oh my god. hold that thought.
warnings: just filthyโฆ i apologize. use of toys, whiny, needy miguel, org*sm denial, p in v, he gets his lick back (figuratively and literally)
โExplain this bet againโฆ Iโm confused.โ
Miguelโs been staring at the small portable vibrator in your hand as you stand keenly in front of him, the app synced to your holowatch. You chuckle, seeing the rosiness in his cheeks as heโs flustered at the idea of you controlling a vibrator while heโs at work.
โPut this in your suit. Itโll sync to me, and then Iโll be the one controlling it. Itโll be funโฆ donโt worry.โ You chuckle, the edges of your lips curling into a very cruel grin.
It worries him terribly.
โHow many hours do I have to wear this, sweetheart?โ He murmurs, his brown irises meeting your eyes.
You chuckle again.
Heโs terrified. Absolutely terrified.
โ8 hours. And you canโt cum. Not till Iโm back in this office. You win, and you can lay me down and go to town when the dayโs over. If notโฆ kiss that office session goodbye, Miguel.โ
Simple enough right?
Wrong.
It had been six hours since the earlier conversation, and although Miguel had been surviving the occasional buzz against his cock, it was starting to get worse. From the fourth hour however, the buzz was particularly intense that he had to resort to playing games with Lyla to take his mind off of things.
But now, 2 hours later, at the sixth hour of the day, Miguel is quite literally frothing at the mouth.
โSuch a stupid betโฆthis is worse than sex pollen. Raging pheromones wouldโve hurt less.โ He growls.
The intensity of the vibrator increases, his breath becoming rapid and shallow as he grunts, head pressed against the wood of his desk. Itโs driving him nuts, not being able to be inside of you, feeling your thighs tighten with every thrust of his cock into you. Heโs fed up, unable to resist temptation. His eyes glance at the clock, then back to his monitor, his fangs protruding as he got more sexually frustrated. The hardness of his cock all the more apparent as he tried to shift his legs in order to have a bit of freedom from the aching tent in his suit.
Terrible idea.
He groans angrily, settling for the use of fingers in order to give him some relief. And unknown to you, heโs got quite the method to fix his current issue. He grabs the silicone-like tube, the opening similar to that of a telescope lens, only its not a telescope.
โShould be handy enough.โ He mutters, coating his fingers with saliva as he slips his fingers into the tube. Heโd settled for a fleshlight that naturally, felt like you.
It was useless.
He tried up until the seventh hour, the vibrator moving at peak speeds as he groaned and twitched at the office char he sat in. The fleshlight proved to be useless, so he tossed it aside, his head now lulled back and his breath heavy. His suit was disengaged, leaving him naked and groaning at the relief he had from being able to palm his erection, his balls swollen with cum, already seeping out of him. All he could imagine was you bent over the desk, milking you with his seed until you were trembling underneath him, the stickiness of both your release and his, mixed together.
He whimpers, calling out for you. Over and over, and it picks up on your radar.
You arrive in seconds, jaw dropped from the erotic scene of Miguel with his legs spread apart, the vibrator covered in his creamy white release, his hips bucking into his hand. He has no idea youโre watching him in such a state, at least, not until you clear your throat.
โSo clearly you lost the betโฆโ You giggled, taking the soaked toy away from the base of his shaft, earning a groan of relief from him. As a reward for his attempts at patience, you tease him by lapping the toy clean, letting his warm seed coat your throat, his eyes glittering with lust and amusement.
โYour turn, sweetheart. 8 hours starts now.โ
He mutters sweetly, handing you a vibrator for you to begin your own rounds of torture.
a/n: um um UM UM UMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
iโm not okay thank you anon.
