He has his moods just like you have yours.
Sometimes he's all lovely dovey and gentle, treating and caressing your body carefully. Other times he's rough, bending you over, muttering dirty talk or even teasing you.
And today, he's in that mood.
The mood to tease the hell out of you. The mood to hear you begging for him, his name leaving your mouth urgently and repeatedly; leaving your mouth disgruntled. Your hands grabbing any part of his body. He's in that mood.
So it's no surprise that while you're settled down inside the living room, watching a trailer for some film you've already watched, he saunters into the room. Lips curled in a smirk, eyes darkening as they rake your body. He was in his home office doing some writing when he thought of you. And when he thought of you, he couldn't stop as he delved into much dirtier scenarios.
He buries his face in the crevice of your neck, already nipping and swiping his tongue over the sensitive skin. You ask him what's wrong. He doesn't say a word as he continues finishing his 'mission'. Soon enough, your garments are off and you're laying on the sofa naked. Hands fisted in his curls as he teases you. Within seconds you come and his trousers are pulled down before he swiftly enters you. Not moving.
He stills, his mouth peppering your upper body. He begins to move, his hips rocking into yours as groans and moans leave your mouth. Time goes past and eventually he feels you clenching around him but before any high pitched sound can leave either of your mouths, he pulls out before turning you around. And he enters again when you slam your fist on his bicep. However, he pulls out once hearing the safe word leaves your mouth, grabbing your shoulders so you can face him.
It leaves your mouths hastily and muffled. Like it took all of you just to get that one word out.
"Are you okay?" He shoots out, concerned. His heart thuds against his chest and it hurts but he pays no attention to that. He quickly scans your body to see if he did any visible damage before he opens his mouth. "Did I hurt you?" It hurts him to ask that, but he has to. For you.
You whimper and he feels the tears in his eyes. Is that a yes or is that a no? " S'the matter, love?" He asks quietly, bringing you into his arms as he pulls his trousers back up before dropping down on the sofa. He forces you to raise your hands as he puts his shirt on your shivering body. Once you're in his lap, he asks the question again. You gulp, shaking your head, a gesture in which he knows that you'll tell him later.
He gently pressed his thumb into your hip, forcing you to move closer to his body. Resting his head next to yours, he simply holds you, whispering all types of apologies. About how he shouldn't have teased you. That he should have asked you before flipping you over though it'd been something considered normal between the two of you. Apologising for hurting you.
"M'such a twat," he murmured, pressing his lips to your hair. "I promised not to hurt you and I did."
