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"you're scared of what you don't know, mike - of what you don't understand, but i could make you understand. i could show you."
mike wheeler and el hopper live two completely different yet ever intersecting lives. after growing up together in h...
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"god, you really are a fucking whore."
he didn't just say those words, he seethed them.
she felt her clit develop a second heartbeat, stirring yet another whine out of her. she wasn't lying about her degradation kink before, but hearing those types of things from mike wheeler, a guy she barely ever heard anything from, was affecting her more than she had anticipated.
sure, she'd think back to mia parker's words from two years ago every now and then. she'd wonder how the studious mike wheeler, classically trained pianist and english major, got to be so wild in the sack. she'd only ever seen him with books, headphones, or a guitar — never once a girl.
one of his hands left her hip and slipped into her somewhat grown out, dark hair, clutching a tight grip immediately. "you really wanna get fucked in this elevator?" she nodded, but it wasn't enough. he yanked on her strands, "then learn to use your fucking words."
"i want to get fucked in this elevator. please, please, fuck me in this elevator," she obeyed.
el wasn't one to take shit. she never rolled over or let someone tell her what to do. she'd been there before when she was the weird girl in elementary school with too short hair that didn't know how to control her emotions.
she wasn't that girl anymore. she never would be again.
but when faced with her raging hormones and a hot guy that knew how to bark orders, she didn't mind submitting every now and then. she liked it, actually.
it was exhausting having her guard up all the time, always making sure she was the cold bitch, the shark, the predator that no one even attempted to fuck over.
but in those rare moments of submission, she could finally let her guard down. she could be weak in a controlled environment. it was almost... relaxing? peaceful? therapeutic? something along those lines, at least.
she didn't find herself submitting often and when she did, it was only ever with guys.
much like mike, she preferred to fuck submissive girls.
"you're so pretty when you beg," he murmured almost tenderly, slowing her hips. "you can't take my cock out if you're too busy dry-humping it, now can you?"
her eyes rounded and she shook her before remembering to use her words, "no." she sat back slightly and her nimble fingers got to work on his belt.
the dim light of the elevator slipped between them just enough for mike to notice the wet spot she'd left right next to his zipper.
"stop," he growled, grabbing both of her intricately tattooed hands in one of his. "you see that?" he pointed to the dark patch with the hand that wasn't restricting hers. "what the fuck is that?"
el's chest was rising and dropping twice it's usual rate. "i'm sorry. i'm just, i'm just so wet, and i didn't mean to.."
he grasped her face with one hand, squeezing her cheeks and smushing her lips. "you're sorry?"
