You're Lovely.

Octavius certainly did not forget your comment about having him back, and he apparently remembered which balcony was yours. You know this to be true, because he let himself in a half hour ago. He’d been remarkably silent about it, too- either that, or you were too absorbed in a copy of Watership Down to hear him enter. 

“Don’t flip the page yet, I’m not done.” He muttered. 

“Jesus fucking-” You’d shouted, dropping the book in shock. He’d grinned and watched as your lips tugged a sly smile, and things…go from there.

Conveniently enough, you’re wearing a button up shirt that he takes no time to undo while you lean into kiss after kiss like they’re some sort of cure for a disease. The shirt falls loosely around your stomach and Otto’s hands move to cup your face. You buck your knee up and rub it against his crotch, making it explicitly clear that you want more than just his lips. He grunts and pulls his face away from yours. His hands find their way around your waist and up your back, fiddling with your bra clip as actuators pin your wrists to couch cushions. The bra comes loose, but he does not take it off, only leaves it gingerly resting against your half-exposed bosom with your unbuttoned shirt. You start to squirm, a glare etched onto your face as best you can keep it there, though you know there’s desperation in your eyes. 

“You’re a mess.” He laughs, dropping to his knees in front of you. Hands move again, this time they hold your hips and he leans forward to kiss your stomach. Kisses, then drags his tongue over it, then bites at your love handles. You yelp, not having been quite prepared for teeth on such sensitive skin. 

His hands slide down, giving a teasing pull at the waistband of your jeans. You’re so horny it hurts, and every time he touches you, the sensation runs up your spine and makes your stomach lurch. You take deep, shaky breaths as he drags fingers down the inside of your right thigh, his head resting on your left one. He looks up at you with a smug grin. 

“I could do this all day.” He muses. 

“I can’t.” You plead. He toys with the button on your jeans, then lets his hand slide down to your clit and rubs over two layers of clothing. You tilt your hips into the touch, trying to get more out of it. He watches you grind hopelessly against his hand. 

“You know,” He hums, “you could always ask politely for something, if you wanted it.” 

“Please fuck me.” You huff, relenting with your hips. He blinks slowly. 

“You know, you were much feistier when we first met.” He says, undoing the button and zipper of your pants. “It’s a hard contrast, the way you’re manning today’s approach.” 

“I’m still like that,” You laugh sharply. An actuator clicks up to your jaw and pulls your face down, forcing you to look Otto in the eyes. 

“Far from the point.” He replies, his voice going low the way it had at some point last week, right before you had your brains fucked out of your head. “I was saying that it doesn’t matter. You end up a begging, sloppy mess for me anyways.” 

Your face flushes an even deeper shade of red, which is not something you thought was possible. Everything is hot and your whole body is screaming for touch of any sort. You purse your lips and close your eyes, reconciling with the fact that he’s going to keep you like this as long as he pleases. A begging, sloppy mess, in his own words. 

It takes a moment, but your tiny, delicate moans give way to even, steady breaths as your eyes flutter open. You look down at Otto, whose head is resting on your thigh again. He’s doting on you with his eyes. 

“How are you?” He asks, with a voice so tempered you’d think him an entirely different person.

“You’re on thin ice.” You grumble. He chuckles. 

“I suppose I should get around to reparations, hm?” He coos. His head shifts and he gently licks the lips of your pussy. 

“Mm!” You yelp, your legs jolting with the suddenness of the touch. He lets his mouth rest where it is, just barely hovering over your clit while he breathes cool air onto the spot where he’s just licked. You squirm again, your breath picking back up to panting. 

He presses his mouth fully over your pussy and lets his tongue slide slowly back and forth over your clit. Each time he does, you draw in a sharp breath. You want to reach down and put your hands on his head, push his face deeper into the motion and grab at his hair when he licks anywhere that’s particularly sensitive. You can’t, though, as your wrists are still held against the back of the couch by those actuators. Your thighs are held apart by his shoulders, and it would be nothing short of difficult to try and cross your legs behind his back because of the way your jeans are tucked around your knees. 

In short, all you can do is lay with your head back as Otto eats you out with not enough force to make you orgasm. He’s really dragging this out, and you don’t know why. It’s some sort of torture, though. 

“More. Please.” You huff. “I can’t- ah- I can’t do this.” 

“Hm?” He pulls his face away from your clit, which makes you realize that your plea was something of a mistake, because you’re now back to the lack of sensation at all. You’re going to cry, every part of you is aching for sensuality. 

“Please,” You choke out, a tear slipping out of your eye and down your cheek. He lifts himself up to the couch and sits beside you, then grabs your cheeks and pulls your face toward him. 

“Of course,” He hums. “Forgive me. You’re nothing but remarkably pretty when you’re helpless like I’ve had you.” 

His actuators release your hands and run themselves down your body, pinching and prodding at your nipples while he undoes his own pants. He pulls you on top of him and slides his dick into you, which prompts a long, satisfied groan from you. He rocks his hips upwards at a steady pace, tilting your head to the side and pulling it onto his shoulder. He laps at the corner of your jaw, sucks spots onto your neck and nibbles at them to finish. You can tell he’s not showing restraint in any regard, you’ve seen him show restraint and right now he is doing all he can to make you cum as quickly as possible. 

It’s working. You clench your jaw and bury your face in the crook of his neck as the sensation rips through your body, all pleasure and a tingling warmth in the pit of your stomach. You laugh hazily, pulling your head up and going in for a kiss. He accepts the gesture, wrapping his arms around you and resting a hand on the back of your head. He bucks his hips as the kiss goes deeper. You yelp, though it’s muffled by him biting your bottom lip and pulling at it. 

“Fuck me again,” You giggle, breaking your face away from his and wriggling your hips. He gives a husky laugh and pulls you up, setting you on the couch beside him. You close your eyes. Your pussy is sore, but you can’t help but want another orgasm. You like how gentle this sex feels, how the soreness is always tender and never an unsightly kind of bruising. Even when he’s rough with you, and god knows you love that, it is careful. Your eyes flutter back open and he’s re-dressed himself. You sigh. 

“I suppose you’re off, then?” You drape yourself around him. He holds your hips and cradles you soothingly, rocking from side to side. 

“Mm, depends.” He replies, kissing the top of your head. “Just how rough do you like it? How much can you be strung out and shoved around and still enjoy yourself?” 

The question makes you flush, makes your heart skip a beat. You think about it, and it quickly leads to some tantalizing imagery that you’re more than eager to sink your teeth into. 

“Very.” You reply confidently. Almost as soon as the words leave your lips, two actuators take hold of your shoulders and push you back, hard and fast and into the wall. Breath escapes your lips and you wheeze, face going redder. Octavius steps forward and grips your jawline, forcing your head up to look him in the eyes. You squirm against the actuators, which are pinning your shoulders to the wall and your legs apart. 

“Do you like this?” He tilts his own face down, eyes shadowed by some sort of doubt. You nod eagerly- and it’s true, your pussy is throbbing again and you’re sure that you’re absolutely soaking. “Didn’t hear you,” He smirks.

“Yesh,” You struggle to move your lips with the way he’s holding your face. 

“Yes, what?” He loosens his fingers only slightly and wipes at your lips with his thumb. 

“Yes,” You whine, “I like this. I love this. I want more, I want you to fuck me, please, please, please, I want you,” 

He releases your face entirely and sets to work, burying his face between your neck and shoulder and biting. There’s no soothing to it, only biting, then sucking, then more biting on the same spot. 

“Ah! Ah, aha-” Your little yelps grow lower, longer, into moans when he runs a knuckle over your clit and hitches it into your pussy. 

“What do you want?” He asks authoritatively, pulling his lips away from your neck, which is no doubt marked beyond reparation. 

“I want you to fuck me, I want you to make me cum again and again and again,” You groan, tilting your head back with closed eyes. His dick presses into you, and you gasp and press your lips together. 

“And how do you want me to fuck you?” He sounds entertained. 

“Hard. Fast, rough, I want you to slap me and fuck me hard,” You reply between fits of choking on your own breath. 

“And what happens if I just keep you here? You seem comfortable. We could have a nice conversation.”

“No!” You cry. “Oh, my god, please, please, I want- I need this, I need you to,” 

“I need you to be quiet, then.” He interrupts you with a growl. “And no cheating.” 

The actuators that had been propped against your shoulders move to your wrists, keeping your hands pressed against the wall. You bite the inside of your cheek, lips pressed together, attempting to muffle your moans and quell your almost-screaming as he drives into you, knocks you against the wall, fucks you just how you had begged him to. The sounds you’re making are more along the line of sobbing with how hard you’re trying to keep any noise from escaping at all, it stays pressed in your throat for you to choke on while he pounds you to tears. You orgasm again and he lets you sink to the floor, legs too unsteady for you to walk on now. You’re dripping cum from between your legs and tears from your face, and you’re still shaking with the sensation. 

Octavius is muttering sweet, unintelligible complements while he turns on the water kettle again. You sigh and slump against the wall. He’s so, so, fucking good at this.