Do you wanna come? [ her voice was tender as she looked at him, wanting and hot. ] Do you wanna feel my cunt, what it did to me to watch you edge yourself? I wanna feel you taste me, get all hard before you edge yourself using my body...
[He shifts so he's more sort of curled up on his side.] Um. I'm trying to think about...baseball? I don't know anything about baseball. Fuck I wanna be inside you. Ummmm. Fillory is as popular as it is because it's about these kids who were real and lived next door to the author and the kids disappeared a few years after the first book was published.
[Of course, this leads him to thoughts about Plover, which is actually a boner kill. If anyone deserves the library's poison room, it's him. Hey, the poison room is definitely not sexy! Okay, he's calming down now.]
That's probably not what you were expecting me to be thinking about, I just realized.
Honestly I'm sure I could get horny about baseball if I tried right now.
[There's some sounds of him shifting his weight, and then deep, slow, controlled breaths.]
Okay. [One more breath.] Okay. I'm gonna. Attempt. Getting my pants closed.
You can at least, like, get horny to how fucking long this is taking me, that's like, something, right? Like proof that- ow- proof that I'm really fucking hard for you.
[A half-muffled groan, but he's got it in his jeans now, so it's contained if she's a little mean. The compression of his jeans is helping a little.]
Okay. Okay, let's... [A small sound of effort as he gets up, then footsteps as he goes to retrieve his bag, set a safe distance away.] Okay. I'll be home in like...I dunno, half an hour? However long it takes me to get there basically.
[ and she will, even if it takes the full half-hour. she has nowhere to be except waiting for him to come and play with her so she can talk dirty to him. ]
Quentin was still a little hard about it when he arrived home -- three edges and then friction from a lot of walking will do that to you. But it didn't take him the full half hour, at least, before he was in the door, taking off his bag and jacket. He'd acquired a plastic bag for his gloves and mask, just in case, so he put them in, then put the whole thing in his satchel. Feeling relatively safe from getting dosed or dosing Hope, only then did he take his boots off and head upstairs.
"Hey," he said at the door to her room, and felt the urge to kneel right here for her. Like he shouldn't stand in her presence. That was maybe a little intense, so he tried to split the difference a little, coming to the edge of the bed before he knelt. "I'm home," he observed astutely.
She'd known the instant he was in the house, tracking his heartbeat, then his steps, and now that he's at the edge of the bed, she leans over to cup his face and kiss him deeply. Every part of her is aching for him; nipples hard, pussy wet, and her skin is practically on fire as she thinks about him wanting her as much as he does.
"Tell me that you still want to edge yourself using my cunt," she whispers against his lips.
Her saying it against his mouth made him shiver, his jeans getting tighter already. He was already aching from the pressure, so he reached down to open them, not trying to get them off yet, just freeing himself with a sigh of relief. They could talk dirty for a minute with his dick out, it was fine.
"I wanna edge," he breathed, and kissed her again. "I wanna edge in your cunt, and I wanna make you come with my mouth when I need a longer break. Please." Another kiss. "Please, my lady, will you, will you let me edge in your cunt? Please?"
He was keeping it contained there on the floor, not letting himself squirm or anything, but his need felt like it was bursting out of him.
It came out a breathy sigh against his mouth as she kissed him again. "Such a good boy, just for me, I love it." Another kiss, passionate, her fingers curling against the side of his face. "Do it. Slowly, for me, edge yourself. I wanna feel it, hear you beg me to come--"
She tugged gently, urging him silently onto the bed with her.
Quentin got up and stripped his clothes off in record time, then followed her onto the bed. Manhandling her a little, he arranged them into the position that would work easiest for this: on their sides, facing each other. No complicated angles required, nothing that made either of them support their own weight, but easy to pull out when he needed to.
Once they were positioned, Hope's leg up over his hip, Quentin reached down to take hold of himself, rubbing the head of his cock between her lips, teasing them both for a moment. He took a long exhale as he came to rest in the right spot. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. Slowly, he shifted forward, letting out a desperate sound as he sank into her. "Good boys don't come. Good boys don't come."
It's a quiet echo of his chant as she mouths his neck, then his collarbone, nibbling there as she leaves a small mark with her kiss. The urge is there to fuck back against him, but she doesn't, putting everything she has into letting him fuck her to the edge. "Good boys go right to the edge, but they don't come until they're told."
Another kiss on his jaw. "You're so good, aren't you? My good boy."
Panting softly, he pulled her closer, arm around her waist so they were chest to chest, stomach to stomach. He was trying to control himself, go slow, but he couldn't help it. After just a few moments he was fucking desperately into her, fast and hard, chasing the orgasm he knew he couldn't have. He buried his face against her neck, just closing his eyes and letting himself rut. He was in control enough that he'd be able to stop when he needed to.
There was something about it, knowing that he was going to stop, that he wasn't going to let all that desperate fucking end for himself that turned her on, too. That he was using her body to get off mentally, but not physically, and Hope simply buried her face in his neck in return and held him as tightly as he held her. She squeezed around his cock, but didn't fuck him back nearly as desperately because she didn't want to throw off his rhythm or cause him to come when he wasn't supposed to. She just wanted him to have this as much as he wanted it.
Most of all, she liked the way he held her as close as possible to do it.
His hips stuttered once, twice, and then he pulled back, all the way out with a pained sound as his cock jerked, spurting a few drops against her.
"Good boys don't come," he whined against her shoulder, just clutching her tighter. "Good boys don't come. Good boys stay hard and needy, and, and, and don't come..." He couldn't help it, he sank back into her, thrust a few times, and then pulled out again with a ragged gasp. The edge wracked his body with a shiver.
Bringing a hand up to his hair, Hope stroked it as she echoed what he was saying, her words murmured against his ear as she held him tight still.
"Good boys don't come and you're a very, very good boy. Oh, Quentin--" She pressed a kiss to his head. "So good, you're so good. My good boy," she told him again, another kiss. "All mine."
She did not pull back or pull away or move in any way. More than anything, she wanted to be open for him, for the edging that he'd wanted.
Quentin let himself swim in the praise and soothing, let it wrap his brain in a soft blanket. He shivered again as he slid into her, his thrusts this time slow and long. "It hurts," he whispered. "It, it hurts, it hurts so good, it feels so good to e-edge for you..." He pulled out with another gasp, and then a tormented moan. He gave himself a little time, fifteen or twenty seconds, then slid inside again.
"Good boys don't come. Good boys edge and edge. Feels so good..."
"All for me," she reminded him as he did it again and again, her words spoken directly into his ear. "Because you're my good boy and I'm all yours, Quentin. Yours to edge for, your perfect cunt to edge with." Taking his earlobe in her mouth, she bit lightly. "Yours."
Holding tightly, she hummed when he said it again, then mouthed another kiss against his shoulder.
Quentin edged himself inside her a few more times, then pulled back a little further, panting and kissing all over her neck. "Need a break," he panted. "Can I, my mouth? I wanna make you come, please, you make me feel so good, please..." It would be a good way to come back from the edge a little, make it easier to do it without coming, while ensuring that he stayed hard and needy. Plus, she was spoiling him so well, letting him edge with her cunt like this, she deserved a few solid orgasms as thanks.
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[He's breathless as he shifts over to lean on something, dick still out, and then flips the camera to show his face, flushed and wrecked.]
I just...need a minute. [He drops his head back against the tree he's leaning on and pants.]
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[ she sounds amused. ]
Tell me what you're thinking anyway.
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[Of course, this leads him to thoughts about Plover, which is actually a boner kill. If anyone deserves the library's poison room, it's him. Hey, the poison room is definitely not sexy! Okay, he's calming down now.]
That's probably not what you were expecting me to be thinking about, I just realized.
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Ummm...not yet. Getting there.
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[ her tone is amused and she shuts the video off. ]
It means I can't tell you what I'm doing while I wait.
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[There's some sounds of him shifting his weight, and then deep, slow, controlled breaths.]
Okay. [One more breath.] Okay. I'm gonna. Attempt. Getting my pants closed.
You can at least, like, get horny to how fucking long this is taking me, that's like, something, right? Like proof that- ow- proof that I'm really fucking hard for you.
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[ her tone is soft and gentle and affectionate. ] I always want you hard for me. Thinking about me and fucking me and putting your mouth on me...
[ she trails off. ]
As long as you're still able to walk.
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Okay. Okay, let's... [A small sound of effort as he gets up, then footsteps as he goes to retrieve his bag, set a safe distance away.] Okay. I'll be home in like...I dunno, half an hour? However long it takes me to get there basically.
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[ and she will, even if it takes the full half-hour. she has nowhere to be except waiting for him to come and play with her so she can talk dirty to him. ]
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"Hey," he said at the door to her room, and felt the urge to kneel right here for her. Like he shouldn't stand in her presence. That was maybe a little intense, so he tried to split the difference a little, coming to the edge of the bed before he knelt. "I'm home," he observed astutely.
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She'd known the instant he was in the house, tracking his heartbeat, then his steps, and now that he's at the edge of the bed, she leans over to cup his face and kiss him deeply. Every part of her is aching for him; nipples hard, pussy wet, and her skin is practically on fire as she thinks about him wanting her as much as he does.
"Tell me that you still want to edge yourself using my cunt," she whispers against his lips.
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"I wanna edge," he breathed, and kissed her again. "I wanna edge in your cunt, and I wanna make you come with my mouth when I need a longer break. Please." Another kiss. "Please, my lady, will you, will you let me edge in your cunt? Please?"
He was keeping it contained there on the floor, not letting himself squirm or anything, but his need felt like it was bursting out of him.
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It came out a breathy sigh against his mouth as she kissed him again. "Such a good boy, just for me, I love it." Another kiss, passionate, her fingers curling against the side of his face. "Do it. Slowly, for me, edge yourself. I wanna feel it, hear you beg me to come--"
She tugged gently, urging him silently onto the bed with her.
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Once they were positioned, Hope's leg up over his hip, Quentin reached down to take hold of himself, rubbing the head of his cock between her lips, teasing them both for a moment. He took a long exhale as he came to rest in the right spot. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. Slowly, he shifted forward, letting out a desperate sound as he sank into her. "Good boys don't come. Good boys don't come."
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It's a quiet echo of his chant as she mouths his neck, then his collarbone, nibbling there as she leaves a small mark with her kiss. The urge is there to fuck back against him, but she doesn't, putting everything she has into letting him fuck her to the edge. "Good boys go right to the edge, but they don't come until they're told."
Another kiss on his jaw. "You're so good, aren't you? My good boy."
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Most of all, she liked the way he held her as close as possible to do it.
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"Good boys don't come," he whined against her shoulder, just clutching her tighter. "Good boys don't come. Good boys stay hard and needy, and, and, and don't come..." He couldn't help it, he sank back into her, thrust a few times, and then pulled out again with a ragged gasp. The edge wracked his body with a shiver.
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Bringing a hand up to his hair, Hope stroked it as she echoed what he was saying, her words murmured against his ear as she held him tight still.
"Good boys don't come and you're a very, very good boy. Oh, Quentin--" She pressed a kiss to his head. "So good, you're so good. My good boy," she told him again, another kiss. "All mine."
She did not pull back or pull away or move in any way. More than anything, she wanted to be open for him, for the edging that he'd wanted.
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"Good boys don't come. Good boys edge and edge. Feels so good..."
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Holding tightly, she hummed when he said it again, then mouthed another kiss against his shoulder.
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