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

The note Hunter leaves on your pillow is, as usual, too sweet for words. Today's makes you want to barf (in the nicest way possible).

You make me wish I could stay awake all night just to watch your perfect 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 protecting you like you were some starving Victorian-era street urchin he pulled from the street.

You know he has deeper desires - the bookmarked porn folder you glimpsed on his laptop proves it. 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.

'gagging on his dick'

'deep in my ass no mercy'

'mm cumshot compilation 12'

While you dress, you think about how Hunter insists on fawning over you, anticipating your needs before they arise. Subservient, sure, but not in the way those porn titles would suggest he likes.

...But is that because those desires are ones he doesn't have for you specifically? Or afraid you'll be weirded out by it?

But surely not. You've never given the impression of being a prude, have you?

...He'd tell you if he wanted it. It's been months - months of regular sex, intimacy, and shared secrets. He must not want you in that way.

...But then again, 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 fresh bottle of lubricant and a pack of hygiene wipes on the side table.

The bed's 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 if 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 growl, your voice raspier 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, bracketing his knees with your legs. "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 tilt your hips - just a little, just enough to draw his attention.

Hunter's knees are shaking as another moan drips from his parted lips. "Yes," he wheezes, leaning toward your jeans-covered groin, mouth brushing the fly. "Yes, yes, please-"

You cluck your tongue and pull back, guiding his chin up again. Meeting his gaze, you drag 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, whispering, "Undo my fly and open your mouth."

Hunter's fingers fumble over the rough material of your jeans - your swelling cock isn't helping, pushing up against the fabric. When the zip is out of the way, it's easy enough to pull you free of your underwear. He dips close to lick you, but you pull away. "I said open your mouth."

Hunter's mouth opens again, eyes full of want as you stroke yourself, guiding yourself to his waiting lips.

And then you pause. "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 safe word," you insist, tapping his lower lip with your cock.

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 buck your hips, forcing your dick into his waiting mouth.

Hunter is glorious like this. He's gone down on you before, but he's practically gagging himself on it now, desperate, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him.

"Fuck," you whisper, brushing a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Fuck, Hunter, you're so fucking good-"

Hunter moans around your cock, grabs the hand you are caressing his scalp with, and forcefully drags it to the back of his neck.

The intent is clear, but startling. It makes your cock jolt as you grip him -not too tight, careful to avoid his windpipe- and pull him as close as possible.

Hunter takes every inch of you and sucks. You can't catch your breath, can't even tell if your lungs still exist, while he works you. While you marvel at this change in him. This unravelling.

One of Hunter's hands abruptly smacks your hip three times and you release him and pull away. Saliva drips from his lips, from your cock, dribbling down to the bed.

"Are you okay?" you gasp, heart hammering like a jackrabbit's.

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, the sound rough, his lips tilting into a smile. He still looks stunned and a little scared, but he's smiling. "I was either going to come all over myself or pass out if that went on much longer."

Ooh. Those words do something very nice to your insides. Not the thought of him passing out, of course, not really, but the desire in his face while he says it... Jesus.

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.

He whispers your name again, reverent.

"You look like you want to get fucked," you murmur, hand sliding against your straining flesh in long, slow passes.

"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; his cock, so thick that it looks painful, twitches.

You reach for the bottle of lube on the side table. You slick your fingers and stroke his cock, making him arch and groan, writhing in place. "Stay still or I'll stop," you threaten, but you can hear the smile in your voice. You need to work on this dominance thing, you guess.

But Hunter goes still and moans, eyes squeezed shut as if trying to keep still is painful. So maybe you're not too bad at it after all.

You slick his crack generously, teasing his hole and making him whimper. It's delightful, drawing it out, but your own erection is beginning to hurt. You need him. Need to feel him tight around you.

"Please," Hunter groans. "Please, please, stop teasing me, just-"

You slick your hand again and slip a finger into him. He gasps and chokes on the air, whimpering and praising you, pleading for you to hurry. But you take your time, add a second finger, and enjoy how wrecked your man is just from the slight stretch.

You'd normally drag out the process, but by the third finger, Hunter is beginning to beg, beginning to threaten you, pleading for you to just stick it in, just take him, make it hurt, daddy-

And that does it. Something inside of you snaps and you pull your fingers out of him, slather your pulsing cock with more lube, and growl, "You want me to fuck you hard until you come all over yourself?"

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, please, fuck-"

You line yourself up with his hole, but you don't enter him. You tease him, dragging the head around and drawing an honest-to-god sob from the man. "You better be hoarse tomorrow, or I haven't done a good enough job."

You thrust. It's hard and fast, faster than you'd normally like, but Hunter's cry is one of relief and pleasure. He rocks himself into you at first, but you keep your word - you fuck him with abandon, pinning him down, his lubricated cock sliding against your abdomen while you rut.

You fuck him into oblivion. Your ardour overrides everything - your skin sings with pleasure and your ears ring with his.

It doesn't take long for him to come, spilling all over you both. You aren't far behind, either - you're too keyed up with power and excitement to make it last.

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 makes a move to separate your bodies. A fleeting worry enters your mind that you might be crushing him, but Hunter keeps his arms around you 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 rasps, "You saw my porn folder, didn't you?"

You are surprised by the force of your cackle, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Guilty."