Vox: A FanFic/X-Reader

Chapter Twelve

We fall asleep on the terrace wrapped together. The morning sun wakes me and I peer up. Sleepy eyes blink at me. His arms tighten around my shoulder as he presses a kiss to my temple. "Good morning, sleepy."

I hide my face against his chest, not ready to move yet.

He hauls me up effortlessly and carries me back inside. We collapse on the sofa. "How did you sleep?" he asks, nudging my face with his chin.

"Like a rock," I admit. "You're very comfortable."

He laughs. "Shower or breakfast?"

"Shower."

He lifts and carries me. In the bath, he sits me on the bench and starts the shower. He walks to the robes and hangs them on their hooks. Peeling his clothes off, he kicks them to one side.

He's a work of art. Standing in front of me, one hand reaches for me. I place mine in his and he helps me to my feet. His eyes stay glued to mine as he undresses me and walks me to the shower. He washes and conditions my hair first. When I hand him my face wash, he continues, then moves to my body. After he's done, I attempt to return the favor. He shakes his head and leans me against the wall to enjoy the show. I do.

Dressed in our robes, he uses my wide-tooth comb to ensure I'm tangle-free. I point to a moisturizer to see what he'll do. He reads the instructions and goes with it, adding the excess to his face. Because I can't resist, I grab the front of his robe and jerk him to me and press my lips to his. The doll routine is amusing for now, but it might get old quick—or would if he weren't so adorable when he's doing it.

He backs me to the wall and leans an arm above my head. His other hand wraps around my lower jaw as he uses his teeth to bite and scrape and tease me. The moment I try to disrobe him, he grins and says, "Nope. Food first, my love."

If I could melt into a puddle, I would.

He orders breakfast and I curl in his lap on the sofa, listening to the rumble and murmur of his words, his heartbeat.

He tosses the phone down. Wrapping long fingers into my wet hair, he wrenches my head back and bites my neck again, gently at first. The more I squirm and writhe on his lap, the more aggressively he bites, which causes me to move even more. It's a vicious cycle. Curious about what provoked the biting, I debate asking but have more immediate needs to contend with first.

Breathless and needy, I try to straddle him, but he holds my legs together against him. Pinned across his lap and tucked at his side, I wiggle off his lap, slightly. It only helps him further control my legs. With a frustrated sigh, I shudder a breath and ask, "Why do you tease me like this? You know I need you."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, succubus. What do you need?"

"I need you. Inside me. Right now. Please."

"Good call on the please," he smirks.

"Can I move my legs?" I ask.

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to eat breakfast first. Can't have you losing any of these delicious curves burning up all your energy with sex."

"How do you affect me this way? No one has ever come close to making me want—need—sex like this. You probably think I'm always this way. I'm not. It's you."

"I'd ask who taught you to give blowjobs, but I'd have to kill him. Not that there's anything wrong with having previous partners. I don't do well with envy and jealousy."

I laugh and he loosens his hold, staring at me confused. Leaning to the side, I grab my phone and open an article to show him.

He reads it and quirks a grin. "I wish I could have seen."

I laugh harder and find one of recordings to show him. "First try."

"Ouch."

"Yep. It took a month. Remember when I had the sore throat?"

"No way."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't know how to do it."

"You researched it."

"I did. Anything worth doing..."

"This is so much better than what I was picturing, which is why I couldn't get into it."

"Oh, you don't want me to be an experienced slut for you? Just an avid researcher slut for you, determined to make a good impression?" I giggle.

"You're perfect and don't call yourself a 'slut.'

"Just for you."

"I don't like the word."

"Fine, I'll be your dirty little whore."

"Nope, not that one either."

"Which word then?"

"Just a goddess, Dea."

"Okay. Have it your way. I'll be your filthy goddess of horny, then."

A knock on the door alerts us that breakfast is here. Two plates and a lot of playful banter later and we're done.

I take our plates to the kitchen and drop them off. On the way to the sofa, I drop my robe before I round the corner to see he's already done the same. Great minds think alike and all that jazz.

"It's too bad you don't have your practice dildo," he mumbles, and I grin.

"I never leave home without it. Do we need it?"

"Get it."