The One-Shots | D.O'B.

One of Those Days* | Mitch

"Look at me. Look at me."

Your eyelashes warily flutter open, head falling back against Mitch's shoulder so you can see him in the reflection.

"That's it," he seethes, strong arm tightening around your middle. "Such a good little whore when you wanna be, hm?"

You shiver in his embrace, enamored by the way he speaks to you. The rough edge to his voice. The low, salacious purr as his dark beard brushes your cheek. The way his long fingers toy with your clit as he fucks into you from behind.

You nod to answer his question, knowing how much he hates to be left waiting.

The corner of his mouth dances with the idea of smirking but when his eyes find yours, you watch his expression darken.

At first, you're unsure why, until you remember what led you to this moment in the first place.

Mitch had returned home from a mission to find you in bed, curled up into a ball, clinging onto one of his shirts as you tried not to cry.

After making his way to your side, he attempted to find out what was wrong. But you didn't really know. You were just...sad. Pulled down by the weight of your unexplainable grief. To the point where it felt like you couldn't even breathe.

Maybe it was because you missed him. Maybe it was because you knew he'd be leaving you again not even eight hours after returning home. Maybe it was because all you wanted to do...was have him hold you.

Either way, seeing the concern in his eyes as he crouched down in front of you nearly tipped you over.

But Mitch had made himself more than familiar with you and these bouts of sadness.

And he'd learned only one thing can really help:

A good, hard fucking.

He'd kissed you with so much fervor that it forced your breath to hitch, helping ease the panic in your chest. And you wanted to thank him, but he didn't want to hear it. He only wanted to hear your soft, needy whimpers of pleasure.

Minutes later, he had you stripped and pressed against the wall as he got down onto his knees to taste you. Of course, it wouldn't be an afternoon with Mitch if he didn't edge you a few times first. He kept you there for what felt like hours. Yanking you to the edge of release only to abandon you moments before you fell. It was cruel, and painful...and everything.

And once he was sure these were different tears streaming down your face, he felt satisfied.

Next, he took hold of your wrist and flung you around until your cheek met the wallpaper and his large palm met your ass.

The sharp sound echoed around the room as you groaned and tried not to squirm back into his touch.

"That's for not telling me how much you needed me," he hissed, teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. Then, another spank. "And that's for being my good little slut."

He didn't stop until you finally came. And just when you thought he was through...he led you over to the full-length mirror.

Which is where you've been for the past twenty minutes. Mitch's stamina has always been rather impressive and today is no exception. You already know he's holding off just so he can keep playing with you. Distracting you. Giving you enough marks and bruises to remind you of him while he's gone.

Not that you'd really need them to remember him.

"How's it feel, hm?" he asks, and you let your eyes trail down the veins in his arms as he continues thrusting into you. It makes you smile. "S'this what you wanted? Wanted to be thrown around and abused?"

Again, you nod, unable to answer verbally. Especially not now that his hand has found your throat to give it a good squeeze.

"I know, baby." He sounds proud of you. Proud of the way you're behaving for him, even when this is all about you. "Such a good fucking girl for me. Always. Always so fucking good. Make Daddy so proud, don't you?"

The nickname makes you gasp as your lashes begin to flutter, overwhelmed by the need for him and the pressure to your neck.

You know he did it on purpose. Can see the smugness on his face as he reaches up to brush his thumb down your lip.

The droplets of blood that had begun to collect from a previous kiss smear across his finger and your chin as he drags it down...before bringing it to his own mouth.

You watch him suck your blood off his finger. Indulge in the way he groans, and at the way he presses his chest into your back as if to consume you.

That's what does it for you. Staring at him, and loving him, and feeling him. You come and he's a half-second behind. Filling you up as your knees just about give out from beneath you.

And you love the sounds he makes. Love the way he groans deeply before burying his face in your neck. As he tries to kiss you through it but can't quite find the strength to do so as it sweeps him under.

You feel proud of the way you can make him come undone. Feel proud of how easily he loses his self-control for you. How willing he is to wrap himself around your finger.

Missing him breaks your heart.

But having him...makes it all worth it.

When he finally drops his hand from your throat, you move to speak. To thank him or whisper his name, but his head is already shaking.

"No," he murmurs, turning you around to kiss you before dragging you back to the bed. "None of that. Just gonna hold you, okay?"

"Mitch—" you begin with a teasing smile, but his firm expression remains put.

"I mean it," he repeats, almost as if to warn you. "Want you to be a good girl and come lay in my arms, okay?"

"Mitch—"

"Now."

And you smirk as you allow him to guide you down onto the mattress. His strong arms quickly encircling around your frame as he pulls you into his chest. Your face meets his slightly sweaty skin as you giggle, and he buries his lips into your forehead.

You breathe him in for a good minute or two as he rubs his palms up and down your spin. Helping to bring you back to this moment. Even though your brain is trying to take you to the next one.

"Mitch?" you whisper, eyes falling shut as you press your mouth to his sternum, feeling the way his heart thumps against your touch.

"Yes, baby?"

A beat.

"I love you."

He's still for a moment before he's somehow tugging you closer and tangling his legs with yours.

"I love you," he repeats back, that confident voice of his now a broken rasp. "So fucking much. Hate leaving you like this."

"I know," you tell him. "But you have to. I'd never want to get in the way of your job."

"You are my job," he tells you, with so much earnest vulnerability that it makes your head spin. "Being here with you is all I want to do. Fuck this other shit. I mean it. Just want to make you happy."

You smile, head tilting back to see him. "You do. Always."

He takes hold of your chin, a look of indecision on his face. Almost as if he doesn't believe you.

Then...he sighs, and presses his lips to yours. "Did so good for me, baby. So fucking proud of you."

You flush at his praise, smiling as he trails his kisses down your cheek. "Always, Daddy."

He grins. "How about I take you to dinner? Wanna just be with you before I have to go."

The reminder makes your heart lurch but the promise of a meal with him by your side quickly distracts you. Even after everything, he's still taking care of you.

"I'd like that," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his palm.

He smiles.

"That's my girl."