14. “Do you want my fingers?” (beeeeejpeg!)
14. “Do you want my fingers?” (beeeeejpeg!)
oh. oh unquestionably. perfect prompt. no notes. 🔥
Peg loves the way BJ gets when they tumble into bed - his face pink, his hands tender - as though he's still shy with her.
Peg, on the other hand, wants.
She's wanted him for so long, and now he's hers.
And the way he blushes and stammers when she unbuttons her dress is certainly flattering, if the bulge in his boxers, the hardness against her thigh when she straddles his lap, is any indication.
It's Peg's turn to redden when he gently cups her through the fabric of her panties, burying her face in BJ's shoulder, overwhelmed with desire and more than a little embarrassment.
She still isn't used to him touching her like this.
"Peggy?" he breathes, as Peg kisses his bare shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Do you... I mean..."
"What's on your mind, darling?"
"I want..."
Well.
A dangerous, wonderful sentence in itself.
She pulls away, studying the look on his face, a blotchy blush creeping down his chest. "What do you want?"
"You."
Still feeling the press of his erection against her, she smiles. Laughs, really. "Imagine my surprise."
If possible, the colour high on BJ's cheeks deepens. "You're a menace."
She arches her back slightly, brushing against him in a way that makes him groan.
"I try."
BJ wrestles with some decision, before hooking his thumb under her panties. "Take these off?"
She nods, a little breathless, standing back up as BJ leans back on his elbows, his eyes dark as he watches her, his eyes fixed on her waistline, right where the soft trail of curls disappears into the waist of her panties.
She hooks her thumb under her panties, humming a silly big band striptease, before letting them fall.
BJ swallows hard, still leaning on the bed, his lips parting slightly as he stares at her.
"You look... stunned," she says, amused, resisting the instinctive urge to cover herself back up. "Like you've been hit in the back of the head with a two-by-four.”
"I'm stunned, alright. Bewitched, bewildered, and... whatever that other thing is."
Peg laughs, stepping forward again and sitting down in his lap. "And you call me a menace."
BJ gently cups the back of her head with his hand, cradling her skull he tugs her into a kiss, his other hand resting on her hip.
His fingers tighten against her involuntarily as she presses down against him, something almost like a moan rising in his throat.
"A menace," he breathes, when she pulls away again, though his fingers move down, tracing over her hip, and along the crease of her thigh, before coming to rest just short of where she wants him.
"Well don't stop there, darling, I hate a man who won't finish what he started."
"Do you want... do you want my fingers?" he blurts out suddenly. "Or just-."
Peg blinks, before turning away, her own facing heating up - but not from arousal, simply embarrassment. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"I've never really enjoyed it," she admits. "It doesn't... it doesn't feel very good."
"You've done it before?" he asks, his eyebrows raising just a fraction.
"It doesn't feel good when... when I do it," she admits, her eyes dropping.
"Oh."
She shrugs, a little helplessly. "But what the hell? I'm game to try."
"Not if it hurts you."
"It doesn't hurt, I've just..." Peg groans, her head falling forward against BJ's shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin and the fine hairs of his body rising against her forehead. "I'm not good at it. I wasn't good at it."
"... Why not? You do the... the other kind well enough."
Peg nearly laughs, a dirty image flashing through her mind - the night they got engaged, BJ's hand wrapped around his cock, his stare piercing as he watches her touch herself, the two of them unable to bear the wait - as she gets his meaning. "It's just... never clicked for me."
He nods, slowly.
"I always just... assumed it was something wrong with me," she admits, her voice small.
BJ laughs, kissing the top of her forehead, and it's not a mean laugh, just one of understanding.
"Can I help?" is all he says.
"You want to? Really?"
"If it bothers you, I... I want to help."
"A good point. If I can't even manage those, I'm up a fucking creek when it comes to... that."
BJ's eyebrows shoot up again, his eyes full of warm amusement as he strokes the soft skin of Peggy's thigh, making her shiver.
"I want to help."
Peg nods, a little unsure, as BJ reaches between them, leaning in to kiss her at the same time.
But to her surprise, he doesn't immediately start trying to press inside.
Instead she feels the gentle pressure on her clit, tensing against him as his hand stills.
"Peg?"
"Please," she says, and it's all she can manage. "Please, BJ."
He nods, slowly, his thumb circling her clit as she slowly relaxes, drawing her into another kiss, distracting her from the heat of pleasure pooling between her legs.
It's odd, but in a good way, to have someone else touch her like this.
BJ pulls away from her mouth, trailing kisses along her jawline and down her neck, continung to touch her as he does, a gentle but steady pressure that has her aching for more.
BJ presses a kiss to the top of her breast, before his head darts lower, his tongue circling her nipple, matching the rhythm of his fingers against her clit.
Peg exhales shakily, running her fingers through BJ's hair, lost in the twin sensations of his mouth hot and wet on her nipple and the slow steady pressure of his fingers, leaving her slick and wanting.
"BJ please, please-."
She arches into his touch, closing her eyes as she's overwhelmed by the sheer sensuality of what he's doing.
Feeling his tongue flick over the sensitive skin around her nipple, she wonders what it would be like to have his mouth on her clit instead - a thought that makes her moan out loud.
BJ stops, his breath hot on her skin, clearly surprised by how vocal she is.
Peg flushes hot, but grips his hair tightly. "Don't stop."
She means for it to be a simple plea, but it comes out as an order.
BJ laughs against her, the vibrations travelling over her skin, making her whimper, before his hand resumes the slow steady pressure.
Only now, now that she's slick and wanting, his mouth still on her nipple, do his fingers drift lower, gliding along slick folds, before stopping.
So close to where she wants him, but she tenses anyway, nervous.
Oh please, she thinks weakly. Please let it work this time.
"BJ, please."
He nods, gently exploring with his fingers, before ever so gently pressing into her.
Peg whimpers at the sensation, but for a second she feels disappointed.
After all, nothing has changed - it's easier, but it still isn't anything but odd to her.
And then BJ pushes his finger in further, his thumb coming up to rest on her clit, and that, combined with the hot wet sensation of his mouth on her breast, does feel good.
"Oh fuck, BJ, fuck-."
He goes back to what he was doing, cupping her like an orange, thumb on her clit, mouth on her breast, one finger inside her, and she feels herself relaxing more, getting used to the overwhelming sensations.
And if she's disappointed, it's soon replaced by desire, swept away by the all-consuming need to come.
She can feel the pressure building at the base of her spine, when BJ slides in a little further, his wrist likely aching at the odd angle, and crooks his finger slightly.
Peg moans, audibly, stifling the sound in her hand, arousal sparking along her nerve endings like a live wire, because that, that is different.
The sensation recedes as BJ does it again, and then more powerfully.
But it's-
"Too much," she gasps, a little too overwhelmed now. "BJ-."
And then she falls apart, pleasure washing over her in waves, overwhelming her as her body pulses around BJ's fingers.
He keeps circling her clit, deliberately overstimulating, until she gently pushes his hand away, her head falling against his shoulder, grateful when his arms wrap around her.
"Good?" he asks, smugly.
"I'm a whole new woman."
He kisses the side of her head, sounding pleased. "Good."
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for hangman/bob prompts can you do kiss 13 frustrated kiss?? thank you!!
rather be | hangman/bob
or; late mornings & nefarious boyfriends
Bob wakes to the late morning sun through the blinds, spilling over the carpet in bleeding shafts of light. There’s a warm weight at his back, the careful tracing of fingertips along his bare shoulder blade. They draw to a pause as he yawns, turning, pressing his face into Jake’s bare chest.
“Good morning,” Jake murmurs. There’s a twist of amusement to his voice as he draws his fingers gently through Bob’s hair, over the curve of his ear, down his cheek.
Bob hums noncommittally, leeching warmth. Jake smells fresh—newly showered and still damp. He’s likely been for his morning run by now, down the beach and then back up it again, all before making whatever Bob can smell wafting down the hallway for breakfast.
Breakfast.
Bob creaks an eye open, catches Jake watching him fondly.
“What time is it?”
Jake glances at his watch. “About 10:30.”
“10:30?” Bob echoes, already reaching to free himself from the comforter.
Jake catches his hand and then pulls it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm. “And just where do you think you’re going, Private?”
“You let me sleep in,” Bob accuses. “We have plans.”
“You looked cute,” Jake defends, as if that solves it.
Bob can feel the blush eating its way across his skin, warmth blooming from the tips of his ears down to his toes.
“Regardless,” he says, shoving lightly at Jake’s chest and then shifting course, drawing palm over jaw, pressing his thumb to the corner of Jake’s lips. “We’re supposed to meet Phoenix for—“
He finds himself cut off abruptly, Jake nipping at his jaw.
“Tacos,” Bob insists, determined to finish his sentence.
“Are you really thinking about tacos right now?” Jake wonders, and there’s that playful lilt to his voice again, like he’s playing a game that Bob is only just learning the rules to.
Two months ago, he would’ve been scrambling to regain composure. Now, he surrenders easily, feels Jake draw the tip of his nose along his jaw, teasing. “No,” he admits. “But I am thinking of Phoenix, who is waiting on us—“
“About that,” Jake starts, and Bob sighs.
“Do I even want to know?”
“I texted her twenty minutes ago and asked if we could move brunch to dinner.”
“Twenty minutes ago?”
Jake has the audacity to look petulant, a pout pulling at his brow. “You were sleeping in.”
Bob pokes him in the jaw with an index finger. “And you had nefarious plans, apparently.”
Jake shrugs easily, like it’s a title he’s proud to bear. “I don’t see you complaining.”
“You are such an ass,” Bob breathes, and then Jake is grinning, blinding, hotter than the sun against Bob’s skin.
“To be fair, baby, you knew that going in.”
And the thing is, Bob did. The smile is twisting its way across his cheeks before he has the wherewithal to stop it, murmuring a halfhearted I hate you. They both know he really means something else.
“Promises, promises,” Jake whispers. He closes the distance between them, plants a kiss at the corner of Bob’s mouth, the hinge of his jaw, the tip of his nose.
“So, what are these nefarious plans of yours?” Bob wonders, letting himself sink back into the sheets now that he has nowhere else to be.
“Well,” Jake says, feigning thoughtful. “I was thinking we’d have some breakfast, and then go for a nice, long run along the beach, and then—“
He breaks off laughing against Bob’s lips when Bob tugs him down for a kiss, and then another, and then two more after that.
“Or, we could just stay here,” he murmurs, and Bob hums his agreement. There's nowhere else he'd rather be.
send me your floydsin prompts!
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