(18+) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Smut. 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 80s 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Paul find a fun way to pass a rainy day.
─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
↯
The hushed words spawn from the hallway beside your front door, and a few seconds later Paul comes strutting into the living room where you're currently sprawled out on a weathered armchair. He runs a slightly frustrated hand through his fluffy, brown hair, exposing a few sporadic grey strands.
The hushed words spawn from the hallway beside your front door, and a few seconds later Paul comes strutting into the living room where you're currently sprawled out on a weathered armchair. He runs a slightly frustrated hand through his fluffy, brown hair, exposing a few sporadic grey strands.
"What?" You ask, turning your head to give him your full attention. He slips his hands into his large front pockets and leans one shoulder on the moulding of the entryway of the room. He blows an exasperated sigh out of his mouth and turns his head back towards the front door window before looking distractedly back at you.
"It's pouring out," he says with a slight head shake. He had been planning all week to go out with a couple old friends at a local outdoor restaurant, but with the heightening downpour and the low rumbles of thunder you thought you had heard a while ago, the plans would most likely have to be postponed.
"Oh well," he says with yet another sigh. "Another day, then," he looks at you with a disappointed smile. Then, he begins to meander slowly over towards the couch parallel to your own chair.
He sits down on the far side of the couch, tugging upwards at the fabric of his pants on his thighs. He leans backwards, laying both arms straight across the top of the cushions in an attractively casual gesture.
"C'mon," he urges quietly, bringing a hand down to pat one of his legs. That space just underneath his arm looks so inviting, so comfortable, just the thought of him wrapping his strong arms around you fills your stomach with butterflies. He smiles sweetly as you hop out of your seated position and hurry over to sink down sideways beside his legs.
"Good girl," he says in a low mumble, bringing his mouth down right beside your ear.
You lay the back of your head down high on his chest, and you see his smile growing even wider, his eyes sparkling and deep creases growing in their corners. He immediately places one arm around your body to rest his hand low on your back, and the other laying gingerly in your lap, seeming to beg to wrap around your own hand.
Suddenly, so out of the blue it almost startles you, his grip on you tightens, and with a small grunt he effortlessly whisks you up and shifts you so that you're seated almost directly in his lap, slowly sinking into the incredibly narrow space between his body and the arm of the couch. You can't help but giggle, and he smiles playfully at your happiness.
"There," he sighs. "Much better," he gives you one more quick little squeeze before placing his arm back around you and his hand right where it had been in your lap, and this time you don't hesitate to take it in yours.
"What a rotten day," he mumbles, almost as if to himself, after the giggles had subsided and a few seconds of comfortable silence had settled. His eyes are fixed towards the rain-streaked window, and you can barely see anything beyond the glass except the sheeting downpour. But, then you turn your head back to lay on his warm chest, gazing up into those wise, youthful eyes, so bright you don't have to look at his mouth to see his smile, and rethink. You sink in closer to him, and he in turn pulls you in with his arm.
"Ah, it's not so bad," you reply. He grins, heaving a satisfied breath through his bright teeth, and his hand rubs your forearm. You could think of a million other things to do on such a day, but none seem to compare to spending them just so; with Paul at your side. Before long, a light conversation picks up.
And then, as your mumbled words begin to dwindle, he startles you yet again by quickly standing up as if he had just had a brilliant idea. His grip on you does not falter, and so you are forced up with him.
"Wha-" you stutter, genuinely confused. But then he turns to face you, and you read in his mischievous smile and dark eyes just what his idea had been. You quickly shut your mouth as he leads you by the waist into your shared bedroom. He sinks down quietly on the bed, the only sound being the rustling sheets underneath him, and rests his hands on his knees, which are about a little over a foot apart. He distractedly bites at his pink lower lip as he eyes your body.
and so you lean forward to give him a small peck on the cheek. When you pull away, he lovingly puts a strong hand on your upper arm to stop you. He glances down at his now vacant lap, then back up to you, and you see plain as day in his shining eyes what he wants.
You swing one leg over his body, sitting down once more on his thighs, and wrap your arms gently around his neck. His hands move to rest on your lower back and he leans forward a bit. You press your lips against his, instantly pressing your entire body closer to him, and when you finally break he tilts his head to the side and utters the same two words he had said only minutes before;
"Good girl," he utters in a lower, huskier voice than before, a voice just dripping with insinuation.
