Smarty

Reach inside me, please hide me

A/N : This is the second part of my previous chapter, and it features oral sex (female reader receving), swearing and over-stimulation, so please don't read if you don't like any of the occuring themes, and please don't read if it is a trigger to you! Have the nicest night, my lovies, and i love you sm :)

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Pushed against the wall, back flattened against the dirty bricks, every strand of hair soaked by the rain. Vance knelt down before you, pushed both knees apart, and ground his own knees into the filth and dirt of the alley. His mouth - his wicked mouth that tasted of cigarette smoke and sin and cheap, Russian vodka - awoke a desire inside you that made the humiliation, the fear that someone would turn the corner and collide with the sight, the degrading act of eating pussy against a dirty wall.

It was more degrading for you than him, though. Vance knew that, Vance found pleasure in it.

Vance slung one leg over his shoulder and pulled you forwards, rubbing his denim jeans into the dirt. He never liked to kiss anywhere except your mouth. He liked to bite, liked to nip, liked to make bruises and mark your skin, mark you up real good, muss you up.

Vance nipped at your inner thigh, eliciting a gasp from your lips, and he smiled to himself, smiled against the slickness of shaved pussy. His voice was low, so low it seemed a whisper, and he said it just for you to hear. "Dirty bitch, you like me on my knees? lavin' at you like a fuckin' dog?"

you nodded, pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth, and buried your fingers in his hair. Fuck, you loved his hair, loved everything about it, loved everything about him. Who cared about the bad times when they were just as good? Who cared about the hurt and humilation when he went down on his knees and pried you apart, made you wet with spit, wet and weak with need. Who cared about anything when Vance came to you, always came to you before anyone else.

Through clothes far thinner than his, the brick scraped at your skin; a reminder that with every pleasure came pain, and the same for everything else. Hurt and humiliation? Hickeys and hungry kisses. Bruised wrists, bricks scraping at your spine? Thighs slick with spit and blood.

Fuck it all, let him do whatever he wanted, let him carve his initials into your flesh, let him hurt and hurt some more, let him come to you, make you come undone. Let him hide you, pry you apart and shove three fingers inside, let him hurt until the blood runs and your flesh is raw, let him do all this and more. What is pain when compared to this pleasure he brings, gifts wrapped in bites and bruises, bloody kisses, broken bones?

Vance grasped at your hips and thighs, the muscles across his broad shoulders and big arms rippling, his eyes dilated, darkened with lust. His lips curled into a crooked, cruel smile as he slid his tongue - skillful with practice, skillful with stolen moments in the darkness - across your dripping cunt. Vance nipped at your slit with his white teeth, gripped at your hips with coarse hands, groped at your thighs greedily. He palmed the flesh and brought you pleasure, messed up your make-up, mussed it up so beautifully.

"Slut." He spat, swiped his tongue again, shoved it deep inside your cunt. You bucked your hips into his face, spine arching, scraping against the damp bricks as the rain fell. Cold and damp, it splashed on your face and rolled down your forehead. Vance sucked hard on your clit and listened to the hoarse whines that left your throat, still sore with the assault of his dick down your windpipe.

"Dirty bitch." Vance snarled, shoving two dry fingers inside, just to be mean. "Don't fuck yourself anymore, alright? This pussy-" He hooked them just right, made a moan escape your mouth. "It's fuckin' mine. No one fucks this pussy except me, got it?"

You furled your fingers into fists and pulled hard at his hair. Vance continued despite the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks from the stark pain, continued fucking you wide with his fingers, curling his fingers just right to make you whine, whimper his name in the dark, damp alley-way. He split you open with three fingers and sucked hard on your clit.

Fuck, it hurt so good.

Let him hurt you. Let him split you apart, let him push into you with three fingers, let him do it, let him do it again. Three fingers deep, his tongue flicking at your cunt, his name dripping like honey from your lips, you came undone as he held you up against the wall, nice enough not to let you fall. You let him reach inside you, let the pleasure turn to pain as his fingers scraped your raw, over-stimulated insides, let the cold metal of his rings go bump against your cunt, you let him do all of it in the hopes that he would hide you, always hide you, three fingers deep and his name on the tip of your tongue.