Chapter Text
Adam
It’s all a perfect coincidence, in his opinion.
Olive swabbed bacteria on Thursday afternoon. Her lab assistants (two undergrads and a grad student) are watching it culture and counting cells over the weekend while she takes a must needed rest. Adam had been giving her not so subtle hints to relax for weeks now and she finally gave in.
It just so happens that Adam also has the weekend off. Technically, he has three days off to work on a paper for a peer review deadline but all he has to do is a little editing. Realistically, it shouldn’t take more than half a day to do. Maybe a full day if he gets caught up with doing something else.
Adam absolutely plans on getting caught up with something else.
He’s not usually the one to initiate intimacy. Even after almost a year together, he gets scared of being too much for her. Too big, too intense, too needy. He needs her so, so bad that sometimes he finds it difficult to believe he survived without her.
Adam’s life is split into two parts: Before Olive Smith and After Olive Smith. Before was bleak and grey with a few bright spots (Meeting Holden, graduating with his doctorate). After Olive is colorful. It’s so vivid and vast and beautiful and he can’t believe he’s allowed to be this happy. That someone like her is with someone like him.
So to avoid scaring her away (a possibility that seems less and less likely as time goes on - she takes everything so well), he tries not to act like a fucking beast and fuck her every night. He only does when she wants to, when she gives him the signal that she wants him (a concept that’s so baffling, it should be studied).
It’s a perfect coincidence that he and Olive have the same weekend off. It’s a perfect coincidence that Olive stays the night, that he wakes up before her and cooks breakfast. He’s not a bad cook but his meals are considered passable. Edible. Enough to sustain a human life. Thank god she is easily satisfied with pancakes.
Olive giggles as she swallows a bite. “What are you doing?”
It takes him a moment to realize he’s been winding her curls between his fingers, standing next to her as she eats. He’s mesmerized by her. “Nothing, I… nothing.”
She doesn’t respond but she does lean her head on his shoulder and the world is at peace.
After half a day of lazing around, they end up on the couch watching a movie. A Star Wars film, Olive’s pick of course, and no matter how many times he’s forced to sit through full marathons, he can’t remember which is which. As Luke (or Anakin?) trains with the little green guy, Adam turns to Olive.
Her hair is down for once and that explains why he’s been messing with it so much. She’s still in her pajamas - a loose tshirt and panties and some ridiculous socks. His eyes follow the curve of her neck, the dip of her freckled collarbones, to the creamy space of her thighs. She has freckles there too and it’s Adam’s greatest accomplishment in life to say that he’s kissed every single one.
He doesn’t know when but his hand trails to her thigh, a thumb rubbing circles across her skin. Goosebumps rise as he does and Olive looks at him from underneath her lashes.
“What are you doing, Adam?” She asks for the second time today. She’s genuinely curious. Poor thing. She’s always been a little naive, a little too slow to catch onto any hints.
He swallows a lump in his throat. “I’m hungry.” He didn’t eat pancakes with her. He only had a coffee.
“Want me to make you something?” Olive blinks. Sweet. She’s so sweet.
“Not like that.” She only seems more confused by his response. How can he show her… ah. Maybe that will work.
His head tips down. His lips brush her cheek, her ear, her neck, before his tongue finally dips into that space that makes her collarbone. He knows exactly which place is her favorite - a smattering of exactly seven freckles marks the spot. As Adam mouths at her neck, his thumb travels to the edge of her underwear. A clear sign.
Her breath catches in her throat and he hides a smile. She gets it.
“Please, sweetheart?” He asks because he’s absolutely not above begging.
One shaky nod and a lot of maneuvering later, Olive is on her knees on the couch, ready to ride his face. What a perfect coincidence.
Olive
I genuinely have no fucking clue how this happened.
I thought we were having some down time, enjoying a rare but deserved day off together. I had a whole plan (okay maybe not a real plan, but definitely some ideas) of watching movies and sleeping and eating and… yeah, that was it.
But Adam wants more and I’m not going to say no. It’s a very rare occurrence when he initiates anything and I’m too greedy to say no. It’s always so good with him. I’ve discovered that I like every single thing when it comes to Adam.
But I still don’t get how I’m in this particular position.
Adam made it crystal clear from day one that he likes giving. Oral is something that never occurred to me before him. I never experienced any of it, never had a reason to, but Adam is insistent on it. His exact words were, “I’d go down on you every single day if you let me.”
Which. Yeah. Woah.
So one can imagine we do this often. Still, I’ve never been in this position before. Not on his face, at least.
His hands run up and down my thighs. They’re big enough to almost close fully around each one. For a moment, I get distracted by the veins in his hands. By his blunt fingernails. By the sheer size of his hands. Are men allowed to be this big? It’s gotta be a crime somewhere.
Shivers go up my spine as his lips gently caress the inside of my thighs. Not quite kisses but… trailing up and down and up and down. He’s trying to rile me up and it’s working.
The first kiss he presses to the inside of my thigh makes my hips buck. He clicks his tongue and his grip tightens on my thighs. “Be a good girl. No moving.”
I can be a good girl. I can be good and still.
It’s a test of wills when he starts to mouth at my panties. He suckles and kisses like the cotton barrier isn’t really there. And I can feel it. His tongue strokes my clit. The kisses he presses to my labia.
“Adam!” I cry. It’s all I can do to keep still, to not not buck my hips. I’ll probably break his jaw.
He murmurs praises that I can’t hear, tightens my thighs around his head, and finally pushes my panties to the side with a thumb. He licks once, twice, before deciding even that isn’t enough. It takes this man, this giant of a man, all of two seconds before he rips my underwear off.
I watch him tuck the ruined pair into his pocket. “Wait-“
“Shh. You don’t need them anymore.” He growls out and I don’t get to respond ‘You don’t need them either’ before Adam’s tongue is in my pussy.
He’s eaten me out countless times before (wow, humble brag much, Olive?) but this is something entirely different. Even though I’m on top, he’s controlling everything. One thumb parts me and another lifts the little clitoral hood. His lips wrap around my clit and suck. He kisses my pussy like he’d kiss me and I have no idea what to do but tremble and moan. My body feels like a million little fireworks have erupted under my skin. My brain is turning to goo.
It’s not just the act, it’s the noises. The wet, sticky noises that come from Adam eating me out like he’s starving. He groans, like this is affecting him more than me. Like he could spend all day, between my legs, doing this.
In theory, I muse in my head, he could. We’re both free for the entire weekend. If it was possible, Adam could spend ample time like this. But he wouldn’t. Because that’s ridiculous.
My orgasm is so sudden, it’s frightening. It hits me and I convulse. I have some sound of mind to try to not crush my boyfriend with my weight but Adam just holds me close and licks through the spasms. The licks are slow and light, meant to guide me through the orgasm gently. But then he keeps licking even when I’m done coming and each swipe pushes me closer and closer to overstimulation.
“Adam?” I croak. I move my hips to try to dislodge but his arms are like anchors around my thighs.
“This okay?” One, two, three more licks. Each one longer and bolder than the last. “Does this hurt?”
It doesn’t. It’s a lot and I think if he keeps this up I’m going to high five god himself but: “No, it doesn’t hurt.”
That’s all the permission he needs to go down on me again. And again. And again.
I’m good at math (you have to be, if you want to get this far in STEM academia), but even I lose track of how many orgasms he gives me. I don’t know when he adds a finger, or two, or three. I can’t recall when my shirt came off, making me stark naked while he remains fully clothed.
But I know that eventually, I really think I’m gonna die. I’m sure of it. I’m sure that if he keeps sucking on my clit, I’m going to die riding his face and he’ll go to prison for first degree murder. If his fingers keep curling like that, just there, then Adam’s going to face a 30-to-life sentence.
I pull on my reins - his hair. “Adam.” God, is that my voice? That raspy, barely there thing?
He doesn’t hear me. His eyes are closed and he’s losing himself in, well, me.
“Adam.”
Nothing.
I gather all the strength I have and tug. “Adam!”
Finally, he pulls his head back from my cunt. Cool air hits me and I shiver. I’m so warm now, thanks to his mouth and about a jillion orgasms.
The first thing I notice are his eyes. They’re completely blown out. The lower half of his face is shiny and slick and it manages to make my blush worse.
Trembling, I murmur, “That’s enough, honey.”
He has the nerve to look put out. He doesn’t quite pout. I don’t think he has the face muscles for that, but there’s no denying the twinge of a whine when he goes, “Really?”
Like a toddler being pulled away from the playground.
“Really. It’s been-“ Damn how long has it been? I look around the living room for an indicator when I realize the movie’s end credits are rolling.
The movie is over. Adam ate me out through the entirety of The Empire Strikes Back.
“It’s been two hours.”
“We could make it three. But three's an odd number. Let’s go for four hours. Five?” He tries to bargain with me as he nuzzles my thigh. His eyes flick from my eyes to my pussy, which is probably all wet and sticky.
I shake my head. “Two is enough. Your jaw must hurt.”
He shrugs it off like he doesn’t care if his jaw falls off its hinges. Then he keeps looking up at me, waiting for an answer, and I can clearly see the hope in his eyes.
I chew my lip. This is Adam. He never asks for anything. My boyfriend wants to spend hours eating me out and here I am telling him no, like a monster. Some women would die for this privilege.
Besides, I do like it. More than like it. Maybe Adam’s turning me into an oral fanatic too.
‘Sorry, girl.’ I apologize to my pussy. ‘Hold on a little longer.’
I nod once. “Thirty more minutes.”
I’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s licking up my core again, like this is all he wants to do. We stay like that for another hour.