certified insanity // henry creel x reader

PIECES

SMUT WARNING ⚠️ (It was too difficult not to quote Aaron Warner..) (also please do not make fun of my choice of language—I promise I won't use anything super cringy like..idk member or disco stick) 

I'm not entirely sure who's room I'm in, or what room this is even used for but it has a counter—and that is the only thing my brain can process about my surroundings. There are a couple of beakers on the surface that get knocked on the ground. The cameras in this room are either disabled, or never worked on the first place. 

Peter lifts me on the counter, trailing his hands up my inner thighs. He stop right at the top, blue eyes never leaving mine. His hands wrap around my back again. "I never thought you'd actually take my advice." His voice is barely above a mutter, but his falsely incredulous expression makes me want to roll my eyes. I think I am beyond any kind of annoyance. I only feel like I'm on fire. And I want him to close the space again. Too much, too much space. 

"Fuck you," I whisper softly, keeping my face utterly blank. My hands brace behind me so that I don't fall backwards. 

Peter smirks. A short laugh escapes his mouth. "Yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you, love?" His eyes turn dark. Flick up and down my body. They settle on my eyes. Melting into them. His hands, oh god, they slide up my back, lifting my shirt up. It falls of the floor. Long slender fingers dipping in the curves of my back. 

I let my eyes search his. "You are utterly impossible to read," I clench my jaw. "I've never met someone so fucking confusing." 

Peter leans in, dragging his lips to mine. His teeth nip my bottom lip gently. "What's confusing about this to you, love?" His smirk grows wider as he steps closer in between my legs. He brings his lips back to mine, unhooking my bra in a single movement. He trails his fingers up my stomach, cupping my breasts and setting my skin on fire again. His thumbs draw lazy circles along my nipples, and I have to close my eyes—struggling not to make a sound. 

I lean forward slightly, lifting my hands from behind me and bringing them towards his belt buckle. I toss it on the floor. The door is closed behind us. Brenner is away and the other nurse's sure as hell don't give a shit about what might be happening in this...experiment room?

Peter slides his hand down slowly, dipping his fingers below the waistline of my pants. "Lift your hips for me love.." his whisper sends chills down my spine. I oblige, slipping my sweatpants off and discarding them on the floor. He smirks, rubbing his thumb in tight circles over the fabric of my underwear. He pivots so that I can sit lengthwise on the counter. My hands brace on the sides of the table. Peter slips the material to the side, dragging his index finger up slowly. Tenderly. As if he was waiting for permission. 

He smirks. "Verbal consent, love?"

"Yes," I breathe, chest heaving. The rest of my undergarments are laying in a corner of the room. Peter kneels down, staring up at me. He lowers his head slowly, running his tongue down me in a long sweeping motion. It took all my restraint not to make a sound. Not to cry out. 

Peter presses a hand on my abdomen, restricting further movement. His tongue swirls around my clit, driving me to near madness. I inhale sharply, stifling a moan. My hand flies to my mouth, and I resist the urge to scream as his tongue settles inside me. He drives in and out, teeth grazing my clit, on and off and up and down. 

My hips shake—the pleasure building inside me like a storm. I arch my back, straining against him for more contact. I can feel him smile as he pumps in three more times. Hard. His lips clamp around me, applying more pressure than I can take. 

I moan against my hand, the sound only slightly muffled. "Peter—oh—oh god—fuck," I have to take my hand off my mouth to balance again. Release builds inside me, so fast. All of my muscles tense, waiting for the moment when my mind could scatter completely. 

"Quiet, Y/N," His voice murmuring against me was nearly enough for me to—but then he stopped. Pulled away. My whimpers vibrate against my hands and my hips shook violently against the cold metal. Peter smirks, pulling back to look at me. 

"Why'd you stop?" I breathe—the pleasure almost evaporating. I can still feel it—just on the brink—and—

He rests his hands on my thighs. Peter's face is everything right now. "Did you want me to keep going?" He tips his head to the side, almost mockingly. I can barely breathe as he leans back in, dragging his tongue around the overly sensitive areas, but just missing the center. He pushes his tongue in, deeper this time and it is nearly painful when he nips at my clit with his top teeth. I bite back a moan, using my left hand to cover my mouth. He drives in again as the pleasure flows over the top and my mind breaks into a million pieces. 

I cry out against my hand, throwing my head back as I come. Peter continues destroying me with his mouth, slipping two fingers in replace of his tongue. His thumb rubs my clit in fast circles, fingers pumping in and out of me. I feel my limbs shake, and his other hand steadies my hips as they threaten to buck off the table. It feels like too much and too little all at the same time. I tremble, struggling to breathe as he finally draws his head away from me. I can barely move—still limp with pleasure. 

I am a mess on the counter, trying to pick up the pieces of my scattered mind. 

Peter stands up, his chest bare. He licks his lips, sucking on his fingers. Seemingly savouring the taste. A cocky expression rests on his face. "I hope I was better than Nolan." 

And with that, he puts his shirt on, doing his belt up and exiting the room.