Nothing But Thieves Imagines (Mature Content)

Something I Might Regret - Conor

This story is a continuation of Something I Might Regret, Parts 1 and 2, from my book of general Thieves fiction. Conor and the lead singer of his opening band have just confessed their mutual attraction for one another after months of touring together. Enjoy!

A dream. It was a dream, a dream was the only explanation, the only plausible reason.

The only reason she'd have her fingers cupped under my chin, her lips brushing mine softly, then more firmly, then hungrily as her sweet tongue slid across my teeth and made me burn all over.

The only reason I sat here on the couch with her in my fucking lap, my hands grasping her hips and those gorgeous thighs pressing against mine from both sides, that ass that had been coloring my daydreams for months perched right on my knees.

The only reason for those soft little sighs driving me out of my mind, those big wide eyes, wider than the whole Earth...those eyes that were on me now, a sly edge making them sexier than I ever thought possible.

"This okay, Conor?" She smiled, and I jolted from my reverie.

This was no dream. This was real and I was the luckiest man alive.

"God, of course, it's so fucking okay, it's more okay than anything has ever been," I breathed, and she laughed, her forehead falling against mine, her eyes closing.

"I can't believe this is happening," she whispered, and my heart shot to my throat.

"Makes two of us," I teased, and she grinned, her eyes still closed.

With that I went for her smooth, silky throat, latching my lips in that spot where her jaw met her neck. She whined and her back arched, and if I hadn't been fucking rock hard already I certainly was now, as she writhed against me in tiny movements that might as well have been earthquakes.

My hands slid to her back, caressing in circles, moving lower and lower. As she started rocking against me I cupped her perfect ass in my hands, and my god, it was all I could do not to throw her down onto the couch and fuck her right then.

Slow, Conor, go slow. Savor her, worship her. She wants you, as hard to believe as that is, as much as you want her. Make it last.

"You have any idea...how often...I've dreamed about this?" I said, my nose nudging away the strap of her tank top so I could run my tongue all along her collarbone.

"H-how often?" she stuttered, her head lolling to the side, her forearms resting on my shoulders.

"Practically every fucking night since we met," I breathed, and she grinned in appreciation.

"Makes two of us," she whispered, and I smiled hazily up at her.

She slid her hands across the front of my t-shirt, and it was all I could do not to groan from her touch, those light feathery fingers making my skin spark. 

Her hands moved to the hem and ran a finger across it. She looked at me and as soon as I nodded she pulled it roughly over my head.

Her eyes roamed across my bare chest, and she breathed in heavily before speaking.

"You just...have no idea how sexy you are," she blurted. I couldn't help but blush a bit. That she, the hottest woman I'd ever seen, would find me, the little guy without a sports jock body, attractive was beyond my comprehension.

I pulled her firmly toward me, and as we kissed, more and more urgently, my hands found their way up her torso, under her top. I swore against her lips, and felt her smile, when I ran my hand across the bumpy surface of her bra - lace, I could tell. My fucking favorite.