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You tried to wait. Tried to distract yourself or, hell, even tried to deal with it yourself. But no matter how you try, you just can't satisfy your desires like he can.
You feel a bit ashamed, creeping through Sylus's bedroom door while he's fast asleep. He was absolutely exhausted when he got back home. Tired enough only to leave you with a quick kiss and a "Have a good day, sweetie," before he trudged off to take a quick shower and pass out. Tired enough that you feel absolutely guilty slinking over to the bed and sitting beside him.
He's sleeping on his stomach. He usually does when you're not in his arms. Cradling the pillow under his head, at ease with his back exposed, yet on guard with his hands inches from his gun.
He looks peaceful. His back rises and falls with each breath. Shoulder blades shifting as his chest expands and relaxes. His biceps are flexed from the position of his arms, taught and enticing. And his face: lashes brushing his sharp cheekbones, brow relaxed, lips slightly parted. You can't resist carefully brushing aside his bangs to get a better look. He's beautiful. Ethereal.
You need him. The ache in your belly grows restless. The overwhelming wetness in your panties yearning to be properly taken care of.
You're still trying to work up the courage to nudge his shoulder when he sighs long and drawn out through his nose.
"What is it, sweetie?" he mumbles. His words, slurred and rough with exhaustion.
You bite your lip. He sounds so tired. You really should just leave him be.
Hearing only your restrained silence, he slowly blinks an eye open to squint up at you. The peaceful line of his brow turns into a frown as concern has him turning onto his side to see you better. "What's wrong?"
You shake your head. "It's nothing. I'm sorry for waking you."
"'S fine," he slurs. He reaches out for you, finding your hip and rubbing it soothingly. "What d'you need, kitten? You wouldn't come in here just t'watch me sleep."
"Maybe I did," you tease. "You're so pretty - maybe I wanted to admire you at your most vulnerable."
A sleepy smirk tugs his lips. He closes his eyes for a moment to fight off the burn of sleep, then looks up at you again. "It's a sight only you're permitted to see."
"I know. It's very valuable to me."
"But it's not why you're here."
You sigh. He's not going to let you slip free this time.
You shake your head and run your fingers through his hair. He hums at the lovely feeling of your nails dragging along his scalp, playing with his still slightly-damp hair, petting him like he's your pet. He naturally angles his head for more, leaning into your hand and brushing a kiss to your wrist. "I'm..." You sigh again, fully relenting to the situation. "Unbearably horny."
He chuckles, then laughs. It's cute and boyish, and he brushes his lips over your wrist again like an apology.
"I tried dealing with it myself, but you just- I don't know. You... know my body better."
"I'm flattered," he hums. "But I don't know how much... assistance I can provide right now."
"I know. Which is why I was trying to get out of saying it in the first place."
He shakes his head slightly, nuzzling his nose against your pulse. "I'm glad you came to me. I... like that you trust me with this." He hesitates, like the words are strange in his mouth to say. Maybe it is. You've noticed how often he struggles to be vulnerable sometimes, even with you. You can't blame him, either; you have no idea the life he led before you.
He breathes in the fragrance of your skin. Traces his lips over your pulse, seeking the thrum of your heart beneath. And then he turns over onto his back. Even in his tired state, he doesn't seem to struggle at all to pull you up by your waist to settle you onto his lap. And damn, you wish you could memorialize the way he looks up at you: eyes heavy and dark, lips so soft and sleepy as he smirks, hair tousled and messy.
"Use me."
You blink down at him. "Excuse me?"
He chuckles. His thumbs tuck under your shirt to run along the waistband of your pants. You shiver. An electrified thrill runs up your spine.
"You need me to satisfy your desires. Well, I'm offering my body to your needs, kitten. You can use me for as long as you need to."
Saliva pools under your tongue at the offer. You swallow it down, willing your fingers not to tremble as you rest them against his chest. "Are you sure?"
He nods. "Absolutely."
"You're not too tired?"
A hum, and a shrug. "If I fall asleep, you can keep going," he says. "I can't leave my poor kitten wanting."
God, the permission he just granted you makes you instinctively try to press your thighs shut. All you succeed in doing is squeezing his hips. He grins, so pleased with himself for having such a strong impact on you.
You lean down over him to press a light kiss to his lips. It's slow and sweet. The passion is there, thrumming under the thick blanket of sleep. "You can always tell me to stop," you murmur against his mouth. "I don't wanna take advantage of you."
He nods. Lips part to lick at the seam of your mouth, welcoming the taste of you to his senses. His large hands squeeze your hips, silently telling you just how much he desires you, too. He guides you, in no rush or urgency, until your clothed cunt rests right over the bulge under the thin blanket. Even through the layers of clothing, it's addicting to feel the effect you have on him. His cock growing hard just for you.
You rock steadily against him. Grind your hips down against his. He groans softly into your mouth. His breath seems to shudder, like he feels everything twice as much as usual now that he's inebriated with exhaustion.
His hips rise just barely to match your pace. You feel his cock harden more and more, pressing insistently against you, begging for you to take what you want for yourself.
You press your tongue into his mouth. He welcomes your dominance, sucking on your tongue and meeting it with his own. He tastes like his toothpaste, from brushing his teeth before he went to bed. The fresh chill of mint counterbalancing the heat of your kiss.
When you pull away, your teeth catch his lip and tug. He breathes a sigh of your name, mumbled out as he eagerly cracks open his eyes to see what you'll do to him next.
You sit up and shift yourself down onto his thighs. He watches, enraptured, as you pull the blanket down to reveal his sleep pants. Dragging your hands down his stomach, his belly pulls in with a sharp breath of air. You look up at his face as you grab his waistband. His face is all flushed. Cheeks burning a beautiful pink, up to the tips of his ears.
You draw the fabric down torturously. Slowly, slowly over the curve of his cock, straining to be free, pressing eagerly up against his boxer briefs. He lifts his hips up slightly to let you pull them down over his ass.
You're so tempted to suck him off through his underwear. Tease the impression of his cockhead with your tongue through cotton, licking a wet spot overtop a precum stain.
But you're just too damn needy. Too fucking desperate to have him fill you like no toy possibly could. He's utterly ruined you with his cock. An addiction only he can provide, a withdrawal only he can satiate.
You drag your nails along the lines of his hips. His head falls back into the pillow. Adam's apple bobs with a low groan and a swallow. He bites his lip when you finally drag his underwear down and his cock springs free. It slaps up against his stomach, twitching and beautiful. You think of licking up the vein running along the underside. Sucking at the tip and licking at the drooling slit.
But your pussy throbs with urgent desire. Gushes with unbridled arousal. You lift yourself off of him and his hands move on autopilot to help you remove your pants and panties.
He lifts his head to watch in a daze as he draws his fingers through your slit, parting your lips to expose the pretty threads of slick he gathers on his fingertips. He raises them to his mouth, licking at the glistening wetness. Sucks his fingers into his mouth with a delirious moan at how delicious you taste.
"So wet..." he breathes. "How long did you play with yourself for, sweetie?"
You whine at the reminder, embarrassed. "An hour, at least," you gripe. Too damn long, that's for sure. Fingering yourself, grabbing different vibrators and turning them to all different settings, various dildos. Nothing could satisfy the hunger. If anything ever did bring you near the edge, it was never enough to push you over. The second your breath would hitch and mind would get light, it went away, waiting for you to chase after it again and again.
He groans around his fingers at the thought. You, trying so hard not to bother him. Trying so hard to take care of yourself alone. Only to come crawling to him. It certainly boosts his ego. But, really, what could be more arousing than knowing your partner desires you so much?
You straddle his hips again, laying your parted folds along the length of his dick. You grind him like that, stroking him along your pussy, soaking his cock with your wetness. His fingers dig loosely into your hip, his other hand falling from his mouth to hold onto the pillow underneath his head.
Before long, you can wait no longer. You lift yourself up and he watches, so fucking pretty, as you line his cock up to your entrance. Your cunt accepts him so readily, already well prepared by your desperate ministrations from before. He glides so deep into you, stretching you open so perfectly, curving along your walls like he was molded to fit there. He gasps your name again, like a breathless prayer. Brow furrowed, mouth hanging open, eyes fixed on where your bodies are joined.
It's exactly everything you needed. His blunt tip nudging at your cervix. The heat of his body. The feeling of him twitching against you already, leaking precum deep inside your cunt. You moan, rolling your hips to grind your clit against his pubic bone and the pretty mess of pale hairs that decorate the base of his cock.
"Fuck," he sighs, rolling his hips lazily to match you. They don't quite time up, but it feels too good to even think of complaining.
"You're so perfect, Sy," you moan. Lift your hips and drop them right back down. The clap of skin, the slam of his cock, hitches your breath. "Mnh, so- fuck! So perfect."
The praise goes straight to his head. It always does. You love when he's making love to you, hunched over you as he rolls his hips to perfectly angle himself in all the ways that make you cry out his name. When you can whisper in his ear all the sweet things he's never gotten to hear before. About how beautiful he is. How gentle he can be. How you love having him so close, feeling all his skin against yours. How good he smells with his fancy colognes. How you adore all the sounds he makes, his grunts and groans and the sharp hiss of air through his teeth when you squeeze around him or bite his neck; the rare occasions he honest to god whimpers for you, whining about how good you feel around him, how gorgeous you are, how he's so desperate to fill you up. And right now, the praise is even more effective, as his sleep-addled mind takes it in deep, without the knee-jerk reaction of feeling like he doesn't deserve it.
He lets his head fall back. Eyes slip shut. Mouth parted around the syllables of your name, whispered like a declaration of love in the wee hours of morning, when everything is so hushed yet so profound. His fingers tighten around the corner of the pillow. Back arches, seeking out more of your attention, drowning in what you're already giving him.
You plant your hands on his chest for support. Drag your nails down his abs as your hour of foreplay creeps up on you. Your arousal has already soaked his pelvis and inner thigh, even the prominent veins that travel from his navel down to his cock. Each bounce is accentuated with the slick, wet sound. It drives you wild. Picks up your pace. Goes to your head until you're riding him like you're possessed.
"F-Feels s'good~! Mnh, needed you s'bad. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck, m'gonna-"
"Cum, baby," he whines, grabbing at your thigh with his free hand, squeezing the plush meat so hard it'll bruise. "Cum f'me, please, kitten."
Hearing his sleep roughened voice so high pitched and broken, begging. You don't stand a chance to last a second more.
You cry out his name. Grind yourself down on his cock as your walls clench so tight around him, swollen clit dragging along his skin. His hips lift slightly, barely at all. His cock twitches, cum flooding your cunt in hot spurts, filling you more and more until it spills out around him, dripping onto his thighs.
You slow to a stop, body trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. It takes you a second to breathe again. A minute more before you can open your eyes. You seek out Sylus's face through the daze and have to fight the giggle that bubbles up your throat.
His eyes are shut but his brow is relaxed. Mouth parted around even breaths, chest rising and falling slowly. His fingers have released the pillow. Eased up on your thigh.
Fast asleep.
You can't help admiring him for a bit. The slight glisten of sweat on his skin, his bangs sticking to his forehead. The slight shake to his breaths, still affected by his orgasm. You can even hear the faintest snore.
"My pretty baby," you coo in a whisper. You carefully lean down, laying your body overtop his, mindful not to wake him up again or let him slip out. You press a faint kiss at the corner of his mouth, then the bridge of his nose, and his chin, before tucking your face into his neck. "Sweet dreams, Sy."