Summary: it didn't matter if you were in the safety of your home or not, Daniel could have you whenever he wanted.
warnings: 18+ smut, consensual free use, unprotected sex, slight breast play, lil bit of degradation, praise kink, fingering, Daniel's like obsessed w your cunt
please note, though not explicitly mentioned, the free use arrangement is completely consensual from both sides aka no one is doing anything they don't want to.
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The kitchen is warm, filled with the comforting scent of herbs and spices simmering on the stove. You're standing by the counter, chopping vegetables, the rhythm of the knife steady against the cutting board. It's a quiet moment, one where you'd normally lose yourself in the task, but you can already feel Daniel's presence approaching behind you.
"Danny, can you help me with—" The words are barely out of your mouth when you feel him press up against you from behind, his hands sliding around your waist, his chest firm. His lips find the curve of your neck instantly, peppering kisses all over.
You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head to the side to give him more access, but you try to keep your focus on the vegetables in front of you. Your movements slowed down, the rhythmic chopping faltering as his kisses grew insistent. His teeth grazed your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Daniel..." you murmured, but there's no hint of resistance in your voice.
"I'm right here," he murmured against your neck, his voice low. His hands roam lower, over your hips before dipping under the hem of your skirt. His featherlight touch glides over your inner thighs before grasping on the fabric, slowly pulling it up until it's bunched around your waist.
Your breath catches in your throat as the cool air hits your skin, and though you try to keep chopping, your focus splinters under the heat of his touch. His fingers graze over the bare skin of your hips and trailing lower, until he reaches the space where your panties should've been. But there's nothing. Just you, completely exposed and ready for him.
His soft chuckle vibrates against your neck, lips still ghosting over your skin. "Good girl," he mutters, his voice a rough whisper. The praise sends a wave of warmth through you, your cunt's wetness slicking your thighs as evidence.
Daniel's hand lingers between your thighs, fingers gliding over your folds with deliberate teasing strokes. Ever since the two of you had agreed on this, there was no point in wearing anything that might get in the way of what he wanted.
You'd stopped wearing panties completely, abandoning them in favor of clothing that granted him easy access whenever the mood struck. Skirts had become your uniform—simple, accessible, and a constant reminder of your submission to him. All he needed to do was lift the hem, and you were his, no flimsy barriers in place.
