[Hunter] NSFW moments outside of time (vaginal version)

The note Hunter leaves on your pillow is, as usual, too sweet for words. Today's note makes you want to giggle like a school kid.

You make me wish I could stay awake all night just to watch your beautiful face. You make me wish I could sketch you. Paint you. Immortalize you forever.

The sweetness would be disgusting if you didn't know how earnest he is. He's devoted to you in a way you don't understand. Attentive and soft.

...You're getting sick of it, honestly.

Not his love. But his gentleness. His insistence on wooing you like a sheltered Victorian-era damsel.

You know he has deeper desires - the bookmarked porn folder you glimpsed on his laptop. The titles that made your eyebrows nearly disappear into your hairline.

And so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

You get out of bed and begin planning. While you shower, you think about the few titles you managed to see when he flipped away from the folder.

'letting her use me'

'dommy-mommy punishes-'

'milf controls my cock like a-'

As you dress, you think about how gentle Hunter is. How he treats you like you'll break. How he's never shown an inclination toward dominance.

But is that because it isn't there, or just because he wants to be the one dominated?

But surely he'd tell you. It's been months - months of regular sex, intimacy, and shared secrets.

Maybe he just doesn't know how to broach his desires? Maybe he's embarrassed?

As you work, you find yourself at the front of the classroom painting a vase of wildflowers, your mind somewhere entirely different. Your mind on Hunter's slender shoulders and lean arms, his narrow hips, and the generous swell of his cock.

And then you have an idea.

When dinner is done and Hunter goes to help the kitchen staff clean up, you retreat to your dorm room. You haven't used it much since you and Hunter got serious - only when Bug comes by on the weekends, really. So the room is clean and tidy and only needs some quick finishing touches.

You dim the lamps with sheer red fabric you borrowed from the crafts room. You close the heavy drapes and turn off the overhead light. You set out a series of bottles on the side table, as well as a fresh box of condoms.

The comforter and sheet come off the bed in a satisfying wave of cloth; the pale blue fitted sheet that's left behind is a strange mulberry purple in the altered lighting.

You don't have much time. You bustle to the bathroom and freshen up as quickly as you can, prepared for a knock at any moment.

...But it doesn't come.

You hesitate in the middle of your now-alien room, suddenly worried that you've made a miscalculation. What of Hunter takes your disappearance as you needing space? What if he doesn't want to bother you? What if...

You pace the room, mind whirring between concerns and solutions.

You could go get him. Surely he's in his room by now.

But what if the kitchen crew needed more help and he hadn't even noticed you're gone yet? Maybe you should wait another ten minutes.

You could always abandon the mission for the night. Redo it tomorrow in his room. You have the entire morning after he leaves to get it prepped.

But what if he pops into the room between his shift and dinner and sees everything before you can surprise him?

What if he's outside the door right now, about to knock, and you've just spent the last five minutes worrying for nothing?

...But the knock doesn't come.

You sit on the bed and stare across the room at the wall. There's a sense of desperation clawing at your throat and you don't know why. Why you feel betrayed and alone and jilted.

It begins to curl into a heat behind your eyes, muffling your ears, drying your throat.

How dare he not come looking for you? How dare he just... just accept that you didn't wait for him. That you ignored months of ritual and took off without telling him.

How dare he be so fucking soft? So sweet?

You grab your phone and tap his name, texting, My room. Now.

It doesn't take long for the knock. Of course it doesn't - his dorm is only down the hall.

Just seven doors away. Less than a minute. And yet you're even more furious than before.

You rip the door open and he smiles widely at you, sweetly. "I snagged one of those puffs you-"

You interrupt him, batting the plate from his hands. He gives a dismayed whine as the pastry and plate hit the floor. "What-"

"Get on the bed," you hiss, voice lower than you've ever heard it. It thrills you - the heat. The anger.

Hunter stumbles past you and into the room, halting, confused, at the unexpected sight. "What -- I don't think that's safe?" he mumbles, pointing at the cloth-covered lamp closest to him. "It could catch-"

"Take your pants off and get on the bed, Hunter."

He glances back at you, obviously confused. "What's-" but he sees the look on your face, reevaluates the room -

And then he's stumbling out of his jeans, the boxer briefs coming with and tripping him up in his haste.

You have to bite your cheek to keep from smiling as you watch the flailing. He's cute when he's flustered - doubly so when he's flustered and excited.

You step toward him; when he reaches for you, you slap his hands away. For a split second, you worry that the action was too much, too soon. Surely this behavior out of nowhere will worry him - he's sensitive to unexpected behavior.

But something extraordinary happens.

He moans.

You can't help a smirk now, reaching out to grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, raising it, meeting his gaze. "We're going to play a little game," you begin, nudging his knees apart and standing in the new space. "I'm going to use your body, and you're going to enjoy it. Got it?"

Hunter's eyes are wide and glistening in the red light. His cock is already hardening at those simple words. His hands are shaky on the bed sheet. "Where is this-"

"Do you want me to use your body to make myself feel good?" you interrupt. You lean a bit closer, your knee pressing against his shaft, and rub as gently as you can. Just a brush. Just a nudge.

Hunter's knees shake as another moan drips from his parted lips. "Yes," he wheezes, leans back, giving you more access. "Yes, yes, please-"

You rub your thumb along the swell of his lower lip - his mouth opens and you slip inside. You watch in amazement as the man you love groans and sucks at your thumb, eyelids fluttering in a bliss you don't think you've seen on his face.

You pull your thumb from his mouth with a pop, push him back, and then grab his cock. You're a bit rough as you press your wet thumb to his head and love how he whimpers as you press against the frenulum.

"Safe word?" you ask, belatedly realizing you've never had this conversation before. It never seemed necessary.

"You won't do anything I won't like," he says, voice wracked with desire. "You can't. I want it all. Anything."

"Give me a safeword," you insist, squeezing his cock a bit to focus him.

Hunter wriggles in delight. "Pineapple," he hurries out. "Or I'll tap you three times."

You nod, repeating the word to yourself, setting it to memory as you sink to your knees and take his cock into your mouth.

His following noise almost sounds like he's the one with a cock down his throat - he chokes out a stammer, bucking helplessly toward you.

You smack his thigh; it's a harder touch than you've given him before, a sting on your fingers. He groans in approval and you marvel at this change in him. This unravelling.

You need to do this right - you have to start slow, you have to build him up before you break him completely. Trying to keep that in mind as you relax your throat, you swirl your tongue along his head. Your bobbing is gentle and shallow, but your heart hammers against your ribs like it is trying to get revenge.

When your throat is loose, you make the first deep bob - and Hunter whines. It's a long, drawn-out sound that ends in a whimper.

Something within you snaps.

You can't hold back. You plunge your mouth along him, taking him as deeply as you can for as long as you can. He sounds like he might cry from relief when your vicious need overtakes you completely.

Hunter is saying your name, gasping and whimpering and begging you to keep going. You don't hear it. All you can hear is your own blood rushing through your body, your heart jackrabbit quick, the wet noises as you plunder.

One of Hunter's hands taps your shoulder three times and you pull away - reluctant, but quick Saliva drips from your lips, from his cock, wetting the bedding.

"Are you okay?" you gasp.

Hunter looks like a spooked animal, the whites of his eyes fully exposed, mouth hanging open. His chest works with each breath that stammers out.

"Hunter?" you press, getting concerned.

"I'm f-fine," he wheezes, unblinking as he stares at you. "I just... Oh my god."

And then he huffs a little laugh, his lips tilting into a smile. He still looks stunned and a little scared, but he's smiling. "I was so close to coming and I didn't... I didn't want it to end yet. I want... more. More of you. Like this."

Ooh. Those words do something very nice to your insides.

You feel the grin, sharp and predatory, slip across your face. Hunter's smile disappears and is replaced with that same sense of wonder, of anticipation.

You push him down, hand firmly on his chest, and he falls back onto the mattress without any resistance. You watch him as he grips the bed; your hands are slow and methodical as you undress for him, as you expose each stretch of skin meant only for him.

He whispers your name again, reverent.

"You look like you want to touch," you coo, a hand slipping down your body, hand toying with the triangle of flesh between your legs.

"Yes," he says quickly, starting to prop himself up on his elbows. "Yes, please-"

"Lie down," you order. "And don't you dare move unless I say you can."

He goes flat on his back, but his cock, so thick that it looks painful, twitches.

You slip a finger between your folds, slowly working yourself, watching him watch you. When you kneel over him on the bed, slotting your thighs to either side of him, his hands twitch, wanting to touch.

But he's a good boy. He follows your orders well.

You work yourself for his viewing pleasure, teasing, opening yourself, and slipping a finger inside. You moan, playing it up a little, and grind your clit into your palm.

Hunter's cock is pulsing and insistent against your thigh, but his gaze is fixed on your hand. His little noises are begging, pleading - for you to do what, you're not sure. Touch him? Keep torturing him?

"You've been so good," you say, leaning into him, mouth at his ear. You lick the shell, nip the lobe, and he quakes beneath you. "Should I ride that cock until you give me what I want?"

Hunter's moan is a feral thing, not a beast but prey. Willing prey offering its neck to the wolf. "Yes. Oh god, yes. Yes, please."

Your hand leaves your dripping cunt and slides along the hot thickness of him, coating him before aligning him with your entrance.

But you don't lower yourself - you tease, his leaking head just barely kissing your hole.

Hunter whimpers and pleads. God, who knew the man could beg so beautifully?

You slide yourself down his length, taking him all at once and delighting in the slight pain that comes with the sudden stretch. Delighting in how he gasps and lays sloppy kisses on your neck, praising you with each breath.

You ride him into oblivion. Your ardour overrides everything - your quick-to-ache knees, the strain in your back from the sharp arch you take while slamming your flesh against his.

It's bliss. Your skin sings with pleasure and your ears ring with his.

You come fast, too keyed up with power and excitement. But you don't still for long. The second your muscles relax a fraction, you're back to it - grinding yourself against him, milking him, giving him no chance to catch his breath.

He comes not long after with a sharp keen and your name dripping from his lips.

He goes limp beneath you, and you wobble down on top of him. Your breath is as erratic as his, each shuddering intake matching, each stammered exhale in sync.

Neither of you speaks or make a move to separate your bodies. A fleeting worry enters your mind that you might be crushing him, but Hunter keeps his hands on your hips like a mooring, keeping you in place.

You might have dozed off, you aren't sure, but Hunter's soft chuckle brings you back to earth. "Hmm?" you hum, blinking through a haze.

He sounds amused and happy when he says, "You saw my porn folder, didn't you?"

You are surprised by the force of your cackle, pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple. "Guilty."