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Belly stands before the bathroom mirror, her eyes settling on the delicate infinity necklace resting against her collarbone—the one Conrad had given her when she was sixteen. They had found their way back to each other after all.
Around the shiny platinum loop, a collection of love bites marked the skin, dark reds and purples framing the necklace. She traces her fingers along each one, the pain-pleasure blooming under her touch as she remembers last night, letting out an involuntary sigh of contentment.
Conrad steps into the room quietly, his eyes instantly drawn to her reflection in the mirror. When he sees the bruises circling the infinity necklace, his handiwork – something dark flares in his eyes.
He moves to stand behind her, his hand reaching out to cover hers as it traces the marks. “You’re mine, every one of these belongs to me." It’s a statement that should feel unduly possessive, but there's an almost pleading, desperate undertone to his voice, that may not be apparent to anyone else, but Belly has learnt what every last quiver in his voice has meant over the years. Four years with Jeremiah had not made her forget that, just suppressed it.
Her breath hitches as his fingers firmly press against the bruises, staking a claim. He leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I should probably apologize for these, but I can't. I don’t care if the world sees, Belly, if they know. I just love the idea of you wearing me on your skin too much, like I wear you in my soul.”
Belly leaned into his touch, her heart pounding beneath the weight of his ownership and love, still not used to him being so vocal about his desires, after all these years apart. It's a marked change from when they were teenagers, from when he would say everything with his touch but keep his words guarded, restrained. She had not read him correctly, but in her defense she was sixteen and also extremely insecure about the boy she had always loved deciding that he wanted her back too. She now knows it was always her for him too. He had just been quiet about it, about how much she had meant to him over the years, only trying his hardest to show it in his own way, with muffins and ring toss prizes.
“Always,” she whispered. His hand tugs on the loop of the infinity necklace as his voice drops to a dark, teasing murmur. “Do you like my handiwork, baby? Do you like being reminded? Maybe I should get you something sturdier,” he muses, as Conrad’s hand slides up from her collarbone to gently cup her throat, fingers like a warm, sturdy collar against her skin.
Belly loses her train of thought, only feeling him and his touch, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, warmth creeping across her body as she can feel the flush of her cheeks travel downwards, a sudden rush of heat pooling low in her core. The promise explicit in his words making her dizzy.
She settles into him, her eyes fixed on the mirror in front of her, where she can see their reflection. His broad frame engulfs hers even as his head is lowered to her ears, with one large hand almost completely covering her stomach while the other rests firmly on her throat, holding her with a promise of more.
Her voice comes out breathless and almost unrecognizable, yearning, “Conrad...”
Conrad’s lips curve into a slow, possessive smile as his hand on her throat tightened just enough, squeezing once before loosening again. “Do you like that idea, baby?,” he whispered. “Because I'd love it. I want to possess you in ways that scare even me. I'd bring it out on special occasions, a reminder of who owns you. ”
His hand inches down from her stomach as he turns her around to face him. His other hand leaves her throat for a brief moment, drawing a whine of protest from her as he guides them across the bathroom, crowding her onto the wall until her back meets the cool tile, and she has a clear view of his back in the mirror— and of herself, caught between him and the wall, with nowhere to go. Not that she wanted to, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
His hand slips into her panties "Baby, you're dripping." He pointedly avoids her clit, as he gently puts a finger in. Too gently. Her breath stutters as his finger moves slowly, probing and teasing but not giving her what she needs. Belly whimpers, eyes shut in frustration as she presses her body closer into his, trying to fuck herself on his finger, craving more—more friction, more fingers, just more. She tilts her hips, inviting him to explore further, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “More, Conrad... baby, please, don’t tease,” she whines, voice thick with desire. Conrad doesn't relent, instead he lifts his thumb from her throat to her chin, tipping her face upward.
“Open your eyes, honey,” he murmurs, “ or I stop.”
Belly’s eyes snap open, wide with pleading desperation and a little watery. Conrad could see tears of frustration building up in them.
“That's it,” he says encouragingly. “And I think I’m going to take my time. Just be patient and feel.” The command stirs a mix of anticipation and frustration in her. She nods slowly, willing herself to obey, every nerve alight with the promise of what was to come.
Conrad's lone finger circles her clit, with maddening slowness as her eyes stayed locked on the mirror, watching the way most of her body is engulfed by his broad torso, his hand at her neck visible from where it held firm.
“Good girl.” he breathes, as his teeth close around her nipple, exposed from under his white cotton button down that she had slipped on this morning, before soothing the sting with his tongue. He alternates between them, unrelenting as his other hand finally leaves her throat and pinches and tugs at her breasts.
Belly starts to let out a soft sound of protest, her neck feeling unexpectedly bare after his hand was wrapped around it for so long, but it's cut short when Conrad decides to blow cool air on her chest, which was flushed and shiny with his spit, as his lone finger kept rhythmically pumping in and out of her cunt, never quite giving her what she needs. Not yet.
He stops every time her eyes drift from the mirror, his eyes trained on her face, looking up at her throughout his ministrations. She learns quickly, keeping her gaze fixed at her own face, when she wants to look away, from the woman in the reflection whom she can barely recognize. The pressure builds in her core, and her vision blurs, trying to keep her eyes open to take in the way his dark head moves over her chest, her arms holding on to any part of him she can reach. She keeps switching between his hair, his shoulders, his back— she's close, her muscles start to seize as he pulls away.
Belly's whole body jerks as she is pulled back from the edge, a tear slipping down her cheek. Conrad kisses it away, before kissing her on the lips. Cupping her jaw, he guides her face away from the mirror, for her eyes to meet his own again, She could see them filled with unmistakable love and something darker, his pupils blown wide. She shivers, her brain rattling in anticipation of what is to come. She knew this particular look very, very well.
“Are you okay, honey?” he asks softly, “You know I stop the minute you say so, right?” Belly can only nod, warmth blooming in her chest along with a wry amusement as she thinks about the irony of how he was the one refusing to give in to what she wanted most, while also making sure he hadn’t gone too far. She huffs, “That's exactly the problem, Conrad. That you stopped.”
He laughs out loud at that, the smug fuck as he nudges her nose with his own. “Brat. Don't fret, I'll give you what you want. ”
The tension breaks momentarily, and Belly jumps on him, locking her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He catches her easily, as if she weighs nothing, sliding his hand around her waist to secure her before carrying her back to the bedroom.
He sets her down on the bed, the fleeting moment of laughter fading as they settle back into a charged silence. Conrad’s voice rings out, each word soft but oh so intent. “Place your hands on the headboard. Keep them there. If they move, I stop.”
Belly hurries to comply, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches up. She curls her fingers firmly against the edge, her eyes locked on Conrad, ready.
“Good girl. Now all you’ve got to do is just let me play with you.” And with that, he slowly slides her panties down, his breath warm on her cunt as he slid his tongue right up inside her until her mouth fell open, with only little whimpers wet sounds filling the room. Her body arched against the bed, her thighs trembling as his tongue laps into her slick folds with slow, deliberate strokes, wetness coating his chin. He snaked his hand up, pinching and rolling her already oversensitive nipples, the sharp twists sending jolts of overwhelming sensations straight to her clit.
He pulls back from her folds and his lips seal around the swollen nub, teeth grazing lightly as he flicks his tongue against it in rapid circles. Belly's whimpers turn into throaty moans, her hips straining upward again, but he holds her pinned, his palm pressing harder into her abdomen to keep her still.
With his free hand, he reaches between her legs, two fingers sliding easily into her soaking cunt. He pumps them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on her clit, the wet sounds growing louder as her arousal dripped down his wrist.
Belly's legs clamp down around his head, squeezing him in place before slumping back into the mattress, her orgasm crashing over her in waves, pussy spasming around nothing as he withdrew his fingers.
Finally. But Conrad wasn't done. Before she could take a single moment, after being edged to what had felt like the brink of absolute insanity before finally being granted release, he rises. “Turn over,” his voice was rough, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his cock hard and leaking pre-come against his stomach. He strokes himself once, twice, smearing it all over himself.
Belly's body was still buzzing with the aftershocks of her release, her skin flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat. She released her grip on the headboard just long enough to roll onto her stomach, on all fours. Her ass was slightly lifted, like she was presenting herself to him, all pink and glistening.
Conrad groans at the sight, unable to keep his reactions quiet as his hand wraps around his cock again, giving it a slow pump. His hand finds its way in her hair again, and he pulls her head back just enough to expose the line of her marked up throat.
She instinctively knows what he wants now, and without a word, parts her thighs even more. She can feel the heat of his body crowding closer, the blunt tip of his cock nudging against her entrance but not pushing in. He drags it through her wetness instead, coating himself in her, bumping against her clit with each pass.
Belly pushes back against him, desperate for more, but his grip on her hair tightened, holding her in place. "Patience, honey. I've already let you come, haven't I? Now let me have my fun." he chuckles, the laugh just the right amount of mean.
He keeps this up for so long that Belly loses her sense of time. She's suspended in a perpetual loop of pleasure that forever just isn't enough, punctuated by harder strokes that give her just enough friction when he feels like it. She doesn't know what she sounds like, the noises in the bedroom washing over her like white noise.
Conrad's hand leaves his cock from where he was guiding it and comes down on her ass, the sting blooming into heat that makes her clench around nothing again and again... It gives her a moment of intense clarity, as she realizes she needs to ask for what she wanted, what he wouldn't stop unless she did.
After several false starts, it finally clicks for Belly. Conrad could never resist giving her what she wanted. It was one of the pillars of her life, something she had always known but had never articulated, even to herself till very recently. She finally whines out, “Conrad, I need your cock in me, please… please.”
There. She'd said it.
Conrad gives in almost immediately. It would've been endearing, if Belly hadn't been brought to the brink of losing her sanity by him already.
“Okay, sweet girl. I'll be nice,” he relents, aligning himself at last. The head of his cock presses against her, stretching her open inch by inch as he sank in slowly. Her walls grip him tight. He groans low, bottoming out until his hips are flush against her cheeks, his balls resting heavy against her.
For a moment, he stills, letting her adjust to the fullness, his hand releasing her hair to trace the infinity necklace before the room fills with the lewd sounds of skin slapping skin. “Tell me you're mine,” he demands between thrusts.
“I'm yours,” she gasps out, the words tumbling out of her, “All yours, Conrad— please, harder...
With an exceptionally powerful thrust, Belly's fingers leave the headboard, and curl into the sheets instead, laying mostly flat against the bed, almost spent.
Conrad pushes a pillow under her hips to keep them lifted before settling his weight over her, bracing one elbow on the bed beside her for leverage. “Don't worry, baby, I'll do the work now,” he soothes gently, “You did so well staying up for so long.”
He pulls back almost all the way out before thrusting in again, setting a measured pace that builds the tension agonizingly slow, now murmuring words of gentle praise with each thrust. Each slide dragged against her sensitive walls, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids. She rocked back to try to meet him, but he pushes her back down, his hand firm on her back. He would not let her rush this.
His grunts mingle with her moans, the possessiveness in his touch scratching an itch dewp in her, somwthing she had longed for since she was sixteen. As the pressure builds higher with each thrust, Conrad feels her tightening around him, the telltale sign that she was close again. This time, she comes with a whimper. Barely a sound, really, as he fucks her through it.
“Again, baby. You've got to give me another one at least,” he coos at her. His fingers pinch swollen nub, twisting gently before tapping in a beat. Belly's thighs shook, her nails scraping the sheets as another peak built fast on the heels of the first.
“Conrad... please,” she breathed, not even sure what she was begging for. More? Release? It didn't matter; because Conrad knew what she wanted. He pulls his fingers free, grips her hips, flipping her onto her back, his mouth claiming hers in a deep, hungry kiss. His tongue slides against hers, as if he's trying to inhale her whole being inside himself.
He milks one last orgasm out of her, his thrusts finally getting sloppy and desperate, whispering filthy promises into her ear as he finally comes inside her with a guttural groan. He stays buried deep in her, kissing her through the aftershocks as the last tremors of their peaks wash through them.
They stay that way for a while, taking a moment to catch their breath.
Eventually, Conrad eases his hips back carefully, his cock slipping free. He drags himself out of bed, making his way to the bathroom before returning with a soft, warm washcloth. Starting at her inner thighs, he carefully cleans her up, his touch feather-light to avoid overwhelming her. Belly sighs, relaxing into the mattress as he works, his free hand massaging her lower back in slow circles. “Look at you, honey,” he praised softly, leaning down to kiss the curve of her hip. “ You were so good for me.” Once her lower body was clean, he turns his attention to himself, quickly wiping down before discarding it.
Finally satisfied with the cleanup, he sets everything aside— gathering her into his arms. But he wasn't done claiming her yet. With a soft nudge, he guided her onto her side again, facing away from him. His cock, still semi-hard from their connection, nudged against her entrance. “One more thing before we sleep”, he breathes, sliding back inside her with agonizing slowness. Belly moans softly and nods, the fullness a perfect anchor in her post-orgasmic haze.
Her hand finds his over her stomach as she laces their fingers together. “It's my turn next time,” she mumbles, her words slurred with sleep.
Conrad chuckles softly. “I'll hold you to that.” She doesn't answer. Curled up against him, she's already drifted off to sleep. Oh well, it was a Sunday after all. They had all day.