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You fidget, staring down your reflection in the full-length mirror.
Gladio's been away for some time and you want to greet him with something special to welcome him home, so you searched the internet for the perfect piece of lingerie. The lacy garment arrived in discreet packaging, wrapped in delicate rouge paper and you smiled to yourself.
Of course, owning the most exquisite piece of lingerie you've laid eyes upon and wearing it are two completely different notions.
You try to remind yourself that everyone has insecurities about their body, a flush rising in your cheeks as your gaze skims over your barely-clothed form. Crimson lace barely contains your breasts in a demi-cup, flowing down in a panel that has an open V over your breastbone tapering to your navel, few bits of lacing toward the tapered end. The piece ends a few inches below your navel, garter straps hanging down, connecting to sheer black lace thigh-highs. You've chosen a simple, yet sinful, pair of crimson crotchless-panties and some elbow-length, fingerless ultra-soft lace gloves. The aesthetic is completed by simple black stilettos that make your calves look stunning.
You've little time to prepare; Gladio will be home any moment. You decide to lay upon the bed in waiting, kicking your legs up perpendicular to your torso and resting them against the wall for support. You drape yourself in what you hope is an alluring pose and will your heart rate to come down.
A handful of anxiety-ridden minutes pass before you hear the click of a lock turn outside your bedroom. Whereas you finally managed to bring your anxiety down, it spikes as you hear Gladio's signature heavy footfalls approaching your location, his deep voice calling your name in the empty living area.
"In here," you call back, proud that you've kept the waver out of your voice. This is it, the moment you've waited weeks for.
You can picture his brows drawing together in confusion, those cute wrinkles forming between them. The footfalls draw nearer, softer now without shoes, and suddenly, the door to your bedroom opens with a creak.
It feels like slow motion: the door opens fully to a sweat-glistened Gladio, his black tank clinging to defined abs and boot-cut, dark wash jeans, dampened locks near black and mussed. Amber eyes fall upon your posed form wrapped in delicious lace. It's obvious when it finally occurs to him that you're dolled up just for him; amber darkens to pupil-blown bronze, jaw tumbling open in surprise.
However, when a few silent moments pass, you begin to feel self-conscious again. Smiling nervously up at Gladio, you venture a query.
"Uh, do... do you like it?" Your voice is meeker than you intended.
Faster than you think a man his size can move, he's on the bed, arms and legs on either side of your body, caging you in. He grinds his obviously hard clothed length against your bare slit, a devious glint in his yes.
"Mmm, baby girl," he groans. "What do you think?"
A stuttering moan leaves you as the texture of his jeans drags over your folds, light pressure on your clit making you squirm beneath him. You try like hell to hold on to your senses; he isn't about to get the upper hand when you have plans. That in mind, you shove against his broad chest to signal him to move. Muscle twitches beneath warm skin at your touch, but he acquiesces.
"Come on, don't you want to see the full package?" You husk, a devilish grin forming on your lips.
His eyebrows waggle suggestively at you, although he sits back and allows you to get up off the bed, moving in slow circle that he can see the barely there lace, your backside bare for his eyes to feast upon. Behind you sounds a wolf whistle, prompting you to send him a flirty smile over your shoulder. As you complete your slow turn, you notice Gladio has managed to take his shirt and pants off, palming his stiffening cock through his underwear.
The sight sends a jolt straight to your core, where arousal has been simmering quietly below the surface. Suddenly you no longer want to tease, your body realizing it's been far too long since his thick length has buried itself as far into you as it can humanly go, pressing up against your very womb. You clamber up on to the bed, leaning down to run your tongue up the length of his cock through the dampening cloth separating you.
When a shudder rolls through him, you know playtime is over. Gladio practically hauls you up into his lap, hands running over the dainty lace about your body. When his questing fingers find that your panties have zero obstructions, he looses a gravely moan.
"Babe, it's been too long," he rumbles into your neck, nibbling at your sensitive flesh. Slowly, he sinks two fingers into your slick channel, already fluttering with need. "I almost forgot how good you feel."
His warrior's fingers provide a small amount of stretch and you know he's always careful about preparing you, but today is not the day for it.
"Gladio, just... fuck, I need you right now," you whine, reaching into his underwear to grip his weeping cock. "Please."
He has other things in mind, wrapping his much larger hand about yours and gliding it over his shaft. It takes your lust-addled mind a bit too long to realize the dual sensations of your soft palm and the textured lace must be to his liking.
"You like that, do you?" You murmur in his ear, biting at the shell. "You know what would be so much better? This tight pussy swallowing your massive cock."
There it is, that's all it takes before he's up, out of the last vestiges of his clothing and flipping you onto your hands and knees. One hand grips your left hip while the other guides his length to your drenched sex. You prepare yourself accordingly; even ready, his girth gives you that burn of stretch every time.
True to form, as he slowly pushes into you, that sweet burn takes over and adds a delicious layer to the extreme pleasure. It doesn't take long for him to bottom out, a desperate groan passing his lips.
"Fuck, Y/N, I missed this," he grunts as he sets the pace just short of brutal.
You don't complain, though. Weeks of his absence have left you wanting for something quick and dirty. There will be time later for soft and slow, the lazy lovemaking that curls your toes and lingers.
Dropping to your forearms, you brace yourself so that you're able to rock back into his thrusts, wails wrenching from your throat as he slams into you. Strong hands grip your waist, your hips, even migrating to your semi-clothed breasts as they sway with his movements behind you. Fingers circling your pebbled nipples through sheer fabric drives you wild, your inner walls starting a desperate dance as your release careens toward you.
"Babe," Gladio pants, "I'm not guna last much longer like this."
If he's expecting an answer, you'll have to disappoint, lost in yourself as you toe the line of blessed oblivion. A huff of a laugh behind you alerts you to his acknowledgment of your condition, a hand teasing along the lines of your lingerie as it treks down to your aching clit. A few more forceful thrusts combined with his expert fingers on your nub shove you over the line, falling into absolute pleasure.
Gladio isn't far behind you, groaning out his release as he pushes as deeply as possible, the force of his orgasm prolonging your aftershocks. He slumps over, pressing his chest to your back, still firmly lodged into your quaking heat.
"If I didn't know any better," you heave, body straining against his weight, "I'd think you were trying to keep a cork there to knock me up."
Tired chuckles sound somewhere near your ear. "Come on, it wouldn't be that bad."
"Six have mercy, Gladio, the world can't handle another one of you," you quip. "But I am so glad to have you back home."
"Glad to be back," he agrees. "But if I'm guna come home to such nice presents, I might have to go away more often."
Booming laughter fills the room as you smack him.