Domestic James And Dave

domestic james and dave ♡

(Un)Still Shots 🎞 James Hetfield (18+)

Laughter-filled vibrations reverberate through and thump against the back of your bare shoulder as James presses his elated grin into the partially disheveled hair cascading down the side of your neck, his eyebrows raised in faux surprise as he stares back at the large screen in front of the two of you. You widen your eyes and reach a hand out towards the camera, curling your fingers into a playfully threatening fist, and letting out a bout of resounding amusement as your boyfriend exhales a tickling guffaw against your slowly heating up skin.

"Won't even be able to see what's coming," James teases, his words sounding slightly muffled as his bottom lip catches ahold and sticks to the chain belonging to the necklace engraved with his initials. You tilt your head to the side and relax in his hold as he raises a hand to brush the tendrils and pieces of your mane back, your smile turning small and content as you feel them pillow against your spine and James' chin jut against your collarbone. Light, yet rough textured fingertips slowly make their way up your front and dip into the crisscrossed pattern of fabric covering and shaping your breasts, and your breath halts in your chest as his warm palm creates dormancy on your temporarily frozen sternum. "It's gotten quieter outside, less people. How about we have some fun?"

You bite back a mewl as the pad of his thumb runs itself along the expanse of your breastbone and nod, a quiet gasp barricaded behind your pinched lips as the photobooth's camera audibly shutters and takes another picture. Your heavily lidded eyes take in the look on your face, as its being reflected back to you on the touchscreen. James raises his other hand from your waist to delicately encircle it around your throat, his earlier laugh turning into a fulfilled chuckle as he watches your lips part and gape at the grounding and resolute hold. Your thighs tremble in between his as his bracket your own, the once chilled air coming from the other side of the haphazardly curtained photobooth no longer an issue or threat, as your boyfriend brings you in impossibly closer.

"Remember when we came here for the first time last summer, and we fucked around on the ferris wheel?" A petaled whimper escapes from your throat as he slides his large palm over to firmly grasp at the mound of your erect nipple and breast. You lower your head as you press yourself into the hold he has around your neck, your cheeks beginning to redden as your boyfriend lets out a condescending coo at your sudden and abrupt neediness. "Was so nervous and hesitant, until I stuck a hand underneath your skirt. Came so fast and messily, I had you lick my fingers and wrist clean," James' assured and steadfast expression and smirk is apparent in the next photo taken, nearly overtaking and shadowing the look of want on your own. "What'd we do afterwards, sweetheart? Be good and tell me."

You dazedly lick your lips and dryly swallow before answering, forcing yourself not to grind back against him, as unrelenting heat pools in your core and arousal begins to pearl and trickle at your entrance. "We ran to the bathroom, and you fucked me against the door of the closest stall," you rasp out, a slight choked breath of laughter following after from the still vivid memory. "Got caught halfway through, so we ditched the rest of the carnival and finished on the backseat of your car." James unabashedly chortles from behind you, both of you now sporting wide grins, despite the air becoming heady, and the heavy and hot bulge insistently pressing itself against the lower of your back.

"The fucking noises you made," James reminisces, guiding you back by the secure hold around your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. James maneuvers your legs wide open with his booted feet, watching hungrily as your reflected self shivers at the cold air making its way to your soaked sex. You lustfully gaze at the screen, as your boyfriend's hand slides down from your chest, and gropes and glides down to your groin and underneath your skirt. "If you can keep quiet this time, I think we'll have enough minutes left to make you cum before our meter runs out," you twist your head to the side and shove your face into his bicep as he teasingly taps against your clothed and pulsating clit, pleasured tears accumulating on your lower lashes while he flattens his palm over the entirety of your sensitized pussy. "I could always stick my fingers in your mouth, have you swallow and gag around them until you cry. Even though you're already halfway there."

You refrain from obediently opening your already salivating mouth from his words alone to make space for his fingers, and instead open it to plead. "I'll take whatever you give me, always will." You whisper, shocking yourself at the dampened sound of wanton emanating from your voice, even while it was already so quiet. You let out a muted moan once you unbury yourself from his warm side and look forward once again, the darkened irises peering back at you through the screen enough to make your slick begin to bleed through your underwear's fabric and drip down and narrowly miss your guys' sets of scuffed up and overworn boots. James' cockhead unceremoniously spurts precum against his zipper as your face comes back into view, your bitten red lips and teary eyes enough to make him nearly release, untouched, in the tight confines of his denim jeans. Your heart erratically stutters in your chest as James brings his head down to lap at your goosebump ridden flesh as a way to distract himself, your jaw slackening as his fingertips entangle themselves into the dampened fabric to tug it aside.

"Please, don't tease me." You beg, your sharp inhalation turning into a hiccupped stutter of his name once his index finger slides itself through your swollen folds, the audible sound of your arousal almost as loud as the hum coming from the bottom of the photobooth. James' mouth pops off of your clavicle, leaving red and purple hued sucked marks behind, once the desire to watch you fall apart from his touch becomes unbearable. James looks at you through the screen, enraptured. From the way your spine arches away from his front once he finally dips his ring and middle fingers into your welcoming entrance, to the way your facial expression turns pornographic once he curves them upward to purposefully rub and abuse your overly sensitive, spongelike spot. To the thick and all accommodating globs of your prerelease, that help him fasten and quicken the pace of his fingers fucking themselves into you.

"As if I'd ever tease you when you're as wet as you are for me right now, pretty girl," you hastily reach up and grab ahold of the wrist resting against your chest, the hand attached to it deliciously tightening and bringing you even monumentally closer to the edge. Your hips raise as you straighten your feet on the ground to use them as leverage to ride his fingers, the constant stimulation of your g-spot and his dirty talking and the slight air deprivation enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head, and for white streaks to color the darkened corners of what little vision you have left. "That's right doll, fucking use me. Cum all over these fingers, made to fuck in and out of you." The tightened muscles in your midsection twist and then flatten out as you reach your orgasm, your lips nearly splitting by the way your jaw widens as you needily suck in little air. James holds you upright as you quietly sob and tremble in his grasp, the hand he has wrapped around your throat, slowly disentangling itself to mold along your waist and keep you from falling down. Murmured praises are what welcome you once you come back to, your body still jolting every few seconds with oversensitivity, even after your boyfriend has already placed you back down on the wooden seat in between his legs, and your once askew, cottoned underwear are put back in place.

"You did so well for me, sweetheart, you know that?" James asks you, the side of his dimpled and handsomely acne scarred cheek raising in a soft and endeared smile as he looks down at you. You lift your right temple up from his shirt clad chest and chase after his lips, tumbling out a gasp against his lifting one's as you taste your familiar and slightly musky slick on his own. You wrap your arms around his neck and use his sturdy and broad shoulders as leverage, before swinging your shaky legs around to rest one on either side of his spread and taut legs. You lift your hips and barrel yours against his, uncaring of the painful sting it brings to your still throbbing clit. and the feeling of your ruined underwear clinging and sticking to the thick material of his jeans.

James can't do anything but pant and wildly lick into your mouth as you dry hump fuck him, his fingertips gripping the bare skin of your thighs and lifting you up as you grind up and down on his weeping and leaking, red clothed cock. The photobooth takes one last picture, and you grin into the kiss, already imagining what the photos will look like. You, nearly crying for your boyfriend to finger you, your plush lips parted open and your wet pussy soaking and making a mess of his hands, his wrist, and the floor. James' thick hands, manhandling you and keeping you in place, depriving you of air as he brings you over the edge, only in the way that he allows you to. You, nearly in a split, grinding and riding your boyfriend's clothed dick like you were choking and dying for it, as his blushing cheeks and bleary eyes stare back up at you, as he stutters out your name for a change.

"Need you to cum for me, baby," you whimper, resting your forehead against his as he lifts his hips from the wooden surface beneath you two to ground his sex as close as he can to yours, the warmth of your cum and arousal bleeding through his jeans enough to help him imagine himself being inside of you. Fucking into you nice and deep, his short nails digging into your hipbones as he chases both of your releases with reckless abandon, his mouth biting marks into your skin as close and as far as he can get. His cockhead rubbing against your cervix as you milk him dry, and as he fills you to the brim with his seed. "Cum in me, make a mess out of me. Use me, just like I used you." You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a loud gasp as your clit makes rough contact with the thickened fabric protecting his zipper in just the right way. The photobooth's lights dim and the screen compiles all of your pictures together as you orgasm for the second time, as James moans out your name and his cum mixes and connects with yours, as his hips rise with one last, aborted thrust.

Soft, exhausted pants and the sound of sweaty palms sliding against skin fill the photobooth to its precipice, before you lift your forehead from James', and you both look at each other and burst out into laughter. A clad palm envelops the nape of your neck and brings you down into a gentle and calming kiss, the duality of its nature causing you to grin into it. You lick your lips once you two part, still chasing after his taste after you already had it. James lowers his hands down to your waist, and gently places you on the seat next to him, before reaching forward to grab ahold of the printing, black and white strips of pictures. Hysterical laughter bellows out of him, and you quickly lean toward him, following suit as you take them in.

"We look like c-list porn stars." You gasp out through harsh breaths of laughter, uncaring of the rough movements of your head from James' own as you rest it against his back. Joyful tears spring to your eyes, and you shift until the photos are back in sight, your hysterical laughter tittering down to uninhibited giggles as you look at the first few of you two smiling and acting silly- to the last few, of you cumming hard against your boyfriend's fingers and palm, and you on his lap, grinding mindlessly and purposefully, as James stares up at you with wide, dilated and astonished eyes.

"Going to put these on the fridge, at the mansion." James jokes, instinctively ducking out the way as you blindly swat in his direction. Matching smiles lift both of your guys' faces, and his soon turns into a disbelieving look as you turn to look at him and ask, "Round two in the car?" James stares down at you momentarily, before shaking his head and filtering the multiple strips of photographs into a neat pile.

"If you ever have to ask me that question twice, shoot me." He says seriously, a wolfish grin taking over his features as he looks down at your incredulous expression, as you two make your way out of the photobooth and carnival, and towards the renowned and awaiting car. James lifts an arm and places it over your shivering shoulders, grinning to himself as you raise an arm in response and rest your hand on top of his. The partially quiet walk is soon interrupted by kids squealing in joy and families hastily making their ways to their own cars as the sun begins to set, yet you two couldn't feel any more carefree and content as the sounds pile on.

You huff out an amused breath as you're gently pushed back against the driver's side of his car and guided into a heated kiss, your eyes tiredly opening back up slowly once James pulls away. Before you can speak up and ask him if he's ready for another round, he beats you to it, only to ask you something that brings you both into another round of rowdy laughter, uncaring of the heads that turn to gawk and stare.

"Same time, next year, carousel?" "Yeah, why the hell not."

some kind of monster ♡

so glad i wasn't alive or in my twenties in the eighties. i would have been a raging whore.

I don't know how to explain it to you, but I've been thinking a lot lately about 80s!James dating the most naive and sensitive girl to ever walk this earth. Like, sensitive in every way. Specifically with loud music (loud sounds in general) and very crowded places. She loves making colorful bead bracelets and giving them as gifts, and James loves teasing her, teasing her in any way. So much so that at the beginning of the relationship, this was a problem 'cuz she always cried when he got the name of a stuffed animal she had wrong... y'know what i'm saying? (I would love to read something like this written by you, something that follows this line i hope it doesn't sound so stupid)

80s!James and hypersensitive!girlfriend headcanon

⭒ James was initially hesitant to introduce himself and talk to you when he first saw you, after seeing how sensitive, shy and naive you appeared to be around your guys' mutual group of friends. He only made his way over once he saw you were being bothered by someone who was an obvious plus one, his earlier doubt and delay dissipating once he acknowledged how uncomfortable you looked.

⭒ What started off as a mindless and minor threat being thrown at an already fully drunk and nearly close to blacking out stranger for you, slowly turned and evolved into a mutual agreement, a friendship, and then eventually, a relationship. You would subliminally intercept any girls James didn't seem like he'd be interested in talking to on his own, and in return, he'd make sure you were left alone and as far away from the party's speakers as physically possible- him purposefully keeping the flinches you made whenever the cacophony of beats would accelerate and blare from them, and when too many people brushed against and bumped into you, in mind.

⭒ One night, the mansion was too overcrowded, and you were almost shaking in fright. Your breathing became labored once you realized James was no longer in sight, and you didn't see it possible for you to be able to escape the situation by using the front or back doors of the house. So, you did what you thought would be the second-best option. You fled upstairs. Your legs nearly collapsed beneath you, and the friends that had dragged you back here once again, slowly disappeared and became smaller in the ever-growing pit with every uncertain step you took further upstairs. Before you could have searched for a bathroom or an abandoned bedroom, James came turning towards the staircase you were ascending on. You quickly loosened your death grip from around the wooden railing and instinctively pushed yourself forward, directing yourself into the taller man's chest.

⭒ James took you in his arms for the first time with careful hands and ease, already knowing from your trembling frame that you were on the verge of having a panic attack. The ringing in your ears dwindled down to a constant back burner of a buzz as he guided you up the last few stairs, and toward his bedroom. Before your impending embarrassment could overwhelm you, or you could attempt to apologize, James guided you to sit down on the edge of his bed and took your unsteady fingers and intertwined them with his. That was the first night and time James proved to you he could be there for you, as long as you would allow him to be. "I'm right here, and you'll be alright," he whispered to you, his tone confident, yet gentle. A warm pad of a thumb traced the ridge of a line on the inside of your sweat clad palm, light blue irises grounding you as you fought to control your erratic and painful heaves of aborted exhalations. "Take a deep breath for me, come back to me. That's it."

⭒ But you were there for him as well. Your hypersensitivity allowed him to feel comfortable enough around you to be vulnerable. On the occasional nights you were invited back to the mansion or coerced back by your friends, you both found solace in each other's company. You'd lie in bed with him as music and drunken cheers continuously barreled on downstairs, listening intently as he confided in you about his own anxieties. About his fears of the band growing too big too fast, his fear of the band falling apart, and him losing his best friends and members because of it. His anxieties that came with him not being able to control what was happening around him, and to himself. You'd steadily hold onto his hand and run your fingers through his disheveled mane, while he'd lie his head on your shoulder and grip the fabric of your shirt, like it was his one and only anchor. And on certain overwhelming and exhausted days for him, it was. Other and often times, conversation would be lighthearted, hysterical laughter lifting the weight from both of your guys' shoulders as you each took turns exposing small parts of your opposite personalities through embarrassing stories from the past. You both would share books and overly folded and torn pages from magazines, you being teased every time you realized you were tricked into looking at a Playboy, your cheeks a blazing bright red, and James' smile wide and boyish and youthful. Handsome, even.

⭒ The first time James invited you over during the day, he surprised you by instead taking you out to the carnival. Your usual fear of large crowds and loud sounds was mostly taken care of, as James made sure to have you both arrive early and be the first in line before they even opened up that morning. Every time someone ran too close by you or screamed a little too loud, he'd wrap an arm around your shoulders and distract you with a new game, or gently guide you away to someplace quieter. Your heart fluttered in your chest for the first time after he won you the first of many stuffed animals that day, the proud and soft look on his face as he handed it over to you was forever imprinted in your mind. A branded memory that you held close to you.

⭒ "Please don't cry, sweetheart, you know I was just fucking around. Of course, I remember the name of your favorite, childhood stuffed tiger. His name was Lucky!" He tried to reassure you, after you began to cry at the idea of him forgetting something so monumental and important to you. Translucent tears cascaded themselves down your flushed facial features, as James absentmindedly bent down to place a consoling kiss on the precipice of your forehead. You both froze in place, before stuttering out twinned, awkward bouts of shy laughter. You gripped the hind legs of your pig stuffed animal and averted your eyes, hoping your erratic heartbeat and the butterflies clashing in your midsection weren't audible enough to make it up to his ears. Insurmountable relief flooded through you, as a calloused and ringed finger delicately tapped itself on one of the many beaded friendship bracelets covering the entirety of your left wrist. "How about you make me one of these, and we'll call it even after I win you a few more of these little guys?" James let out an amused sounding guffaw once he expertly ducked away from one of your usually soft and painless punches, after his next words playfully aggravated you. "I'll even let you name one of them Lucky Jr."

⭒ The sun was lowering itself in the sky, by the time James braked and parked in front of your family's dimly lit home. You wrung your hands together in your lap, undecided and contemplating on whether or not you should be the one to speak up first. You nearly jumped in your seat, after his voice lightly reverberated in the small confines of the car. "I had a good time." James announced, as his stomach muscles tightened, and his fingertips whitened underneath the pressure he exuded around the steering wheel. You squeezed your knees together and nodded, hoping none of your new gifts would slide away and make contact with the floor. "I did too, thank you for taking me." You murmured in response, warmth filling your chest as you watched James grin, despite his body language being a juxtaposition to the action. You sucked in a shuttering breath as he leaned over you to push your door open, the ends of his dirty blonde hair coming down in waves to caress the side of your bare forearm, as he fully made his way back into the driver's seat once again. "Since you don't feel comfortable with men walking you up to your front door." He joked, his smile slowly falling as he watched your eyes rake all over his face, as if they were now only taking him in for the very first time. The words you spoke next, stole all of the oxygen that resided in his being. "You're not just a man, James. To me, you are so much more than that." James sat still in place for a long moment after you whispered a goodnight and took action to make your way outside of the vehicle, dazedly waving back at you after you tossed a halfhearted one behind your back, before clumsily footing your home's front door open- with your hands fully occupied with his prizes, your gifts. He lowered his head down with a resounding groan, not even flinching as his forehead made contact with the cool to the touch, worn-out leather covering and stretched around the steering wheel. God, he was so fucked. He was falling in love with his best friend. Little did he know, so were you.

⭒⭒ "Did you run out of beads, or something?" He asks you, a seemingly permanent upward quirk on his lips as he leans forward and over the center console separating the two of you in his car, helpfully twisting his limb as you triple knot the braided fabric around his much larger wrist. You absentmindedly shake your head no, biting back a smile of your own as you hear him let out a confused, yet content sound. "Everyone else has beads, I wanted this one to be different." You admit, inwardly shying away after you raise your eyes, and they meet his own. James keeps his eyes set on you for a second too long, before looking down at the bracelets you made once again. Yours is a sage green, interconnected and intertwined with small, yellow flowers. His, a light blue, with a deeper shade of flowers making their way around the entirety of the fabric, yellow dots of color embracing the inside of each one, causing them to stand out even more against his healthily tanned, soft skin.

"You wore a sage green and yellow dress on the night we met for the first time." James verbalizes and realizes, as the image of you pops in his head. Your shaky smile and wide eyes, as he watched you try to get away from the man harassing you near the sound system. Your smile turning genuine and soft, as he asked if you were alright, and when he playfully came up with a way for you to help him back for the rest of the night. Your light titter of amusement, and finally, your nod of agreeance. The soft looks you two shared throughout the rest of the duration of the party, and the murmured goodnights you two parted with, you both being reluctant to separate and walk away.

Your bitten back smile turns into a wide grin as he vividly remembers your first meeting from all those months ago, your left hand resting on top of his wrist. Your fingertips absentmindedly shift the backing to the side so that the front would be fully visible, as James tentatively flickers his eyes back up to yours. "I wasn't wearing light blue that night, was I?" He asks you. You slowly inhale and straighten up in the passenger side seat, your free hand anxiously beginning to tug at the bottom hem of your t-shirt. You nervously lick your lips and shake your head no, missing your best friend's eyes as they helplessly follow after the movement.

"The light blue represents your eyes," you begin and confess, a small flicker of hope lighting anew in your gut, as James sucks in a deep breath and shifts closer. "I was making mine over the past few days, and what you wore didn't matter to me, not as much at the color of your eyes did," your hair falls free as you lift your head from against the headrest, lowering your hand from your shirt to use it as leverage to push yourself flat against the console. "Your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you when we first met, and you calmed me down. And now they're the first thing I search for whenever I know you'll be around."

A warm and large hand reaches forward to cup your nape as James whispers out your name, the softness in his tone enough to bring tears to your eyes. You blurrily blink as silver rings etch themselves in the tendrils of your locks, and as he slowly guides your head forward. The wake of goosebumps gather and multiply on your wrist as it makes contact with the divider, as James brings his other open palm up to delicately caress your cheekbone. Light and royal blue and yellow make safe haven in your right eye's peripheral as you're held in the most gentle way, and as your best friend looks down at you with his own set of blown, wide open eyes.

"If I'm reading into this wrong," James trails off, his expression turning into a grimace at the thought alone. You look back at him with longing, before lifting your hand from the console and encircling it around his wrist nearest to your face. He expels a sigh of relief at the familiar warmth in the smile you send his way, ignoring the pressure against his ribs as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. A light breath of a laugh is breathed out in the small space between you two, and you squeeze his wrist in reassurance, feeling alive and understood at the feeling of his incessant and abnormal heartrate pulsing beneath your fingertips. "How are you the one confessing first? I thought you were the shy and oversensitive one."

Your smile is overabundantly large as James kisses you before you can answer, the fabric of your guys' bracelets rubbing against each other as you press your lips on his and savor the feeling and taste. You both don't pull back until you're gasping for air, and as soon as you both reopen your eyes and look at each other once again, laughter ensues. You rest the weight of your head in his palm connected to your nape and look up at him gently, a sigh of contentment making its way out of your plush and kissed red set. Those same light blue irises from that first night, peer back down at you, filled with adoration and devoted conviction. "I think you confessed to me a long time ago, I was just too nervous to acknowledge it," you speak into the charged and electrified air surrounding you two. You unlatch your hand from around his wrist to raise it and graze the pads of your fingertips against his smile doted skin, and his lifted, already swollen lips. "You once told me to come back to you when I was having a panic attack, but I don't think I ever left. I think I'm always present when you're around. You bring it out of me."

James damply and disbelievingly chuckles, before placing a trembling kiss to your fingertips. You gently detach and wipe away a stray tear from the corner of his right eye, a few of your own already making their way down your jawline. "I love you; you know." You confess through a mused grin, the tone in your voice easy, because admitting it now was the easiest thing in the world. James beckons you forward once again, kissing you breathless before admitting his love back to you, although you already know what his next words will be.

"And God, do I love you."

⭒⭒⭒ Bright lights, heavy bass and thousands of screaming fans erupt from around you, yet all of your prior anxieties and worries are gone as you watch James and the rest of Metallica perform on stage, the partial noise cancelling headphones you're wearing giving you enough balance and security to be able to fully enjoy yourself. You lean back against the barricade and smile widely, the pride and joy you have for them nearly beaming out of your chest, as you look at the fruition and proof of all of their hard work over the past few years.

James' voice bellows out the next few lines of the song, before he makes his way over to the edge of the center stage, and squats down in front of you, his mouth outstretched in a euphoric and blissful smile. Something he always deserves to wear. He cheekily raises his left hand, and you do the same, the light and royal blue gemstones in his engagement ring shining just as brightly as your sage green and yellow ones. You both share muted I love you's, the sounds of cheers and sung back lyrics too loud for your guys' indescribable joy to be audible. But you both know how true the words you mouth back to each other are.

You twist the gold-plated jewelry around your ring finger as you sing along with the crowd, fully embracing the experience, and all that is yet to come.

As long as you had James by your side, and James had you, you two were prepared for anything.

(note: your request was so much fun to write, and it wasn't stupid at all. don't doubt yourself, babe! i hope i did it justice and you enjoy it ♡)

Needy Little Fucking Thing 𓍼 James Hetfield (18+)

A hiccup of a moan bellows itself out of you as partially bare hips make undeviating contact with the backs of the top of your upper, reddening thighs, the balls and heels of your shoed feet raising from the ground as strong hands lift and push you even farther up on the wooden fixture in front of you.

You gasp for breath as your boyfriend huskily expels a shuttering exhale against the exposed skin on the nape of your neck, his front pressing flush against your backside as he sheathes his entire length inside of you. Sweat trickles down from the crown of your head and creates dormancy on the sides of your flushed temples, your kiss chapped lips gaping as you feel James' hot length pulsate and weep beads of translucent precum into the precipice of your soaked heat.

Your walls incessantly flutter around him, subconsciously milking him for all he's worth, as the beginning of his shoes shuffle forward and pause underneath yours to help stabilize your unnatural position. The muscles in your calves tremble as you force yourself to not grind back and attempt to bring him even closer and deeper inside you, your bare chest heaving and hovering over the haphazard and cluttered desk now beneath you. Goosebumps litter themselves over the expanse of your overheated skin, as you feel his upturned lips rake and caress themselves over the shell of your left earlobe.

"Couldn't even wait for me to find an actual bathroom, pulled me into the closest abandoned bedroom instead," James muses, the tone in his voice playful, yet strained. Music hovers around the small crevice of free space at the bottom of the room's doorway just a few feet away from you two, and you lower your eyes in mortified embarrassment. They soon enlarge, and overstimulated tears rest upon your waterline, as one of his large palms travel up to guide you to lie your entire top half down on the cold surface, and his hips finally begin to thrust again. "Needy little fucking thing."

"Needed you." You mewl, the sound stuttered and dilapidated as his cockhead rubs and confides itself against your sensitive and spongelike spot. Your nails dig into the polished wood as he slowly extracts his arousal-soaked dick out of you, before smoothly gliding his hardened inches back inside. The repetitive cacophony of drunken laughter and overplayed music, dulls down and becomes muted background noise as James' hands travel their way upward to encircle themselves around your wrists to hold them in place.

"Needed me so badly, you couldn't even wait for me to get home," He condescendingly croons, the desperate delivery of his lust driven plunges a juxtaposition to the faux confidence in his cadence. You choke around a watery gasp as your feel your orgasm quickly approaching, the heat in your abdomen starting to feel like a coiled and tightly knotted rope. James bends down to bear a bite on your shoulder, lolling out his tongue around a satisfied sounding grunt to satiate the delicious sting. Your waterline overfills, and dewy tracks of submerged fulfillment make their way down your blazing and splotched stained, red cheeks. "Tell me what you need, baby, and I'll give it to you."

"Need to cum, need to feel you cum inside me. Fill me up." You manage, your words slurring and nearly turning into one as each impaling movement of his cock brings you closer to the edge. Your boyfriend lets out a hum, and you force yourself to stay pliant and in place as he removes his upper half from mounting your back and his hands from around your wrists. Before you can even question him, a hand is being pressed against your lower stomach to lift you up, and a thick and calloused fingertip is roughly colliding with your swollen and pearling clit.

A wail bleeds out of you as he sweeps his digit across your drenched sex and merges your limbs with his, his once desperate thrusts turning into reckless abandon. A sopping wet sound reverberates in the confined space surrounding you two, and the sensation of his dampening briefs below his raising ballsack chafing itself against your already bruising skin, disappears and becomes null. You encircle your trembling and unsteady hands around his forearms as your feet dangle on either side of his own, the aglets of his bouncing shoelaces due to his thrusts tickling the sock covered skin of your ankles as you turn your head to look at him.

Blue turned black irises encase yours in a trance like stare, and you squeeze your legs together as you feel them seize and constrict, your eyes heavily lidding as you avidly watch his facial expression crumble into a look of engulfment. You chase forward, ignoring the tinge of pain in your neck from the movement, and shakily place your lips on top of his. You swallow and accept every divot of spit laded tongue he feeds you, the tips of your shoes connecting with his as your thighs bracket and tense with oversensitivity.

"Cum for me, sweetheart," James breathes, a strangled 'fuck, you're so tight' mangling its way out as your walls vice like grip his length and swallow him in, barely giving him enough leeway space to fuck himself back into you. Thick lines of mixed saliva keep you two together as you slowly part, the heady air in the centimeters between feeling overbearing and charged with fervor. "I can feel how close you are. Want you to make a mess all over me and help me clean it up after." Your eyes involuntarily clench shut with the vivid imagery of your shaking body being placed down on your still wobbly knees, and your future self opening her mouth wide enough to lick and suck his broad girth clean.

"I can cum?" You ask, your voice heightened and overly airy as you try to hold on, fighting your body's natural instinct to curl in on itself, as James spreads your slick folds apart and lightly pinches at your clit. Your eyes snap back open as his pinky carefully makes its way inside of your opening, right on top of and with his still pivoting dick, and curls it upward to relentlessly rub the pad of his finger against your abused g-spot. White spots brighten your vision in the already nearly pitch black room, and your lips open in a silent scream as you reach and barrel into your orgasm.

"That's it, baby. Fucking perfect," he praises, his expression turning gutted and euphoric, as your release instantaneously triggers his own. Gasps pitter and fret in the chilled air as you slowly come back to, and as James slowly continues to fuck his seed into and toward your spent pussy walls and coated cervix. You twist your head back forward and rest your head against your boyfriend's chest, contentment flooding through you at his next words. "Such a good girl, listening so well."

"Taking care of me so well." You eventually rebut, once you're able to find your voice and catch your breath. A reassuring kiss is placed onto each one of your shoulder blades before you're lowered back down on your feet, and you only loosen your hold on him once you feel stable enough to stand on your own.

James lets out a quiet hiss as he carefully removes himself from inside of you, and you disappointingly grimace as you feel and watch your guys' mixed releases slowly run down the long expanse of your still twitching thighs. James gently maneuvers you around to face him, and you can't help but smile at the fucked out and pleased look on his face, his eyes blown wide and glassy, as if he was high. Large and warm palms resurface on your hips and draw you back in easily, a shy spring of laughter being shared as you both nearly trip over each other's feet in haste to get closer.

Your boyfriend bends down to level with you and brings you into a kiss, a pout forming on your swollen lips as he pulls away too soon for your liking. "As much as I'd like to stand here and kiss you all night, the party's going to be ending soon, and you didn't keep up your end of the deal just yet, doll," you lightly hum and tilt your head back, your eyebrows raising and your grin matching his own as he finishes his sentence and airs out a gentle command.

"On your knees, baby. There's still a mess you need to clean up."