TANK

29 (SMUT)

I grit my teeth, eyes shut tight, arching violently as my body jerks in the seat with the stimulation. I hear and feel the door slam shut before Tank hops into the driver's seat and drags me into his lap, forcing me to straddle him as he starts the truck. I let my head fall forward till it connects with him. Fighting to hold back sobs, I bite down on his shoulder.

Tank is steady under me, non-reactive to my desperation as he starts driving us to his apartment. I can't remember any part of the drive, the entire time spent bucking and writhing in his lap, over-stimulation to the point of painful.

As soon as he stops his hand lands warm on the back of my neck, squeezing as he peels me off his chest. His gaze flicks down my face, I stare back at him with hooded eyes, panting as my stomach twitches and jerks in rhythm with my thighs. Without his hands supporting me, I might crumple. I swallow nervously, watching his eyes drag down my body.

"Can you walk?" Tank asks. I squirm in his lap, shivering as the rough depth in his voice makes my pussy pulse on the vibrator. Everything he does pushes me closer to the edge with my body so high strung. A single well placed hand could be what tips me into my next orgasm. Realizing I'm just sitting there staring at him, I finally shake my head no. I don't even think I could sit right now let alone stand and walk.

Tank sighs, hands gripping my thighs. "Hold on then." He says as he hauls me out of the truck with him. I cling to him as well as I can, every muscle in my body trembling with the effort it takes to tense. His hands are heavy on my body, pulling me close as he kicks his door shut and starts to haul me up the stairs to his apartment.

Each step is torture, forcing me to bump against him. We only make it halfway up the stairs when I dip my head forward back onto his shoulder, arching against his abdomen desperately grinding against the vibrator. "I-I'm gonna fucking cum—" I choke out in a forced whisper. Tank freezes, hand immediately coming up to cover my mouth. I bite his palm, hardly muffling a shouted sob as my body shakes violently, another orgasm ripping through me. Tank starts going faster to get me inside.

My body is pulled completely taut in his arms, hips jerking and legs kicking out. It fucking hurts to keep cumming. My pussy is both so numb and so overstimulated in ways that have collided together in a sensation that leaves me breathlessly crying out against Tank's hand, begging him to take the vibrator off.

It was only moment ago that I was able to push his buttons, but if he asked me now, I don't think I could string together a coherent sentence. I want to cry as he finally keys us into his apartment. He immediately dumps me onto his couch, leaning over me, steadying himself. His hand comes to cup my face and I nuzzle into it, desperately clinging to the moment of comfort.

"I'll be right back." Tank says, hand pulling back from my face. I whimper, low in my throat, eyes barely opening to watch him walk back out his door. I pull on his belt around my wrists, arching desperately against the couch.

I need him back on me. I need him back inside of me. I need him to come back. My throat burns as I whine, straining against the belt, eyes locked to the door.

I need him back.

Tank walks back in, carrying our luggage from the trip, and, I notice the suitcase I keep in my room. I cry out. "Tank." I let my desperation bleed into my voice.

He blinks, looking over at me as he drops our luggage from the trip and strides over, still holding the suitcase from my room. "I'm here baby." He says, low. "I grabbed this when we were at your apartment, thought we might need it." He says, swinging the suitcase up onto his coffee table. He sits in the center of the couch, hands landing on me, pulling my upper body into his lap, as his hands are suddenly gentle, stroking my hair, as though he can tell exactly what I needed.