The clock ticks, its loud chimes ringing through the dining room like a sullen reminder that he's still not here. You were tired. Physically tired. But also tired of waiting around for him to come home. It's been like what, 4 hours since he promised he'd be back? This is getting ridiculous. You are sick of lounging around for a guy who doesn't keep promises because he is oh-so-busy with other shit. If he isn't back in another 5 minutes, you have decided that you are just going to throw away the whole fancy dinner you prepared for your end-of-the-week date (Fruit salad and sashimi!), velvet tablecloth and all. This was going to be the first time you two had an actual extended period of time alone together. With the whole "Oh yeah we're dating now let's move in together" phase along with him being the poster boy of Overwatch and you being busy with school and work, there hasn't been a lot of wriggle room for intimacy. But when you two finally latch down on a time and date to share a meal, relax, and do whatever afterwards, he bails. What a complete and total jerk. You cross your arms, heave another disappointed sigh, and rest your chin in your hands. The most depressing part of it all was that this is the night you planned on having your first time. I mean, why wait? You are at a really good spot in your life right now. School is coming to a close for the summer and you are still doing well, your boss decides to give you a raise at work, and Jack has been generally (emphasis on generally) very understanding and accommodating as a boyfriend to your needs. But then you come back full circle, right back to this point. You know that he's probably on some "important mission" at God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. You are just so sick of his excuses, day after day, week after week. He should value you before anything else, and he seems to be working more often than he is pleasing you. What the hell is with that?
A tear starts falling from the corner of your eye at the thought. What if you're not as important to him as you thought you were? Hastily rubbing it away, you stand up with an air of finality and decide that he just won't be home tonight. You basically put on that kinky maid lingerie underneath your apron for nothing. Sighing, you pick up the first serving bowl on the table and make your way to the trash. With your toe on the pedal that opens the lid, the door swings open. And there he was. Perfect timing, really. Jack was heaving, obviously flustered from running up the flight of stairs to your apartment. His signature blue and white jacket clung to his chiseled biceps, and his jeans fit snugly around his girth. His aquamarine eyes were more gorgeous than ever on his usually visored face. Biting your lip, you try to make it seem like you didn't want to pounce on him right then and there, simply because he just looked so damn good. Resisting the urge was a lot easier when you remember that he pretty much stood you up. You ignore him, sniffling as you slam the bowl back on the table with a loud bang. With your back turned toward him, you continue cleaning up the kitchen without speaking a word to him.
"Hi baby…" he said cautiously. "How are you doing tonight?" He crept up behind you and you could already feel the strength of his warm embrace pulsating through your body.
"Horrible, thank you for asking," you reply cheekily, washing the chopping board you used earlier under the tap.
"I am so sorry for not making it to the dinner we promised to have together…" he began. "It just got so busy and I had to fly all the way from Nepal and-"
"I get it," you cut off sternly. "You don't have to go on with your tirades like you always do. And then proceed to lecture me about how I need to understand your work situation. It's perfectly fine. Because I get it." You angrily scrub the wooden surface, your discontentment hidden with a transparent veil.
"I'm a dick," Jack said. "I'm a terrible person. I shouldn't have made another false promise. I'm so sorry, gorgeous. How can I make it up to you?"
"You can't," you responded, your voice quaking with the sudden onset of another round of waterworks. "The damage is done. I went grocery shopping. I wanted to make sushi. I prepared this meal. I wanted this to happen. I waited for 4 hours, Jack! 4 hours, can you even believe that?!"
"I know, there's absolutely nothing I can do, I'm so sorry," he said regretfully. "I shouldn't have told you that I would be able to make it when I knew that work would be busy this week. But please stop crying - I hate seeing my precious little girl upset."
No noise except for the running of water, your sponge scraping against a cutting knife, and the occasional sniffle. Jack still kept his arms around you, which you should, but didn't oblige against. You always felt protected whenever you hugged or cuddled against him. After all, he towered well above you at a staggering 6'1. You were small and cute, whereas he was taller and a lot stronger as well. Before you could protest, his gloved hands began running up and down your sides, sending shivers up your spine.
"Hmm… what's this?" he cooed, his fingers wrapping around the strap of your thong. His hands moved expertly under your apron, touching the lacy corset and frilly bra you were wearing at the moment. Your cheeks flushed a bright red as you placed a hand over your mouth.
"It's nothing," you counter quickly. "Just help me clean this up and-"
"No… you're not getting off that easy," he said sultrily, his large fingers moving to wrap firmly around your throat. "Did you want me to do things to you when I got home?"
You say nothing, continuing to wash the dishes.
"Dirty girl…" he commented, spanking you roughly on your backside. "Why were you so sure that I would even be in the mood, hmm?"
His deep voice curled up inside of you, making every nerve in your body tingle in submission.
"Is this maid lingerie…?" he inquired, his thumb and index finger now pulling gently at your thigh-high stockings.
"STOP IT!" you yell whirling around after dropping the dish you were scrubbing into the sink, the loud splash echoing across the entire kitchen. "You can't just waltz in here after I spent an entire evening waiting on you and think you can make it all better with y-your weird seductive ways, which are yes, I admit it, very effective but not so much that you can just erase the past! Not today, mister."
Jack's eyes soften at your every word, taking your small hands into his larger palms.
"I hate seeing you cry," he said for the second time that night, eyes meeting yours with empathy. "I wish I can make it better for you.." Bringing up your hands to his lips, he gave them a warm kiss before setting them back down.
Your lips began to quiver. "I just missed you…" you start. "A lot."
"I know, honey, I know," he confirmed, rubbing your arm and looking you in the eye. "But what matters is that I am here now. So…" He edges closer, undoing the knot in your apron and allowing it to drop to the floor. "Let's make the best of what we have, shall we?"
You nod apprehensively. Sure, he was a dickhead. He stood you up. But deep down, he's a really great guy. And you only have tonight together for sure before he jets off on another mission for God-knows-how-long.
"Okay," you sigh, allowing your shoulders to relax.
"That's my cute little girl," Jack said. You stop to admire him for a second. His towering build, blond hair, eyes that you can get lost in for days, rippling muscles, and very sexy voice you might add. He's just perfect, from not only a physical standpoint, but an emotional one as well. He gets you. He says all the right things even when he has fucked up to make up for it. And you appreciate that. Jack does the same to you, eyeing the little menagerie you have on. The tight, black bra pushes up your luscious breasts for him to feast his eyes on, the corset squeezes in your already tiny waist, the skirt just barely stops above your bottomless panties, your thigh-length stockings compliment your long, curvy legs, all supported by a pair of dainty dark heels.
"Come to daddy…" he says, licking his lips, and pulling you all the more closer to him. Your lips meet, his roughly taking control and yours just barely fighting for dominance. His tongue swirls in your mouth, grunting as he lifts you up in his arms and places you on the marble kitchen counter, his hands gripping your hips so mean.
S-so hot! He was being so rough.. This was the first time you two have kissed so violently before. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips. You let out a slight moan as his lips move to your collarbone. It also turned you on to no end when he referred to himself as the daddy.. He was always so protective and dominant toward you all the time, that is.
"F-fuck…" you gasp, biting down on your bottom lip, your hand accidentally knocking down a pot from the counter, making a loud clang on the floor as the soldier kisses you harder. His hands then cupped your gorgeous breasts, gently pulling down the straps of your bra so they freed your supple, pink nipples. They were tight, crinkling at every second in which Jack kissed and sucked on your skin. His warm lips moved to your left nipple, sucking rigorously as you threw your head back, your nails digging deep into the skin stretched by his shoulderblades.
"Hnnngh… ah!" you gasp, his tongue swirling relentlessly over your areola. "J-Jack, you're driving me crazy!"
He doesn't respond, holding your pretty tit in one hand, and rubbing your round pussy with the other. Meanwhile, your main focus is on the warmth over your breasts. He's so thorough, making sure he's applying the utmost pressure and rolling your nipple around in his mouth in just the right away. You expect nothing less from someone of his… background. He must have done this so many times, while for you, no one has ever done this to you before.
"I-I get so lonely.." you say, cupping your mouth with one hand while he continues to do his worst on your tits. "You're never around.. You never please me this way.."
He groans in response, now cupping your breasts and sucking on the right nipple. You squeal at the sudden appliance of pressure.
"Does this feel good now, baby?" he asks in between licks and nibbles. "Does it make you… shiver?"
"Ah.. ah.. Mhm.." I barely manage, hands now gripping the countertop for dear life. "I-I love it."
The roughness of his leather gloves when he pinched you, the warmth of his tongue as he flicked over your breasts.. It was all so much.
"I promise I won't ever make you feel lonely again," he says. "I will do this to you… whenever you want, at your beck and call. Just give me the signal." He winks, and you blush, turning your head away before can say anything more.
You tilt your head back as he kisses his way down from your chest, giving them a final squeeze. You feel his clumsy hands attempting to undo the strings of your corset, which makes you giggle. They fiddle at the bow, pulling at the wrong end. You smile, giving him some assistance by undoing the knot. The corset eventually came off, and you could breathe for the first time in the entire evening.
Jack smirked, as his finger circles playfully across your exposed tummy. "Why do you wear those things anyway?" he asked. "Don't they suffocate you?"
"A little...," you admit. "But it makes me feel… pretty?"
"You mean pretty for me," Jack said, meeting your lips into your own before you can reply. You shift a little bit under his sudden weight before kissing him back. He then moves down to your belly button, giving you soft open-mouthed kisses.
"S-stop doing that…" you whimper.
"Doing what?" he asked, obviously feigning his innocence, as the small pool of cum on the kitchen floor grows from continuous drips from the crevice in your bottomless panties.
"I want you to u-um…" your voice lowering to a whisper.
"You want me to what?" Jack asked, locking his fingers into yours as he looks you in the eye. You bite your lip, immediately breaking his gaze. Even before you two started dating, his eyes always… intimidated you. Made you feel uneasy, just because they were so beautiful to look at and so easy to get lost in.
Suddenly, anger began to boil in your blood. How dare he? He was the one who came home late even after he promised to you that he wouldn't. And now he is going to slow the process of making you feel incredible, which is absolutely insane. Losing your patience, you grab the scruff of his hair, pulling him close so that you two were face to face.
"I want you to make me cum," you say through gritted teeth, looking him directly in the eye this time. "I want you to.." You blush when you realize you have to say what you want him to do in full detail. "L-li-" You pause.
"You're so cute when you try to take control," Jack smiles, his gloved hands now gripping onto your supple thighs. "When you try to… tell me what to do."
"I want you to lick my p-pussy," you stammer, now flushing a crimson red. "A-and… put your finger inside of me.."
"Oooh," he replied, a smile plastering over his expression, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head to the side. "I never imagined that you would want to do all of this so soon." He was still flicking your right nipple with his thumb and forefinger.
"I mean, I watch guys do it to girls in um… those videos…" you admit.
"Mhm.." Jack replies, encouraging you to continue, suddenly pinching your nipple and eliciting a moan to escape from your lips.
"And I like to touch myself when I watch them do it," you say. "Because I like to think about what it would feel like i-if you did it to me too."
Gasping, you look at your boyfriend in shock as he scoops you up from the counter, your legs still wrapping around his waist.
"Wh-what are you doing?" you inquire, getting all the more flustered at the second.
"Doing what you wanted me to do for so long," he answered simply, taking you into his bedroom. Come to think of it, you are never in here often. You both agreed on having separate bedrooms since he always came home so late at night that you would be asleep, and he didn't want to wake you. He places you gently on the covers, engulfing you in his familiar but oh-so heavenly scent of cologne, mint, and cigars.
Without any word, he sunk to his knees, his hot breath tickling your clit. He kissed the sides of your thighs, edging closer and closer to your labia. Finally, he latches onto your clit after minutes of teasing and licking to no avail. Every nerve in your body feels on fire as he pleasures you, drawing different shapes and patterns with his tongue to make it more interesting. You grip onto the bedsheets, moaning and panting every single time he went down on you.
"It feels s-so good.." you whisper as you feel his warm tongue wreaking havoc in your nether. You arch your back as he slips an ungloved finger into your hole, stretching you out for the first time without warning.
"I-is this what it feels like?" you ask between breaths.
"It's a lot thinner than my cock," Jack replied patiently. "So it won't hurt nearly as much."
He slipped another digit in.
"Mmm.." you moan, wriggling a little bit to adjust yourself, as he fingers you in between multiple licks. "I can't take it anymore… put it inside of me, please.."
Jack quickly unbuckled his belt, pulling down his jeans. His cock is already fully erect. This is the first time you have seen it intentionally… sometimes after he showered he would ask for a towel and when you would hand it to him you would sneak or peak. But this is the first time you stared at it square… it was quite long and very thick… would it even fit?
"It's so big," you say, completely thinking out loud. "Is it going to hurt inside of me…?"
Jack chuckled, affectionately nuzzling your hair. "It will a little bit at first," he comforts. "But you will get used to it after a while, I promise. And if you don't like it anymore, we can stop."
You bite your lip and nod, cautiously leaning back and closing your eyes.
"Just try to enjoy this," Jack said, peeling off his jacket. "And put this on." He throws the blue and white garment next to you on the bed.
"Wh-why?" you inquire, tilting your head to the side. "It's your favorite jacket."
He smirked, leaning in so that he could whisper in your ear. "I want to fuck you while you wear it."
"B-but, u-um…" you stutter while he took off the black t-shirt underneath. You clutch the jacket close to your chest. It smells like him, similar to his bedsheets except with the mustiness of sweat.
"Do as I say," he commanded with a firmness to his voice. You immediately obliged, slipping on the cover. "Now let me look at you."
He smiled, still a little breathless from earlier. Your breasts were poking out from under the zipper, your garter belt stretching out as you reposition your legs. Stockings still complimented your thighs and calves as you look up nervously at the soldier.
"Is it okay?" you ask apprehensively.
"Stunning," Jack responded, pushing you roughly into the bed and teasing your opening with his cock. You bite your lip as the tip of his head sends ripples through your spine. "Just tell me when to stop, and I will," he reassured once more as you nod in agreement.
"O-okay," you reply, gasping as he slips it in without warning, the thickness of his member stretching you out as you throw your head back in submission.
"I-it hurts," you say, feeling it throbbing and pulsating inside of you.
"I know baby, I know," he comforts. "Just keep pushing through, it will stop hurting once you get used to it.
A small tear escapes from your eye as you quickly wipe it away with his sleeve.
"Baby," he stops pushing in. "Do you want me to stop?"
You shake your head rigorously. "No, no of course not! I love it… I want this. I want to do this with you."
"Okay," he nodded. "Just tell me when to stop if it gets too much. It is your first time, after all" He slowly begins to thrust inside, and you moan with pleasure, gripping onto his back for dear life.
"Ah… agh... nnngh.. Jack!" you scream, the bed rocking to his thrusting rhythm. You loved it. You were in love with him. You wanted to do this all the time, at any time of day, for all of eternity, just because it felt so good. "Keep doing that, keep doing that!" you gasp.
He grunted, continuing to pull in and out of you, like an oiled machine doing its worst.
The night aged with changed positions, gasps, moaning, some knocked over bookshelves, and too many orgasms to count. Every thrust, every pull, every kiss, every touch. It was exactly what you needed at the perfect time. You felt a swirl of different shades of reds, oranges, yellows. Just pure ecstasy as he made you feel complete, whether it was flipped over, straddled, or picked up.
You awoke in the morning, still wearing his favorite jacket, snuggling under his cover
and wrapped in his arms. The sun's rays crept through his bedroom window, as you groan and bury your face in his chest. It's too soon. Last night only felt like a few minutes when dawn finally broke.
Jack's phone began to make an awful ringing noise, most likely signaling for his awakening.
"Mmph.." he mumbled, blindly searching for the obnoxious electronic device on his nightstand and shutting it off with a 'click'.
You waited for several minutes, pretending to be asleep, hoping he wouldn't go and would just say a little while longer. Why does he always have to leave so soon?
"I have to go," he said, ending the silence with finality. "They need me at the base in about an hour." You hate how he is always so cold the morning after. Yesterday was so sensual and primal and wild. Sometimes you feel as if sex drains all of his warmth. He stood up, gently breaking free from my death clamp and going into the shower. You pout, resting your head on his pillow and hoping he wouldn't notice that you hid his phone in your hand. That way, maybe he wouldn't be able to go in such a hurry. You hear the water being twisted on, his footsteps into the shower case, and the occasional sloshing of water when he is rinsing his hair. You tap on the touch screen of the phone, going through his text messages and phone calls. You have both agreed on not having passcodes on your devices. It's comforting that way. It instills trust in the relationship. You see several chats between him and his colleagues. His favorited text is obviously the one between you two. You smile at the fact, quickly shutting off his phone and hiding it under the covers when he slammed open the door of the bathroom. He was wearing a towel over his tumescence, something you weren't very happy about. The smattering of light hairs on his chest glistening in the morning light and shower water. He smelled of freshness and soap. He quickly put on a fresh black tank top, rummaging through his drawers for a clean pair of boxers and socks. You watch him attentively, and quickly feign sleep once more whenever he looks back at you. He walks over to you after slipping on a pair of jeans, giving you a kiss on the forehead.
"Baby, I know you're awake," he says.
You sigh in defeat, pushing down the covers and resting your chin in your hands. "How did you know?" you whined, pouting once more.
"Because… I don't know, you breathe differently. A lot deeper and heavier when you're asleep. You almost snore a little bit," he smirks at the thought. "I can't hear you breathe when you're awake."
"I don't snore!" you protest, now standing on my feet, his phone still hidden behind my back.
"Give me my phone," he said, extending his palm forward.
"I don't have it," you say, almost convincingly, trying to walk behind him. He grabs your wrist with the phone in it. Smart guy. You quickly pull your hand away, running to the opposite end of the room.
"No!" you squeak. "I'm not giving it to you."
"I have to leave, sweetie," he says. "And I need my phone."
"Noooo…" you whine. "I hate it when you leave me like this. Not today." You jump back on the bed. "Come make me feel amazing again. Like when you slammed me against the wall last night and just started thrusting into me over and over again? Mm.."
"Not now, babe…" he asserted. "Give me my phone."
You make puppy eyes, hiding the phone behind your back. He crawled on the bed, surprising with a tickle attack before you finally surrender and give it to him.
You follow him forlornly into the kitchen like a stray dog as he pours himself a cup of coffee and heats up a piece of toast. You instinctively embrace him from behind, hugging him close to your chest and not wanting to let go. You were still wearing his favorite jacket. It hasn't been taken off since last night.
"I'll miss you..." you coo, standing on your tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. Why is he so damn perfect? Sure he gets moody, is quite clumsy, doesn't meet expectations at times, (Like last night, for example..) but he does his best.
"I'll miss you too," he replies dryly, setting the mug and plate with the buttered toast on the table. This is how he usually is, stoic and prioritizing his career instead of you. Which you hate so so much. He always reminds you that his job isn't just a job, it's preserving the lives of innocent people against corruption and yatta yatta yatta. But you're his girlfriend, for crying out loud. You should come first. You pout as you think about all this pretty heroes on the Overwatch team who get to spend time with him, joke around with him, and have conversations with him while you can't. It isn't fair.
When he finishes his breakfast, he stands up, tightening the buckle on his belt and going back into his bedroom to pack his belongings.
"Jacket," he demands sternly.
"Hnngh… but it's so cold," you protest.
"You can wear your own jacket," he replies. "I need mine for work."
"Hehe… if you want it so bad, take it off me," you offer playfully, jumping on the bed once more. He sighs, and in capitulation, pounces back on top of you, unzipping it as you grab fiercely onto his wrists. Peeling it off of your shoulders, he slides it on himself and gives you a pat on the head as a consolation prize.
"Nice try," he says, smiling for the first time that morning. You were still in your garter belt and stockings as you followed him to the door.
"When do I get to see you again?" you whimper as he makes his way to the threshold of the apartment.
"This mission should take about 4 days or so," he estimated. "I'll let you know."
"Okay," you mumble, locking gazes with him. You don't want him to leave you again. Not in the slightest. For some reason, your lip starts quivering and you begin crying again. You kick yourself in an attempt to make it stop, as you feel like taking you into his arms.
"I know baby, it's really hard," he says. "I hate leaving you too. I really do. But there's just so much to do, all the time. If I could spend every minute of the day with you, I would. Whether that's just cuddling or going on a picnic or wildly fucking, whatever you want, I'd do. But I can't. At least not for the moment."
"I hate it when you go, I hate it so much," you complain, burying your face in his chest. "I get so lonely. All I ever do if I'm not in class or at work is think of you. I can't go on like this, it's too hard."
He frowns, taking your face in his hands and looking you in the eye. "I'm not going anywhere," he assures. "I'm still yours, you're still mine. I will always come home."
It still doesn't work. The cries grow more intense.
"Shh shh shh," he comforts, shutting the door behind him and leading you back in his bedroom. He lays you on the bed and gives you gentle kisses on your eyelids, cheeks, neck, and shoulder. You gasp as he flicks his tongue over your clit a little bit.
"K-keep doing that.." you moan, grabbing your left breast with a hand and biting your bottom lip.
Jack sits you up on the bed and forces his tongue into your mouth. You two kiss passionately for a few minutes or so, before he gets up to go.
"Nooooo…" you complain, pouting again.
"I'll leave the rest up to your imagination," he winks. "Duty calls."
Your hands wander to your pussy as you slip a finger inside and start pleasuring yourself, allowing your mind to drift off to yesterday night.
"C-can I call you?" I ask cautiously.
Jack thought about it for a moment and then nods, flashing that award-winning smile.
"Yeah. You can call me."
And with that, the door slams, the house grows quiet, and he's gone. Your moans echo off of the bedroom walls, your feet twisting into his blankets as the emptiness of his absence grows once more.
After a few seconds pass, you grab your own phone from the nightstand and start dialing his number. Sometimes, things never change.