“Please, Bambi,” he groans, when my hand wraps around his cock and balls.
He’s mostly soft, because he struggles to get hard more often than not. But that just means I fondle him in my hand instead of stroking him. Sometimes he’ll get hard later, once he’s distracted enough not to overthink it. Sometimes not, but I can coax an orgasm out of him anyway, with a little patience. Orgasms and erections are on two different sets of wiring, and I have all the time in the world for both, when it comes to him.
Soft, hard, I don’t give a fuck. He’s still shivering and taking deep, heaving breaths like my tongue in his hole is the second coming.
“Who do you belong to?” I pause my ministrations to ask him.
“You.”
His voice is so soft I can barely hear him over the water falling around us. I push two fingers into his softened hole and then join them with my tongue for a minute, enjoying the way he clenches around me.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“You, Bambi.” He’s a little louder this time.
“Perfect, doll. That’s it.”
Standing up, I press every inch of myself against his back. He’s squirming a little, the way I’ve noticed he does when he gets anxious about his lack of an erection, but there’s a very easy way to distract him from that.
“And what are you?”
Tadhg shivers again while I wrap one arm around him, grabbing his pec with my left hand as my right hand braces the base of my cock. I keep lube in the shower for exactly these sorts of occasions, and it’s reason number one million I’m thankful I live by myself.
“Your slutty pussy,” he answers.
“Mmm.” I don’t give him the chance to breathe before I push in, and he makes this high-pitched, squeaking sound while I quickly and relentlessly impale him on my cock. “Perfect. You don’t need to worry about getting hard for me because I have this perfect pussy right here.”
I don’t get an answer in the form of words, but he begins to make guttural, animal noises as I fuck into him. Hard and fast, with no time to get used to the stretch. My babygirl needs to get out of his head a lot of the time, and I can help him with that.
I let myself drift, losing track of time as I continue to fuck into him over and over while telling him what a perfect slut he is for me. How tight his little snatch is. How I wish I could have my hands on him all the time.
And he moans, and begs, and comes apart in my arms.
“Do you need my cum, doll?”
“Please, Bambi.” His voice is hoarse now.
“Good girls deserve to be filled up,” I whisper in his ear, snapping my hips against his as I pick up the pace.
I reach around and feel that he’s more than half-hard now; his cock stiffer and pointing at the ground where he’s angled over at the waist.
“That’s it, doll. Are you going to get the floor wet for me? Spill yourself everywhere when I fill you up?”
Tadhg doesn’t answer, he just makes a raw, anguished sound as I gently shuttle my hand over his erection, pressing my fingers into all the little sensitive spots that I know make him shiver. The velvet heat of his skin is such an overwhelming sensation, it pushes me the last little bit I need until I can’t hold back my own orgasm anymore.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I say in a broken whisper as I jerk my hips forward a few more times and finally spill my seed deep inside of him. I don’t let my hand stop working him over, though. I’m grinding deep into him, putting as much pressure on his prostate as I can and enjoying his breathyah-ahs until he finally clenches around me and seems to come with his whole fucking body.
A spray of cum hits the floor, mixing with the cooling shower water to be washed down the drain, while his cock throbs hot in my hand and his hips continue to twitch against me.
I massage his balls again with my other hand, making sure he’s getting touched everywhere he needs, putting pressure against his taint until it pulls out that same little squeak from before. I have to bite the scruff of his neck to keep from laughing, because he would definitely think I’m laughing at him and get upset.
I’m not. I’m not laughing at him at all. I’m laughing because there’s no way the universe made someone this fucking perfect for me and then left him sitting under my nose this whole time, under the guise of a stepbrother, so he’d be the last place I’d look.
When we finally detach from each other to get cleaned up for real this time, it’s not long before Tadhg goes quiet again. And not the quiet of having his brain cells fucked out of existence. The heavy, anxious quiet he often carries with him.
Again, I don’t press. We have time. We both wash and pull on some clean underwear. Then I force him to come to the kitchen with me for a snack and some water, before we both fuck ourselves into chronic dehydration.
Then, when we’re finally in bed in the calm, dark silence, I decide to push my luck. I can only hope he’s still fucked out enough to let me.
