TANK

7 (smut)

Afraid that what little resolve I have will crumble, I force myself to move from the couch to his bed. I take pause in the doorway, hurt welling in my gut, thinking of the tender scene we shared here. The room is dark, and the bed is still messed up, exactly how we left it.

With a small whine I collapse into his bed, wrapping myself in a blanket for comfort. It's comforting to be surrounded by Tank's scent. It feels almost surreal that I will have a chance to explain myself, and tell Tank how I'm really feeling. I'm afraid to admit to him it's my perception of myself that hurt me and caused me to drive him away. I worry my lip, afraid that I don't even deserve the chance. But to me it's important to tell him that the moments I shared with him were real. I have to tell him how good he felt against my body, how right he felt inside of me. How much I want him. Just thinking about him now makes the heat roll in my belly.

Unconsciously my hand drifts lower, tracing across my abdomen where Tank had touched me earlier. My eyes flutter shut, a flush raising to my cheeks. My fingers are lighter, catching on the soft fabric of my shirt, but I imagine his hands, huge and warm, and how good it will feel to be touched by him again. I press my thighs together, aware of the heat building between my legs. I check my phone, it hasn't even been 5 minutes since I talked with Tank. I know me and Nora parked pretty close, but the sheer volume of people going home from the protest is sure to slow traffic. I worry my lip, I don't want to jump him the second he gets back, we need to talk. I don't even know if he'll want me again. But... I can't think straight feeling like this.

I let my legs fall back open, and with conviction this time slip my hand under my waistband, pulling my pants off and kicking them to the floor. I need to be fast. I ruck my shirt up over my breasts and bring one hand up to play with them. I pinch my nipple roughly, intent to make myself cum as fast as I can. My other hand slips between my legs spreading my slick across my pussy. I let out a breathy sigh and turn my face into the pillows to muffle my noises.

I begin circling my clit, the image of Tank leaning over me and doing it himself burned into my mind. My other hand brushes over my nipple, then I move across my breast and up to my throat pressing against the marks Tank sucked into my skin earlier. I keen under the touch, the bruises throbbing with the stimulus. I hear a noise, but distracted with my pleasure, I hardly acknowledge it.

I'm grinding my clit against my hand, other pressing into the bruises on my throat when Tank appears in the doorway of the bedroom, helmet in hand, Embarrassment coils in my belly, but seeing him does nothing to stop my arousal. Looking at him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, I finally insert a finger into myself, panting desperately. I begin pumping my fingers in and out of my hole, still tender from this morning. My embarrassment gets the best of me, and I turn my head back into the pillow, eyes shut tight. I can feel his eyes on me, watching my movement in the dark room. "Tank," I breathe his name, quiet, but hot against the cloth. "Tank," I repeat, fingers sliding in and out of myself with ease. There's no acknowledgement from him, but in the otherwise silence of the room, I can hear him taking deeper, more uneven breaths.

My fingers slow, unease beginning to overwhelm the confidence I earlier had. "D-do you want me to stop?" I ask in a small voice, shakiness building in my throat. "No. Don't stop." He replies, with no hesitation in his voice. With the reassurance I look up at him again through half hooded eyes to see he's settled, leaning against the door frame, eyes still trained on me. My hands remain still, resting on my body where they were as my brain catches up. "I said," he begins, fixing me with a dark look, "Do not stop."

Heat floods my belly, the command spurring my movement back into action. This time, I keep my eyes fixed on Tank as I finger myself, other hand coming down to simultaneously rub my clit. I bite my lip, embarrassed to be making so much noise just from pleasuring myself, but can only stifle so much with Tank's attention trained on me the way it is. As the heat builds in my belly I slur my words, my speech turning into a blubbering mess of "Tank," "good" and "please". My body arches and I feel my climax crash over me, making my pussy pulse around my fingers. I jerk as I ride the orgasm to completion, a warm flush covering my body. Tank's eyes lock with with mine and feeling alone, I curl in on myself, suddenly self conscious again. A whine escapes high in my throat, "Please," I beg, needing him closer to me. I feel moments away from being a nervous wreck, "Please, Tank," I whine again.

My stomach sinks as he stays where he is, burning eyes locked with mine. I feel humiliated, wetness building behind my eyes. My body trembles and I let out another whine, "I need you, please I need you," as though I said the magic words, Tank strides forward, leaning over me in the bed, pausing. "Tell me what you need." He says, tone still even, but his ragged breaths give him away. "Touch me," I manage through mewling whines. Fully clothed in his riot gear, still, he drops his helmet to the floor and crawls into the bed next to me on his knees and settles between my legs. His gloved fingers drift along my exposed skin, feather light.

He leans over me, until our lips almost touch but he doesn't quite meet them. "Where?" His eyes lock with mine with a measured intensity and control. "Where do you want me to touch you?" I squirm under him, arousal burning hot in my belly panting like I just ran a marathon, heart ready to beat out of my chest. "My," my cheeks burn, "Please touch my pussy," I beg, writhing underneath him. He undoes one of his gloves with his teeth and reaches the gloved one between us. Using that hand he parts my lips, holding my pussy open, pure black contrasting with my skin. With his mouth, he finishes pulling off his other glove and spits it to the side, before lowering that hand between us as well. I buck against him, chest rising and falling erratically.

He stares at my exposed pussy for a second, drinking the sight in. Still holding my pussy open he slides his ungloved middle finger into my pulsing hole, thumb pressing against my clit. His fingers feel fucking massive inside of me, the single digit filling me more than three of my own fingers did. "You're always so fucking wet for me," he growls, composure wavering. He moves his gloved hand to palm at his own cock over his pants. Watching him lose control with me, I keen, desire flooding my belly, my orgasm threateningly close. He fucks his finger in and out of me, both of our hips jerking in tandem with the movement. He fills me with a second finger and the stimulus is enough to push me overboard. My pussy clamps down on his fingers and I climax, body shivering with the intensity. As my orgasm tapers I jerk against his fingers, fighting the heightened sensitivity, panting desperately between my moans.

Tank is tense above me, no longer able to maintain a facade of being unaffected. Fuck drunk and inhibitions lowered, I uncoordinatedly grope for his cock over his pants, tongue darting out to wet my lips, my other hand presses against the hickeys on my throat again. Using both hands, Tank rips his pants down his hips with a surprising ferocity, neglected, angry cock springing free. My hand connects and I wrap it around his cock, stroking down the length twice before he covers my hand with his, stilling me. I look up at him in confusion and see him with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow. He looks... close. "Fuck, fuck," he chokes out. He takes a few deep breaths and steadies himself, fighting off his orgasm.

Suddenly, he pulls me forward with his free hand, still gloved, and rucks me up on to his hips before bending me in half. He arches over me, body covering mine. He looks down at me, then slowly starts moving my hand along his cock again, using my hand to stroke himself off. This position has his cock close enough to my mouth, that if I craned my neck just right I could take the head of it in my mouth. I moan at the thought, and my mouth parts, betraying my thoughts. "Fuck," Tank grits out again. He moves his hand off of mine and grips the sheets near my head. I keep stroking his cock with feather light touches, teasing him, to see how much he will take.

His still gloved hand reaches for my hand at my throat, following my lead, he presses his thumb against the hickeys there. My hand wraps around his wrist, and I let him take control. He places his hand against my throat without applying pressure, fingers possessively tracing the marks he left. It's enough to make me lose control. I squeeze his cock, stroking down the length roughly. He immediately tenses, hips jerking into my hand. He squeezes my throat, enough to knock my breath out. He moans, swearing under his breath, and jerks his hips forward a final few times, eyes locked on me as he cums on my belly, chest, and chin in thick stripes. I dart my tongue out to taste it, causing him to jerk forward a final time.

The air is thick with unspoken words as we stare at each other, coming down from the high. He pulls back from between my legs, letting me lay flat, and quickly pulls his pants back up before laying at my side. His hand automatically reaches for my waist, pulling me flush against him. We breathe together, laying in the silence, sated. Back in his arms I feel safe again.