The Chariot (Spencer x Reader)

NINE

Content, he got off the bed, leaving me vulnerable and panting. I watched him as he took his time undressing. "You're still not allowed to touch me," he taunted. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He wasted no time situating himself between my legs once again. He pumped his hard dick a few times before raising one of my legs to rest on his shoulder granting him the perfect angle to begin thrusting into me.

We hadn't had sex in a while, so I let out a little yelp at the feeling of him stretching me. My body was still sore from two days ago, but the pain was quickly replaced with pleasure when one of his hands wrapped around my thigh as he continued to pound into me.

"Please, Spence" I begged.

"Please what?"

"Let me touch you," I sighed.

"Fine." He dropped my leg and collapsed onto my chest, allowing me to grab his head and pull him in for a sloppy kiss. The heat was growing in my abdomen as I neared my second orgasm of the night.

He buried his face in my neck and groaned, mumbling "I-I'm so close."

"Cum with me, Spencer." I whispered into his shoulder.

We both came at the same time while each crying out the other's name. Spencer planted soft kisses on my neck as we laid there for a few minutes afterwards. This was the sweatiest I had ever been after one of our sessions, and I felt kind of embarrassed until I saw him, just as sweaty and out of breath as me.

We rolled onto our sides to face each other. He was so beautiful like this; sweat plastering chunks of his hair to his face, cheeks bright red, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. I studied every inch of him, basking in the sunlight he radiated just by existing.

"I need to shower. Would you like to join?"

Without a word, I hopped off the bed and headed to the bathroom, him following shortly behind.

He turned on a hot shower and we both stepped in. I stood under the water first, tilting my head back to wet my hair. He lathered some of his shampoo in his hands and massaged my scalp. It smelled exactly like him, and for a while, I would smell exactly like him, too. A smile pulled at my mouth and I closed my eyes as he leaned my head back to rinse my hair. He repeated the process with the conditioner. He went to grab his body wash, but I interjected "you don't have to do that."

"Please," he pleaded.

I let my silence speak for itself.

He started with my shoulders, running his hands down my arms, taking special care to lightly graze over my scars. It was now that we both realized the extent of my injuries. Nothing hurt too bad on account of the painkillers I was still on, but there were purple and blue bruises covering my entire body. I forced myself to focus on the man standing in front of me rather than the cause of those bruises; I didn't want anything to ruin this moment.

His hands ran down my chest and torso before turning me to face the water. I relished in the way his arms wrapped around me the small kisses he planted on my neck as we switched positions.

I took my time cleaning him. I never wanted to forget what his soapy hair felt like between my fingers, or the way he relaxed into my touch as I dragged my hands all over his body.

Just as with everything Spencer and I did together, I never wanted this to end. I slowly let those dreams I had on the jet creep into my reality. Both of us had blatantly broken the second rule – no feelings allowed. It had been apparent since the Anthrax case and our big blowout fight at O'Keefe's. Were we really that naïve that we thought we could do this without it getting messy?