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Streams of mellow light splay over so slow through the blinds one could catch it, keep it in a jar, and watch it flicker. His hands follow the cool noon as it runs along her body—molds it into her skin with only the heat of his fingertips and his candor.

It’s been around 5 minutes or hours or days or so. She’s not too sure. Time billows into a thing of rain drops and dotted lines ticking away as he leans forward to press his lips under her jaw, shifting his length inside her walls so idly she could give the cold twitch that burns in her stomach a nickname—fuck, god, god, “*God.*”“How are you doing there?” He asks when he pulls back, licks his bottom lip like he’s tasting something, his cock throbbing so heavy of inside her as he says it. Rain follows his voice in a soft pitter patter.

“Just peachy,” she manages, trying to commit herself to a routine of easy breathing that should be easier now that she’s better familiarized herself with the bare definition of his size, his shape—his heat. But now that you know and feel so much of it and everywhere, it’s quite the opposite. She wants to take her mind off it, or else she might (quite literally) cum on the spot, “Tell me about your day.”

He hums, and in the span of a heartbeat, she wishes she could’ve asked him to sing a song instead. “Not much, actually. Met up with my sister earlier. She’s engaged now, apparently.”

“Congrats,” she says with a smile, albeit absentmindedly. She’s a bit distracted; more intent on admiring how long his eyelashes look this close. Maybe she could curl them a bit if he let her.

“But she hardly knows the guy,” He sighs, a hot breath that lands across the junction between her neck and shoulder, “I know I’m the younger one but she’s always been the reckless type, y’know? Or. Well. Maybe just impatient.” He scrunches his nose, a face he makes when he’s either upset, confused, or can’t decide between white bread or wheat bread. So, in a shy attempt at comfort, she kisses his nose as he continues, “Either way, I don’t,” (his cheek) “Really,“ (the corner of his lips) “Trust him.”

When she pulls back, she brings her hands to his cheeks, the apex of her thumb only so barely touching the lashes that flare out along the bottom of his eyes. A bit pavlovian, he closes his eyes and presses into her touch. It’s awfully pretty. A lot like how whispers should look like.“I know for a fact that your sister’s not impatient,” When she tries to remember all the times she’d met her, she finds that they spent a good chunk of them just bickering with each other. “If she were, I’m sure she’d have disowned you by now.” He huffs a laugh.“

She’s clever, and knows what she wants,” out of some lazy boredom, she wriggles a bit around his length, the heat flaring up against her abdomen until she focuses on where it goes, tracking the burn as it pushes and sizzles into every part of her. He opens his eyes at this little action, half-lidded like a cat who just woke up hungry. “Plus, you haven’t met the guy yet, give him a chance. I say you trust him—trust your sister.”

“I guess,” He whispers, fingertips digging into the skin at her hips, keeping her still on the muscle of his thighs and the weight of his length. It makes her go bit dizzy, the heat surging into her at a curling speed, dulling her vision with the distant promise of sheer ecstasy. It’s as if she’s feeling exactly what he’s feeling, so much so that she loses track of where she begins and where she ends.

“How does it feel?” He asks, hands dragging themselves up her sides, his breath so unfairly steady.

It takes her more than a second to process the question, still a bit stunned quiet at the density of sensations that surge at her in waves—only for them to simmer down as quickly as they came. A cold breeze blows over.

“Full,” she sighs out. “I feel so *full*.”

He smirks. “Tell me how *I* feel,” he cants his hips upward as if trying to goad the answer out of her.

“H-hot, *ah*, you’re so *hot*,” she ends up blurting out as his hands practically cement her against him, leaving her no other choice but to become so ultimately *hyperaware* of the way his size throbs when she so much as clenches around him.

He groans at this, and the mere fact that she can feel how he gets harder inside of her makes her want to yell into a pillow and throw it at him. She tries to relax her body; tries to listen to the beat of the rain as it hits the pavement outside just to preserve the easy romance of it all, but it’s a damn near superhuman feat to focus on anything that isn’t her boyfriend, especially when his hands move down from her hips to her thighs—*especially* when his thumbs press deep circles into her skin—drawing lines of heavy warmth across every naked plane of her he can reach.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, with so much sincerity its poetic when it’s paired with the way he leans forward to catch whatever response she had right off her lips, tongue tasting every little noise that escapes her only for him to swallow them down and make them his instead. When he pulls back, just a millimeter away—just a press of his forehead against hers, just close enough that the ghost of his lips still remain, he asks under his breath, “Do I fill you up well?”

*Yes*, she wants to plead. *I’m so full; I can feel you everywhere*, she wants to confess. She settles for a nod instead, fingers moving down from his shoulders to his chest, mind going a bit numb at how he unconsciously presses himself into her hands as if to feel as much of her as he possibly can.

“Wow,” He giggles suddenly, accompanied by the muted beat of the rain. The sound is so pretty where she can feel it bubble up in his chest, and she can’t deny the easy wondered that even after all this time, his smile is still what gets to her the most.

But shorter than a moment, she realizes that past the smile, his eyes are dark and his fingers press just that little bit rougher into her thighs. “You’re really testing my self-control here,” he says, before bucking up into her, deep.

She gasps—

“Want me to cum in you, love?” He bucks up into her again, hitting such a critical spot inside of her that it knocks the breath out of her lungs again and again and *again*. “You’re so tight I wanna fill you up.”

“*Please*,” She holds unto him for dear life, fingers sinking so deep into his skin they basically print her desperation into the expanse of his chest, so near the to the beat of his heart. After having the shape of his cock in her so stagnantly for the past few minutes, feeling the same size and shape and heat push her over the edge in *motion*, has her abdomen trembling through sheer white hot buzz.

And It’s a slow realization, like dipping into a pool of warm water, when it dawns on her that she’s barely even moving on her own accord—his hips are doing all the work here, fucking into her so smoothly like he knows how much it drives her crazy just to know his hips can do that. *Show off*.

*She can play this game too*, she thinks, as she rolls her hips on his next thrust.

She wondered he’d say something smug about it, or stop altogether just to punish her or something. Instead, he hiccups into her neck, face warm and hands spreading her legs further aside so he can push into her at a more decadent angle, hips shifting from their initial smoothness into a stuttering cadence.

“Cum in me, please,” she challenges more than she begs, “*Cum in me*.”

And it’s like she flipped off a switch.

“Fuck, fuck, *fuck,*” He chants into her neck, body blushed a shy red because not only is he on the unexpected verge of coming, but also so embarrassed he’s taken to chasing his release. “You’re *so*—”

And he gasps into her neck, hot breath burning where it spreads. Sloppy, blazing heat gushes into her as his hips discover pause, shaky and sated.It’s all so much she can taste it in the back of her throat. She shuts her eyes tight.

Both of them stay like that for a moment longer, the sound of rain following every exhale. He gulps, leans back against the couch, sweaty and breathless. She wonders why he hasn’t pulled out of her yet, but when he manages a smirk at her despite himself, and gives a slight roll of his hips so she can feel every small detail of his release and his cock filling her up to the brim as he says, “Do you feel that?” She clenches around him, orgasm just about uncoiling and ready to burst like a flood of water breaking a dam.

She nods, awed by how it feels like there’s a dim glow—bright and so, so hot—flaring up in her abdomen. He gulps, looks at her with so much truth and intent before giving the smallest buck of his hips upward and purposeful rubs of his thumb across her clit.

The dam crumbles, and her orgasm surges into her wave by wave, everything goes so colorful it’s white. Her hands ball up into fists against his chest, before he’s carefully pulling himself out of her, and kissing her forehead. The rain settles into a drizzle.

​

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i’m pretty nervous about posting this…but hello ! i’m princessperspective and i actually usually write fanfiction—however, i’d really like to distribute my works detached from fandom. i really enjoy writing sex scenes, so what i post here will be pieces of my writing converted to a more accessible form (divorced from fandom, essentially). so it can be enjoyed by a wider audience ^__^

comments are highly appreciated, and thank you so much for taking the time to read this!

edit: oh my goodness, i’m so sorry about the initial formatting. fixed it up now!

NSFW: yes

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