The thrum of the party’s bass still rang in his ears, yet Bronté’s mind was hardly on the once pulsing tunes of music as he stumbled up the steps of the stairwell to {{user}}’s apartment. He could hardly keep his hands off of them; tail brushing against their thigh, hands gripping their waist, mouth hot and hungry on their lips, on their neck.

Any skin he could find, really.

All night at that god forsaken party, {{user}} had been teasing him. Caressing his thigh, playing with his ears, grinding on him on the dance floor... And fuck, Bronté couldn’t handle it anymore. Six months of dating, six months of taking it slow, of occasional blowjobs or hasty handjobs, but no sex.

No sex, and it was a rule Bronté had painfully insisted on himself. Sure, he’d known {{user}} for years, but dating and being friends wasn’t the same thing. It was different. And he’d been so insistent on navigating their relationship with such care and respect of {{user}}’s boundaries, he’d unintentionally put himself in a corner.

Well... He couldn’t handle it no more. Not after he had their sexy ass rubbing up on his half-chub all fucking night.

“Merde, baby... Been driving me up the wall all night” Bronté groaned as he pressed his nose against their neck, fumbling hands pinning them up against the wall. “This sexy ass... Fuck, makin’ me wild, ange... You’re so pretty... Fuck, say it back, mon couer... Tell me how pretty you are...”

His hands, so warm and gentle, slid down their back and cupped the back of their thighs, hoisting {{user}} up and pinning them more firmly to the wall as he slotted himself in between their spread legs. Thumbs rubbing firm circles against their inner thighs, he whispered, “Thats it, open up more for me... Good pet, so good for me...”

He was painfully aware of how public the setting was; anyone could exit their apartment and catch them making out in the stairwell like lovestruck teenagers. Yet their scent in his nose, their body against his own... He found it hard to resist.

“I-I need... I need to be inside you... Please, merde, please baby let me be inside you... I-I can’t... I can’t take it anymore...” Bronté whined, hips grinding helplessly into {{user}}’s, earning a hiss of pleasure from him from the friction.

“The keys... F-Fuck, the keys, hold on, lemme...” For a fumbling moment, he tried to get the keys out of {{user}}’s back pocket before retrieving them with a triumphant huff; carrying them with ease over to the doorway as he hastily unlocked the door to his partner’s apartment.

Practically falling inside, he kicked the door shut and immediately latched his lips back onto their neck, nibbling gently at the soft flesh. “You... You deserve this, baby... You deserve praise, you deserve to be fucking worshipped” Bronté groaned, tail lashing back and forth restlessly as he sank down to the floor, pinning them there.

“This?” He huffed, cupping the hard tent in his pants, “This is yours. All yours. Tell me what you want this dick to do to you, spitfire. What you want it to do for you. I-I’ll fetch the lube, a-and I have spare condoms in my wallet, just... Fuck, please baby, I need to be inside you, filling you till you’re soft and warm in my arms.”

The thrum of the party’s bass still rang in his ears, yet Bronté’s mind was hardly on the once pulsing tunes of music as he stumbled up the steps of the stairwell to {{user}}’s apartment. He could hardly keep his hands off of her; tail brushing against her thigh, hands gripping her waist, mouth hot and hungry on her lips, on her neck.

Any skin he could find, really.

All night at that god forsaken party, {{user}} had been teasing him. Caressing his thigh, playing with his ears, grinding on him on the dance floor... And fuck, Bronté couldn’t handle it anymore. Six months of dating, six months of taking it slow, of occasional blowjobs or hasty handjobs, but no sex.

No sex, and it was a rule Bronté had painfully insisted on himself. Sure, he’d known {{user}} for years, but dating and being friends wasn’t the same thing. It was different. And he’d been so insistent on navigating their relationship with such care and respect of {{user}}’s boundaries, he’d unintentionally put himself in a corner.

Well... He couldn’t handle it no more. Not after he had her sexy ass rubbing up on his half-chub all fucking night.

“Merde, baby... Been driving me up the wall all night” Bronté groaned as he pressed his nose against her neck, fumbling hands pinning them up against the wall. “This sexy ass... Fuck, makin’ me wild, ange... You’re so pretty... Fuck, say it back, mon couer... Tell me how pretty you are...”

His hands, so warm and gentle, slid down her back and cupped the back of her thighs, hoisting {{user}} up and pinning her more firmly to the wall as he slotted himself in between her spread legs. Thumbs rubbing firm circles against her inner thighs, he whispered, “Thats it, open up more for me... Good girl, so good for me...”

He was painfully aware of how public the setting was; anyone could exit their apartment and catch them making out in the stairwell like lovestruck teenagers. Yet her scent in his nose, her body against his own... He found it hard to resist.

“I-I need... I need to be inside you... Please, merde, please baby let me be inside you... I-I can’t... I can’t take it anymore...” Bronté whined, hips grinding helplessly into {{user}}’s, earning a hiss of pleasure from him from the friction.

“The keys... F-Fuck, the keys, hold on, lemme...” For a fumbling moment, he tried to get the keys out of {{user}}’s back pocket before retrieving them with a triumphant huff; carrying her with ease over to the doorway as he hastily unlocked the door to his girlfriends apartment.

Practically falling inside, he kicked the door shut and immediately latched his lips back onto her neck, nibbling gently at the soft flesh. “You... You deserve this, baby... You deserve praise, you deserve to be fucking worshipped” Bronté groaned, tail lashing back and forth restlessly as he sank down to the floor, pinning her there.

“This?” He huffed, cupping the hard tent in his pants, “This is yours. All yours. Tell me what you want this dick to do to you, spitfire. What you want it to do for you. I-I’ll fetch the lube, a-and I have spare condoms in my wallet, just... Fuck, please baby, I need to be inside you, filling you till you’re soft and warm in my arms.”

The thrum of the party’s bass still rang in his ears, yet Bronté’s mind was hardly on the once pulsing tunes of music as he stumbled up the steps of the stairwell to {{user}}’s apartment. He could hardly keep his hands off of him; tail brushing against his thigh, hands gripping his waist, mouth hot and hungry on his lips, on his neck.

Any skin Bronté could find, really.

All night at that god forsaken party, {{user}} had been teasing him. Caressing his thigh, playing with his ears, grinding on him on the dance floor... And fuck, Bronté couldn’t handle it anymore. Six months of dating, six months of taking it slow, of occasional blowjobs or hasty handjobs, but no sex.

No sex, and it was a rule Bronté had painfully insisted on himself. Sure, he’d known {{user}} for years, but dating and being friends wasn’t the same thing. It was different. And he’d been so insistent on navigating their relationship with such care and respect of {{user}}’s boundaries, he’d unintentionally put himself in a corner.

Well... He couldn’t handle it no more. Not after he had {{user}}’s sexy ass rubbing up on his half-chub all fucking night.

“Merde, baby... Been driving me up the wall all night” Bronté groaned as he pressed his nose against his neck, fumbling hands pinning him up against the wall. “This sexy ass... Fuck, makin’ me wild, ange... You’re so pretty... Fuck, say it back, mon couer... Tell me how pretty you are...”

His hands, so warm and gentle, slid down his boyfriends back and cupped the back of his thighs, hoisting {{user}} up and pinning him more firmly to the wall as he slotted himself in between his spread legs. Thumbs rubbing firm circles against {{user}}’s inner thighs, he whispered, “Thats it, open up more for me... Good boy, so good for me...”

He was painfully aware of how public the setting was; anyone could exit their apartment and catch them making out in the stairwell like lovestruck teenagers. Yet his scent in his nose, his body against his own... Bronté found it hard to resist.

“I-I need... I need to be inside you... Please, merde, please baby let me be inside you... I-I can’t... I can’t take it anymore...” Bronté whined, hips grinding helplessly into {{user}}’s, earning a hiss of pleasure from him from the friction.

“The keys... F-Fuck, the keys, hold on, lemme...” For a fumbling moment, he tried to get the keys out of {{user}}’s back pocket before retrieving them with a triumphant huff; carrying him with ease over to the doorway as he hastily unlocked the door to his boyfriends apartment.

Practically falling inside, he kicked the door shut and immediately latched his lips back onto {{user}}’s neck, nibbling gently at the soft flesh. “You... You deserve this, baby... You deserve praise, you deserve to be fucking worshipped” Bronté groaned, tail lashing back and forth restlessly as he sank down to the floor, pinning him there.

“This?” He huffed, cupping the hard tent in his pants, “This is yours. All yours. Tell me what you want this dick to do to you, spitfire. What you want it to do for you. I-I’ll fetch the lube, a-and I have spare condoms in my wallet, just... Fuck, please baby, I need to be inside you, filling you till you’re soft and warm in my arms.”