Work Text:
You would never say it to his face for fear of embarrassing him, but Elliott had moments where he reminded you of a puppy. Not in the more traditional way, where he was easily excitable and always eager to jump to any task, but in a very reserved, very Elliott type of way.
Whenever his day had been particularly hard: inspiration not striking, words not flowing properly, headaches from straining his eyes too hard on the page in front of him, he unknowingly turned into a sad puppy. Days like this one. Once you’d returned inside from your relatively short day of work, he’d joined you at the kitchen counter, head on his curled fist, eyes the only thing moving as they followed you back and forth. He listened to you talk with few interruptions while you assembled a snack, paying attention but not actively participating. He trailed closely behind you as you relocated to the couch, making sure his thigh was still in contact with yours once you were both seated.
The real kicker though, his most puppyish behavior of all, was the big, full-body sigh he let out. A completely unselfconscious and involuntary tired-dog sigh. That’s what finally kicked your analytic brain into gear. His hands were clasped in his lap, and you saw how red and chapped the skin around his neat, manicured nails was. The tension in his knuckles showed how hard he was holding himself back from chewing his fingers into an even worse state. The hair at his roots had taken a shine to it, from regularly running a frustrated hand through it. The muscle in his beautiful jaw was tensing repeatedly before your eyes. Poor baby, you think, feeling a frown pull at your features.
The ache to care for him swelled in you, and you licked the salt off of your fingers before passing your empty snack plate to the side table. You turned yourself towards him, and the contrast between the two of you made you smile. His light-colored corduroy pants against the darker skin where your work shorts ended, your short, dirty nails to his well-kempt ones, the perfumed scent of him to the sweat from your manual labor. Then your eyes turned to his profile, his own eyes unseeing towards the floor.
“Elliott, baby,” you started, quieter than you had been previously. He blinked before turning your way.
“Yes, my love?” His baritone matched the volume of yours, and the sound of it brought heat to your face. It was the first you’d heard his voice since the morning. You cupped your hand along his face, your thumb stroking his lower lip. His blue eyes fluttered once and closed. His breath skittered out, impeded by your thumb.
The way his hands visibly slackened in lap made you smile. You spoke again: “El, I want you to go grab your hairbrush. I want to braid your hair.” You paused, just barely squeezing his cheek when he said nothing. “Is that okay?”
He was nodding before you finished asking, eyes sluggishly opening again so he could look at you. “Yes, I would like that very much.” But he stayed sitting, waiting for you to tell him he could leave. So good, you thought, before nodding your head towards the bedroom. He rose from the couch so quickly his knees popped. You held in your smile as you watched him disappear into the master.
While Elliott fetched his hairbrush, you pulled your own hair out of its bun to steal the hair tie. You grabbed the pillow he’d been leaning against and dropped it between your feet, and peeled off your socks just as he emerged from the bedroom, holding out his brush out to you. A little flush rose to his cheeks when you patted the pillow for him to sit, but he folded himself onto the floor with no questions.
Before you started on his hair, you wanted to relax him a little more first. So, setting the brush beside you, you swept all of his hair back behind his shoulders so you could take a firm grip of them both to massage him. He let out another big puppy dog sigh when your thumbs started grinding knots out. His posture loosened more and more as you stroked down from his neck to the bump of his collarbone, pulling quiet groans out of him on the way. After several long minutes, his head had dropped forward, your hands disappearing beneath the autumnal red-orange of his hair.
Your hands rotated, fingertips reappearing when you started gently finger-combing through the thick mass of his hair. You leaned forward just enough to leave a kiss on the crown of his head. Finally, you gathered as much of his hair into a loose fist as possible, and lifted his brush. Elliott’s hairbrush, much like his fountain pens, is something that he was always willing to splurge on for aesthetics and quality. It was a hefty paddle brush, resistant to static buildup and with a thick, ornate stained wooden handle.
Before using it though, you lifted the mass of his hair up and requested, “Take your shirt off for me, baby.” A bit sluggish with relaxation, he slowly lifted his long, thin hands to his front, unbuttoning the flowy white shirt from the bottom up. While his fingers stumbled, you scraped your nails into his scalp, disrupting his concentration further and worsening the tangles in his hair. Once his shirt was open, he wasted no time in slipping it from the wide expanse of his pale shoulders. He went to gather and fold the shirt, but you interrupted the motion with a brisk “Leave it.” His hands returned to his lap once again. “Good boy,” you murmured with another kiss to his head. He sighed softly, and leaned back further into your space. The points of his thin shoulders were poking into the meat of your inner thighs, but you didn’t mind.
You started brushing at the very ends of his hair, gentle pulls to separate the tangles. His hair was incredibly well-kept, and you could see no split ends. The quiet, repetitive sounds of brushing lulled him, and he rocked slightly back and forth between your knees. The brush and your hands slowly moved further up his head, occasionally focusing in on one harsh knot, and before long you had his beautiful hair fully detangled and laying in a big red wave down past his shoulder blades. You sat his hairbrush to the side. “Sat so well for me, sweet boy,” you said, quiet and intimate. You combed your fingers through his hair again, scratching his scalp and pulling your fingers through to the ends, wrapping it around your fist before beginning again. “Letting me play with your hair just the way I want.” When it was around your fist again, you tugged it back until he was looking into your eyes, upside-down. His blue eyes were hooded and dilated, flickering quickly between yours. Heat uncurled in you, and you let out a hum of pleasure at the lost look of him. You laid a kiss on his forehead, his nose. He dropped his mouth open in invitation, but you avoided it for now, instead trailing your lips against his flushed cheekbones.
“Sit still for me a little longer and I’ll reward you, pretty boy.” A squeeze from your fist had a soft sound leaving him. You pulled a little farther back so you could look into his eyes, and your spare hand lay against his face to stroke your thumb back and forth along his cheek. “Is that okay, baby? Tell me if you still want it.”
With a whine, he nodded. His voice grumbled, low and thick, “Want it. Please, want it.” You smiled at his rare lack of proper syntax, and finally leaned down to kiss him. He moaned at the contact, his mouth already flooded with saliva just from being groomed. Your tongue stroked against his, the taste of coffee present in his mouth. You pulled back with another swipe of your tongue against his upper lip, and the fist in his hair was the only thing keeping him from surging up to meet you again.
“Sit still, sweet boy,” you reminded him before using your grip to turn him facing forward again. After untangling your fingers from his hair again, you finally began the process of sectioning off the top of his head to begin the braid. The muscle memory could quickly guide you through the motions of the braid, but you wanted to take your time. The more impatient Elliott got, the whinier it made him, and you already felt your pussy clenching around nothing at the mental image of him needy and panting. So, you were very intentional in the sections of hair you picked up, tugging them into the exact position you wanted, twisting a little harder than necessary to get a gasp out of him.
Sitting still is not something Elliott is truly capable of in this mindset, but you never had any intention of punishing him for disobeying. You loved watching him arch his neck and flex his shoulders, feeling the pillow beneath him move as he shifted his hips impatiently. Truly, you told him to sit still because you loved watching him struggle to do so. When all the hair on his scalp was laid in place and you only had the hanging length to go, you leaned forward to take his earlobe between your teeth. He’d forgone earrings today, so you slid your tongue out to cover the outer rim of his ear in your saliva before leaning back to blow cool air on him. He let out a pitiful moan, one of his hands taking a tight hold of your ankle.
“El, my baby,” you mumbled into his ear, feeling him shudder against you as you reached the end of his braid. You tied off the end with your hair tie, then wrapped your hand around the back of his neck. It could hardly reach half-way around, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that the way he whimpered at your firm grasp. “Are you listening?” A note of condescension bled into your tone, and he perked up immediately.
“Yes, yes ma’am, I’m listening,” he said, voice still slurring. Both of his hands were holding your ankles, clenching and releasing with the desire to please.
A mean smirk stretched your lips. “Good. Here’s what’s gonna happen.” You gave his neck a firm squeeze, releasing it quickly to not actually strain his breathing. “You’re gonna take your clothes off. Then, you’re gonna take mine off.” His head was eagerly nodding already, his baby hair tickling your nose from how close you were to him. “You’re gonna stretch me open with your pretty fingers. Then you’re gonna fuck me, baby.” You trailed light, sucking kisses down the pale length of his neck, leaving little pink marks behind. Elliott was panting by now.
Your hands reached around him so you could stroke the expanse of his chest, digging your nails in just enough to have him arching into it. His face turned into your neck, humid breaths tickling your skin. Turning to meet him, you left a mean bite on his lower lip, and spoke directly into his open mouth: “Then you’re gonna come in me.” The loud moan he let out had you leaking, and you moaned back to him before leaning back, removing your hands so he could begin following his orders.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts before gingerly rising to his feet. The braid swished between his shoulder blades. When he turned to face you, the impression of his erection was clear beneath the thick fabric of his trousers. You admired the long, lean expanse of his body while his hands fumbled to unbutton and unzip. His shoulders were so broad, yet delicate, and tapered to his narrow hips. Blue veins were visible high on his nearly hairless chest, but his spreading flush was beginning to obscure them. As he lowered his pants and his silken boxers, he revealed the long, pink line of his dick to you. Your mouth watered a bit, and your hole clenched around nothing. He was fully waxed; it was a personal thing he sought after every couple of months, and you were happy about anything that made him feel as beautiful as he was to you.
He kneeled again to reach for your shorts and unlace them. Up close you could see how his pupils had eaten up most of the blue surrounding it, even as focused on the task of disrobing you as he was. He tugged your shorts off along with your panties, involuntarily licking his lips at the sight of your wet pussy. You took his chin in your hand to direct his gaze up, stopping him from getting distracted, and he slid his hands from their place at your hips up under your tank top, to grab a hold of your sports bra and lift it over your head.
Fully nude, you scooted your hips forward to the edge of the couch, reaching back to pull your pillow with you so your back was supported. As soon as you were in place, Elliott leaned down to nuzzle his face between your tits, squeezing his arms under to wrap fully around you. He was warm, body relaxed even as worked up as he was. He let out another one of his rib-heaving sighs and mouthed his way from between your tits to a nipple, rolling his hot tongue over it slowly. For a moment, you just let yourself enjoy the wet pressure, grinding your lower half into his abdomen to make him moan.
Then your hand found his braid again. You gripped tight, and used it as a leash to pull his head back until he faced the ceiling. His face was slack with pleasure, but his eyes rolled to yours. He brought his hands from behind you to rest on your hips, then let one hand move to the inside of your thigh, fingers kneading into your skin. “May I?” he asked, voice husky.
You tsked at his hand, jerking your chin up so he’d raise it to face level. Then, releasing his hair so he could face a little more forward, you locked eyes with him and sunk his index and middle finger to the knuckle in your mouth. Elliott swayed towards you with a whine, held back by your fist in his braid.
Saliva leaked down your chin as you massaged his fingers with your tongue. You certainly didn’t need them to be wetter for them to slide into your pussy, but you rarely passed on an opportunity to tease him. You could taste dried ink on his fingertips, and with one last suck, you released them. A kiss was placed on each fingertip. “Alright, baby, you can put them in now,” you cooed at him. He gave a limited nod from where his head had come to rest on your thigh. There was a dazed look in his eyes, but they still focused on the task of sliding home into the hot clench of your cunt.
The moan you gave was low, quiet in the little bubble you’d made for yourselves in the living room. Elliott’s fingers were long and thin like the rest of him; not too much of a stretch but a comfortably full sensation. He let them rest inside of you at first, let your walls squeeze around him. With one nod from you, he slowly withdrew his fingers again before starting to pump them at a pace he knew you loved.
Whenever Elliott got submissive like this, whenever he let you pull all the big words from his pretty head, in retrospect it felt like such a long build up to a quick conclusion. You both got worked up so quickly when he wanted to please you, the tease of making him work for it ratcheting up the tension to a nearly unbearable level before finally giving in and making each other come. But during, when you were both wrapped up in each other, it felt like hours.
That being said, you quickly started rocking your hips up into the strokes of his fingers. You made errant little huffs of pleasure when his fingers started curling up in you, grinding into the spongy walls of your cunt. Elliott was huffing heavy breaths against the skin of your exposed vulva, cooling it where it’d become wet with your slick. There was another spot on your thigh that had become slick, and when you looked, it was from El literally drooling as he watched his fingers work you up to an orgasm.
“Yeah, baby, keep fucking me like that,” you said, voice embarrassingly breathy. He nodded again, cheek spreading his spit across your skin. You used one hand to tuck the hair which had escaped his braid behind his ear, before dropping that hand to your pussy to start playing with your clit. You reflexively clenched at the sudden doubling of pleasure, and Elliott felt it from the way he moaned. While you tried to stretch out the fingering, wanting to savor the feeling of him grinding his fingertips into your g-spot, Elliott’s look of sheer dumb worship was making the urge to come claw its way out of you.
You felt something press against your knuckles before Elliott’s tongue slithered around his fingers to taste your slick. One more circle with your own fingers had you coming, hips writhing and spine curling in. He moaned against you, and it gave you another shudder around the rigid skin of his now-still fingers.
Your cunt was still involuntarily clenching with your orgasm when you told him to remove his fingers. Eyes glued to the soaked skin of his fingers, he withdrew them carefully, not wanting to cause you discomfort. You gave him a sweet smile, “Clean ‘em up, pretty boy.” With a moan, he sucked his fingers into his mouth, taking them down to the base. His tongue appeared as he lapped at the webbing between his fingers, and as soon as his fingers slipped free, you pulled him in to slot your mouth to his. The taste of your pussy behind his teeth had you humming in pleasure. “Oh, El, my baby,” you said, passing the words into his mouth, “Made me come so hard. Such a good boy.” Elliott’s watery whine was enough to have you petting his head and shushing him.
His hands were kneading at your thighs as you got him straightened up and aligned his red and leaking cock with your hole, slipping from the flood of slick you’d produced. You could see the muscled of his hips twitching, and you enjoyed letting him miss your hole a few times before you held him firmly at your entrance, and let him nudge the head of his cock inside you.
He was breathing heavily through his nose as his dick slowly sunk into you. He was trying so hard to be a good boy and not slam the whole way in, but his control was at its absolute end, and his hips snapped forward a few times without his permission. Each thrust knocked a sound out of you, a little “unh” at the irregular rhythm of it. Once his hips settled against you, cock fully buried in you, you cupped his face in your hands.
He nuzzled hard into your hands. The contact had his eyelids fluttering. “Oh, my sweet Elliott,” you said to him, unable to hide the adoration in your voice. You pulled his hands until he wrapped his arms around you, once again settling his face into your chest. He ground himself into you, buried to the base, and you could hear the wet squelch of your cunt being massaged by the hot skin of his pelvis. The length of him was just shy of too deep to be comfortable when he was fully submerged like this, and the idle little movements of his hips were almost overwhelming.
Elliott raised his face to gaze at you, a question in his unfocused eyes. “Yeah, puppy, you can fuck me now, go ahead baby,” your voice was crackling from the way your mouth hung open when the fingered you. Without waiting even a moment, Elliott pulled back and started fucking into you, his eyes rolling back and shutting in bliss. His hips were making wet slaps against you in less than a minute, muffled only by the near-constant moaning coming from the sweet man drooling against your tits.
His noises were rising in pitch, and you quickly made the decision to fit your arm between your bodies, sliding over your slippery clit to try and wring out a second orgasm with him. It almost felt like your first orgasm never ended, the sensitive walls of your cunt being bullied by El’s imprecise humping. His thoughts were gone, his only focus on shooting his come deep into the hot heaven of your pussy. For the first time in minutes, he tried speaking, “Mmmm, please, please c-can I…?”
Right as your cunt started locking up with another orgasm, you husked out, “Yes, yes baby, be a good boy and come in me.” You started shuddering with a moan and Elliott sunk his teeth into your chest, both of you tensing fully as you hit your peak together. Elliott slowly released his jaw as he shook with pleasure, heaving out great breaths and loosening his muscles as his orgasm wound down.
Your second took the wind out of you, and it was over two full minutes before you were even able to open your eyes. The chill of the room had reached you, but you didn’t care, because the first thing you saw after opening your eyes was Elliott’s love-drunk expression. There was a brightness back to his eyes, and he was smiling for the first time since this morning, though it was a small, satisfied smile. You flexed your stomach just enough to kiss his forehead, then slumped down again, resigned to laying here like a loaf for a few minutes more.
Elliott’s voice cracked as he spoke, his deep voice mumbling out, “Gargantuan.” A questioning “hm?” was all you could respond with. Your hands had begun unwinding the braid from his hair.
He hummed. His hands were stroking up and down your ribs, slick with sweat. “That’s the word I couldn’t think of earlier.”
You snorted out a laugh. “Glad to help,” you said through a smile, tugging on his hair.