Carl Grimes Imagines ➹ Smut&Fluff

Seven Minutes in Chandler's Heaven (Smut) *Part Two*

Aye it's 2:30 am, and I don't want to proofread, so enjoy this (maybe,  probably) crappy, long chapter. Sorry for that long hiatus. Summer was biting my booty, and I didn't have much time to write.

Shoes scuffle against the grass outside of your house. You stumble backwards up against your front door. The keys fumble in your hand. You reach behind your back and unlock the door. You walk into your house with Chandler's lips glued to yours. He pushes you on to the couch once the door is open, then closes it behind him. You spread your legs slightly while you wait for Chandler to follow. He looks your body up and down, waiting for you to remove your clothes.

Your hands make their way down to the ends of your shirt. You lift it up slowly, crossing your arms, and tossing the shirt over your head. It was difficult to see anything because there was no light on, but you could see a figure hovering over the couch who was obviously Chandler. You take off your bra, and face away from him. He stands quietly with a straight face. You kick your shoes off, and pull down your leggings by the elastic band around your hips. You wait patiently for Chandler's hands to make contact with your bare skin.

His hand touches your back gently. It trails down to the waistband of your underwear. He pulls it down slightly, gets on his knees, and kisses your hip. There was a pause, and a jingle of a belt. He pushes you onto the couch, and places his hands on your hips. The touching of skin made fireworks explode in your rib cage. Chandler bent over so his lips were touching your shoulder blade. He kisses you lightly, "Is it okay if I fuck you so hard that you can't walk for days?"

You freeze, but nod.

He laughs to himself, and squishes your cheeks. He presses the head of his dick on to your entrance. You wanted to push on to him, but you also didn't want to seem too eager. After a few seconds of him teasing, you push him in. He smirks and finally obliges to your begs. Your mouth gaps, and your eyes instantly squeeze shut. He smacks your ass every few seconds. You could feel it turning red, but it was worth it. After the obsessing and endless crushing, Chandler and you were finally together.

"Look at me," he says to you.

You open your eyes, and make eye contact with him. It was dark, but you could see those captivating blue eyes. They take over yours with dominance. He glares at you, and wraps his hand around your neck. He pulls you closer to him, "You're fucking gorgeous."

He stops moving, and you do all of the work. Sweat runs down your back, and dampens the nape of your neck. Your hair mats together, and Chandler grabs a fistful of it. He pulls you down so his lips touch your ear. Out of instinct, you yelp, but it comes out deep and low. You push onto him even harder and faster. His other hand rests right above your southern region. His nails rake up to your belly button, and he pulls you even closer to his body. The rough breathing from his mouth was warm, and it broke up from the constant feel-good thrusting. The way you two fit was practically magic. It was like two puzzle pieces, fitting together every way, perfectly. He pulls all the way out, and thrusts with all of his strength, making you scream in pleasure.

Fear and excitement tingles throughout your whole body. It electrifies the tips of your fingers, and your mouth twitches into a smile. The more he groans, the faster the blood pumps through your veins. His hands find your cheeks, and he softly rubs his thumb over your mouth. He slows his pace, loosens his grip on your body, and embraces you. The sudden change of his demeanor was comforting. He went from a crazy, kinky freak to a sensitive, gentle lover.

Chandler sits back and stares at your body. You instantly put your guard up, in hopes he isn't making rude remarks in the comfort of his own head. You sink down in the couch, but he puts his hand up, "Stand up again. Please."

You stand up slowly, now insecure about your body, unlike when he was fucking you. Now... he was really looking at you. Not in a sexual way, but in an artistic way. His lips curl into a genuine smile. He opens his mouth slightly and whispers, "You're a muse. A natural, gorgeous, soft muse. I want to write about you, paint you, take photographs of you, anything to just capture your beauty. Your beauty is irrepressible. Truly a gift. I can't and won't tarnish you by simply 'fucking' you. You're beyond that, you're worth making love to. From now on, that's what I'm--we're--going to do. Only if you give permission obviously."

You sit speechless by his words. You knew he liked poetry, but damn that boy has a way with words.

You nod without one bit of hesitation. He smiles and gets on his knees in front of you, staring up at you. His arms wrap around your hips, skin to skin. His breath tickles your stomach, and he pulls you down to his level. His eyes meet yours, and your lips touch. Not all the way, just barely touching. He pushes forward a bit and kisses you. His lips were smooth and soft with yours.

You grab his hands and interlock fingers. Music was playing in your head, because the silence made it peaceful, yet awkward. You get up, still connected to Chandler, guiding him to your room.

Your laptop's dim light exposed your messy bed with blankets all over the place. Chandler breaks the kiss, and touches your forehead with his. He sneaks over to the laptop and starts typing. You sit on the bed to flatten out the blanket. Music starts up from the small MacBook speakers. He slips in next to you under the covers. You giggle and rest your hand on his chest. He smiles too, examining the details of your face. His hand cups your cheek, leading up to a sensual kiss. You feel the bed shifting, and his figure hangs over you. Your legs spread apart without you even realizing.

His hips come crashing down, and he fits perfectly just like before, but somehow different.

Maybe it was just because it wasn't on a couch?

Or maybe it was just because it was more--what's the word--compassionate?

Yeah, that's why. Chan's little declaration changed something. You aren't just another fuck... he likes you. You're different. From the closet to now. He was planning this, because he really wanted it, just like you.

-

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Chandler's shaky, sleeping breath was like a lullaby. The soft music still plays, also helping you go to sleep. You pull up the blanket even higher, and cuddle up to Chandler beside you. You eyelids grow heavy, and you give up the fight of trying to stay awake.