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Coming to a halting stop, the steady, familiar motion of the El ceased, lurching forward and jostling Carter’s slumped frame against an adjacent pole with a twang.
Peeling his sleep-riddled eyes open with a wince, he ambled towards the crowded doors, subtly wiping at a string of drool threatening to drip from the corner of his yawning mouth.
With hurried steps, he stumbled out and onto the platform, wincing slightly as the carriage behind him squealed and hissed sharply before tearing off along it’s aged tracks.
Hiking his bag higher upon his shoulder, he took approximately five weary strides before feeling a splatter of wet against his cheek.
Looking up to the sky, he sighed.
‘…Really?’
Tucking his bag underneath his long coat, he hunched his shoulders and ran as the sky opened and rained down from above.
You couldn’t stifle your snort as you beheld Carter standing in the doorway.
Even with your hand pressed firmly against your clamped mouth, the sound managed to weasel its way through, echoing in tandem with his squelching footsteps.
He was absolutely soaked.
His ankle-length coat was pooling with rain, filling up his already saturated shoes and squishy socks. His white shirt was entirely see-through, rumpled, and uncharacteristically untucked. Its hem brushed against his limp suspenders which hung discarded by his hips, and his hair lay plastered to his forehead. The latter, furrowed with deep annoyance and exhaustion.
Slopping inside, he flung down his drenched bag and yanked furiously at his tie, only worsening the pesky knot.
Tutting to yourself, you let your hand drop and strode closer with a smile.
“Let me”, you say, slapping his clammy hands away.
With a sure grip, you gently get to work unwrapping the striped cloth, unwinding its slippery silk before slipping it smoothly from his neck.
Discarding it to the side, you reach around and slide the heavy coat from his shoulders, flinging it by the door with a frown.
“I should probably wring that out”, Carter said weakly before chuckling, “It’s Hugo Boss.”
“Hmm”, you mumble abstinently in agreement, “Let’s get you sorted first…you look like shit.”
This earned you a wide smirk, but the movement was riddled with tiredness.
Brushing away a damp strand of brown, you press a hand to his forehead, “Jesus John, you’re burning up.”
With a firm grip, you grab his hand and march towards the bathroom, practically dragging Carter behind you like a deadweight.
Releasing him, you bend and start to raid the sink cabinet, perusing the top and bottom shelves with impatience.
Epson salts, body scrubs, lathering soaps – you gather them all in your arms, wrench the bath curtain aside, and plunk them down by the side of the tub before twisting the squeaky tap.
Throwing in a generous helping of each, you stand, cross your arms and turn, giving Carter a stern look.
“Aren’t you a Doctor?”, you say, emphasising the new title with a slight smirk, knowing it was his first official day as a M.D, “Shouldn’t you know better than to play in the freezing rain?”
“Doctor…”, he scoffed, “Don’t even get me started.”
“Don’t start? That’s funny, because I could’ve sworn a certain someone was begging me earlier today to call them that?”, you probe cheekily, quirking an eyebrow in challenge.
“Correction. Yesterday morning. I’ve been on for 36-hours”, he replied sluggishly before bending to wrap his fridged arms around you.
Ignoring your squeal of protest, his arms tighten along your waist as his hot breath whispers against your ear, “And yes, I expect you to keep calling me that.”
Jabbing him playfully in his side, you slip from his grip, and spin around to pin him with a knowing stare.
“You’re in no state to be making demands.”
“And what state would I have to be in?”
“One that doesn’t risk hypothermia, joint pain, respiratory infection or flu.”
“Huh, maybe I should be calling you doctor.”
“Maybe you should. Now get out of those wet clothes, now.”
“Certainly, doctor.”
The cocky smirk he gives you is positively wicked.
Schooling yourself, you force your arms to remain crossed and watch for a moment as his cold fingers fumble over his slippery buttons.
But as the pesky circle slips from between his thumb and forefinger for the fifth time, you concede.
The plastic is smooth between your fingers as you deftly unbutton the soaking material.
As you work, you glance up at his face; exhaustion and something else – something more tender – warping his soft features.
“Seriously John, what happened today?”
“What didn’t happen”, he responded weakly, hanging his head.
“That bad huh?”
He didn’t have the strength to respond, too drained by the plethora of patients and complications he had had to endure.
He knew the learning curve would be steep as an M.D, but having to cover the ER, ICU, and all surgical patients overnight and alone was backbreaking.
He didn’t know if he could do it again.
“Hey”, you whisper softly, resting the palms of your hands against his burning cheeks, “You’ll get through this. It’s only your first day, and the first is always the worst, right?”
Not waiting for a response, you slide his wet shirt from his slumped shoulders before moving towards his leather belt, working swiftly to unlatch its silver clip.
The act is unsensual; it’s deeper that that – tender and caring rather than lustful.
With a nod towards his pants, you turn back to the tub and switch off the water, dipping in a finger to check the temperature.
Satified, you rise and grasp Carter’s elbow, gently leading him over as his frame sways, wrecked with fatigue.
A hiss escapes his lips as one-foot slides into the water: the stark difference between hot and cold verging on painful.
Giving an encouraging smile, you lower him down, humour lighting your face at his grumbles of protest.
“Big baby”, you mumble.
At your clever remark, a hand flashes out, latching on your forearms before yanking you unceremoniously face first into the water, clothes and all.
You breach with a sputter, soapy suds clinging to your eyelashes and hair in a cloud of iridescent bubbles.
Through coughs and clogged ears, you hear a bright laugh as Carter cackles beneath you, hand pressed against his belly as his eyes crinkle with joy.
‘He’s beautiful’, you think to yourself dumbly before promptly squashing the thought, adamant to remain angry if only to scold him a little longer.
“John!”, you whine, pushing at his face playfully.
Like a cranky, wet housecat, you glare at him. Yet all the while, he continues to laugh, brushing a stray tear from his weeping eyes.
Unable to contain yourself, your façade cracks, a scoff huffing through your nose, followed by a giggle, then a snort.
The dam bursts and you’re both laughing with fever, splashing bubbles and slopping water at one another like infants.
Not to be upstaged, you dive towards, clasping your hands on either side of Carter’s head and heave his face down into the water.
Releasing your grip, you sit back and watch with a shit-eating grin as he resurfaces, a crown of bubbles comically circling his brown hair as he gasps, staring at you in disbelief.
“Pay back”, you say innocently with a small shrug, biting your lip to stop another giggle from spilling out.
Tracking the movement, Carter’s gaze catches on your mouth, pausing there as his own parts with a shaky breath.
You look so tempting; soaked clothes clinging to your every curve; hair plastered to your flushed cheeks; lips parted as you pant from laugher.
Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, you clear your throat and shake your head, “Uh uh. Turn around.”
Obedient as ever, Carter swivels awkwardly in the confining tub until his back faces you.
Sliding closer, you wrap your hands slowly around his torso, pulling him back until the crown of his head rests comfortably against your chest.
He settles down, a sigh slipping from his lips; it’s warm and safe, the edges of your soft figure cocooning his exhausted frame.
Leaning over, you unclip the closest bottle of shampoo and squeeze a generous helping into your hands, warming the liquid between your palms.
With featherlight pressure, you lather the soap along the top of his head, massaging it into the wet follicles of his soft, brown hair.
Carter lets out a deep hum, the sound reverberating through his chest and back into yours.
Squashing the small tingling sensation rising behind your naval, you take your time working in the product in soft, languishing circles, savouring every small moan of pleasure he elicits.
It wasn’t uncommon for Carter to come home drained; he often crashed through the door, ranting and raving comically about all the tedious tasks Dr Benton had assigned for him that day.
But you could tell today was hard on him; different and beyond anything he had experienced before.
So, you would happily set aside your own cravings to ensure he felt safe and comforted, at least until the morning when he’d have to leave again for another strenuous shift.
Flexing your hands, you use your nails instead, gently scratching his scalp in slow, leisurely, unhurried strokes.
His throat bobs as shivers slither over his spine, the sensation shooting lower and lower, pooling in his belly.
Waving your hands through the water, you cupped some of the soapy liquid and let it trickle over his hair, cleansing away the suds.
Letting the next fall further forwards, you watch with a mischievous grin as he squeezes his mouth shut too late and catches a mouthful of lavender bathwater.
Spitting it out like a fountain, he sputters, craning his neck up to glare playfully at your growing smirk.
“You did that on purpose.”
“…Maybe.”
“Little fiend.”
He freezes there, staring up at you from your lap, so enraptured by your innocent smile and steadily growing blush.
Your heart clenches painfully at his yearnful gaze; his dark, innocent eyes all-consuming.
Swallowing thickly, you release a shaky breath and will your blood to cool as you reach over and squeeze a silky glob of body lotion onto your palms.
Letting your hands fall and rest atop his shoulders, you slide them along the taunt flesh, carefully kneading at the tense knots wedged within the overlapping muscles.
It’s pure bliss. A mix of pleasure and pain that has him tingling with satisfaction.
Once loosened, you lift him up slightly, letting his head fall back comfortably across your shoulder, allowing you better reach and access.
Taking another handful of lotion, you work your way down along his biceps, squeezing and compressing, drifting lower along the sensitive inside of his elbow, the veiny stretch of his forearms, all the way down to his long, slender fingers.
Circling his palms once, twice, three times, you twine your hands with his, lift his arms, and rest them along the sides of the tub, giving them a pat as you whisper, “Keep them here.”
Returning to your work, you boldly run your hands down the flat of his chest, watching as your hands disappear from sight under the sheet of creamy bubbles.
Up and down, up and down, you circle your hands, rubbing tenderly along his sides, his obliques, and the long planes of his twitching stomach.
Lower and lower you knead, venturing down further to the tops of his strong thighs.
Carter’s hands flinch against the ceramic, flattening with restraint against the smooth surface as you edge closer and closer to where he needs.
“Feeling warmer?”
Carter responds with a contented hum – the sound bordering on a whimper – before nuzzling into your neck.
“Good”, you say, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.
Finding the slight V-shaped divot of his hips, you trace these lines with a nail, edging lower until you run a tender hand attentively along the underside of his length.
Your hands are so soft against his pulsing skin; the unresistant glide of the water only elevating the pleasurable sensation.
Doing your best to wrap your fingers around his girth, you slide your slickened palm up over his veined shaft, delighting in the minute flinches he makes.
“You’re so sensitive”, you praise with an appreciative stroke, squeezing harder.
Carter bucks involuntarily into your hand, a keening noise starting at the back of his throat as you settle into a steady rhythm.
Up and down you stroke, biting your lip as you feel him swell beneath your hold.
He whines again – a sweet, pitiful, whimpering noise – as you halt your strokes, instead cupping his balls and rolling them in your hot palm.
Carter turns his head into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your fluttering pulse as he pants into the steamy air.
You click you tongue in pity, rewarding him by focusing your ministrations on his soft head instead.
It twitches in your grip as you circle round and round, swirling and stroking.
You let your nails scratch just slightly along the hypersensitive folds, shivering when his hips jerk and ripple the water.
You know this is meant to be for him, but you can’t help it when your core begins to ache with fire.
He’s too perfect – too needy and charming – and feeling every twitch, every stutter, every spasm, every groan he elicits radiate against your body is almost too much to bear.
Picking up speed you watch as the water sways, rocked by your quick strokes and his undulating hips.
With a groan, Carter presses a soft kiss to your neck, then another, before licking a long line up to your jaw.
Your skin tastes so sweet, your scent driving him wild as his muscles pull taunt.
A small gasp escapes your parted lips as he starts to nibble along your jaw, biting and nipping then sucking and laving the pain away.
All the while, he arms stay firmly fixed on the sides of the bath; following orders just enough that you can’t reprimand him.
‘Clever boy’, you think to yourself.
Faster and faster, you work as he sucks a bruising kiss to your collarbone.
Up and down.
You stroke in perfect tandem: your hand steadily teasing while your lips utter sweet praises into his hair.
“You’re doing so good for me.”
Up and down.
“So good.”
Up and down.
“Just a little longer John, you’re doing so well.”
Up and down.
Your core clenches uselessly around the open air as he whines into your neck, your hips grinding up against him in time with your vexing strokes.
Up and down.
“Please”, he begs, whispering your name like a prayer, “Please.”
Up and down.
Up and down.
Up and-
Carter’s groan is positively erotic when you suddenly stop, it’s deep, sultry sound echoing along the tiled walls with irresistible temptation.
It was tortuous, building him up to the precipice of release only to wrench him back from the edge, but you had plans for him yet.
Catching your breath, you can’t help the wicked giggle that bubbles from your mouth.
Silencing his whimpers of protest, you release his twitching cock and wrap your arms around his shuddering frame in a cozy hug.
“Not yet darling”, you say, pressing another kiss to his temple.
You stay there for a moment, content in the warmth before gently sliding yourself out from behind his heavy body.
The water cascades down your dripping clothes as you stand, soaking the bathmat and then-some as you help guide Carter’s swaying figure out and over the lip of the tub.
Using a soft towel, you dry him off tenderly and fluff his hair before tying a fresh towel around his waist.
You try your best not to look at the twitching hardness resting there, focusing your mind instead on your next task.
Leading him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, you shake your head when his eyes flick pleadingly to the bed.
“Not yet”, you repeat softly, nodding instead towards the wooden desk chair resting in the room’s corner.
Darting back into the bathroom, Carter chuckles as he hears you hurriedly rummaging around again.
Rounding the corner, you reappear in a dry robe with a razor, a bottle of shaving foam, a bowl of water, and a warm handtowel.
Setting them down on the writing desk beside him, you hold his gaze as you swing one leg over his lap, followed by the other.
Settling over him, Carter hisses, jerking where he sits; the flimsy towel around his hips does nothing to hide the hardness pressing up against you, nor the heat radiating down.
Spraying a streak of foam along his jaw, you smear and lather the cream across his faint stubble.
You would’ve liked to keep it – you loved feeling the coarse surface scratch against the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs – but you knew he preferred to be clean-shaven for work.
Carter stares at you while you work, smiling softly. You look so cute – lips pursed, eyes squinting, and tongue pressed against your cheek – filled with concentration.
He rests his hands on your hips as you glide the razor along the first length of skin; the crackle of sliced stubble filling the heady silence between you.
His fingers tighten for a moment as his hips shift, rolling upwards almost involuntarily.
“Uh uh”, you tut, “Keep wiggling and I might cut you.”
“If only one of us was a doctor”, he mumbled between his teeth with a sly grin, careful to not make the articulation too big or else your threat become reality.
You pause your shaving as he makes another languishing roll with his hips, grinding firmly up against your soaking folds.
“Oh, come on”, Carter mocks, “Don’t tell me going to leave me looking like this?”
You look at his half shaven face with a grin.
“You don’t even know what you look like.”
“I can feel half of it still on my face.”
“It doesn’t look that bad”, you say, squishing the blade in the bowl of lukewarm water.
“Yeah right”, he says, rolling his eyes like a child.
Your laugh dies in your throat as the movement sends you bobbing harder against his stiffened cock.
Swallowing your moan, you release a breathy retort.
“I promise it doesn’t look that bad.”
“Oh yeah?”
Grabbing the bottle of shaving cream, Carter squirts some into his hands and starts waving them towards your face.
With a shriek you drop the razor onto the desk and squirm away, sliding off his lap and onto the floor in a flurry.
Stubborn, he falls with you, wrestling with your flailing limbs as you laugh and protest.
Handprints of shaving cream stamp across your damp skin and robe as you wriggle and squeal.
Managing to wrap his slender fingers around your wrists, Carter pins them above your head and looks down triumphantly.
“Don’t you dare”, you say, tone lacking conviction.
“Oh, I dare.”
With his free hand, he collects some of the lost cream and smears it over your face in a fake-half beard, chuckling to himself as you wiggle.
Straddling your hips and still pinning your hands, he leans back and admires his handywork.
“Yeah, I definitely can’t go back in the ER looking like that.”
“So, you are going back?”, you retort with a snort, spitting stray foam from your mouth, “I’d almost lost hope that you’d return after your defeatist look tonight.”
“Well, like I said, I won’t be if I stay looking like this
“Shouldn’t have distracted your barber then.”
“A barber and a doctor? My my, where do you find the time?”
“Sheer talent.”
“Ah, but of course, I should have guessed.”
You both laugh again, the movement pressing your bodies even closer together.
Carter watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, the fresh cotton panties you threw on slick and dripping.
Pulling you up, Carter releases your hands and wraps them around your thighs, lifting you back into his lap.
You moan slightly as you settle over his hard length again; perfectly aligning this time with your aching clit.
Reaching over to collect the forgotten razor and bowl, he offers them to you with a pleading expression.
“Think you can forgive me?”
You release a shaky laugh and take the tools, turning his face to the side.
“You’re too cute for your own damn good, you know that?”
Clearing another line across the edge of his jaw, he behaves as you finish shaving his entire face. His eyes staring longingly up into yours.
Having to sit still, neither one of you moving, but feeling the hardness and heat of one another, was agony.
Finally finished, you lift the warm handtowel to his face, but pause as Carter leans back, taking it from your hands.
“You first”, he says, nodding to your half-beard with a smirk.
Your mouth dried at the sight, wanting nothing more than to devour him then and there; the cuteness aggression setting your blood to a boil.
With aching tenderness, he wipes away the shaving foam splattered across your chin and cheeks. As he does so, his eyes rove, taking in every breath-taking, beautiful detail of your face, as if committing it to memory.
Ears tipped with pink; you can't help but blush, his brown eyes so consuming and kind.
Both foam-free, you rest the towel down and turn back to face him, eyes flicking to his lips and pausing with hunger.
A beat passes.
Neither of you move.
You feel his heart thundering underneath you, the rhythm as frantic as your own.
You swallow, biting a lip as he releases a shuddering breath.
You don’t know who caved first.
Don’t know who leant forwards, tilted their neck, and pressed their lips to the others with reverence reserved for a god.
All you know is the sensation of Carter’s lips and hands, and his taste.
His lips are slightly chapped but soft and malleable as they press to yours.
The kiss soft and featherlight, so tender, that you felt a part of yourself crack under its delicacy.
Winding your arms around his head and through his hair, you crush yourself closer, deepening the kiss.
His hands splay against the small of your back, climbing up higher to cradle your neck with painful gentleness. In the same moment, his hips flick upwards, grinding against your wetness in a tantalising teasing.
Rolling your hips in answer against his, you shiver as his tongue glides along the seam of your lips: a request despite needing no invitation.
You open your mouth, letting his tongue sweep in, claiming yours with a deep, rumbling moan.
The sound reverberates through your chest and sets your core on fire, clit aching to be touched.
He tastes like coffee and something richer – woody and aromatic – and entirely too addictive.
Yanking on the ends of his hair, you meld your body to his, as if you could bind yourselves together.
Meeting you stride for stride, he curves over you, engulfing your body into him.
His strength. His scent. His heat.
It’s too much and entirely not enough. A dichotomy of the greatest torment.
Separating with a gasp, you catch your breath as your head swims with giddiness. Throbbing want shaking your limbs and clouding your judgement.
Whispering your name, Carter’s head thuds against your chest as he pulls you even closer, whimpering with need.
Petting his damp hair, you savour his whines as his lips rove over your skin like a mad man starved.
Arms still wrapped around your waist in a vice, he bites the edge of your robe and tears it open with a twist of his neck.
Mouth drying, he tips you back and circles a peaked nipple with his teeth.
You keen, wiggling in his grip as he smiles against your skin.
Clamping down slightly, he tugs on the bud, sending a burst of painful pleasure shooting down your spine, straight to your damp core.
You feel yourself pooling there - as hot as the breath fanning against your trembling chest.
Replacing his incisor with his tongue, he laves over the sensitive perk, flicking, and teasing, and tasting.
Not to be neglected, releasing one hand, he brings his calloused, lithe fingers to cup around the other, squeezing and pulling at the sensitive flesh.
All the while, your hips rove over his, gyrating and griding with fraying restraint.
“John”, you moan, “The bed.”
He ignores you, placing his mouth on the other to begin his teasing torture all over again.
“John”, you beg, the hidden command sweet and gentle.
Breaking his trance, Carter lifts you up, and walks over to the bed, eyes – blown wide with lust – never leaving yours.
Unwrapping yourself from him, you glide away, watching him wait patiently as his towel slips, revealing his full glory.
‘God he’s so beautiful’, you think once again, mouth watering in anticipation.
Walking closer until your chests touch and your knees hit the mattress edge, you look up into his soldering eyes, but instead of crawling onto it, you let yourself sink down.
He groans into the air, tipping his head back and exposing the long column of his delicate throat.
You wanted to bite it and mark him as yours; a protective feeling you’ve never felt with anyone else.
With one steady swipe, you slide your hot tongue from his base-to-tip, savouring his salty taste.
“Oh God-“, he sighs, hips bucking forwards as you swirl around his pink, weeping head.
Impatient, you lean forwards, sucking down his full length, taking him as deep as you can go.
Nose flush with the curls at the base of his shaft, you hum, letting the vibrations of your throat tingle around the sensitive flesh.
Up and down you slide, hand pumping where your lips can’t reach as a trickle of wetness weeps down the side of your thighs.
They clench together uselessly as you lose yourself: you can feel every vein, every twitch, every jerk of his pulsing cock. And it’s positively addictive.
So enraptured, you barely register when Carter cries out your name, pulling on your hair to get your attention.
“Please”, he begs again, the sound so pretty coming from swollen lips.
“I- I can’t”, he continues, looking down at your eyes – innocent and pleading – while he pets your head lovingly.
Normally you’d continue after hearing such sweet begging; loving when you pushed him to the edge until he is nothing more than a shivering, twitching mess.
But today had already been gruelling and hard on him – he was utterly exhausted, and you wanted to make him feel better, not worse.
“Okay”, you say, wiping your mouth, “It’s okay. What do you want?”
“You”, he says. The singular word, just three small sounds, an offering and a prayer rolled into one.
Smiling, you rise, knees stinging slightly from the rough carpet flooring.
His hands curl around your neck, fixing you in place as his lips crash to yours once more.
But this kiss was nothing like before – no gentle sweetness, no slow exploration – just pure unadulterated passion.
He can still taste himself on your tongue as he swept inside, claiming and taking his fill, so erotic that it has his cock stiffening even harder to the point of pain.
Your vigour turns the kiss even rougher – all teeth and tongue – clashing, sucking, and tasting each other with feverish need.
Nails scratching down his back and over his chest, you moan into his mouth, relishing his answering groan as he falls back onto the bed, pulling you with him.
Straddling his aching hips, you tear off your soaked panties, never breaking your all-consuming kiss.
He catches a glimpse of their sodden state and groans into your unbound hair, fisting the strands with a satisfying sting.
"Is that all for me?"
"Always", you respond, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging gently, "Always for you, John."
Finally, with nothing separating you, you slide your slick over his long length, gasping at the salacious sensation as you press down harder.
Carter’s hip jerk at the delectable contact, the points of his hips pinching against yours as he grinds upwards, meeting your force with his own.
Rising up, you sigh into the air, the friction so delicious across your throbbing mound.
Looking into his eyes, you reach down and guide his leaking head into your swollen entrance, muscles pulling taunt in anticipation.
Your moans melt together as you sink down, engulfing his cock into your tight heat.
The stretch is divine – the burn at odds with the pleasurable fullness pressing against your belly.
Hands splayed against his chest, you roll your hips, once, twice, grinding them forwards and backwards as you chase your pleasure and adjust to his size.
“Please-”, Carter whines as you refuse to give him release, just holding him there in your slick cunt.
Stroking the side of his face you raise yourself up, feeling every vein rub against your insides as you slide off his throbbing member.
Thighs shaking, you slam yourself down, from tip to hilt, relishing the sudden fullness slapping back into you.
Up and down, you slide, fucking yourself down onto his hard cock.
At this angle, you miss your g-spot, but it’s pleasure and reward enough to watch as Carter’s eyes squint shut, mouth parting as wave after wave of pretty, pathetic whimpers spill from his lips.
Overstimulation often bordered on pain, but it brought upon a feeling of utter exhaustion that would give him the deep, restful sleep he deserved.
So, you keep going, thrusting yourself down atop his stiff, leaking length.
While distracted, a calloused thumb rose to rest against your dripping cunt, toying so close to the tangle of nerves lying at its apex.
Gasping, your rhythm falters as that wicked hand begins to draw tantalising circles around your aching clit.
“J-John”, you whimper, apparently your turn to beg now.
He smiles up at you, grin positively devilish.
His thumb circles closer but still misses that burning spot.
“John, please”, you try again, clenching your eyes against the pulsing tenderness.
“Uh uh”, he reprimands, jerking his hips up to meet you halfway.
The sensation is overwhelming, disrupting your pace even more.
Wracking your sex-addled brain, you try desperately to think of what you are missing.
Meeting each other thrust for thrust, you move in tandem as you whimper and whine.
Harder and harder he thrusts, the sound where your sticky skin meets slapping together obscenely.
Carter hisses as your pussy clenches, gripping his throbbing length like a vice as he inches even closer to your sensitive bundle.
“Ah-”, you cry, a shout of both pleasure and realisation.
“Please, Dr. Carter”, you beg, bottom lip pouting as your eyes shine, “Touch me Dr., please!”
Your back arches when his fingers finally brush against your clit, painfully light at first before suddenly flicking against the sensitive bud with imbued vigour.
You can feel your muscles pull taunt, every nerve stretching and bending as a spring beneath your naval crushes in on itself.
Tighter and tighter it winds, sucking the breath from your lungs as your toes curl and nails bite, leaving red tracks down his pectorals.
With a scream, it unravels, springing out in a wave of pleasure that wrack your body with violent tremors.
Smiling at your climax, Carter continues his ministrations, working the oversensitive nub into overdrive.
Your moans turn incomprehensible as you slump forwards against his chest, body still twitching as he uses you to find his own release.
Relentless, he thrusts into your cunt, creamy precum leaking from the sides and slipping down your already dripping thighs.
You know he won’t last much longer – too tired from today and your endless teasing – but you don’t care.
Not as the tip of his hard cock strikes that salacious spot – the one you couldn’t reach before – over and over again while his thumb continues working at your clit.
You feel that spring inside start to crush again, too soon for you to recover, coiling tighter and tighter as your vision spots with white.
“Inside”, you mumble, speech slurred by delirium, “I want you to finish inside me John.”
“Damnit-“, he swears, hips jerking at your words as the last of his restraint finally frays.
You twitch and shiver as another climax wrecks your already exhausted frame, the heat of his seed spilling deep inside, filling you to the brim.
The two of you lay frozen against one another, chests rising and falling as you try desperately to catch your breath.
Carter draws tender circles over your bare back as you work through the last of your flinching spasms; muscles sore, limp, and pudding-like.
Sliding off his chest, you roll onto your back and feel him pool out of you onto the mussed sheets.
‘A problem for another day’, you think weakly, unable to clean yourself even if you wanted to.
Rolling towards you, Carter wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close and nuzzling into your side.
With a smile, you run your nails through his hair, skin still buzzing with contentment as you press a gentle kiss against the silky tendrils.
Barely intelligible, he mumbles your name softly before sleep swiftly snatches his consciousnesses, leaving him snoring gently against your damp skin.
“Goodnight, John”, you chuckle, still stroking his hair even as he drifts off blissfully.
“Sweet dreams.”