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I want to ride Steven so slow and tender til he cries fam, just make him beg all sweet and pretty, kiss his forehead and eyelids and nose and mouth with as much leisure as he reads his books, ya feel?
Same, bestie, same. Really I just want to torture him like:
You push down the waistband of your pants just enough to let them slip the rest of the way off your hips, puddling at your feet. The movement catches Steven's attention, his eyes glancing up from his book. His mouth drops, a perfect little O that is so comical you nearly laugh. Next go your panties.
"Steven?" you ask mildly.
He shuts his book so, so slowly. He hasn't marked his page. His eyes are too busy being glued to your legs, your thighs, the place between your legs. His voice is an octave higher than normal when he asks: "Yes, love?"
"Can you get hard for me?"
He blinks. "I--am well on the way."
You point to the sofa, loving the awkward way he shuffles to it, nearly bashing his shin against the coffee table in his eagerness. His cock is hard, already, straining against the fabric of his slacks. You motion to it, brow raised, and his hands scramble to unfasten his pants, to shift them down his thighs so that his cock--long and thick enough to be pleasing, flushed a shade darker than his natural tan--pops free.
"What's gotten into you?" he laughs a little as you climb onto his lap. Any other question fades when you turn until your back is facing him, one hand reaching between your legs to find his cock and feed it into your aching cunt. "Oh, gods. You're so wet, love. Been thinking about me?"
You hum, shifting as you take the stretch of him, your thighs shaking a little with effort. At last you have lowered yourself down to rest against his lap. Sighing in pleasure, you lean back against his chest, craning your head so that you can search for his mouth with your own, kissing him filthy and slow.
You reach for the remote and turn on the telly--find one of your shows. After a few moments of stillness, Steven clears his throat softly (as if you could have forgotten him when he feels like he's guts deep inside you). "Are we--?"
"We're gonna sit just like this," you say, reaching an arm back to pet through his curls. "You're just going to be one of my toys today, keeping me stretched and filling me up. Yeah?"
All the breath goes out of him, expressed shakily against your neck. His cock jerks inside you, and you grip his curls a little tighter, tugging in warning. "Y-yeah?"
You hum again. "Be good, keep still, and stay hard for me."
And not ten minutes later, he's a mess, whining into the nape of your neck, toes curling and uncurling against the wooden floors as he tries to distract himself. His hands grip your hips, and sometimes you find him trying to move you, softly sway you on his cock. You pull his curls sharply, thrilling at the throaty groan he gives.
"Still, baby. Stay still."
His cock jerks.
"Steven."
"Can't...can't help it," he whines, breaths coming shallow and hot against your shoulder. "Oh please let me move you, love, please please--"
"I love when you beg," you sigh happily. "Know why, baby?"
"Why?" Steven asks, obedient even as he strains to be good for you.
You grin, letting your head rest back against his shoulder, turning to kiss at his sweaty temple gently. "Because I love telling you no, baby."