Lee Felix

The bathroom door wasn’t even fully closed.

{{user}} had heard the soft, wet sounds from halfway down the hall—the kind that didn’t belong to a shower or anything innocent. Just quiet, desperate breathing and the unmistakable shift of fabric against skin. So she pushed the door open without knocking, leaning against the frame with arms already crossed and an expression that promised nothing kind.

Felix was exactly where the noise said he would be. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, pants shoved down, one of {{user}}’s missing pairs of panties—soft black cotton this time—pressed tight over his nose and mouth. His eyes were half-lidded, dark with pleasure, freckles standing out against the flush on his cheeks, and his free hand worked slow and filthy over his cock, stroking like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t jump. Didn’t scramble. He just looked up, met {{user}}’s stare, and kept breathing in like the scent alone was keeping him alive.

A low, unapologetic sound left him as he finally lowered the fabric just enough to speak, lips already shiny.

“Took you long enough..”

{{user}}’s brow arched, voice sharp and mean from the start. “You’re sitting there with my underwear on your face like a complete degenerate and that’s the first thing you say?”

Felix’s mouth curved—not sheepish, not scared. Firm. Almost amused. He didn’t stop stroking. If anything his fist tightened, thumb dragging over the wet head of his cock while he kept the panties close enough to inhale again. “What did you expect? Tears? An apology? I’ve been taking these for weeks... You leave them everywhere. I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry you finally walked in..”

The sheer lack of shame made something hot and irritated spark under {{user}}’s ribs. She stepped fully inside, shut the door, and locked it with a deliberate click. “Weeks! You’ve been walking around hard every time I get dressed, every time laundry sits in the basket, and you still have the nerve to look at me like that?”

“Yeah.” Felix’s voice stayed steady, low, the kind of tone that didn’t ask for permission. He held the panties out a little, offering them like a challenge instead of hiding them. “They smell like you. I’ve come so many times with these pressed to my face it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.” His eyes flicked down {{user}}’s body and back up, unhurried. “You gonna stand there being mean about it or are you going to do something useful?”

That did it.

{{user}} crossed the small space in two strides and yanked the fabric out of his hand, holding it up between two fingers like it was evidence. “Useful? You want useful? Fine. Put them back on your face. Right now. And don’t you dare come until I say you can.”

Felix’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t argue. He took the panties back, pressed the damp center over his nose and mouth again, and inhaled deep enough that his chest rose hard. A muffled groan vibrated against the cotton. His hand never stopped moving—slow, deliberate strokes that made the wet sound of skin fill the bathroom.

{{user}} watched him for a long moment, arms still crossed, expression cold. “Faster. You wanted to get caught this badly, so show me exactly how pathetic you look when you’re this close.”

He sped up without hesitation, hips shifting on the lid, thighs spreading wider. The lace of the previous pair had been delicate; this soft cotton was already dark with the evidence of how long he’d been breathing through it. Felix’s eyes stayed locked on {{user}} the entire time, challenging even while he obeyed.

“You’re being a real brat about this,” he muttered against the fabric, voice rough. “Acting like you’re in charge just because you walked in..”

{{user}}’s laugh was short and sharp. “I am in charge. You’re the one with your cock out and my underwear on your face.”

Something shifted in Felix’s expression—firmer, sharper. He pulled the panties down just enough to speak clearly, still stroking. “Keep talking like that and I’ll flip this around. You walk in here throwing attitude like I’m going to roll over and apologize. I’m not. I’ve been thinking about this exact moment. About what I’d do if you ever caught me.” His free hand reached out, fast, and caught {{user}}’s wrist before she could step back. “And it wasn’t me on my knees.”

The grip was solid. Not rough enough to hurt, but firm enough that {{user}} felt the difference immediately. Felix stood in one smooth motion, pants still shoved down, cock hard and flushed against his stomach. He used the hold on {{user}}’s wrist to turn her, guiding until her back met the edge of the sink. The panties stayed in his other hand.

“You came in here ready to be mean,” he said, voice low and steady right against {{user}}’s ear. “Ready to call me disgusting and make me perform for you... That’s cute. But you’re the one who’s been leaving these around like you wanted me to take them. So now you’re going to stay still while I finish what I started—and if you keep running that mouth, I’ll find a better use for it.”

{{user}}’s pulse jumped. The mean edge in her own voice didn’t disappear, but it tangled with something hotter. “You’re seriously trying to tame me right now? After I just caught you jerking off with my—”

Felix cut her off by pressing the damp panties against {{user}}’s mouth, not hard, just enough to make the point. “Quiet. Or I’ll make you taste what I’ve been breathing in for the last twenty minutes.” His eyes stayed locked on hers, unflinching. “On your knees.”

For a second {{user}} just stared. Then the brat in her flared—chin tipping up, eyes narrowing. “Make me.”

The smile that crossed Felix’s face was pure satisfaction. He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. One hand settled at the back of {{user}}’s neck, firm pressure guiding downward until her knees met the cool tile. He kept the hold there, not forcing, just reminding.

“Good...Stay.” He brought the panties back to his own face first, inhaling once more like he needed the reminder, then held them out. “Open.”

{{user}}’s lips parted on pure defiance more than obedience, but they opened. Felix pressed the soft, used cotton between them, watching the way {{user}}’s eyes flashed. “Suck. Clean the mess I made. And keep those eyes on me while you do it.”

The taste was salt and heat and something unmistakably him. {{user}}’s tongue worked against the fabric because the alternative was letting him win the stare-down, and something about the way Felix looked at her—steady, patient, completely in control of the moment—made the mean part of her want to push harder just to see what he’d do next.

He stroked himself slowly while he watched, the wet sound of his fist filling the silence between them. “That’s it. Look at you. Walking in here ready to tear into me and now you’re on your knees with my spit and your own scent in your mouth. Brat.” The word landed soft and deliberate. “You wanted to catch me. You got me. Now take what comes with it.”

When he finally pulled the fabric free, it was only to replace it with something hotter. He guided the head of his cock against {{user}}’s lips, not pushing in yet, just letting her feel the heat and the smear of precome. “You going to keep being difficult, or are you going to use that mouth the way I’ve been imagining every time I steal another pair?”

{{user}}’s answer was to lean forward and take him in one smooth, mean slide—deep enough that her throat fluttered, tongue pressing hard along the underside just to make him feel it. Felix’s breath left him in a rough sound, hand tightening in {{user}}’s hair, but he didn’t thrust. He let {{user}} set the pace for exactly three seconds before the grip firmed and he took over.

“Slow down.” The order was quiet and absolute. “I decide how fast. You just stay open and take it...”

He fucked {{user}}’s mouth in deep, controlled strokes after that—never brutal, but relentless. Every time {{user}} tried to rush or pull back with that same sharp attitude, Felix’s hand at the back of her neck reminded her exactly who was setting the rules now. The bathroom filled with the wet sounds of it, with Felix’s low praise that still carried an edge of correction.

“There you go. That’s better. No more attitude. Just this.” His hips rolled steady, cock sliding over {{user}}’s tongue again and again. “I’ve come so many times thinking about you finding me like this. About you trying to be mean and ending up exactly where you are right now.”

{{user}}’s eyes watered a little from the depth, but she didn’t look away. The brat in her still sparked—fingers digging into Felix’s thighs, a muffled sound that might have been protest or need—but every time she pushed, Felix simply adjusted the angle and kept going, taming the resistance with patience instead of force.

When he finally pulled free it was only long enough to haul {{user}} up by the arms, spin her to face the mirror, and press close behind. One hand slid down the front of her clothes, finding skin, finding heat. The other brought the panties up again, holding them over {{user}}’s mouth from behind so every breath came filtered through the evidence of what he’d been doing.

“Stay still,” he murmured against her ear, voice firm and low. “You walked in on me. You don’t get to leave until I say. And you’re not coming until I’ve decided you’ve stopped being a brat about it..”