Showtime

I tried to behave, I really did.

But in my defense, he'd been gone all day and what else was I supposed to do now that he's right here with his arms around me, fingers tracing spirals against my side while he just exists in my space, so warm and utterly fuckable?

It's easy enough to pretend I'm still watching this movie, but I don't even know what we're watching. Something superhero-ey with spandex and fighting, but I can't focus on anything except how good he smells. And maybe a little how good he'd look in that spandex. Regardless, it certainly isn't my fault when my hand wanders from the cozy place it'd been settled around his waist, across his stomach to rest on his belt buckle.

He looks away from the movie, to my hand at his belt and then to my face, half questioning and half amused but says nothing. Feels a hell of a lot like permission to me, and that's all I need.

I move slowly at first, slipping my finger through the buckle until it releases and I can move past it to release the button and fly of his jeans. I press the flat of my palm against him, the stirrings of heat and hardness giving away his awareness of me even though he pretends to be entirely focused on the film.

Let's see how long that lasts.

Without a word, I push back the blanket that covers us, untangling myself from his arms and my hand from his pants so I can stand.

"What're you up to, darlin?" he asks, his expression cautious but curious as he scans my body- his t-shirt, panties and a mischievous smirk.

I drop to my knees and crawl between his with the most innocent expression I can muster.

"Oh," he says, voice going growly on the single syllable as realisation lights his eyes.

Now when I reach for his fly, I am not subtle. I don't need to be as he lifts his hips so I can tug down his jeans and boxer-briefs until he's bare for me, hard and ready.

So little work, so much reward. I grin, my mouth already watering at the way he's watching me and I haven't even touched him. He slides forward on the couch, making it easier for me to reach him and giving himself a better view in the process. I want to take my time but the air is thick with anticipation and our combined desire, and I'm not sure which will win as I grip the backs of his thighs and scrape my nails along them with just enough bite to make him shiver. I kiss the insides of his thighs teasingly slow with little nips across his skin that I soothe with licks for both his benefit and mine. He tastes so fucking good. He feels so fucking good.

When my hands move across his hips to his waist, skipping his cock entirely, he shifts underneath me, impatient already for the touch and attention I'm not giving. When my mouth follows the same path my hands took, kissing and nipping across his hips, he growls, hot anticipation rolling off him in currents that buzz across my skin.

"Babe," it's half menace, half plea as he rolls his hips toward me, thick cock twitching as I lean forward, hair brushing across his stomach and hips, and lick him once.

"Don't you have a movie to watch?" I ask him demurely, resting my head on his thigh and looking up at him with wide eyes. He watches me steadily for a moment, one hand absentmindedly going to his cock and stroking it as he thinks.

With his other hand, he reaches for the controller and flips the movie off. The screen stays on though, illuminating the room enough for me to see what I'm doing- and for him to watch me do it. I like it when he watches me, so intent on the way I touch him and captivated waiting for my next move.

"Fuck no, I don't," he tells me, "but there is a show I'd like to see." He arches a brow at me expectantly.

I grin, unable to resist any longer. I reach for him, my hand replacing his on the base of his shaft as I lick him teasingly on the sensitive underside of his cock. When his breath catches, I smile against him and feel my body responding to his pleasure.

With one hand, I hold him still as my mouth closes over him with soft suction and I hollow my cheeks. With the other, I cup his balls, tugging them in tandem with my tongue as it swirls across his tip. His breathless sighs become moans of pleasure and frustration when my torturously slow pace doesn't increase, and he shifts his hips toward me, one hand sinking into my hair.

For a moment, he just rests it there, gaze trained on my mouth as I open wide and take as much of him as I can, pausing to take a deep breath when I feel him at the back of my throat. It takes all my focus as I pull a breath in through my nose and relax my throat, moving slowing until I've taken everything he's got and his grip tightens in my hair with a sharp gasp.

"Fuck, that's good," he praises, rigid tension in every line of his body with the effort of holding still until I come up his length enough that he knows he can fuck my mouth without hurting me. When I do, he takes over, a hand in my hair setting the pace he wants as I keep tight friction with my lips against his cock and my hand cradling his balls.

I am lost to him for just a moment, eyes closing in pleasure at the gasps and groans he makes, the encouragement that tells me how much he likes it. I live for those little sounds as he comes undone at my touch, I get high on them and it only encourages me to want to push his pleasure higher. The salt of him on my tongue is incredible and I want more than anything to be the reason this incredible man falls apart tonight. I want to bring him to his knees, just the way he's got me on mine for him. I focus on finding his pulse points with my tongue, licking across them with measured pulses as I pull back, pushing against the pressure of his hand until the suction breaks with an obscene pop.

Both hands wrap around his cock now, twisting opposite directions with the lubrication from my mouth and his pre-cum as I drop my attention lower, to his balls, and lick along the soft skin until he's sucking in a breath and swearing.

"Look at me when you suck my balls," he commands, and I oblige, looking up at him through my lashes as I suck one and then the other into my mouth, "Yes. Good girl."

His praise only spurs me on and even though he hasn't touched me, I can feel the wet heat between my thighs and the tightness of my nipples against the shifting fabric of the shirt I'm wearing. Watching him come unglued always undoes me, too. His pleasure is all I need on nights like these, and I moan around him, knowing he likes the vibration of my sounds against his sensitive skin. His answering groan is music to my ears.

But he's losing patience with me and my teasing now, and once more his grip tightens in my hair, tugging me back to where he wants me, cock filling my mouth as he controls my speed. His breaths are erratic now, short gasps that are punctuated by soft moans and sharp swears and drive straight through me with their pure need.

When I look up at him again, he's not watching me anymore. His eyes are closed, head back against the cushions of the sofa as he rolls his hips up to fuck my mouth and holds my head in place so I can't stop him. I want to pull off to tell him to keep watching, maybe to give my jaw a quick break as it aches from taking his thick cock so deep. But he's too far gone to the feeling and this moment so I don't, instead giving in to the wave of pleasure I get from seeing him like this.

"Shit, love, don't stop," he pants, eyes flashing open as he punctuates his statement with a fierce tug of my hair, "I'm gonna cum down your fucking throat."

Yes please, give me everything, I want to say, and I hope my eyes say it for me while he watches his cock disappear into my mouth at a pace almost as frenzied as the lust in his gaze. I know my own mirrors it.

When he comes, he makes the most carnal sound, a growling guttural whimper that reverberates through my every nerve as he empties himself into my mouth. The heady hot rush of him fills my senses in an incredible wave of pleasure as I take it all, swallowing as fast as I can to keep up. Even still, he fills my mouth faster than I can contain it, and I can feel it leaking out of the corner of my mouth as his pace slows and his grip on my hair relaxes, fingers combing through it now softly.

I lick him clean, feeling the pulse of his pleasure slowing in every still-hot ridge of his cock as I do so. Wiping my mouth carefully with the tips of my fingers, I lick those clean too and sit back on my heels to grin up at him.

"So," I ask conversationally as he catches his breath and I lean against his thighs, "how was the show?"