Vox: A FanFic/X-Reader

Chapter Nineteen

Sometime later, I wake and my body is already online. He pumps in and out of me, slow and deep, holding one of my legs draped over his arm and a foot in the other hand. My breath staggers in my throat. "There you are," he says, a dark amusement laces his tone.

"Why do you torture me going so slow?" I say, rolling my hips to meet him.

"Because I want to." He stops and sits back on his heels. One hand wraps around my jaw as he kisses me. His hand slides around the front of my throat, but he squeezes the sides. Safety first—seems he knows a few things.

My hands come up to hold his forearm and he grabs them both with his other. He pushes them above my head, pressing them into the mattress. My legs twist up around his waist, pulling him back to me.

"Best wake up ever."

He leans down and kisses me again. "Too bad you can't hold on," he says in a raspy whisper, knowing I'll try. It causes me to squirm as he reenters me, bottoming out. I moan and attempt to anchor myself, using my legs. Squeezing my throat as I try to move my hands, he calms and grounds me. Thrusts that steal my breath pound into me. My body wants to meet him halfway, but for whatever reason, he's set on exquisitely unraveling me. Again.

Somewhere in my head, there's a little voice that says he wants me to learn to let go. I'm not sure if that's actually it or not. My eyes peer into his, watch the curl of his lips when he teases. Leaning in, I think he'll kiss me, but he turns my face away and bites my neck. He lets my hands go to lift my shoulders. I grab hold of his back, locking my legs again. He nibbles his way to my lips, and I lick him.

He presses his hand on my lower belly as he fucks me deep. Does he feel himself?

"I need to be on top," I tell him.

"Be a good girl for me, love."

"I'll be a better girl on top. Move it," I insist, scooting up onto my elbows.

"Nope." He grabs my hands and jerks them toward him. I fall back on the bed, a whoosh of air escaping my lungs.

"The only way you're facing down is if I'm using your hair as a handle to pull you back on my cock."

The floodgates open.

"Say, 'Yes Sir,' my love."

It isn't often I'm speechless. I don't know if he's joking, or he expects me to say it. If I do, will he always expect it?

"Well? Cat got your tongue?" He leans over and sucks my lip into his mouth. His teeth drag across the sensitive flesh. He lets go with an audible 'pop,' and squeezes my throat. My eyes close.

"It's okay, keep your words. Your body tells me everything I need to know," he chuckles darkly. "All those contradictions and chaos in your head—let's sort it, shall we?"

It's then I realize I'm scratching and pulling him. My attempts fail at wrapping my legs around him. Anything to get him closer, to get him where I want—need—him.

Grabbing my wrists, he pushes them back above my head. He rolls us, stopping so I land on top.

I pull my knees up to each of his thighs and slide down on him. My eyes are closed and I don't move for several long seconds. He knows how to get me moving, though.

His thumb slides through my folds, and I rock into him. "Don't make me tie you up," I say before I think it through.

"Please do," he smirks and rests his hands behind his head.

I rotate my hips, treating him like my personal slip-and-slide. His eyes close and I do it again. He wets his lips, biting them together. Leaning back, I brace myself on his thighs and slide my body on and over his. Again and again. Within minutes, we're both nearing the edge. I stop the pace. He moves his hands toward my center. I grip his wrists and push them down on the bed. "Nuh-uh," I tell him.

"Why do you want to torture me?" he asks with a grin.

"That's not what this is... this is prolonging the pleasure."

"I'm too close," he says. "You came before you fell asleep on me."

It's my turn to laugh. "Oh, we're keeping score?"

"At least this one." He rolls us back to where we were and drives into me. He pushes my legs up so one rests on each shoulder. In and out, he pumps into me, watching as he disappears inside of me.

His breath changes slightly, and I know he's even closer. I lick my fingers and move to circle my clit. Strong hands rub my legs and feet. It's a lethal combination for my senses. "You're close too," he says and moves my hands to do it himself.

I almost laugh at his need to be the one to do it, but he's right. Something about him just does it for me. He barely has to touch me before we're in sync.

It happens fast. One moment, I creep toward the edge. The next, I'm in a freefall, hurling over. And he's right there with me.

We lay side-by-side. "You're too far from me," he says, tugging until I'm sprawled over him.

"Didn't want to move."

"Succubus, I fucking love you."

And I stifle a laugh because, of course, he says it after sex. Men. "I love you too, incubus."

"Oh, I get it. You think I only love you for sex?" he asks in mock horror.

"You love my sassy mouth, too."

"I definitely love your mouth."

"Uh-huh, I love your tongue. And fingers. And—"

"My supertalented—"

"Ego."

"My ego? You have me confused with some Tinder guy."

"Stay off my phone."

"Wait, you have Tinder? Seriously?" He reaches for my phone and I laugh and bite his nipple.

"Why would I have Tinder?" I ask.

"I don't have any of those apps."

"Of course not. Clothes disintegrate on your command."

"I never told you to strip."

"Nope, you just took your shirt off for me to wear."

"It was a nice thing to do."

"Catnip, incubus. You're clueless."