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A gloved hand reaches up and clamps over your mouth when a mewl keens at the back of your throat, threatening to emerge. Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath with every pant and groan fanning over your face. His eyes, dark and molten with lust, slide half-closed when your foreheads touch. Strands of his black, curly hair cling to his face, dewy with sweat and exertion.
“Been a while,” he’d said, and you’d scoffed in disbelief.
The tension between you two was palpable, high-strung, and you’d only assumed it was because he was a sexual man— so you’d found it hard to believe that Carlos Oliveira, Adonis himself in the flesh, hadn’t gotten laid recently. You’d challenged it, in fact, and it’s remarkable how his demeanour, his confidence, fell apart at the prospect of sex, and now he’s fucking you up against the wall in a storage closet.
“Fuck,” he grunts, removing the hand from your mouth to plant against the wall behind you, gripping, clawing at the shelf for purchase as he begins to lose his composure.
“Falling apart already, handsome?”
Your words bounce with each thrust, hiccuping in your throat. Your head swims, somewhat from the disbelief that this is actually fucking happening, but mostly from the precision at which he takes you, legs braced and biceps rippling with the force of holding you upright. The mere thought alone douses the fire of your arousal.
Carlos groans at your words, then pauses with a shuddering breath. He grits his teeth and steadies his rolling hips. He’s hilted as far as your cunt will possibly take him, hips flush together, insides burning with a pleasurably full ache. The stillness makes your legs quiver.
“Can’t help it,” he moans, face nuzzling against your cheek and jaw. His warmth seers on your skin when he presses a kiss to your neck, and sweat smears along your cheek. “You’re practically pouring all over me.”
He rolls his hips again, slower this time, retreating so only the tip of his cock remains inside before pushing back in. He slides in and out of you like pure silk; he wasn’t lying about how wet you were. Your panting breaths, exchanged between touching foreheads, do little to drown out the delightful, squelching sounds of your bodies. Flashes and bursts of pleasure radiate down to your legs, and you can’t help it, but you—
“Shit and that ffffucking—” he shivers and sinks his teeth into your t-shirt. “That fucking shuddering.”
You grin, bottom lip caught between your teeth when you realise what he’s referring to and purposefully flex your muscles around his cock this time, clutching him as tightly as possible. His expression darkens, and a hand snaps up to catch you by the jaw.
“Careful, sweetheart,” Carlos growls, but his grip loosens, and he swipes a thumb over your drool-slick lips gently, apologetically. “You’re playing a dangerous game right now.”
“You can take it,” you rebut, voice honey-thick with lust.
His lips curl into a grin, and a tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Have it your way, then— see what happens.”
The power of his thrusts jolt you now, and the shelf rattles behind you. He does it again and again and you can’t find it in yourself to care because he’s fucking you stupid— shame is a far-off emotion, damn whoever walks past, let them listen. Your breath catches in your throat, freezing when the white-hot pulse of your cunt burns in the promise of your incoming climax.
Carlos can feel it. You’re clutching around him like a damn vice.
“I got you, honey, I got you—”
His rumbling voice, molasses thick and gravelly with his exertion, sends shockwaves of pleasure down your spine, and you’re immediately awash with the heat of your orgasm. It rolls over you in waves, coiling tight in your belly, and he’s practically whimpering against you, teeth once again gnawing into your shirt to stifle the sounds of his grunt as he spills inside of you.
You both still for a while, ears ringing and head full of static. He sighs thickly, head thumping lazily against your shoulder, exhausted and spent. Even after all that he still manages to hold you up, you’re bound to be left with bruises on your thighs and ass with the force he’s been gripping you with.
Carlos kisses you languidly and openly with tongue, making out like the two of you are a pair of lovers. You can pretend in the storage closet for a while and enjoy the moment whilst high on dopamine. He separates after a moment, and a filament of spit clings between your mouths.
You’re first to break the silence when your heart rate settles a little. “Was it worth the wait?”
“You got no fuckin’ idea.”