Daisychain Fiction
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[Silas] NSFW moments outside of time
🕑 Added 2024-12-14 00:37:17 +0000 UTC
"Don't squirm," Silas chides, breath warm on the back of your neck.
"Then stop tickling," you retort, but you do your best to relax your muscles and still your body.
Silas' hands smooth over your shoulder blades, thumbs kneading in at each juncture before following the bones up and toward your neck.
You don't even consider how vulnerable this pose is - prone on his bed, your neck in his oil-warmed hands.
You trust Silas more than most people. You shouldn't - you know that. But you do.
His hands travel down your spine, gently working the edges of muscle until he dips toward your ribs. He makes firm, circling caresses over the bones, temporarily forgetting that he's supposed to give you a massage and not simply touch you.
"Focus up," you tease, but you don't actually mind. His touches alone can light up your body and loosens your tension.
Silas chuckles, leaning down to kiss the curve of your neck. From the way your face is turned to the side, you can see the action coming - even so, your chest flutters with surprise.
His hands glide to your lower back, rubbing tight knots free. It feels like your spine is extending under the loosening muscles.
A moan slips between your lips; Silas keeps going, but you hear his breath hitch a bit.
His motions become a little harder as they sweep further down. They tease the edge of the towel covering your backside.
And then they slip under, kneading the flesh of your upper buttocks.
"Silas," you warn, but you don't mean it. You knew where this would lead before you agreed to it.
"Yes, darling?" he replies, voice soft. His thumbs work from outside to inside, dipping lower with each pass.
Another moan leaves you. This time, Silas groans in response.
You give up the pretense, lifting your hips. He's straddling your knees, but your motion brings him closer.
You can feel him getting hard between his thin pajama pants and your falling towel.
"You're squirming," he chides you. Even as he does, he drags your hips upward and pulls your ass against him.
"You want me to squirm," you respond, but the words are just that - they mean nothing. All of your attention is on the feel of him slowly sliding against you.
"I want you to lose the towel."
"Then make it happen."
*if genitals = penis
Silas leans away from you for a moment. The loss of his weight and heat are only mollified when you hear him grab something from his side table. The telltale click of the lubricant bottle's top makes your skin prickle in anticipation.
When Silas returns, it's to drag your towel away. You shiver - the shiver turns into a shudder when Silas' hand begins to rub between your cheeks, slow and slick with lube.
You're desperate for more; you buck your hips back, trying to speed him up, but Silas only snorts in amusement. "So impatient. How you ever thought you could go undercover..."
You groan in irritation, but the sound slips into a heavy moan when he eases one finger against your passage. Just the tip. Just a taste.
"Silas!" You turn his name into six syllables without meaning to.
"I don't want to hurt you," he chides, but you can hear that he's pleased by this reaction.
One finger's slow thrusts becomes two. More lube splashes between your cheeks and onto his hand. He works a third in after a few moments of fucking you slow and deep.
You rock back into his hand, nearly feral but trying your best not to growl.
"I think you're ready for more."
"Finally," you snap.
Silas doesn't even bother to remove his pajama pants entirely. Shoving them down to his knees, they trap your legs against the bed.
You hear the lube bottle's cap click, the wet sound of him working his cock, and then --
You bow your back when he begins to slide into you, gasping toward the ceiling.
The pleasure nearly whites out your vision.
Silas is slow to begin, slow to fully sheath himself inside you. But once he is, a slick hand finds your hip, gripping.
And then he slowly pulls back.
And abruptly slams into you.
He fucks with abandon, the speed and power betraying how much he wants this. He holds you close, blunt nails biting into your hips, and gasps your name.
Abruptly, one hand braces the bed, and the other wraps around your cock, working it with lube-tacky fingers in time with his thrusts.
You cry out, the suddenness jolting your hips forward, helplessly thrusting into his hand.
"Shit," Silas whispers against your neck, teeth grazing the skin. "You feel so good."
You make a series of embarrassing noises, your arms shaking under the strain of your combined weights. You go to your elbows, and that angle shift makes you cry out.
Silas grunts above you, his hand working your dick harder even though the angle has to be awkward. But you don't fucking care because Christ, the things he can do -
You shudder as a particular snap thrust makes your eyes roll back. You come so quickly that you barely even notice, the pleasures mingling, rolling together.
Silas gasps and groans, pace turning erratic. The hand around your cock releases so he can squeeze the rumpled covers, white-knuckling as he continues to pound into you.
When he comes, he bites your shoulder, the pain sharpening your orgasm.
You only return to yourself after your breath slows and your brain is less 'firework' and more 'fog'. At some point, you went prone on the bed, Silas still inside of you, his weight on your back.
"Heavy," you grunt.
"Mmm."
"Silas. You're heavy."
"You're warm."
You snort, thinking about rolling him off. But instead, you stay there, warm and sticky and happy.
*if genitals = vagina
Silas doesn't waste a moment, tugging the already-askew towel aside and baring you to the world. A chill ghosts up your spine despite the warm room.
"Excited?" Silas teases, one of his hands tracing a path down your spine to the dimples on your lower back, fingers splaying out to grab your hips.
His pajama-covered cock bumps between your cheeks, teasing your ass a bit. "If I reached between your legs," he begins, voice a gravelly, "how wet would you be?"
You whimper - you can't help it. His voice does something unholy to your insides. "Silas!"
He pulls back a bit; instead of getting up to properly remove his pants, he simply shoves them down. The fabric catches at his knees and pins your legs in place.
His skilled fingers slip between your thighs, stopping before he's even reached your cunt. "Shit, you're drenched."
You would be mortified if he didn't sound so proud. If it wasn't a praise. So you let the heat on your face warm you and refuse to get embarrassed.
One of Silas' hands braces him on the bed, corded muscle close to your face. So close you could kiss his forearm. Bite it.
Before that thought can become action, Silas' other hand slips between your thighs and zeroes in on your clit.
You mewl at the firm touch. He always knows the limit, the line to toe between rough and gentle.
"How do you feel so good?" he asks, leaning into you, his breath hot on your neck. His pelvis gently humps against your ass, cock sliding between your damp thighs, teasing.
"Shut up," you gasp out. You don't mean it. "And fuck me." You do mean that.
Silas chuckles, pulls his hand free, and repositions himself. You're prone on the bed, thighs clamped together, so it takes him a moment to work his way deeper.
When he thrusts, he glides between your folds, the head of his cock taking over for his hand, rubbing your clit.
You buck upward, but his weight is on you, keeping you pinned.
"You like that?" he asks, picking up his pace. The short jerks ensure your clit has constant stimulation.
Your response is a stuttered curse. You feel his smile when he kisses the back of your neck, gently nipping the skin.
He speeds up when you need him to. You think he might be a mind reader, or just that good at understanding the minutiae of your noises.
You come with a series of sharp curses, your insides clenching so hard that it almost hurts. He slows his pace but doesn't stop, forcing you to ride out the sensation until you're quivering and overstimulated.
"Stop," you gasp when it gets too much.
He obliges, gripping your hips and pulling you up a bit, his cock finding your entrance and teasing there. "How about this?"
"Christ, you really need another invitation?" you grunt, mind reeling.
He shoves into you; your tense muscles clench around him, and he utters a single, guttural moan before going to work.
He fucks you with abandon. The pace would be punishing if you weren't so wet, so keyed up, so ready for another orgasm.
You know he's getting close when one of his hands leaves your hip to press against your clit, rubbing firm and sharp circles against you.
He leans in, close and warm against your back, and nips your shoulder. The snap of his hips has become erratic, desperate.
He isn't going to last.
He abruptly pulls out of you, kicks his pants free, and flips you onto your back. Pushing your legs back, he delves into you again, thumb on your clit, mouth finding yours.
You groan into his mouth, shuddering at the new position. He's hitting every spot that makes your vision white out, your body screaming for release.
You let it happen, the flood of pleasure hitting you like a rogue wave. A short, yelping scream bursts from your lips as you pull away from his kiss, helplessly clawing at his back.
He bites the skin above your collarbone as he comes right after, growling against the flesh and making you tremble even more.
You both lay there like that, a slumped heap of sweat and the remnants of massage oil. You smooth your hands over his back, over the slightly raised welts from your nails.
Silas kisses the ache his bite left and rolls you both onto your sides. Still nestled inside of you, he draws you into a series of languid kisses.
"We should clean up," you whisper, hoping he denies you.
"Mmm, in a minute," he promises, his mouth covering yours again.
