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Anya reaches out to try the cockpit door, but it opens before she can grip it. It reveals Jimmy, who jumps when he sees her, then awkwardly shifts his eyes away and hunches down a bit. She curls her lip in disgust and rolls her eyes at the behavior. She hates many things, and meek, weak men is one of them.
“Hi, Anya,” he greets, peeking back at her. He has these two chunks of hair that stick up for whatever reason, and it always reminds her of the antennae on a roach. It makes her want to squish him like a bug, preferably in a pair of stilettos.
“Move,” she spits in response, cupping the side of his face and pushing him out of the way. He stumbles, looks back, then scurries off to go ruin someone else’s day. The door slides closed behind her, and her footsteps on the metal grating below her echo around the room as she enters further.
“Jimmy, I told you not to take your breaks in here, you annoying shit,” Grant spits from his pilot’s seat without turning around, the smoke from the cigar he’s not allowed to have aboard swirling around his head. She just smirks and continues forward, then falls over him from behind, arms thrown over his shoulders and dangling atop his defined chest.
“I’m no Jimmy,” she purrs into his ear, then chuckles. Her fingers slide underneath the strip of fabric that hides his zipper, then run up and down it. His response is a long, annoyed sigh.
“Get off of me,” he commands, elbowing her and sending her stumbling backwards. “How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off? I’m not interested. At all.” The sneer he throws back at her is venomous. She just huffs and straightens back up, planting her hands on her hips.
“You are lying. I know when a man is lying. When’s the last time you got laid, anyways? I don’t understand how you can keep rejecting me like this. It’s not like you have any other choice. What, are you going to fuck Jimmy?” she scoffs.
“Over my dead body,” Grant spits, looking genuinely disgusted. She just laughs, a short and mean laugh.
“He’d probably let you. He’s up your ass. Or, I guess you’d be up his,” she ponders, looking up to the side and thoughtfully tapping her chin with a long nail.
“You’re disgusting. Get out of my cockpit,” he demands, looking exhausted and completely done with her shit.
“How about you put your cock in some other pit,” she offers, letting her eyelids lower flirtatiously as she smirks, “Curly.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growls, standing up and turning to face her. He’s at least six inches taller than her, towering over her threateningly, but she just chuckles again and reaches up to pat his cheek. He bats her hand away.
“Curly,” she repeats, “Curly, Curly, Curly. Maybe I’ll stop if you do something for me, hmm?” She smirks, then leans up so her face is only inches from his. “I know you want to fuck me. You want to fuck me so bad, it makes you look stupid.” She squeezes his cock through his jumpsuit, taking a moment to appreciate the size, then moves away again.
He just glares at her, the gritting of his teeth ruining his lit cigar, fists clenched. She looks back smugly, arms crossed and a hip popped, waiting for how he’ll respond. They have a staring contest that lasts for far too long, because both are too stubborn to break it. Eventually, he just scoffs.
“You want it that bad, Anya? You want it?” His hands fly up to the zipper of his jumpsuit, then suddenly tugs it down. She gasps, watching in shock as it’s yanked down, then takes a step back in surprise when he boldly brings his cock out of his boxers. “How about you suck it, then? Maybe if you make that mouth busy, you’ll shut the fuck up.”
She has to take a moment to process this 180 in direction, eyes flicking between him and his hardening member, long lashes waving as she blinks in shock. During this, he grows more annoyed. “What did I just say?” he warns, then plants a hand on her shoulder and uses his iron strength to push her down to her knees. Once she’s down, he slaps his cock against her soft cheek. “Suck.”
Her lips part when he pushes against them, then she sticks her tongue out lewdly as he roughly slides inside her mouth. He presses against the back of her throat, causing her to try and swallow around it, and she can feel him actively hardening in her mouth as his hand moves to grip her hair tightly, pulling it painfully. Or, well, it would probably be painful to anyone else. Using his fist full of hair, he guides her head back and forth, not being careful at all. She chokes and sputters, struggling to breathe at times, but she still moans and swirls her tongue against him. One of her hands is digging into the sculpted muscle of his thigh, while the other comes up to fondle his balls, doing her best to make him feel as good as she can.
“Mm, yeah, like that,” he groans, watching her with a perverse grin. “Yeah, take it. I know you like it. Look at you, you slut. This is what you’ve wanted to do since you first saw me, wasn’t it? How does it—” he thrusts roughly, drawing another choke out of her, “—feel—” he moves back and gives another thrust, “—now, Anya? HUH?!”
“Mmh!” she whines around him, ripping her hand off of his thigh and reaching down to rub against her clit. The stimulation is dull and not good enough through the layers of clothes, though, causing her frustration. He continues using her, pupils widening at the sight of her makeup streaking down her cheeks, lipstick smudged, and during this time, she finally gives in and undoes her zipper, shoving her hand into her underwear to rub against herself. It’s been so long since she’s done anything with anyone else, since these stupid hauls are long as fuck, so she moans while rutting obscenely against her hand, not even attempting to look like anything more than a degenerate.
“Fuck,” Grant pants, “Fuuuck. Yeah, you like this, don’t you? My cock buried down your throat? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? How’s it feel to finally get it?” She doesn’t respond, just keeps letting him use her, eyes watering and overflowing. He grimaces down at her. “I asked you, how does it feel?!” He suddenly withdraws from her mouth, using his fistful of her hair to angle her head up to look at her. She gasps in the oxygen she needs, panting as she looks up at him. He looks hungry. He looks pissed off. He looks…sexy. As fuck.
“I love it,” she desperately responds. “Fuck me, Grant.”
“This is all you’re getting,” he declines, then thrusts back into her mouth. She chokes again, trembling as she pleasures herself. He keeps going, his grunts and groans sounding like erotic heaven, until eventually his breathing quickens and he speeds up. She does her best to breathe around him, knowing it’s up to her since he’s not being considerate at all, while rubbing the base of his dick with one hand and fondling his balls with the other hand.
When it all comes to a head, he buries himself deep into her throat, letting out a long groan as he comes down it. In the middle of it, he then withdraws suddenly, rubbing at the head of it as the rest of his cum violates her face, painting all over it. His grin down at her is wicked, the blues of his eyes hardly visible around his wide pupils. She rubs herself through it, but without having something inside, it’s not enough for her to follow after him.
“Good girl,” he grins down at her, drunk on the power he has over her. She just yanks her arms out of her sleeves, then scrambles up to her feet and runs over to lean over his chair, back arching as she sticks her ass out. Her thumbs hook around the fabric of her jumpsuit and shoves it down, leaving her only in her black thong, ass cheeks on full display.
“You know you want it,” she pants, peeking back over her shoulder at him. “Come on, Grant.”
He stares at her incredulously, conflicted, then curses under his breath as he rapidly approaches her.
“This is it,” he warns, glaring down at her. “Just to shut you up. Got it?!” He emphasizes his words by taking the strap of her thong and yanking it roughly aside. The fabric threatens to rip at that, which does nothing but turn her on impossibly further.
“Sure, whatever—” she squeaks, her words falling into a whine as he slides into her, going so roughly that his hips slap against her ass. His pace is immediately brutal, using her as a cock sleeve for his own pleasure, and the dirty thoughts make her all but gush around him. The chair twists to the side while she’s used, and she gasps and tightens her muscles so she can keep stable, which draws out a loud moan from him as his hands grip her hips, fingers digging in so firmly that she distantly wonders if they’ll bruise her.
“Yes, yes, oh—” she desperately cries. She tries to lift a hand off of the chair to rub against herself, but it turns again, so she flies it back to keep stable. “Grant, please, touch me—”
To her surprise, he does, dropping a hand to flick his fingertips against her clit. She buckles a little, gasping at the pleasure, and thrusts back harder against him. Sparks are running through her body, and the slide of the blunt head of his cock against that sensitive spot inside of her has her knees buckling and waves of warmth washing over her.
“Fuck,” he huffs, protruding pecs brushing against her back as he leans over her. “Fuck!” His hips quicken as his breath comes out faster against her ear, forehead pressed against the side of her head. She feels her climax growing within herself, rapidly approaching, and she throws her hips against his, trying to get it really good. He easily takes the message, and the way he pounds into her has her screaming.
“You gonna come on my cock? Yeah? Is it that good?” Grant says into her ear, then huffs out a laugh. “Fuck. You’d do anything for it, wouldn’t you? Slut. God.”
“Grant, please,” she gasps, trembling. His chest moves against her back as he laughs, and as he fucks desperately into her, his hands get to work on her clit, rubbing and flicking against it.
“Come on it. I want to feel the way you’ll squeeze around me,” he commands breathlessly as his hands work. She seizes up at that, then cries out as waves of ecstasy wash over her, radiating from her clit to the rest of her body. The sight and sensation draws another curse out of Grant, and he gives some rapid, rough thrusts, then pulls out to release all over her ass. His hand rapidly moves up and down, making sure to milk himself of every last drop.
They pant heavily, trying to catch their breaths. She reaches up to wipe her eyes free of wetness, feeling a bit more stable on the chair now that they’re not moving, then looks back at him. He’s looking down at her with lingering hunger, admiring his release all over her ass, and she flushes.
And unless she’s mistaken, there’s a spark of genuine interest in those eyes.
“I’m going to go shower,” she announces suddenly, straightening up and fluffing her hair out. “Do you have any napkins for all of this?” She gestures to pretty much her entire body.
“Why the fuck would I have napkins in the cockpit? You’re going to have to improvise,” he responds with a sneer.
“I don’t know. Maybe you jack off in here to pass the time. It was worth a shot.” She’s gonna need something to get all of this cum off of her, though…
She looks down at her underwear, thinking, then pushes the rest of her suit off of her so she can take them off. She uses them to wipe up all of the cum clinging to her face, then her ass, then shoves them at Grant. He’s taken so much by surprise, that he has no choice but to accept them.
“Souvenir. Bye.” She puts everything else on like nothing happened, then leaves without another word.
As she rushes away, she runs her fingers through her hair, full of complicated feelings as she considers when the next time they do this will be.