Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Wearin' That Loved On Look - Elvis (kindaNSFW)

A/N : short but sweet

Red. The word kept floating throughout your head but you couldn't decide if you wanted to use it. It was your safe word, something that Elvis made you promise each and every time you engaged in something sexual that you'd use.

Your legs were spread wide and your arms were tied up above you, you couldn't move your body at all. Elvis had turned to grab something else, a vibrator you had used what seemed like a thousand times before. When he turned around you felt your heart jump up into your throat.

No, no, you were suddenly claustrophobic. You needed to be able to move, these constraints were too much you felt completely out of breath. No, this wasn't something you could do. The bindings were too much, the position too much, your body still so over sensitive from the six orgasms you'd gone through tonight. So when Elvis's hand came to rest on your hip, you said with tears down your face, "red."

He immediately lifted his hand from you, tossing the vibrator away and going for the bindings at your wrists. His eyes were full of concern as he practically ripped them off of you, falling to his knees to free your ankles as well. His hands were soft as he rubbed the skin, holding you as you practically collapsed into his arms. You were crying, humiliated that you had to say it over what seemed like such a regular encounter. But Elvis didn't say a word, he simply scooped you into his arms and carried you into the bathroom. He started the bathtub, sitting you on the toilet as he tested to make sure the water was warm.

"Did I do something wrong baby?" He asked softly. He wasn't angry, he just wanted to know if there was a line he shouldn't cross.

You shook your head, still crying, "I-I-I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry about?" Elvis asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Y-you were having a good time and I f-fucked-"

"Y/N." Elvis said firmly, holding your hands in his. "You did exactly what you needed to do. This ain't about me. You gotta have a good time and if you ain't then let me know, and we'll stop."

"But -"

"No buts. This ain't an arguing matter. This is between the two of us and if one of us is not at our 100% we stop. Thank you for telling me, baby."

You just whimpered and Elvis held your hand in his, not pushing to touch you too much. He helped you into the bath which was warm and soapy. His touch was soft, gentle, as he took the loofa and ran it over your body just so the water would reach you.

The tears started to dry up with his caresses, and you enjoyed the feeling of him gingerly washing you. No sexual undertones to it, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. Elvis collected some shampoo in his hands, scratching your scalp as he worked it into your hair. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling. Then he rinsed it, bringing conditioner and repeating the process. It was nice, sweet and simple.

When he was done, Elvis drained the bath and held the towel out for you to step into. Then he wrapped it around your shoulders and kissed your lips sweetly.

You got dressed in the bedroom, Elvis insisted you wear one of his silk shirts, and padded back into the bathroom. Elvis gestured for you to sit on the toilet and you did while his fingers braided your wet hair away from your face. They were warm and gentle as they tugged on the strands until two Dutch braids sat on your shoulders.

Elvis kissed your cheek, guiding you to the bed. He tucked you in, then climbed into the other side. You went into his arms, needing the smell of him, the feel of him, to calm you down. He rubbed your back, and you fell asleep to the sound of his soft humming.