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He said you were like poetry sometimes—beautiful and unfathomable, something to be studied and new meanings found in you every day.
You said he was cheesy. He laughed in response.
But these days, you understand it. Quest wasn’t just flirting with you back then. He was describing how badly he wanted to figure you out—every swathe of skin, every whisper of hair, every curve and fold your body cannot hope to hide from his gaze.
He maps you out again today, beautiful eyes like a never-ending ocean that just pull pull pull you in. Quest sits over you on the bed, all of him glowing like a blue star under the faded periwinkle fairy lights that adorn the walls.
“Quest,” you breathe, lip trembling.
He’s taking too long again. You can only last as long as the need in your body stays a want.
His gentle smile curls wider as he sits on his knees, straddling you against the soft covers. “What is it, angel?”
“Can we start, please?”
Your hands smoothe up his arms and to the wilting rose on his chest. They find his heartbeat, steady and unrushed as yours seems to pound in anticipation.
He takes your hands in his and kisses across your knuckles. “But I’ve already started, my love.”
“You know what I mean!”
Quest chuckles and kisses them again—slower this time, letting the heat of his lips linger as his eyes hold yours prisoner. He’s beautiful, a much stronger poem than you on the basis that he always leaves you breathless and wordless.
“How do you want me today?” he asks, gentle.
If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was implying what he wanted—something soft and slow, like his voice and touch.
“Destroy me.”
“And what else?”
“Be… m-mean to me.”
His head tilts to the side, his smile unmoving as he drinks you in. “Gladly.”
****
It’s good to be taken care of, sometimes. And Quest likes to spoil you. The arrangement works out for you both perfectly—whether it’s a romantic night where he kisses you into a puddle or a night like this where you’ll be lucky to remember it.
Quest had already spent an hour teasing and building you up. When you asked him to destroy you, a switch flipped. His hand went on your throat, your leg over his shoulder, his fingers pinching and pulling every bit of skin you possessed.
He jams two fingers in your mouth now, spreading it open and not caring if you choke around it. That’s probably the point.
“Keep talking to me, angel.”
Your words come out muffled as you attempt to tell him, “W-want. Want.”
“You want? Want what?” Quest smiles. He always sounds so serene and earnest, but you know it’s all part of the game. You fall apart while he stays put together. You sing an unholy cacophony while he praises and encourages your lyrics like a conductor.
You moan around his fingers as he slips them in and out, sliding over the rough buds of your tongue. “C-cock. Want.”
“Is this what you want?” he asks, as if he really isn’t sure. You feel his wet, leaking tip press against your fluttering hole but not daring to enter.
“Queesstt,” you beg.
“Don’t whine, baby. Use full sentences and tell me what you need.”
You gulp and Quest is merciful enough to remove his fingers from your mouth, pulling down your bottom lip instead and waiting.
“Want your cock inside me. Please.”
“So you can use full sentences.” It’s patronizing how surprised he sounds.
Quest leans down so his face is only a breath from yours, his voice more commanding when he says, “Tell me again.”
“I w-want your cock inside me…”
“And where did your please go?”
“I want your cock inside me, please.”
It’s a good enough answer. Quest’s voice deepens, rumbling in your ear. “What a slut.”
He finally gives you what you’ve begged for, pushing in and gripping your thigh so you stay flush against him.
“Singing for me already?” he chides, licking a hot, wet stripe down your neck. “You can’t live without it, can you?”
“Noooo,” you cry.
“I know. I know you can’t. My cock is the reason you breathe, right?” he chuckles. He bites down on your shoulder as he picks up the pace, the growl that leaves him vibrating throughout your body. You moan as you feel him bottom out, a moment that only lasts a second before he’s pistoning in and out.
“F-fast, too—!”
“Take it.”
Your voice takes on a higher pitch as your eyes close, desperate to obey, desperate to take. You can feel your toes curl as every ridge of Quest’s cock slides in and out of you, the sound of wet slapping filling the room.
He stops long enough to grab your second leg and throw it over his other shoulder. Your eyes open to see him between you, that calm ocean more of a stormy sea as he stares down at you and his tongue swipes across his lips.
This part is enjoyable too—seeing your sweet man Quest allow some of the mask to falter, his crumbling bits of control like the sweat that drips off his forehead and paints your chest. The dark hair that falls over and splits his face in two halves vaguely reminds you of theater. And you—you are just his puppet to play with.
“Quest,” you murmur.
He bottoms out again, leaning over to kiss your lips as his fingers entwine with yours and hold your hands against the bedsheets.
Quest is slower as he continues to kiss you, panting and hot against your mouth, before he pulls away and presses his forehead to yours. “I’m going to come inside you.”
You moan and he chuckles, his breath fanning your face. “Oh, kitten, you’re so greedy. Trying to squeeze it out of me now?”
“Mm—no.”
“No? But I felt you tighten up. Don’t lie to me, baby,” he sighs, scraping his teeth against your neck now, “Be a good, honest slut for me.”
The gasp that leaves your mouth is loud, even for you. “I’m n-not lying…”
“And talking back? Maybe I should shut you up.”
Quest lifts. One hand grabs your shoulder while the other grips the sides of your throat. He shoots you one last smile before his hips buck into you. Perhaps an understatement. His hips fuck into you. You come almost at once, singing his name while your conductor doesn’t stop even when you lose your voice.
****
“You weren’t that mean to me today, Quest.”
Your lover presses a kiss to the back of your neck and laughs. “Aha, you caught me. Figuring me out, are we?”
Your eyes close, the gentle glow of periwinkle just beyond your eyelids. “Yeah. You’re like poetry, Quest.”