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Strobe lights flicker around the club, the night sky dark outside the multiple windows lining the walls painted red from the glow of dim lighting. The high end club, located on the top floor of a tall building, is filled with people mingling about, some dancing on the dance floor, swaying erotically to the thrumming beat from the speakers; some downright grinding against each other.
Grabbing a martini at the bar, the bartender sends a wink before getting swamped by a group of ladies. Huffing from the abrupt cut-off, eyes turn to the crowd to survey instead. The beat hits the woofers harder and people cheer, their movements getting faster.
The martini tastes good as its flavour glides smoothly. But then across the room, a pair of dark eyes is staring. The man clad in tight leather pants and a white long sleeve collared shirt unbuttoned almost to the navel holds his gaze as he brings his own crystal tumbler to his lips, legs parting ever so wider as his eyes darken.
Those dark ambers are a mesmerising beacon, eyes shining even in the dark, as flickering strobe lights cast sparkles into those depths. The red lighting really looks good on him. He raises an eyebrow in question, long and slender fingers gripping the glassware a little tighter before he brings it gently to the table beside him.
It's an open invitation.
And like a moth to a flame, feet head straight to his direction, shoes clicking inaudibly on the floor from the music that seems more and more further away as the man comes into clearer view.
There's a small smile dancing on his lips, eyes twinkling even though they seem like endless dark pools, stealing the very breath that stops short.
His black long collared shirt underneath the white is of sheer material, the translucent material failing to hide the smooth milky skin underneath. The contrast highlights his features— it's a tease, showing off the confidence of the man as he lounges comfortably against the plush couch. His eyes do a slow appreciative rake that does nothing but raise goosebumps as they glint with want.
Lips part, and a smooth seductive voice drifts over through the din of the club, “Hi baby, I'm hungry for some milk tonight.”
His voice washes over like a wave, causing goosebumps and a delicious shiver to run down the spine and straight to a growing molten heat within.
Teasing back, a grin takes shape, “Has daddy not had dinner yet?”
A matching smile reflects back, “No. And now I'm starving.”
Sliding up between his parted legs, the cool martini glass is raised. For a quick moment, the man shows interest in the drink but eyes darken further as he locks onto the glass meeting plush red lips instead. As the first taste of the cool drink slips onto tastebuds, the man lifts a hand to wrap appreciatively against a waist, thumb idly stroking into the fabric as warmth seeps through the material. His gaze is heavy as he tracks the drink sliding into a smooth throat that bobs to every glide of the drink.
“Darling, don't tease your daddy.”
With a tiny little buzz from alcohol coursing through veins, there's a thought to tease the man further as a leg slips further between, gently nudging against the seams of the leather crotch.
“I'm just thirsty, daddy.” The leg starts rubbing against the heat, feeling a gentle twitch from the confines of the leather. The hand on waist feels like a brand as it presses harder. “But you can't deny you didn't like the view.”
The man smirks, “Oh, baby. You have no idea.”
Before any thought can form, a quick maneuver sees the man’s legs pressed together and another hand comes up on the other side of the waist and yanks down. The cocktail sloshes in the martini glass, threatening to spill over. A small yelp turns into a low breathy moan as bodies rub together just right. Legs thrown on either side of strong thighs, the man leans in and presses an apologetic kiss on the neck, right below the ear.
“Sorry baby, but I needed to feel you closer.”
In response, laughter bubbles up, “It's ok, daddy.”
The man sighs in content, dragging his nose along the column of the neck, inhaling the scent of soft skin before darting out a tongue to gently taste. Shivering in delight, head tilts back and allows more access. An appreciative groan follows the action as the wet tongue presses flat and drags up a hot line.
“Fuck, you taste so good.”
Wet kisses mark the same trail, travelling down to exposed collar bones as a back arches to gain more leverage.
The man chuckles, “So earnest are we?”
A nip at the base of the neck has a soft moan slipping into the air before lips smack shut, aware of the many ears surrounding the place.
Hot breath ghosts against the shell of an ear as the man breathes out a sigh. “Shall we head somewhere more private?”
“Y-yeah.” The man pulls back.
Music suddenly changes up again and the dancing crowd roars in excitement, pulling their attention away from each other for a moment with eyes snapping to the people who begin dancing to the beat.
The man’s silky voice sounds out then, nose nudging against the shell of an ear and pulling thoughts back to present. “May I have a taste of your drink?”
Eyeing what little is left in the glass, a hand holds it out, “Sure, you can have it all.”
A smile and nod of thanks, warm fingers brush as slender digits wrap around the stem. Hot gaze holds as the man tips back the drink, the depths swirling in the dark chocolate eyes filled with intense hunger and twinkling in mischief. He picks up the toothpick with the 3 green olives and in a lewd show teeming with promises of what's to come, he licks at the fruits. A drop of cocktail melts onto his tongue and he moans at the taste, lips closing on the edge of the olive at the end with the mildest of sucks before letting go and licking slowly from the third to the first with the tip of his slick muscle.
He brings the stick up to his mouth and with a heated gaze, wraps his mouth around two olives and pulls them clean off the stick. He chews slowly, making sure to sound out his pleasure as a drop of juice appears at the corner of his mouth. Swallowing the fruits, his thumb swipes over the corner of his lips, and deliberately and slowly, pops the digit into his mouth, sucking on it with hollowed cheeks. His moan is like molten lava that drips along the spine, lighting up every fibre in the body before settling deep in the body, curling into wanton heat. He makes a show of sucking, as if the cocktail is the tastiest he's ever tasted and can't get enough. The man’s pink tongue swirls around one last time before he gives one last suck and lets go with a slick pop.
Watching enraptured, the man’s heated gaze bores back as his teeth gently grab at the last olive to bring it to the end of the stick. Then, his tongue laves at the green shiny skin, coating one side with saliva before plush lips carefully wrap around the whole olive, and the man gently pulls the fruit off the stick.
The empty glass is set on the table. Leaning forward, he lets half the olive peek out before cradling warm cheeks between both hands as he crashes lips together in a heated kiss that tastes of alcohol and slightly salty olives. Hands grab at the neck, fingers tangling into hair, breaths coming out harsh as lips mold into a filthy dance of growing passion, teeth knocking in between too eager kisses.
When they part—lips spit slick, breathless and cheeks tinted pink from the red lighting and lust—the man’s eyes are blown so black and he quickly rasps out, “Let's get out of here.”
Nodding in agreement, fingers gently pull away, not before grazing over the shell of his ear where the shiny helix piercing sits. It's so fucking sexy and there's an itch to wrap lips and tongue over it.
Not long after standing and the man throws back his drink with a few gulps, they find themselves in one of the building's hotel rooms a couple of floors down. The man's kiss is fiery as he walks them back towards the bed, kicking the door shut.
Clothes come off, buttons pop, things clatter to the floor as they rid themselves of unnecessary layers, meaning to feel each other’s skin and let their heat sizzle skin on skin as they press together without a care for air.
Tumbling onto the bed, the man cages in with his arms as he dives into wet heat with his tongue, licking and coaxing every inch to a tingling blaze that has him swallowing down moan after moan. With a bite and tug to swollen lips, the man then focuses his attention downwards, teasing along the jawline and down the expanse of a throat before sucking into soft flesh. His mouth is a sweet burn as teeth and tongue graze, lips wrapping harshly around salty skin to mark it red.
Hands tangle into hair in a bid to centre, before the tides of pleasure sweep into a vast sea, before getting lost.
The man, feeling a rush from the grip in his hair, is only spurred further to leave more marks and heated trails that pour fire into the molten pool that grows with every touch.
A gasp. A whine. A moan.
Everything just hones in on the man above, his earnest actions driving out sounds unabashed from reddened lips into a quiet room where it's just the two of them. A hard nip sends shivers despite the pain. Panting, a hand comes up to the man's chest and holds him at bay, “Didn't you say you're hungry, Daddy?”
“I'm savouring my appetiser, darling.” To prove his point, he gives a few short licks at the juncture of neck and shoulder.
Kisses are then peppered down, stopping in the middle of the chest before locking a burning gaze as he shifts and covers a nipple with his mouth, sucking and licking, bringing rushing blood to the area. He takes his time—savouring the taste, teasing with flicks and swirls, occasional gentle nips, gentle suckles on the perked bud that keep it swollen and darkened in a shade that has him eyeing his handiwork in awe before moving to its twin. Fingers massage and graze, keeping the pleasure centered on the chest as the constant thrum from ministrations sets a blaze that slowly oozes through every nerve, the heat coiling deep under but not enough to burst to the surface. It curls itself into muscles however and has hands twitching to do more as they run over hard muscles, stroking in clear appreciation with every dip and curve.
But now as the man alternates between each rosebud, sucking as if he could draw milk from them, back arching up into the pleasure, the feeling of it all sends zaps heat straight to the core. A harsh tug causes a high pitched whine before a gaspy moan follows, “Daddy, oh, Daddy.”
“What is it my dear?” A teasing tongue traces around an areola.
“Fuck me please. Need you to fuck me.”
The man coos, “Since you're so good for me, of course.”
He starts worshipping downwards, leaving blazing trails that have every touch almost searing into skin, felt so deep underneath but yet fails to appease the growing hunger. Hands come up to grasp at strong shoulders, aiming to guide lower quicker. The man understands, parting thighs with ease as he slowly buries his nose into warm heat, taking deep breaths, filling his senses with the heady scent.
“Baby, you smell so fucking good,” he groans, “I can never get enough.”
What happens next causes stars to burst behind eyelids. A wet and flat tongue swirls around, pressing in hard and coating every inch in slick saliva. The man closes his lips and sucks hard, hands keeping shaking thighs apart as he enjoys his meal. Hands fly up into dark strands of hair and the twinge of pain only gets him moaning into heated flesh, causing more shivers to run up the spine in delicious fevered delight. His tongue is a skilled thing, dipping into the right places, tracing every bump and ridge like he's trying to map out a drawing in his mind. His teeth graze every so often, teasing but never biting. The differences in texture is mind numbing. As plush lips wrap skillfully, the pleasure increases in bounds; the heat, moisture and pressure sending ripples that could be felt all over, the waves threatening to tide over in a sizzling explosion.
But just as the molten lava builds, the heat is gone and the man has to quickly assure in hushed words that it's just temporary.
Legs are spread further as he slots himself in between, kneeling as he pumps himself in hand, slick sounds filthy but so arousing.
“Are you ready for me, baby?”
Nodding quickly, there's only thoughts of wanting him to just take what he needs and bring the deep ache to a light pulse. But yet, he just stares, raising an eyebrow in question.
Words. He wants words.
“Yes, Daddy. Please fuck m-”
The rest of the words are cut off as he slides home, the head entering with an audible wet pop, and then the rest of his length follows inch by inch. He's slicked himself up with so much lube that drops of it slide out and down, gathering in a puddle on the rumpled sheets. It's so messy but so fucking good as the fullness and smooth friction finaly quenches the burning ache.
When all of him is seated inside warm velvet heat, he has to steady himself to curb his want for thrusting immediately. It feels so good inside—tight walls, velvety smooth and so, so wet with just the right amount of warmth. Hands roam everywhere, coaxing, appreciating, wanting, needing. The man can feel when muscles start relaxing, getting used to the feeling of being stretched around his thick cock.
His eyes are dark pools of depth as he locks gazes, pulling out till only the head is in, before pushing in with one smooth motion. His mouth parts slightly, repeating the movement as he slowly carves a space for himself, breaths coming out in soft gasps as he watches every minute expression change.
“Fuck, baby.”
He grinds, balls deep, the head of his cock pressing in so good it's creating a galaxy of stars. Hands cradle, fingers push and pull, coaxing, appreciating in wonder.
The pace increases, thrusts coming in harder and faster, breaths mingling between the space as he drives himself in and out, hole clenching in sporadic pulses as the friction starts to burn just right.
“Oh, shit. Daddy!”
It's a ritual of two, a worshipper and the worshipped.
Finger nails rake, slender digits wrap into hair, eyes ablaze with a burning fire. Legs wrap around a strong waist.
Mouths just a hairs breath apart, either one dives in, hungry to consume, to worship every breath, drinking in every leaked sound.
Going deep and hard, but no one begs to slow down, instead choosing to ride every cresting wave, breathing coming out too harsh to continue dancing heatedly against each other's lips, a tongue flicking out to chase the tingling high. The angle changes and he's hitting into that special spot with every thrust.
Words muttered into the space where nothing else matters, eyes hooded in ecstasy, moans and groans filling in for when words fail.
“Fuck, you're so good for me.”
“I love how you feel.”
“Come baby, scream my name. Let the world know how much I make you feel. Do it for me, sweetheart.”
Like the waves crashing against the shore, it crests and rushes, pulling and pushing, the pleasure building up to a peak before it rises like a tidal wave one last time. There's a choke and then screaming as the orgasm hits, painting vision white as stars burst behind rolled back eyes, the pleasure a constant pulse as every hard thrust smacks wet skin against skin in a filthy cacophony.
It doesn't take long before the tight heat wraps its arms around the man, pooling into the very depth of his core before he's following with a drawn out groan of his own, pulsing hard and deep inside as he empties himself to the last drop.
Eyes connect, a warm hand comes up to stroke a cheek, fingers combing through soft locks of hair. A gentle kiss filled with the softness of afterglow is placed on the lips. More tiny pecks ensue between the two.
Hand cupping over the other’s hand on the cheek, they both agree another repeat performance is definitely on the cards, especially if sexy red hues are in the mix.