your body. This train of thought is making things infinitely worse.
You refocus on the screen, attempt to force your brain to discard all thoughts except ones of the little fox man and his charming rabbit companion. It doesn’t work very well. Why aren’t there any horses in this movie? Such a shame. You consider leaning over and telling Jake you want to ride him like a pony and immediately curse yourself for being so cringey. So much for having control over your head. The throbbing between your legs is not going away any time soon and you want nothing more than to touch yourself and relieve the pressure building in your gut. By the end of this your jeans are going to be soaked through.
Every time you catch yourself thinking about how turned on you are you pointedly think about something else, but you circle back every other minute.
Jake’s hand rests casually on your knee for a while, then travels up the inside of your thigh like it’s nothing, and stops. The heat of his palm on your leg makes you twitch in several places. You never understand where he gets these sudden bursts of nerve; if you did this to him in public he’d act like you just described the details of your sex life over loudspeaker.
Then he really fucks you up.
The vibe’s intensity slowly but steadily increases, alternating between longer and shorter pulses that drive you up the wall. You wish he’d put his hand between your legs and give you something to grind on. As it is, you can barely keep your hips still.
You keep expecting him to stop and give you time to calm down but he doesn’t. A low noise sounds in your throat and you’re sure, you’re sure if someone listened carefully enough they could hear the buzzing, or at least your heavy breathing. You dig your teeth into lower lip and grip his wrist, trying to tell him that holy fuck he’s going to make you jizz in your jeans if he doesn’t stop. You’d appreciate it if he didn’t stop because you’re close but he needs to stop because your composure is held together by mere threads. He slides his hand between your legs, hardly applying any pressure. The gentle weight of his fingertips on your clit is enough that you’re about to lose it completely.
He leans in, breath on your jaw. “I can feel how hot you are, Dirk.” You’re fucking losing your mind.
You’re quite literally on the edge of coming, head bowed and brows knit, torn between rocking your hips and pushing yourself over the edge and holding yourself back. You’re about to give in when he kills it and takes all touch away. Your whole body jerks and tenses and you fail to totally stifle the strangled noise that claws its way out of your throat. You bury your face in his shoulder and try to compose yourself, grip your knees for dear life to keep from rubbing one off through your jeans. You wish you had your shades on so they’d jab him in the neck.
Fuck him. Fuck him.
To think you were so sure you could handle this, no problem. Why are you such an egotistical douchebag? Your middle name is Regret. You weren’t desperate before the movie but you sure as hell are desperate now. You’re absolutely dying. You don’t even care that you’re in a fucking theater, you are so close and everything is on fire and throbbing and you’re failing pretty hard at getting your breathing back under control. You don’t know how long it takes you to pull yourself together enough that you trust yourself to straighten up.
“I fuckin’ hate you,” you whisper-groan. Jake is having a rough time keeping a smile off his stupid face.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “You okay?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve never been less okay in my life.”
“We can go.”
Yeah. You could. But that entails defeat. “Hell no, fuck you.”
“I promise you can, later!” You catch him wink before he looks back at the screen. You’re going to set yourself on fire- it would hardly feel any different from this. He goes easy on you for the remainder of the film with occasional low-power buzzes, but his hand on your thigh never leaves and you think you need to have a sit-down and discuss this sadistic asshole side of him because you’ve sure never seen it before.
You love it, you hate that you love how badly you want him, you love how desperate your body is for relief and part of you wishes he’d keep you like this for the rest of the day, maybe not let you get off at all. If he asked you’d keep yourself on edge for hours more if it was what he wanted, until you were sobbing and dripping and just his breath on you would be enough to set you off.
Mostly, though, you really want to come.
Really. Want to come. The idea of him preventing you paradoxically makes you crave it even more. You’re so wet you think you can fucking smell it. A kids movie is clearly not the place to be thinking about your lame denial kink. Disgusting.
You kind of tune out the rest of the movie. The only thing you can reliably focus on is your breathing and your pulse in the various points of your body that it beats. When it finally, mercifully fucking ends you put your shades back on, grab Jake’s hand and start tugging him out before the credits can even begin. You don’t give a fuck if he trips on someone’s feet. Your legs are unstable.
Jake slows you down when you exit the theater. “You sure there wasn’t anywhere else you wanted to stop before we go?” You practically growl and he laughs, goddamn laughs.
You ignore the glances of the people you pass; you probably look like you’re going to kill anyone who gets in your way. Maybe you will, but it’s more likely you’ll start crying out of frustration. You let him slow you down a little as you near the exit, but the parking lot is in sight and that means the end of this torture is nearing. “I’m gonna get us fuckin’ banned from this place if we stay any longer.”
He turns the vibe back on right when you reach the car and your knees buckle, knocking together and forcing you to lean against the door in a struggle to get a grip yourself. You’re gonna teach his punk ass a lesson.
That lesson is grabbing his face and smashing your lips together as soon as you get in the car. You shamelessly moan into his mouth and shudder. “Fuck,” you begin, talking between kisses, “you for being such a little shit I swear to god I think I’m dy-dyin’, nn fuck man!” Jake grins against your lips. You pull away and groan, brows pinched together and lashes fluttering as the vibrations intensify. Your breath shudders in your throat. “I- fuck Jake, I wanna come .”
He grins at you, thumb stroking your cheekbone. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own dick that you’ve failed to notice how turned on his is until now. He bites his lip, eyes wide and pupils blown.
He kisses your nose, gently encouraging you to be patient. “Wait. Just a little longer, love. Please? I want to take you properly.” He asks you so nicely, so sweet and innocent that you don’t even bother putting up a fight. You’re sure he’s smug off his ass, but he kisses you like sugar.
You grunt in discomfort. “Quit kissing me and- hm.” You snap your jaws shut. Jake’s started the car and the rumble of the engine vaguely mimics the vibrating going on in your pants, and your brain short circuits. You click your seatbelt in, cross your arms and try not to shift your hips. You focus on breathing as normally as you can; Jake doesn’t deserve any goddamn feedback.
You absolutely fail at sitting still despite your intentions. Your nails somehow end up between your teeth, your other hand clenched in a fist on your leg. Your thighs twitch enough times that you give up and cross them.
What a bad idea. There’s more pressure on your clit and everything throbs, and you’re sure Jake is hyper aware of the hitch in your breath.
You are proven right when the vibrations suddenly increase again. You make a strangled noise in your throat and your spine arcs away from the back of your seat- and then you’re stiffening and shaking and so close . Oh God, you might actually come this time you’re so so close and trying not to whimper because holy fuck.
Of course, you do not get to come. The toy cuts off instantly. You grip the side of the door and whine, knees apart again and hips squirming and breath coming fast. You were literally right there- so, so close- and if you knew you had permission you might have snapped. If he keeps edging you like this you’re going to start crying out of frustration. You could shove your hand down your pants and come right here in his car, lord knows you’re itching to, but he told you to wait and you’re going to goddamn wait.
Jake rubs your knee and murmurs nonsense such as, “Great galloping gods, Dirk,” all soft and breathy and you wish he was breathing that against your throat. You shudder and fight for whatever control you can salvage. You manage by the skin of your teeth to get yourself mostly still by stiffening up like a statue, although your hands tremble visibly.
It takes ten agonizing minutes for you to get home. Jake’s shut the toy off but in your desperation you have to make some sacrifices to keep from falling apart completely. You know your face is flushed and your breathing’s too heavy and your hands won’t stop shaking, but you doubt anyone’s going to notice in the five (long ass) minutes it takes to get up to your apartment.
The parking lot is devoid of other residents. Jake takes your hand and the bag containing Jane’s gift and you keep your jaw firmly locked. Your knees shake so badly you aren’t entirely sure you can walk properly. Wait, wait, wait, you’re so close to being home just a little more patience, just wait, just wait. You stumble into the elevator with a completely oblivious neighbor, absorbed in their phone. You hardly breathe, the only thing moving is your pulse and your trembling extremities. Jake is visibly tense too- at least you haven’t had to fight off and hide a boner the whole time. Things could totally be worse.
According to the throbbing between your legs, no, nothing could be worse.
Unlocking the door is challenging when your fingers are somewhat out of your control, but you manage to do it on the second try and yank Jake inside. Before the door clicks behind you you’re on him, pushing him up against the wall and moaning into his mouth, clawing at his clothes. He giggles and puts one hand on your hip. The other goes out of sight and the next moment it’s a struggle to stay standing. Your forehead thunks against his shoulder and you grip his shoulder like a lifeline.
Jake’s hand runs through the back of your hair, fingertips resting behind your ear. “You’ve been so good,” he quips like he’s talking about the weather. It simultaneously makes you want to cringe and get on your knees for him. He kisses your chin and then your throat, breath hot on your skin. “But we’re not going to get very far out here, are we now?”
You fumble taking your shades off and look him straight in the eye, any intimidating aura you had lost to raw desire. “Jake, I do not give a livin’ or dead shit if you fuck me right here on the floor. I need your cock in me now.”
The look on his face is absolutely worth admitting how desperate you are. He takes your hand and tugs you towards the bedroom, kicking his shoes off as you go. “Aye aye, captain.” Somehow he says that with the right pitch and gravelly-ness that it’s hot. Fuck yeah, you’re captain and your bed is the boat and you don’t know where you’re going with this and you don’t care. You just want the man in front of you to be inside you.
You push him down and crawl on top of him the moment your bed’s in sight. His hair falls away from his forehead and he gazes at you with eager eyes. He’s receptive to all of your touches, letting you kiss him fast and hard and hungry. His hips lift to meet yours and he slides his hands up your sides. You can feel his cock pushing at the denim of his jeans.
Speaking of jeans: you need yours off. You’re halfway through trying to wiggle out of them and tug Jake’s sweater off at the same time when he starts snickering again. You give him a Look, confused, and he bites his lip in a failed attempt to stop.
“Sorry, sorry.” He finishes shrugging his top off and grins at you, just a little coy. “I’ve just never seen you this riled up! Usually at this point you’re still pretending to be a very suave, hard-to-get gentleman.”
You are too horny to be offended. “Jake.” You lean forward, lips close to his. “You try bein’ edged for hours with the hottest dude you’ve ever seen within arm’s reach, in public. Then tell me how you- ughfffuck!” Your eyes snap shut and mouth falls open when he ramps up the vibe again. The sheets bunch in your fists.
Jake gently pushes you, switching your positions so he’s over you. He pulls your jeans the rest of the way off and runs his hands up your thighs, feeling you writhe. “Yes, you were so patient. I certainly couldn’t have done that!” There’s an edge to his tone, a confident glint in his grin. “I wanted to go home and fuck you silly the moment we got there, I can’t imagine how dearly you want it now.” He licks his lips. The way he’s gazing at you with heavy lids and melty eyes makes you feel oozy. “But I can see it. And,” he traces the soaking crotch of your boxers, stopping to push the toy further into you, “I can feel it.”
You’re twitching and clenching like mad. His voice is going to be the end of you, you adore when he talks. You can’t breathe. Heady waves of pleasure pulse through you. “Jake- I swear to God- I’m gonna come-”
The vibe shuts off, leaving your hips rocking in a vain attempt to find the stimulation you need to get there. Your desperate inhale turns into something that sounds an awful lot like a sob. You immediately clamp down on your tongue and turn your face into a pillow, fighting for self-control. Your body is on fire with an intoxicating need to come and it's killing you, ripping your inhibitions to shreds. “ Damn it Jake-” Your voice, already wavering, breaks along with the very last shreds of your composure. It’s too much at once to feel his eyes burning your skin when you’re broken down to primal pieces.
Soft lips press to your temple. “Dirk, Dirk, shh. You’re okay.” Jake’s voice is thick and his hands are gentle on your hips, tugging your boxers down so he can slide the toy out of you. You clench around nothing, feeling significantly empty, and make an uncontrollably embarrassing high-pitched whimper. His weight shifts and he leans down, tips your chin so your mouths meet. “Almost. Almost there.” He hastily unzips his jeans and shoves them down, freeing his cock, then leans over you to fish a condom out of the drawer. “You are by far the most patient and compliant of fellows. So good. So good.”
You hook your legs over his hips and arms around his neck as the head of his cock presses right up against you. Your toes curl. You can feel him trembling too, but he doesn’t move. Can’t the fucking bastard tell you’d cut your arm off for him to just fuck you already?
You search for your voice. “Jake.” His hands inch up your thighs. You meet his gaze, swallow. You need him in you. You need to come. “Jake. Please. Please, I need you. ”
That was what he was waiting for. Your eyes roll back as his hips tip forward and his cock fills you. You groan simultaneously. Jake’s breath is hot on your throat and his cock twitches inside you.
He’s slow to pull out, letting you squirm around every millimeter of heat. You feel him tense, fingers digging into your hips, and right when you’re about to start ripping your hair out he rams into you.
Again and again he slams into you, using his hold on you as leverage. You can’t control your throaty moans, or the way you claw his back, or the uneven jerk of your hips. You’re immediately on edge, you want to come so so bad. Your fingers hover over your clit, so close to touching but you need, you need-
“Jake, Jake, please can I come-” your voice gives out on you again and you’re forced to whisper. “ Please. Fu ck.”
Jake groans in your ear and his pelvis snaps forward. “Yes! Yes love, come.”
You’re rubbing yourself before his first syllable of permission is complete. You guess it’s a good thing you’ve been reduced to purely whining because if you could verbalize the stream of “fuck yes, fuck yes, thank you, fuck me, fuck fuck fuck,” running through your head you’d never live it down.
Pleasure crashes down on you and there’s nothing in your head except absolute fuckin’ bliss and the heat that is you clenching around Jake’s cock. He fucks you through it, hard and fast and deep and you can’t really tell when you start coming down because you’re already going up again. Nothing makes sense besides feels good for a moment, then another, and another. Oxygen never felt so good in your lungs.
When your brain comes back to your fuzzy body you center on Jake’s hands, one on your hip and one on your thigh, and the slow, controlled rhythm of his hips. He’s restraining himself. Dazed, you reach out for his hand and thread your fingers together. You appreciate the way his body moves while looking for your voice again. “Y’can speed up. Harder. Fuck me,” you manage, words punctured with heavy breaths. He doesn’t hesitate.
Each thrust loosens your joints like it might unhinge your limbs from your body. His eyes are closed, brows knit, lips parted so he can moan your name. He paces himself, fucking you deeply and thoroughly. Every line of his body gives away how good he feels inside you. You adore making him feel this way. You’d let him use your body to get himself off without even a first thought, let alone a second.
The endorphins are fucking with your thought processes, but how could deny it if someone asked if Jake owns you?
You deliberately clench and Jake’s control slips. “Good- good God Dirk, you feel absolutely fantastic- Jesus Christ.” His dorky praise makes you twitch around him and he speeds up. “Ah, ah God, yes, you’re perfect absolutely perfect mmmoh sweet fuck Dirk !” He tenses and you feel his cock twitching in you as he comes. You think it’s a shame he has a refractory period. You’d love to make him come multiple times in a row like has can you, maybe on you, in your mouth, on your tongue. You’d even forgive him for getting it in your hair.
Denial makes you a bit of a cumslut.
Jake collapses half on top of you, sliding out of you in the process. He pants against your neck, planting loose kisses when he catches his breath. You require a few minutes to breathe with him, processing how your body feels. You’re sore and somewhat icky but mostly tingly all over and trying not to think too hard about the fact that he broke you down to begging.
Of course with a partner like yours, you have no such luck. Jake props himself up, eyes bright. “You begged for me,” he murmurs, intrigued. You groan and sling an arm over your eyes. “You, Dirk Strider, asked nicely. Said the word ‘please!’”
“Look-”
“That was the sexiest thing you’ve ever done, to be frank as a frankfurter.”
“You know what’s not sexy? The word sexy.”
Jake grins and kisses your chin. “If you’d rather me use ‘an absolute nut buster’ instead I will indeed. Anyhoo, remind me to always start teasing you a few hours beforehand because holy cheese ‘n crackers Dirk, that was brilliant.”
You trace down his spine. “I am actually going to go nuts if you do that to me every time.” A moment of silence passes. “But. If that’s the outcome you’re after I guess you should go for it.” His hair tickles your chin for an answer. You poke his ribs “Dude, we’re disgusting. I’ve been marinating for hours and I want a shower. Get off me.”
“Make me, Strider.”
Promising to wash his hair does the trick. His mouth between your legs ten minutes later, soap running down his back with the wasted hot water, is entirely coincidental.