forthsofar | the cushy sheltered way of life was really no fun

Entry tags:

nick

the cushy sheltered way of life was really no fun

She's kept quiet about it. Not because of any worry or concern, not because she feels as though she's done anything wrong--indeed, in a way this feels the furthest thing from incorrect. There's just been a lot to think about, thoughts and feelings and needs that she's been turning over in her head and trying to parse out on her own before she brings them up with either Nick or Sabrina. She'll need to, because they're the cause of it all, the ones that sparked that odd blossoming warmth within her as they asked questions that held just the barest edge of command behind them.

It could be that she's understanding it all wrong, her relative inexperience turning words murmured in the heat of passion into something that feels more weighty than it is. But somehow, she doesn't think so. Whether she's misunderstood or not, though, Rosie wants to be sure of herself, and sure of what she wants. As she'd been told before, so many times, that's the only way this works.

After a few days of thought, she's ready to open the conversation, and given that they already had plans this afternoon, Nick seems the perfect person to start with. Settled on his couch and entwined under a blanket, they watch--well, mostly--the season premiere of that awful witch show Nick had fallen in love with during his convalescence, the both of them laughing and shouting things at the screen. Once it's over, Rosie reaches for the remote control, clicking the television off.

"Nick," she says softly, a flutter of uncertainty starting up in the pit of her stomach, something she tries to ignore. She turns in his arms until she can press a kiss to his mouth. "Could I...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." Realizing how that might sound only once it's out, her eyes widen, just slightly. "Something...I think it's something good, I promise."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Thank you," Rosie says, breathing a little easier after that squeeze to her leg.

She stays where she is for another moment, letting the last fluttering bits of her nervousness and uncertainty fade away, then takes her hand from between her legs and rolls onto her stomach. Spreading her legs, she pushes herself up, angling her hips and putting herself on display once more.

"I think I'm going to fuck you like this," says Nick, leaning over to grab a condom from the bedside table and then shifting to kneel behind her. "What do you think of that? How does it make you feel?"

She can hear the sound of the drawer opening and closing, feel the way the bed dips and sways as he moves, all of it making her stomach flip--though not entirely unpleasantly.

"Nick, you couldn't," she says, instinctively turning her head a bit in his direction despite the blindfold, the motion pathetic and seeking. "Not...not like this, with me positioned like this, all...it's filthy."

"But you're so available like this, babe," says Nick, landing a smart smack on her ass. "Everything on show, everything right there. Admit it - you want to know how it feels."

He smacks her and her hips jolt, which she almost expected. Less so, the faint grunt that wells up from within her, an undignified sound that makes her all the more embarrassed. "I know everything's on show, Nick," she says. "That's...that's what's so humiliating about it. I feel like...well, not the sort of girl I'm supposed to be, I can say that much."

Rosie squirms, faint shifts of her hips, none of them enough to put her out of position. She thinks she knows what he wants her to say, and knows that when she does, it'll be the truth.

"Y-yes, Nick," she says quietly after another long pause. "I want to know what it feels like, to...have you like this."

The grunt is good, and Nick slaps her again before he shifts behind her, fingers wrapped around his cock to rub it against the slick furrow of her cunt. Teasing them both.

"You just need to decide what kind of good girl you want to be, Rosie."

She tries, and fails, to hold back another grunt the next time he hits her. "I want to be good for you, Nick," she says, because no matter how deep her blush at what he's making her do, it's the truth. "I...I like it when I'm good for you."

Feeling the rub of his cock, she trembles, letting out a soft and shuddering moan.

"Let me hear you beg for it, Rosie," he says, still rubbing himself against her, almost but not quite slipping inside her. She's so wet it would be the easiest thing in the world. "Let me hear you beg for my cock."

The idea of being that shameless, especially with how he already has her positioned, knocks her speechless once more. She'd taken a step over that threshold already, letting slip the sort of vulgar word she'd never thought she'd have cause to know let alone use, and to go just that bit further seems both far too easy and unthinkably obscene.

As she stays quiet, struggling with the order, Nick keeps teasing her, the rub of his cock promising so much but never quite delivering. It's nearly enough to drive her out of her head--and just enough to start tipping her into further obedience. "Nick, please," she says at last, squirming back against him. "Please, I need...I need to feel you like this. I-inside me, while I'm o-on display like this."

"Tell me what you want, where," says Nick, biting back a smile. "And I'll let you have it. I promise."

"Why are you going to make me say it again?" she says, that impertinent whine back once more. "Nick, I'm already...you have me spread out and you're teasing me like that and you know what I want and I've tried to be so good, please."

Blushing scarlet, she bites her lip hard, then gives in. She was always going to. "I want...I want your cock, Nick." Another pause, another internal struggle. "I want it in my c-cunt."

Grinning at that, Nick starts to slide his cock into her, one inch at a time.

"Next time, I think I'll tie you up too," he says, holding onto her hips to keep her still.

She moans again, feeling the press of him against her and that slow, near-torturous slide. His hands are tight on her hips, tight enough that she can't squirm as much as she might want; the realization makes another needy, confusing something spark within her, when taken in combination with the things he's saying.

"You could, Nick," she gasps, her hands starting to curl against the sheets. "If I wasn't...wasn't good, if I didn't stay where you put me."

Nick starts to fuck her, a slow, steady rhythm, his hands on her hips tight enough to bruise. "On your back, hands over your head. Still blindfolded," he say. "You'd like that, right? You know you would."

"Yes," she whimpers, an immediate, honest answer. "I don't want to like it, but...but I would. Tied up, not able to see what you were doing, just t-taking it. Whatever you wanted of me."

"We'll add it to the list of things you obviously really like," he says, starting to fuck her harder now, keeping his hands on her hips. "Tell me how it feels, Rosie. Let me hear you."

"Y-yes, Nick," she says, her blush deepening at the thought. At how true it is, too, this obscene list they've already started building of all the things she never expected to want, let alone like.

He fucks her harder, hard enough that she moves against the mattress with every thrust, hard enough that she can feel her breasts start to bounce and sway. "It feels so good, Nick," she moans. "And I'm so...I shouldn't like this so much, how it feels to be in this position, to have you i-inside me while I'm on the bed like this. So exposed and...and it's so filthy, Nick."

"But you like it, don't you?" says Nick, still fucking her, knowing how it feels to be on all fours, to give up control like that. A point had come when it had fucked him up, the thought of how much control the Weird Sisters had over him, but, for a while, it had been delicious. "Being filthy."

He says it like that and it hits a little differently than before, a reframing that clicks something new into place within her head. Nothing bad, nothing unkind, or cruel--she'd made that clear at the start, and even though they're so caught up in it now Rosie's distantly aware of how carefully he's holding to that--just different.

"I do," she says, her words a gasping exhale as he plows into her. "For you, N-Nick. I like being filthy for you, I want to be filthy for you, have you t-take me like...like this, or tie me up, or tell me what to do..."

"On your back with your hands up over your head," he says, pulling her back onto his cock, the slap of skin on skin obscene. "So you can't hide from me."

Rosie nods, feeling the soft brush of her hair as it falls in her face. "Exactly," she moans, letting herself be moved and pulled by the hands gripping her hips so bruisingly tight. "On dis-display however you want, all yours for a-anything you need."

She can feel that pooling, building need reaching a familiar peak between her thighs, and she moans again, louder and needier. "Nick, I'm going to...I want to..."

When she says that he goes still inside her, holding her still. It's torture, but a sweet kind. He rolls his head back on his neck, dragging in a breath through his nose.

"If you want it you need to beg for it, Rosie."

Nick stops, and Rosie wails, a desperate and pathetic sound she's never made before. "Nick, for the love of...you can't stop, I'm so...this is s-so...please."

It's desperate and practically incoherent, a run of words and cries that only barely fulfill what he's asked of her. She doesn't care.

With his cock still buried deep inside her, he leans back enough to slap her already reddened ass.

"Come on, Rosie. You can do better than that."

She lets out a ragged sob when he slaps her ass, her cunt clenching around him--not enough to carry her over the edge, but so, so close it's maddening.

"I want to come, Nick," she cries, trying again to do what he asks; trying to do it better this time, good enough to satisfy him and get her everything she wants. "I want you to k-keep going, keep moving, keep...keep..." She's barely aware of what she's saying, begging pleas just tumbling out of her until she finds the one that makes him start to move again. "I want to come like this, blindfolded a-and on all fours and looking like...s-something obscene, because you want me to look like this and..."

She pants, knowing what she has to say, and knowing that it's so shamefully true. "A-and because it's the kind of good girl I want to be."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject