[ It's, frankly, embarrassing, and she is never going to live down just how quickly he gets her there. She tries her best to make it last once he presses her pussy firm to his face and effectively traps her, makes her squeal and yelp because he's a man possessed. Because once Marc sets his mind to something that's it. And as soon as she feels herself locked, his nails biting her ass, a low and so very sexy Lottie sounding from his lips? She knows she's doomed.
It's a full body spasm, her hands moving from the crown of his head to the desk, to her thighs, to her mouth (she bites at a finger, weakly cries around it as she chants just like that, right there, oh Marc, please in rapid fire succession). She can't seem to decide where to graspβ ] O-oh, fuck. [ βwhen she comes with a loud and sharp cry, voice breaking pathetically at the end, blood rushing to her ears and thighs threatening to squeeze his head with how they flex around him.
It lasts forever, how her body jerks and stutters when she comes down, after she's effectively soaked his face. Lottie's breathing is heavy, the shaking of her legs pronounced as she tries to weakly squirm up and out of his hold, overstimulated and so, so sensitive. ]
( she might think that she won't be able to live it down, but that's not what this is, not to marc. it's about the end result. it always is with marc, in every facet of his life — not, strictly, the what or the how, but the end. what happens.
she comes and it's not quiet, it's not subdued. it's loud and it's wet and it's all-encompassing. she jerks and tenses and marc's thoughts are not on how long (or not) it took, his thoughts are on her, her taste and her smell, the way she tries to move out of his grasp, slightly breathless and still so hot.
he lets her move, just a touch, pressing his lips, wet with her, against her leg, soft kisses working their way back up towards her navel. a breath of a pause and an actual breath, warm against her skin, punctuated by a glance up at her face. smug satisfaction pulls at the corners of his lips even as one of his hands lets go of her, slides towards his pants, to his zip, to his dick. his turn—
—as he leans up and forwards, presses his face into her hair and asks, whispered and deliberate, ) Was that what you had in mind?
[ It's wet kiss after wet kiss on her skin, up her thighs to her navel, upper abdomen. Lottie quivers and shakes, feels the corner of her eyes water from the sheer intensity of it all, even the aftershocks, and finds herself pleasantly (and always a little uncomfortablyβ finding how wet she gets a bit too overwhelming) sticky.
Stickier, when she manages to get a glance at one arm of his snaking down, her brain delightfully filling in the blanks when he noses at her hair. She whines in response, clenches around nothing and pulls Marc in, even as he is attempting to catch his breath. Hopes to maybe feel the thick of him already out and waiting at rest by her wet thigh, by the time she does. ]
Coming on your face? Fuck, my god, yeah.
[ She tilts her head to kiss at the space below his ear, at the delicate corner of his jaw. To work her way towards his lips so she can taste herself on him. ]
( she barely gives him time to pause, to orient himself before she presses her mouth, her lips to his skin and he moans, a low, deep noise of wanting that might be the result of her comment or might be the result of her attentiveness, or it could be both. there's no indication, nothing beyond the way that marc tilts into her kiss, into her lips, his stubble — near permanent unless steven gets his way, or jake — grazing her smooth, soft skin. )
Then you didn't need to make it so difficult, ( he says and it's whiny in the way that only marc can sound — gruff and petulant all at once, irritable even if he's not irritated at all. ) I'm not that disagreeable, ( he adds, and it's murmured more than spoken, and she will — she'll feel the length of his dick against her thigh, hear and feel his hand against the shaft, warm and slightly desperate. quick, hard pumps, and he tells her more than asks— ) Do you know how good you look like that?
[ Marc would be ruining this with his attitude if he didn't sound so cute doing it, if he weren't already jerking himself off at the same time. She fists his hair into the palm her hand, kisses him harder. Moans even louder despite the uncomfortable graze of stubble rubbing at her skin, because he's getting her slick wet on her lips. Smearing her lipstick onto his mouth, messy and hot.
She grins against him, mmmms into his lips at the way he praises her. It's no question she does, has utilized both her pretty privilege and her body against him when he's particularly upset or broody (sometimes to bug, sometimes in lieu of an apology). ]
Hmmm. I dunno, [ She playfully nips at his lower lip, ] I think you should show me how much you like it.
[ Lottie's offering him an invitation to use her however he likes. However he needs, if he wants to jerk off and spread his seed on her or inside, it doesn't matter, because she's eager for it either away. The anger of the night gone and forgotten with the fresh buzz of him, his smell, the sound of him pumping himself desperately. She coos, ] Get it a little wet, c'mon.
( this is the part that really gets him going, after lottie's had her due in every way that matters, in the way that she's slightly rougher. the way that he's had to wait, desperation and need sitting on edge together, pulling at his fraying patience. he knows she knows how she looks, knows she knows she's fucking gorgeous and gorgeous fucking, but that doesn't mean she gets tired of hearing it, doesn't mean that marc gets tired of seeing it, tired of saying it.
it's an easy win for her, using her body against him to distract him. to force him into a for-him-and-by-technicalities-only early night. she nips at his lip, the sensation sharp and not particularly painful, not by marc's definition, but it's enough for his breath to hitch, to catch. he's hot enough for her, wants enough for her that the tip of his dick is wet with pre-cum, and he nuzzles against her body. trails his kisses haphazardly down the line of her ribs, below the curve of her tits. across the tender skin, enough that he can feel the minute changes in her breath, feel her words as she speaks and fuck. he moans into her, heavy, the motion of his hand running up and down his dick seeming loud in the interludes, the silence between the few words they share.
marc is not a smart man, and despite everything, despite what he'd prefer, he is an emotive man. everything he feels and thinks is ready to read in his expression, his gaze, the deepness and clarity — or otherwise — of his gaze.
now it speaks of his adoration of lottie, of how much he wants her, how close he is. how desperate, how much words — really, anything that's not base and instinctual &madsh; is beyond him. )
[ He bows his head and nuzzles into her, weak and pathetic and so very needy. For her, for her help. He begs with his grunts, his kisses on her skin that is sweat dappled and blazing hot. He pleads with his moans, how his shoulders heave and tremble as he sits on the precipice. He looks at her like he so desperately wants to take the plunge but he just needs a push, maybe wants her to take his hand and do it with him.
And god, maybe she willβ later. Her pussy is starting to throb painfully again because Marc, as always, never knows how stupid hot she finds him. How seeing him like this ruins her, makes her so turned on her brain is starting to think me me me and not Marc Marc Marc. She wants to swallow every sound he makes and wear him like a blanket, mark his body in her designer lipstick and give him hickey after hickey. So everyone knows mine mine mine. ]
Where d'you want it? Huh? On my tits? My face? Inside?
[ He makes her feel so special and loved and possessive that she begins to ramble, finally settles on wanting to make him feel good above all else. But then she says inside and she can't help but whine weakly, the authority leaving her voice for the briefest of moments. She nudges him closer with the back of her heel on his ass, ]
Stick it inside and come in me, babe. Wanna feel you when you do it.
( if her voice hadn't wavered when she said inside, marc's response would have been different. lottie's body is everything, from her tits to her ass to her legs, and he'd have said tits, but her voice catches, hitches, whines, and it's enough to have the thought catch, to halt, to be interrupted — abruptly — between consideration and utterance.
marc is difficult. contrary. dislikes agreeing inherently, but—.
this is different. it's an odd balance, the middle-ground between marc agreeing with and bucking obstinately against what he's told to do, but lottie has an advantage in that she's her. truthfully, he doesn't need to be insider her to come, just needs to know that she wants it, wants him, and he presses against her, presses into her even before she nudges him with his foot. his noise, his utterance, is guttural and underliberate. it escapes his throat and he barely notices, his everything fixed on lottie, on the feeling that seems to extend from head to toe.
(no, that's not quite true—. —throbbing and rush; intense and tight and warm—))
—Fuck, ( in spite of himself. strained. ) Lottie—.
[ Her jaw hangs slack and her fingers clench around his stupid, stuffy, shirt, when he makes his decision (like she gave him much a choice, cooing into his ear where she wanted him) and eases himself inside. They've done this so many times before, but it will always feel electric every time. She trembles, sounds a decibel shy of pitiful at how he stretches her β even if, arguably, she is so very wet he just slips right in, so easy, so eager β at how full and good she suddenly feels. Like she's ascended someplace that isn't quite the Mission, that isn't quite atop Marc's stiff desk. But still very much here with him, him sinking into her pussy to the hilt. She sees starsβ ]
Ohhh, [ He throbs inside her and she pulls him even closer. ] yyyyes.
[ It's drawn out, stretched and so very pleased it might as well be a purr. And it doesn't matter how strained he sounds, Lottie is still very intent on getting words out of him. Especially if it means knowing just how much she's got him in a chokehold, her creamy cunt clenching tight around him with each second he stays stationary. ]
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no subject
It's a full body spasm, her hands moving from the crown of his head to the desk, to her thighs, to her mouth (she bites at a finger, weakly cries around it as she chants just like that, right there, oh Marc, please in rapid fire succession). She can't seem to decide where to graspβ ] O-oh, fuck. [ βwhen she comes with a loud and sharp cry, voice breaking pathetically at the end, blood rushing to her ears and thighs threatening to squeeze his head with how they flex around him.
It lasts forever, how her body jerks and stutters when she comes down, after she's effectively soaked his face. Lottie's breathing is heavy, the shaking of her legs pronounced as she tries to weakly squirm up and out of his hold, overstimulated and so, so sensitive. ]
no subject
she comes and it's not quiet, it's not subdued. it's loud and it's wet and it's all-encompassing. she jerks and tenses and marc's thoughts are not on how long (or not) it took, his thoughts are on her, her taste and her smell, the way she tries to move out of his grasp, slightly breathless and still so hot.
he lets her move, just a touch, pressing his lips, wet with her, against her leg, soft kisses working their way back up towards her navel. a breath of a pause and an actual breath, warm against her skin, punctuated by a glance up at her face. smug satisfaction pulls at the corners of his lips even as one of his hands lets go of her, slides towards his pants, to his zip, to his dick. his turn—
—as he leans up and forwards, presses his face into her hair and asks, whispered and deliberate, ) Was that what you had in mind?
no subject
Stickier, when she manages to get a glance at one arm of his snaking down, her brain delightfully filling in the blanks when he noses at her hair. She whines in response, clenches around nothing and pulls Marc in, even as he is attempting to catch his breath. Hopes to maybe feel the thick of him already out and waiting at rest by her wet thigh, by the time she does. ]
Coming on your face? Fuck, my god, yeah.
[ She tilts her head to kiss at the space below his ear, at the delicate corner of his jaw. To work her way towards his lips so she can taste herself on him. ]
I think about that all the time..
no subject
Then you didn't need to make it so difficult, ( he says and it's whiny in the way that only marc can sound — gruff and petulant all at once, irritable even if he's not irritated at all. ) I'm not that disagreeable, ( he adds, and it's murmured more than spoken, and she will — she'll feel the length of his dick against her thigh, hear and feel his hand against the shaft, warm and slightly desperate. quick, hard pumps, and he tells her more than asks— ) Do you know how good you look like that?
no subject
She grins against him, mmmms into his lips at the way he praises her. It's no question she does, has utilized both her pretty privilege and her body against him when he's particularly upset or broody (sometimes to bug, sometimes in lieu of an apology). ]
Hmmm. I dunno, [ She playfully nips at his lower lip, ] I think you should show me how much you like it.
[ Lottie's offering him an invitation to use her however he likes. However he needs, if he wants to jerk off and spread his seed on her or inside, it doesn't matter, because she's eager for it either away. The anger of the night gone and forgotten with the fresh buzz of him, his smell, the sound of him pumping himself desperately. She coos, ] Get it a little wet, c'mon.
no subject
it's an easy win for her, using her body against him to distract him. to force him into a for-him-and-by-technicalities-only early night. she nips at his lip, the sensation sharp and not particularly painful, not by marc's definition, but it's enough for his breath to hitch, to catch. he's hot enough for her, wants enough for her that the tip of his dick is wet with pre-cum, and he nuzzles against her body. trails his kisses haphazardly down the line of her ribs, below the curve of her tits. across the tender skin, enough that he can feel the minute changes in her breath, feel her words as she speaks and fuck. he moans into her, heavy, the motion of his hand running up and down his dick seeming loud in the interludes, the silence between the few words they share.
marc is not a smart man, and despite everything, despite what he'd prefer, he is an emotive man. everything he feels and thinks is ready to read in his expression, his gaze, the deepness and clarity — or otherwise — of his gaze.
now it speaks of his adoration of lottie, of how much he wants her, how close he is. how desperate, how much words — really, anything that's not base and instinctual &madsh; is beyond him. )
no subject
And god, maybe she willβ later. Her pussy is starting to throb painfully again because Marc, as always, never knows how stupid hot she finds him. How seeing him like this ruins her, makes her so turned on her brain is starting to think me me me and not Marc Marc Marc. She wants to swallow every sound he makes and wear him like a blanket, mark his body in her designer lipstick and give him hickey after hickey. So everyone knows mine mine mine. ]
Where d'you want it? Huh? On my tits? My face? Inside?
[ He makes her feel so special and loved and possessive that she begins to ramble, finally settles on wanting to make him feel good above all else. But then she says inside and she can't help but whine weakly, the authority leaving her voice for the briefest of moments. She nudges him closer with the back of her heel on his ass, ]
Stick it inside and come in me, babe. Wanna feel you when you do it.
no subject
marc is difficult. contrary. dislikes agreeing inherently, but—.
this is different. it's an odd balance, the middle-ground between marc agreeing with and bucking obstinately against what he's told to do, but lottie has an advantage in that she's her. truthfully, he doesn't need to be insider her to come, just needs to know that she wants it, wants him, and he presses against her, presses into her even before she nudges him with his foot. his noise, his utterance, is guttural and underliberate. it escapes his throat and he barely notices, his everything fixed on lottie, on the feeling that seems to extend from head to toe.
(no, that's not quite true—.
—throbbing and rush; intense and tight and warm—))
—Fuck, ( in spite of himself. strained. ) Lottie—.
no subject
Ohhh, [ He throbs inside her and she pulls him even closer. ] yyyyes.
[ It's drawn out, stretched and so very pleased it might as well be a purr. And it doesn't matter how strained he sounds, Lottie is still very intent on getting words out of him. Especially if it means knowing just how much she's got him in a chokehold, her creamy cunt clenching tight around him with each second he stays stationary. ]
Feels good, huh? You like it?