number1_himbo | (no subject)

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Holy shit.

"No one else is home," he breathes, and thank God for that tour of the house to make sure of it. His lower lip stings just a little from her teeth, and well, she's in a dress and spread across his lap, so she's going to have a very good idea of what that does to him. Especially when she moves just like that, leaving him to chase after in a slow grind. One hand drops to tug her hips close as he kisses her hard. There's a certain care in his touch, an awareness of his strength, but his hunger remains, tongue dipping into Sylvie's mouth again.

"Gonna lock the door anyway," he gasps a moment later, as the thought shouts itself through his hazy brain. He scoops her up easily, making his way back over to the door and turns the lock while he presses her mouth to the hinge of her jaw. Ridiculous, maybe, but if he's finally getting the chance to carry her around like this, he'll take it.

Stronger than most regular men and women, Sylvie seems to have gravitated toward those whose strength can match hers, and when Luther lifts her, she wraps her legs around him, tightening her thighs just for the sake of it. Just so he can feel that she is.

"Lock the door," she agrees, hands sliding up his shoulders and then nails raking over his skin. It isn't hard enough to hurt, just enough to sting, just a little, more skin on him exposed than she's seen before today.

It had been too hot to care earlier and now, as she reaches for the bottom of the tank he's wearing, grabbing the material and peeling it up his back.

Luther's quick to get on board and lose his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. For all of the anxiety he's carried about the body he lives in now, years of feeling wrong and freakish and insecure, nothing keeps him from pressing Sylvie against his closed door and groaning at the scrape of her nails across his skin. His palms slide up the outside of her thighs, up under the dress.

Maybe he overthinks, but once he takes a course of action, Luther commits.

Not that it's hard when he's actually kissing Sylvie, and she's kissing him back with a desire that might surprise him if he weren't able to feel it between them, pulling tight. Big hands cupping her ass, he moves them over to the bed, sitting down and pulling her back into his lap.

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The dress was meant to keep her cool above all else, but now Sylvie thinks it was a rather good idea. Certainly not what she might have worn on a regular day, but as Luther's large hands slide up under the flowing skirt, she shivers at the touch, skin against skin, and she's so very glad for the lack of layers between them.

Luther sinks into the bed and Sylvie goes with him, her knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his body. She loves the stretch in her thighs, the reminder of just how big he is, and she moans into his mouth, her teeth gazing against Luther's lower lip.

His body is entirely different than anyone else she's been with, exciting in its own way, and she slides her hands up his arms, over muscle, the hair, until she can cup either side of his neck to deepen the kiss.

Luther has spent so long contenting himself on crumbs-- a lifelong trait, and hardly the fault of anyone he's wanted-- that Sylvie's enthusiasm, the noises she makes, the glide of her hands, just about upend his whole brain. He's able to put together that it's stronger than her amused tolerance and his awkward infatuation; in a moment where thought doesn't fly away at every new sensation, he'd be able to say that of course it's not that way.

Knowing they've built a real friendship and care about each other doesn't quite erase the pleasure of his lizard brain's surprise or the sense of some kind of relief at being able to part his lips and let her have his mouth however she wants. And if he's reading this right, the body isn't a hinderance. It's a turn-on.

Luther grins against Sylvie's mouth, teeth scraping her lower lip, hands moving up the curve of her waist. She's a livewire, strong and vibrant, and he's absolutely torn between feeling her up and getting her naked. He splits the difference by fanning his fingers over her breasts as he gasps, "How do I get your dress off please."

Please.

He's so unlike her, so unlike Loki and even Bucky. They have their own moments of kindness, gentleness, and they're both very capable of being gentlemen (in Loki's case, when it suits him), however Sylvie feels like that same thing is ingrained in Luther's very being.

She's not sure the last time anyone said please to her.

"Easy," she answers, taking her hands off him long enough to hook the bottom of her dress in her hands. It's light and breezy, meant to keep her cool during this day, and it sweeps up and over her head with ease, curls falling down around her face as she drops the dress to the floor.

In her combat boots, black bra and underwear, even Sylvie knows she makes quite the picture.

"Oh my god," says Luther, a bit awed when the questions gets answered by Sylvie just stripping the dress off, and then, a slightly more awed, "Holy shit," when so much skin, so much of Sylvie gets bared. He has the mild concern that he might not survive getting her all the way naked, but it's a way better death than anything else he's had.

He rises up off the bed enough that he can drag his big, slightly rough hands along her bare back, span his fingers around her ribcage. Then his mouth descends on her throat, down to the lines of her collarbone, hot and open as he tastes the valley between her breasts, just above where the bra is.

His cock throbs against the athletic pants he'd chosen for running, and he's sure they're tented ridiculously-- so off they go, with a little wriggling, or at least further down. and one layer less between the two of them is another revelation in itself. "Fuck, Sylvie," he groans, grinding up against her again, his erection a hard line against her thigh.

She's known for awhile now, the effect she has on him, and yet it still sends a pleasurable shiver down her spine to see and hear the way he responds when all she does it take off her dress. It's her ego, her arrogance, the god part of her that opens to his praise, his open desire, his awe.

But it's the part of her Loki cracked open, the part Mobius nurtured, that she knows will keep her from abusing it.

"Luther," she says on an exhale as his mouth explores her skin. His hands are huge on her skin, his palms rough, and she likes that, too. A quick glance down, even with a layer still between them, proves he's proportional from what she can see and Sylvie's eyebrows quirk. She reaches back, unlaces her boots with one hand, then kicks them off. Her palms go to his chest, pushing him down, back against the mattress.

Luther goes easily, full of great rhyming words like trust and lust. If he's lucky, she'll take her bra off too-- lucky, of course, because he's been dreaming of her tits for months, but also because it's the sort of delicate maneuver that his fingers can't quite get, not easily.

He knows it all reads on his face; that's nothing new.

It doesn't have the power to embarrass him anymore, not when he's managed to kick his own shoes and socks off, both of them stripped down to their underwear, Sylvie perched on top of him. Luther smiles up at her, rubbing circles against her hipbones with his thumb. "Hey," he breathes out, desperate to be touching her again.

"Hi," she answers, giving a little wiggle of her fingers as if waving to him before she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra. Unlike Loki, Sylvie's clothing is functional, right down to her underwear, and her bra is simple, black, no lace, no designs, just there to do what it needs to and she lets the straps slide down her arms, then discards it on the floor with her dress, her boots.

Sylvie reaches down, takes both of Luther's hands and lifts them to her breasts. This enchantment she wears, she rather likes it, and she's given herself rather lovely tits, she's well aware of, but Luther's hands are big enough that he can cup them easily and she guides his thumbs to brush across her nipples before she lets go of him.

She wants him to explore on his own, after all.

If asked later, Luther would be able to remember a bra was worn, but nothing else about it, and hell remember that one existed at all because he's absolutely watching with wide, blown eyes as Sylvie takes it off.

"Holy fuck," he breathes, even as she takes his hands, "you're incredible."

And she really is. Luther palms each soft swell, the coarse pad of his thumbs rubbing at her nipples and teasing them up into spectacular little buds; he strokes velvety pale skin and kisses that irresistible valley between again. One hand drops to gather her closer, and then its his tongue against the slope of one breast, his mouth wrapping around the nipple with a groan, wrecked and relieved as self-denial gets further away by the second.

Glancing up as he mouth a line to her other nipple, his hand picking up the slack where he'd left off, he says, "I really, really want to go down on you. I think about it all the time."

For a very long time now, she's been aware of her effect on Luther, aware he wants her, that he must think of her at least some of the time when they're not together, but hearing him say as much still makes something inside of her spark. He doesn't need her guidance, doesn't need her hands on him to show him what to do, he knows. He's imagined it.

"Then do it," she answers, rocking against him, the hard line of his cock against the inside of her thigh. She's wet, heat radiating off her body, and she rolls her hips again as her hands slide over Luther's rough skin, nails turning under the scrape gently along his chest.

Sylvie ducks her head, kisses his shoulder, the side of his throat, she flicks her tongue over his skin until she's at his ear. In a low voice, she says, "Show me everything you've pictured."

"Yeah, okay," Luther answers, because he doesn't need to be told twice, and promptly flips them over.

Settling his open mouth beneath her navel, he peels her underwear off with fingers hooked at either side of her hips. He presses hot, dragging kisses over the newly-bared skin until there's nothing but bare skin and he can have a happy moment of Sylvie is naked in my bed.

Luther clambers up, then, and tugs them both to the edge of the bed, so her feet can dangle a little (it's nice to have a bed the right size, for the first time in his life). He does know exactly how he's wanted this, which is how he ends up kneeling in front of Sylvie, spreading her knees and holding her hips in his hands while he drops his head and teases apart her slick lips with his tongue.

She hadn't expected this, hadn't expected him to get down on the floor, and the sight of him, his sheer size, the bulk of his shoulders between her thighs, it makes her breath quicken. His hands feel enormous over the edges of her hips and she slides one hand down his arm, palm against his skin, until she can curve her fingers around his elbow, simply giving herself something to hold onto.

"Fuck," she says on an exhale, his tongue on her cunt, and she lifts one leg to drop it more comfortably over his shoulder, foot pressed into his back.

Her other hand winds through his hair. She doesn't guide him, doesn't push him, she's just holding on. Sylvie has no problem taking what she wants and telling someone how to please her, but she wants to see what he'll do without her having to tell him. It's always more fun that way.

It might be a little bit about the act of kneeling in front of her, but it's just as much about this: getting her leg, both her legs, over his shoulders, one hand holding her hips and the other, for now, bracing her lower back. For all the ways his size has dogged him, he's always likely imagining this, all of him devoted to pleasing a lover, to please Sylvie while she keeps a hand on his head.

Less than a week with Sloane means he's had time enough to learn the basics, and as for the rest? Luther might not be brilliant in the same way as some members of the Academy, but he's a fucking good learner. Fast, adaptable, and eager.

He pays attention to what his mouth is doing, where his lips or tongue are at work as he matches to the shift of her body, the sounds she makes, when she gets wetter still. If he can't make Sylvie come on his face, what's it all been for?

Not so long ago, she had been too bloody hot to consider allowing anyone to touch her and now here, a few minutes in the air conditioned home, a cold drink, and Sylvie has herself all but wrapped around Luther as he licks into her. She's sweating again, a fine sheen across her skin, but this is the sort of heat she can accept, the kind she can take and turn into something even better.

"That's good," she breathes, her thighs tensing on either side of his head, feeling his jaw moving against them. "Your fingers, too."

She wants him inside her, any part of him right now, his cock soon enough. They'll have to be a bit careful, she knows, but with his fingers, he can prepare her, make it all a bit easier, and she loves how it feels, having someone both using their mouth and their fingers on her at the same time.

His cock throbs at the praise, and well, that's at least not a surprise-- and then again at further instruction. This happens to be a fantasy in the act of fulfillment. Luther groans both his assent and as a result of the sheer hot pleasure in making Sylvie feel good, of having her satisfaction in his ears and thick on his tongue.

Shifting slightly, he seeks out her hole with one thick finger, stroking the slick velvety skin before he starts to push into the hot clench of her. Slow and easy, he reminds himself, with a gentle suck of her clit. He takes his time, until she's able to take two fingers, pumping in and out, curling inside.

Luther pulls back to watch his fingers sink in, glancing up her see her face too, his face wet and his eyes blown dark.

In an abstract way, Sylvie has always been aware of Luther's size. He's a huge man, taller, broader, thicker than any other she knows, simply bigger, and a little part of her has always found that both interesting and a little appealing in its way. But now, in practice, she's so much more aware of it, aware of how big his finger feels as it sinks into her, the stretch when he adds the second, the pleasant burn that has her gasping and then pressing closer to him.

"Fuck," she says. "Yes, like that."

She lifts her head enough to see him looking at her and she flashes a grin before her head drops back against the bed once more. "You're good," she tells him. "I'm good. You're not going to hurt me."

Sylvie wouldn't still exist, he knows, if she weren't incredibly perceptive and quick to understand the people around her; it's also true that even he knows how easy it is to see his desire for approval. The praise makes him shudder and groan against her, but the assurance that he won't hurt her drives him forward.

Pushing in a third finger, smooth but with much less delicacy this time, his mouth hungrier and more demanding on her cunt, licking and sucking until he pulls back just enough to inform her, "I really want you to come on my face." Yes, he's working her open so he can fuck her, but he wants this too, dropping the hand not pumping fingers in and out to squeeze his cock a few times through his underwear.

Luther's relatively sure that with the dam broken, they'll do this again, but he applies himself to the task like it's his only chance.

Most of the time, Sylvie knows she's the one in charge. With Loki, with Bucky, no matter how she feels around them, no matter what they might say, she's the one with the power, and she doesn't think it's any different here, but when Luther speaks, her entire body surges toward him. A gasping sort of moan slips free and then she laughs, digging her heel into Luther's shoulder to drag him back in.

"You're not far," she promises.

He has three fingers inside of her, her body stretched, her thighs aching pleasantly as she uses her legs to cling to him. His hand goes down, she can feel it more than see it, and knowing he's touching himself makes the electricity surge through her again, muscles on fire as heat rolls down.

"Fuck," she breathes, body shuddering again as his tongue does something against her clit, and then she's coming, her back arching off the mattress.

Clear as he's been about wanting this exact thing, Luther's still amazed when it happens.

The sound he makes against her wet, quivering flesh comes out low and desperate, and he pulls his hand from slowly stroking himself to hold her hips not only for leverage but so he doesn't come right there. When she's stopped shaking, or whenever his head gets pushed away, he stops to press his mouth to her inner thigh, teeth grazing and briefly pressing down.

"You're fucking incredible," he tells Sylvie, crawling back up onto the bed, shedding his underwear as he goes. He feels pretty incredible too, wiping his face with the back of a forearm. grinning happy and without worry. He's also dying to be inside of her, but he waits for some kind of cue. It's maybe silly of him, but he's okay with that too.

The bite on her thigh draws another shuddering moan from Sylvie and she lifts her head as he climbs back up the bed toward her. She likes looking at him, different than anyone else she knows, not only in the size of him.

He gets close, waiting, and Sylvie pushes against his shoulders, not as hard as she could, but enough that he has to know she wants him to flip over onto her back. The first time, she wants control. She wants to be able to choose the depth, the speed, especially with how big his cock is, and while she’s not concerned, she’s also a woman who looks out for herself.

“Look at you,” she says once she has him on his back. With her thighs still trembling, fine tremors in her muscles, she swings her leg over him and settles on his pelvis, seated just below his cock. “Aren’t you marvellous.”

She takes his cock in hand, stroking once from root to tip before she leans down, dragging her tongue across the head.

One of those nice drag queens who'd bought him extra popsicles at Pride had said something about a praise kink, and considering the shudder of his abdominal muscles, the sudden slickness of the head of his cock, those ladies were correct.

It's his favorite Darrow day ever.

Luther sprawls out, feeling his cock smack against his stomach and he settles on his back for her; thanks to previous encounters, he knows that he's well-endowed, in a good way. Knowing that Sylvie thinks so too, seeing and feeling the light tremor in her, seeing the way she stretches over him-- the feedback of wanting and being wanted burns differently than with one night stands or puppy love.

He's treated to her hand wrapped around his cock, and just as he's processing that amazing image, her pretty pink tongue drags up the swollen column of flesh. Groaning, he props himself up so he can see, so he can burn the image into his mind. "Fuck, oh fuck, Sylvie."

“That’s the idea,” she jokes, winking at him from where she’s hovering just over his cock. Then she licks at him again, knowing she’ll never get him all into her mouth, but deciding to give it a bit of a go regardless. Her lips stretch around him, tongue lapping at the underside of his cock as she sinks down bit by bit.

She loves this, but she also doesn’t want him coming too soon. Not when she wants him inside her, when she wants to sink down on his cock and have him fill her.

Pulling back, Sylvie sits up again, braces her hands on Luther’s lower abdomen and shifts closer, her hips rolling slightly in anticipation. She takes hold of him again, steadying herself, steadying him, then rises onto her knees and positions herself over him.

While any worries about being too big have been chased away before this moment, that relief feels a far cry from the way Sylvie enjoys it, how it makes him feel-- confidant, powerful, and still on hundred percent under her control. Happily so.

Forcing his hips to stay still, Luther reaches down and pushes his fingers into her hair with a ragged keen. The feel of sweat damp hair against his fingers provides a small point of data about how very real this moment is, even as he reclines on the mattress, breathing shallowly as he watches her mouth-- always so pretty and witty and sharp, wrapped around his cock.

When Sylvie clamber back up to sit nearly astride his his, he's sure to provide her balance, but he otherwise surrenders, for the time being. "Sylvie," he murmurs, amazed and fond, a low rumble through his chest, watching her with an expression just as amazed and fond.

He is big, not too big, but enough that she wants control and he gives it over to her so readily. She can feel him right there, the head of his cock against her clit as she rubs herself with him, using her hand to tease at the sensitive bit of skin, a shiver going through her from having already come once.

"Let me control this right now," she says, even though she's sure he already knows. But just in case it needs to be said, it is now, and she looks at him for a moment before she relaxes the muscles of her thighs, sinking down onto him bit by bit.

The stretch is delicious. A burn she hasn't felt in years and Sylvie's lips part on a gasp as slowly, so slowly, she takes Luther inside of her.

Luther does know, and he's fucking psyched to cede all the control she wants. As she slides down, taking him inch by inch, slow and purposeful, he would happily hand over his entire self-- in a way, that's what it feels like he's doing. He can't help the rumbling sound of satisfaction as Sylvie's tight, hot cunt wraps around him, as his rapt gaze flickers between their joining and her face.

"Sylvie," he groans again, helpless and not able to find much more to say than her name. "That's so-- so good, so fucking good."

He may be giving her all the control, but he wraps his fingers around her thighs, not pulling or demanding, just supporting; he can feel the power corded there in her thighs, in all of her, and he wants the full force of her.

With the power he gives her, Sylvie can feel pleasure and heat shuddering through her, everything inside her already telling her to move. To be faster. To ride him until he comes inside of her and collapses on the bed.

She can drive him insane.

Bracing her hands against his stomach, Sylvie grins down at him and forces herself to move slowly. Her hips roll, feeling the stretch, the way his cock is buried deep inside her. His hands are on her thighs, holding on, and she sits back a little, covering his hands with hers.

“Shit,” she breathes, then grins again, a feral little flash of teeth. “Shit, that’s good. You feel huge.”

The likelihood of Sylvie maybe driving him insane seems high-- but what a way to go.

Or, he thinks, looking up at her with blown-out eyes, red cheeks and lips, a swollen mouth, all of it for Sylvie and because of Sylvie, he can finally stop worrying about his size. The tone of her voice as she tells him how he feels might as well be set into him permanently.

He trusts this, whatever gets said or goes without saying. He trusts her.

"Please," Luther says, a low and hungry rumble from inside his chest, the muscles of his thighs twitching under her. "Fuck me," and despite those twitches his hands stay still and firm.

If she hadn't already known she was the one with the power here, those words would cement it. The tone in which Luther asks, the way he's touching her, holding himself back. He doesn't need to. She doesn't want him to.

"Let go," she says. "It's okay."

Then, using the hands she has braced against his stomach, she lifts herself, feeling the stretch, the slide of his cock. She lowers herself down again, moaning with pleasure as he sinks back into her, then again and again, her pace quickening as her body adjusts.

Luther might look for permission more often than some, but once he gets it-- "Yeah, okay," he rasps, and then drops a hand to the mattress for support as he surges up to kiss the fierce curve of her mouth, his hips driving up and fucking into the hot, tight clench of her. He shifts to get his legs under him enough that he can get both hands back on her hips, this time grasping to help her ride.

At some point, the thinking part of his brain goes a little dark, takes a break to let his body go. "So good," he pants against her throat, "Sylvie, holy fuck, you feel amazing, so hot." He tastes the salt on her skin, murmuring filthy nonsense about how hot and tight she is, how much he wants to see her come on his cock.

He might turn beet red thinking about it later, but it doesn't keep him from praising her perfect tits and rolling her onto her back so he can fuck her with deep, rolling thrusts.

It's as if something inside Luther has broken free and Sylvie grins, deciding she's going to take credit for it, at least for this afternoon. He's not as in his head as he so often seems to be when they're together and she arches her back, moving with him, allowing herself to fall into it, too. To just stop thinking and sink into fucking him.

When he flips her onto her back, Sylvie wraps her legs around him, bending at the knees, hooking them over his hips and using her feet to press against the curve of his ass.

"Like that," she moans. "Fuck, that's good, Luther. Touch me."

"Yeah," Luther gasps, teeth scraping the hinge of her jaw. "Yeah, I've got you. Wanna feel you come around me, Sylvie, waited so long." Getting his hand between them means pulling back a little, but it also lets him look at her face as the slightly rough pad of his finger rubs over her clit in tiny circles.

He's going to spill any second, his thrusts becoming a little erratic as he slides his other hand under her back, between her shoulders so he can scoop her back up and lift her, with her legs still wrapped around him. This is exactly what he's wanted, kneeling on the bed, holding her off the mattress with one arm while he fucks her, while he marvels at the nub of nerves under his fingers.

"Come on," he pants raggedly. "Jesus fuck, I'm gonna come."

His size makes so much of this possible, easier, and Sylvie, who usually prefers to be in control, lets Luther take over. She lets him take weight like this, holding her off the bed, her legs around him, his fingers rubbing against her clit, and she leans back against his arm with a shiver and a moan.

His fingers are rough against her and she likes how that feels, those fingers against her clit. It's unlike anything she's felt in a long time and she arches into Luther, gasping his name.

She's so close now and her hands grasp at his shoulders, clinging to him before she comes with a gasp, her muscles going taut with electric pleasure.

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