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Oh my god I almost cried because I can see it happen so really clearly.
SEX WITH JORDAN IS TWO VERY DIFFERENT EXPERIENCES.
Solely depending on which form they shift into during or before.
When they're in their female form, they’re a top with a touch of submission, like the minute you whisper in their ear what you want to do to them, they’re switching to that submissive side.
They’re letting you climb on top of them, letting you take complete control. Letting you kiss down their body, smiling down at you when your teeth bite into the flesh of their tits. Your tongue smoothing over the mark you’ve just made.
Sucking on the skin, knowing they’ll have to walk around for weeks with your mark on them. They'll complain about it, but you catch them smiling at in the mirror when they’re getting dressed.
Letting you make them come against your mouth twice before they can’t stand it anymore and they’re groaning, pulling you up by the cheeks to kiss you with passion, teeth, and tongue. Moaning at their own taste as they push your back into the mattress.
The roles quickly switched.
Jordan never passes up the chance to be in complete control. To have their fingers between your thighs, watching the way your body arches and rolls to the pleasure they’re giving you as their thumb rubs your clit and their fingers fuck your pussy, deep, and rhythm with the buck of your hips. Their mouth on your neck, moving across your chest to close their lips around your nipple.
They feel almost powerful with the knowledge—with seeing how they can make you feel—that they can bring out those weak-pleasure-fueled noises from you, that if they curl their fingers, you’ll be clinging to them, begging and pleading, breathing into their mouth like it’s your last one, like if they don’t let you come, you’ll go insane. Like you’re their saint, and you only need absolution from them.
And when they have their cunt pressed to yours, palm pressed under your chin, against your neck, to keep your eyes on them, their words come out heavy and heated, “it’s only me, right? Only I can make you feel like this? Can make you come this hard?”, your answer wrapped around a pretty moan, fingers digging into their hips to press them harder against you—they feel invincible.
But when they’re in their male form, it’s different. They’re different. They lose that dominant edge and shift into something more lenient. Something akin to a service top, with submission hanging at the cusp.
They’ll still lace their fingers with yours and press them into the mattress, making you feel like they’re the ones in control. Like they could do whatever they want to your body and know you’d love it and ask for more.
But deep down, you both know you’re the one in control.
You’re the one that’s driving them completely insane. That they want to please. Make come over and over until your thighs are wet and sticky, and they lap it up with their tongue. Use the head of their cock to gather the slick at your entrance and rub it against your clit. Make you come one more time just by using the tip of their cock.
Your begs for them to stick it in, “please, Jordan, please,” one of the prettiest things they’ve heard.
Making them smile against your lips as they squeeze your chin between your thumb and pointer to bring your mouth up to theirs.
“Anything for you,” they say against your open mouth as they slip their cock into your heat. The slow stretch makes your nails dig into the side of their arm.
The thrusts and speed of their hips all dependent on what you want. What you moan and whimper into their skin, mouth. How your body moves against there’s, underneath it, with it. How your pussy squeezes them.
“Come for me, one more time, I promise,” the wet squelch of their cock fucking you matched with the fingers drawing circles against your clit undoing you.
And when you switch positions, when you take the reigns and wrap your lips around the tip of their cock, letting your tongue lap up your own come, that’s when that submissive side comes out.
The whimpers heaved out of Jordan’s lungs, the push of their hips off the bed, driving their cock deeper into your throat. Their brows pinched together, eyes glossy, needy. Fingers on your cheek, your head, in the bed sheets.
It’s fucking beautiful.
They’re fucking beautiful.
“Let me fuck your throat. Can I–fuck–can I fuck your throat, baby?”
“Please.”
“Yes, please.”
Their fingers dig into the side of your skull, the closer they are to coming. But even that’s soft. The thrusts fucking up into your mouth are hurried, fast, and hard, but still softer than they could be. Still gentle in that careful way of Jordan wanting you to enjoy this just as much as they are.
When they come down your throat, they watch you swallow. Their eyes watching your throat move, lips twitching in a soft smile. A hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you against their chest to lay. A finger under your chin to lift your head far enough for them to lean down and kiss you.