Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Chan approached the front door of the little cottage of this farm, it was with a tinge of both embarrassment and shame.

Chan was not expecting big, round brown eyes, freckles, a button nose, pretty pouty pink lips, and blonde hair delicately plaited into two French braids.

His entire world comes barreling to a pretty halt.

“Hi,” a bell-like voice greets him, and Chan is stunned into silence.

He blinks.

Okay. Pretty girl.

Very pretty girl.

Exactly his type of pretty girl.

Chan can deal with a pretty girl.

He thinks.

His cock twitches with interest.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Hi, um, I’m really sorry to bother you. I just — my car got stuck in a pothole, at the end of your driveway? I was hoping — you can say no, obviously, but um, I was hoping that you’d be able to help pull it out? With the truck? In your garage?”

Pretty Girl blinks at him, a small smile gracing those pretty pink lips as Chan speaks. She’s dressed in honest to God denim overalls, but the ones with shorts, one strap hanging off of a bare shoulder with more freckles, and the world’s smallest white tank top underneath. In her hand, she grips a bouquet of freshly picked flowers, her fingers barely meeting around the bunch of stems, nails a cute baby pink color. His eyes flick down to her pretty little feet, nails painted the same baby pink, but there’s a dusting of dirt on her skin, like she was outside barefoot.

It does things to his psyche Chan didn’t think were possible.

When his eyes flick back up to her face, her smile has grown.

Chan swallows.

His cock throbs.

He is the one between the two of them who needs help, but now he thinks he’s in need of help in more ways than one.

“Of course,” she says. “Come in! I just have to find the keys and it might take me a second.”

Pretty Girl leaves the door open behind her as she turns, and Chan follows her, toeing his shoes off near the door and padding after her.

It’s an open floor plan — the living room, dining room, and kitchen all one big open space — so Chan has the perfect view of Pretty Girl as she rests the flowers she’s gathered in a vase, then heads to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.

“Would you like a glass of water?” She offers kindly, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. “It’s pretty hot out. I hope you weren’t waiting on the porch too long.”

“Sure,” Chan says, mostly to be polite.

He takes a look around as she tidies up a little and feels wholly out of place. He’s standing here in what is arguably the cutest and most rural area of all of Melbourne’s farmland in his crisp dress pants, white button up, and Oxfords lined up by the door, his Rolex glaringly ostentatious against his surrounding environment.

The walls are a crisp white against natural light wood, but all of the decorations are in pastels — pinks and blues and yellows and greens — and there’s plants in almost every corner in either pots or jars. The farm-style kitchen sink is below a large window that overlooks the backyard and the farm’s fields and orchards, and next to the shelves look like a little apothecary collection.

There are clear jars full of various dried things — herbs, spices, grains, flowers — and other bottles with little droppers full of various liquids. Scattered among the shelves are different little mugs, some handmade, and little bowls. Did Pretty Girl make those herself? He wonders, trying to find any other little touches that might belong to her.

Chan blinks when she clears her throat. She’s in front of him now — how the hell did he miss her moving? — a glass of water for him in her hand.

“So,” Pretty Girl says as she hands him his cup, “Are you from around here?”

Chan clings to the cold glass, sheepish. “I’m from Sydney, actually.”

“Oh?” Her cheeks flush red beneath her freckles. “So am I. What are you doing all the way down here in Melbourne?”

“I was on my way to meet family when my car got stuck.”

Pretty Girl giggles. “Oops, sorry. Someone’s supposed to be coming to fix it, but I’m not sure when. We usually don’t get much traffic around here, so it wasn’t an urgent fix.”

Chan smiles like an idiot. “S’ okay, really. Not that big of a deal.”

“Is your family expecting you soon?” Pretty Girl asks, watching as Chan takes a sip of his water.

“Later today, yeah” he explains. “I’m technically here for a wedding.”

And his mom will kill him, if he doesn’t make it to his cousin Lily’s wedding.

Chan’s already pushing it — he’s here two days later than he said he would be because he had meetings with the board of directors at his company back in Sydney that he couldn’t cancel, and then he insisted on getting his own rental car instead of having Lily’s brother, Jake, come pick him up from the airport because he would much rather have his own way of making a quick exit — and if he calls his mom and tells him he’s having car problems she’ll probably come out here herself and drag him there by his ear.

“Your wedding?” Pretty Girl squeaks out. Chan can swear those pink lips are pouting.

“No! Oh uh, I mean, no. No no, not um, not mine. My cousin is getting married. At The Peak? I think. It’s at a country club.”

“Oh,” she says, through what is definitely a sigh of relief. “At Lorne? That’ll be really nice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chan nods, “It’ll be great.”

He takes another sip of his water, watching as Pretty Girl watches him. She smiles when she realizes she’s been caught. “What’s your name?”

“Chan,” he says, winces. “Or Chris. Either is fine.”

She blinks. “Oh, are you Korean?” When he nods, her smile widens. “Me too! My Korean name is Young-ok, but I go by Felicity.”

Chan blinks back. “Oh, wow. What are the odds?”

Pretty Girl — Felicity — blinks back at him, then giggles. “Like fate, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chan says dumbly, watching the way her cheeks pinken, even pinker tongue coming out to wet her pretty lips.

“Oh,” she murmurs suddenly, “Right, um. Keys. For the truck. Hang on, let me take a look around!”

She practically scurries out of his sight, heading down a small hallway and disappearing behind a door. He downs the rest of his water, trying to psych himself up.

Stop being an idiot. He tells himself. Get your shit together.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Another text from his mom asking where he is, a text from his cousin Jake, wondering the same, a few work emails he doesn’t need to answer since he’s on vacation. He locks his phone and pockets it, closing his eyes and saying a small prayer to whoever is listening that he gets through this weekend unscathed.

“Um,” he hears Felicity’s voice call. “Chris? Would you mind coming here for a second?”

Chan sets his glass down on the counter and traces after Felicity’s steps, finding her in a small room that appears to be an office of some kind.

She’s bent over and ruffling in a drawer, little ass cheeks poking out from under the hem of her shorts, and he immediately back pedals two steps, till he’s just outside of the doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Oh? You can come in!” Felicity laughs. This time, when he appears in the doorway, she’s standing up, a sheepish look on her face. “To tell you the truth, I don’t use that truck all that much, so I’m not really sure where the keys are? I was hoping you could help me look.”

“Sure,” Chan says. He takes a step to enter the room, but Felicity puts a hand out.

“Actually, could you look in the living room? And I’ll look in here? It might go faster that way, if we’re checking two places at once.”

“Of course,” he nods, giving her an easy smile.

She looks relieved when she says “Thank you. Sorry, you probably weren’t planning on all this when you asked for help.”

“No no, it’s fine! Honestly. You being willing to help is more than enough. It’s the least I can do, really.” When they just stand there, smiling at each other like fools and Chan can feel the tips of his ears getting red, he laughs nervously, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just, um, yeah.”

He turns on his heels, cursing himself in every language he knows as he heads back out. As his eyes roam over the living room, trying to decide where to start, he notices a flash of baby pink out of the corner of his eye, sticking out against the white color of the couch.

Curious, he saunters over. He assumes maybe it’s a lanyard, or one of those little straps he sees girls attach their keys to. When Chan grabs onto it, he finds it’s soft fabric, and he’s just about to call to Felicity to tell her he’s found them when he pulls it out fully, and nearly chokes on his own spit.

It’s a baby pink G-string.

Chan feels his pulse hammer in his ears.

He’s still holding it when Felicity comes out of the little office, her voice cheery when she says “I found them! They were under the —”

Her breath hitches as Chan shoves the G-string behind his back, turning to her and trying (and failing) to school his expression and hide his discovery at the same time.

Felicity blinks, pretty lips parted in surprise. The keys to the truck are dangling on a pink keychain around one of her dainty little fingers.

“I’m sorry, I just —” Chan fumbles, stumbling over his words as Felicity silently crosses the distance between them until she’s merely a breath away from him.

The corner of her mouth quirks up in a grin. “I see you found my laundry.”

Chan says nothing as Felicity closes the distance between them, her body a hair’s width away as she reaches around to where his hands are, finding the fabric and tugging it from Chan’s hands gently.

He lets her, unsure of what else he’s meant to do. He waits — he fully expects her to yell, to be short with him now, maybe swear at him for being a little pervert — but Felicity simply pockets the G-string, then takes a step back. “Let’s go get your car out, yeah? Don’t want you to be late for that fancy wedding. I’ll meet you with the truck at the end of the driveway.”

She smirks as she saunters away, casting a look to Chan’s pants then back to his eyes before she disappears out the front door.

Chan doesn’t have to look down to know what she was staring at. He’s well aware there’s a tent in his pants, and that Felicity can tell she’s the one who put it there.

He just hopes he can get through this ordeal before his embarrassment swallows him whole.

As he heads down the driveway with his proverbial tail between his legs, Chan thinks of a way he can thank Felicity for her help while also apologizing thoroughly for his idiocy. Part of him immediately thinks of the several hundred dollars in his wallet, but the idea gets scrapped rather quickly.

There’s something dirty about the idea of paying Felicity for anything, even if he intended it to be fair compensation for her time and effort.

He waits at the rental car while Felicity brings the truck down the driveway. She pulls in front of the car, hopping out of the truck, still completely barefoot, with a towline in her hands.

“Oh, let me.” Chan offers, holding his hands out. It seems fair for him to be the one to hook his car up, since it’s his mess.

Felicity clearly disagrees, pointedly looking at Chan’s clothes, then his Rolex, and she giggles, pulling the towline out of his reach. “No silly, it’s okay. I can do it.”

Chan watches, amazed, as this little beauty saunters around him and hooks the tow line to the front of his rental car like it’s nothing, then to the back of the pickup truck that’s quite literally twice her size. Felicity tests the tension of the line, nodding to herself before she turns to Chan, hand on her hips as she assesses the pothole his car’s front wheel is stuck in.

“Well, you got it in there pretty good. It’s not too deep, though,” she reasons, “I should be able to pull it out pretty easily.”

Chan feels like he’s imagining the way she’s saying what she’s saying, convinces himself the mirth in her eyes is due to the heat, the stress of the weekend, his lingering embarrassment from holding Felicity’s G-string in his hands less than five minutes ago.

“You’ll have to be careful on the gas when we drive it out,” Felicity continues, “Just so we can be sure we get it out of the hole and back on the road in one piece.”

“Sure,” he tries to keep his voice even. “Just tell me what to do and when.”

Felicity smirks. “Oh, I plan to.”

Chan almost chokes on his own spit as she heads to the truck, her pert little ass cheeks poking out beneath the hem of the shorts of her overalls. He hurries to the driver seat of the rental, turning it on and throwing it into neutral, blasting the AC to get rid of the heat behind his cheeks.

When Felicity waves her arm out the window, Chan gently presses on the gas. He can feel the car resist, can feel the way the wheel is properly stuck, and he feels it more when Felicity’s truck does most of the leg work and practically yanks the car forward.

“Push on it more!” He hears Felicity shout, and he does as she says. The truck pulls more, and the car lurches forward once it’s out of the pothole. Chan steps on the brakes a little so he doesn’t ram into Felicity’s bumper. Felicity drives him forward till the car is a decent distance from the pothole, and then they both put their vehicles in park, turning the cars off before they get out.

Chan laughs a little when the door to the truck opens and Felicity jumps down in her bare feet, heading toward the rig to undo the towline. Chan unhooks it from where it’s secured on his rental, righting himself when he sees Felicity jogging toward him a little with a smile on her face.

Chan does not watch the way her little tits bounce beneath the tank top, and when she gets closer, he hands her the towline with a grateful smile.

Felicity quickly moves back to the truck, tossing the towline in the bed, and then she’s crossing the distance to him again in a little run. He’s surprised when she practically launches herself at him, pressing those pretty tits to his chest as she pulls him into a hug.

Chan does not press his nose to the top of her head and inhale the scent of her shampoo.

He doesn’t hug Felicity back either — mainly just rests his hands on her waist. Respectfully.

“See?! Told you it would be easy.” Felicity cheers as she parts from him, swatting his chest playfully.

“Thank you, Felicity,” Chan says kindly. “I uh, I really do appreciate your help. Seriously.”

“Of course! I — oh no.” Felicity pouts as she looks at Chan’s torso. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize! I got you all dirty.”

Chan looks down at where dirt he didn’t see on Felicity’s overalls is now all over his crisp white shirt and on his dark slacks. Felicity goes to brush it off, but somehow, it only seems to make it worse.

“Oh, it’s — it’s okay. Really. It’s just clothes. I have extras in my suitcase. It’s not —”

“Nonsense.” Felicity insists, circling her little fingers around Chan’s wrist, already towing him back in the direction of the cottage. “I can help you clean it up. It’ll just take a second, I swear.”

Chan has no idea why he’s letting her lead him, why he’s allowing the prettiest girl he’s ever seen to dictate what he does and where he’s going. He’s been in her presence for less than an hour and she’s already got him wrapped around a pretty pink manicured finger.

He was yelling at board members this morning. Fired someone yesterday. He runs a company and runs it well, maintains control and supervision the same way a normal person breathes air.

And yet, Felicity in her pretty braids and pretty overalls with her pretty pink nails challenges that.

She tugs him into the house, and he quickly kicks off his shoes again before she’s leading him to what must be her bedroom — white walls and light wood with a big bed in the center, floral comforter and baby pink gingham bedsheets.

“Wait here,” she tells him, then saunters off into what must be a bathroom. He swears he can see a smirk on her face as she disappears, can only look around the room helplessly as he waits for her.

He takes note of where she’s left him by the door — he’s facing a floor length mirror propped in the corner of the room, a thick fur rug beneath his socked feet. There are pillows all over the floor, along with another comforter, and if Chan didn’t know any better, he’d say it was like a cozy little nest.

Felicity comes back in no time, her braids undone, long blonde hair floating around her in little waves now. She’s smiling shyly at Chan as she approaches him, a soft flannel shirt and sweatpants held in her fingers. “These should be big enough. You can change into these and put your clothes in my laundry hamper.” She says, gesturing to a cloth basket behind her. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Felicity, I —”

“I insist,” she says, smiling all saccharine sweet but with a hint of insistence that has Chan complying the second she disappears again. He can hear the water running, so he assumes she’s gone to shower or something and gets changed quickly. He folds his dress pants and shirt, resting them on her dresser instead of in the hamper, too traumatized by his couch discovery to even think of peeking into Felicity’s hamper, before he’s pulling on the sweatpants and shrugging on the flannel shirt.

He's too hot to button it right now, overwhelmed with this whole ordeal, so he leaves it open and sits at the edge of her bed, taking a second to check the messages on his phone. There’s another text from his mum, this time a text from his dad as well, another text from Lily, and Jake, one from his brother Lucas, along with a couple of others he manages to see, and more emails he pretends to look through but can’t focus on long enough to understand what they mean.

He really should get going.

Chan starts thinking of ways to say thank you to Felicity and get back on the road when he hears the door to the bathroom open, and he finds himself locking his phone and tossing it behind him as he stands.

He is completely unprepared for two reasons — the first, because he still has no idea what he’s going to say to Felicity, and it’s probably going to be a lame excuse.

The second is…well.

Felicity comes out of the bathroom, her blonde hair still cascading in waves down her back, but now she stands before him in only a towel held together by her hands, pretty baby pink nails standing out against the white of the fabric, her skin still wet from her shower, freckles along the expanse of her bare shoulders.

Chan’s mouth waters.

His cock throbs, painfully this time.

Fuck.

Felicity blinks at him from under her lashes, bashful and wide-eyed as she takes careful steps towards him.

“You changed,” she murmurs, eyes roving over his practically bare torso, a hungry little gleam behind her gaze when she lands on the tent beneath his sweats.

Chan feels cut open, thoroughly exposed.

“Uh, yeah. I, um. They fit? So. Thank you. For, um. For the clothes. And for your help. With my car? And the water, too. But I should really —”

Any other word or thought dies the second Felicity’s pretty little hands open her towel, exposing the most gorgeous body Chan has ever seen in his life, letting the fabric fall to the floor beneath her.

Double fuck.

Is he drooling? He might be drooling.

He’s never lost his composure so fast.

Chan takes his time taking in the sight of her, committing Felicity’s pretty little body to memory — her cute and perky tits, the slope of her stomach, the curves of her torso, her hips, the pretty and pink little mound at the apex of those beautiful thighs. He tracks a droplet of water that runs from her waist, all the way down her pretty legs and right to her pretty feet, those baby pink toenails adding to his torture. Her entire body is golden and pink at the same time, freckles decorating her skin like little stars, and he feels like he’s slowly going insane the more he stares.

When he looks back at Felicity’s face, she’s smiling shyly at him. “Do you like what you see?”

Chan swallows, shifting his weight on his feet. “Yes,” he says too quickly. He tries to back pedal, fumbling over his words, and a wicked smile crosses Felicity’s features.

“I’m glad,” she says. Her voice is silky, sultry, downright obscene as she walks towards him. Chan tries to back up, but he’s too close to the bed, so he pivots, taking steps backwards as Felicity stalks forward.

Chan’s brain and his dick are screaming at him, wondering why he’s moving away from the body he wants to feel under his hands, his mouth, around his cock — but it’s all he can do to try and keep hold of the last bit of his control.

“Chris,” Felicity coos once his back hits the edge of the bedroom door, and she closes the distance, reaching behind him and closing and locking the door shut.

Locking them inside together.

Chan gulps.

“Y-yes?”

She smirks. “Are you nervous?” When all he can do is nod, she faux pouts. “Why are you nervous? I thought you said you like what you see.”

“I-I do,” he stutters, trying to keep his eyes on her beautiful face. “You’re just. You’re — you have to know how you look, Felicity.”

She tilts her head at him. “How do I look?”

Like my wildest dreams have come true. He thinks. Like I’m standing at the gates of Heaven and you’re the Angel come to greet me.

“Beautiful,” the word spills from his lips before he can think about it. “You’re beautiful. And pretty. Really fucking pretty.”

Felicity blinks, and then her eyes twinkle when she smiles with her sharp pretty teeth. All Chan manages to register is the sound of a soft giggle before she’s disappearing from his sight —

—And dropping down to her knees in front of him.

Chan’s breath gets caught in his throat as he tries to back away, but he’s pressed tight to the door, and when he sees those pretty manicured fingers dip into the waistband of the sweats and his underwear, his own hands shoot out, covering hers.

“Felicity, wait, you don’t —”

“No,” she muses, “You’re right, I don’t have to. But maybe you do.” She tugs the material down, freeing his cock, and the second he kicks his pants and boxers off, her hands are on him, grasping his dick in both her little fists, and Chan does go cross-eyed when he sees that her fingers don’t meet.

Chan fights past the growing haze in his brain to ask dumbly, “I do?”

“‘You don’t owe me anything,’ isn’t that what you were going to say to me? And that’s true. I don’t, because I helped you. So, if anything, you owe me. You were so polite, thanking me earlier, weren’t you? Well, maybe this is how I want you to thank me, properly. Let me make you feel good.”

The teasing and mocking lilt to her voice has Chan’s cock twitching in her hold, and Felicity notices, looks up at him from under her lashes as she leans forward, pressing a kiss to his cock.

The kiss is so sweet, almost innocent, and it seems to make Felicity’s bravado fall just a little bit. She looks up at Chan, blushing almost immediately at his face, and she smiles shyly, turning her face into his thigh. She presses another kiss there, then another, up the crease of his hip and across the skin of his abdomen under his belly button, her hands steadying themselves on his thighs as she goes.

Chan is helpless to watch, his breath caught in his throat as her pretty lips leave goosebumps across his skin as she goes, kissing until she reaches his other thigh, and then she’s nosing at his balls, kissing him there, kissing the base of his cock, up the shaft, and when she gets to the head of his cock, Chan expects another kiss.

Instead, she rises up until she’s a little above his cock and parts her pretty lips, sticks her tongue out, and lets a trail of spit fall onto his tip.

Chan is not embarrassed to admit he whines, low and desperate in his throat, his attention solely on Felicity. She’s captivated him completely, made him entirely undone in no time, and if this is how she wants to be thanked, to be repaid, Chan will do whatever it takes.

“Good Daddy,” Felicity praises, lips and chin all messy while mouthing against the head of his cock. She runs her lips over him before lapping at it in a way that makes him go dizzy. “How about you use my mouth? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Chan groans, his last bit of sanity hanging on by a thread. “Pretty Girl, I don’t think —”

“Shhh. Be good and use my mouth.” She kitten licks the pre-cum and remnants of her spit at the silt of his cock. “I can take it, Daddy, I promise.”

Warm, wet heat surrounds him a second later, that little plush mouth sucking on the tip of him like a damn popsicle, and Chan feels his chest heave with the moan he exhales. His head thunks against the door, too heavy to keep looking down, and his eyes catch their reflection in the mirror.

Like this, he can see the way Felicity is sitting pretty on her knees, legs spread wide, so her cunt is flush with the pillow beneath her, her heart shaped ass resting atop those pretty little feet. Her hands fall away from his cock and onto her thighs, long blonde hair swishing from side to side as it flows down her back when she starts to bob her head, hollowing her cheeks and sucking every time she pulls back, massaging her tongue to the underside of his cock when she sinks back down.

She’s sucking his cock like a fucking champ, and she can only take him halfway, his cock too big for her cute little mouth.

Chan might come in two seconds.

He groans, low and deep in his throat, the contrast of their state of undress making him feel crazy. Like this, with just the flannel on, he somehow feels like this is far more intimate and sensual than if he were completely naked.

It doesn’t help that Felicity is smoking fucking hot.

He can feel when she pulls back to take a deep breath, and then she’s taking him down again, a little further than halfway, relaxing her throat and swallowing around his cock. It shoots lightning bolts of pleasure up his spine, and his knees almost buckle. His hands fly to Felicity’s hair, fingers descending into the silky blonde strands and scratching gently against her scalp.

Felicity moans around him, and the vibrations have Chan moaning as she bobs her head, encouraging him to use her.

How about you use my mouth? She had said.

Doesn’t that sound nice? It really, really did.

I can take it, Daddy, I promise. She had said.

Chan fights past the molten lava in his veins, tightening his grip in her hair as he murmurs, “Pretty Girl.”

Felicity’s eyes flutter open at the sound of his voice, unshed tears at her waterline as she stares up at him, her pretty mouth stuffed full of his cock.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?” He frees one hand from her hair to tap at her cheek before securing it back in her soft locks. “If it’s too much, I need you to tap my thigh. Do you understand?”

Felicity blinks, nodding minutely, and Chan can see and feel when she breathes in deep through her nose and swallows, throat fluttering around his cock.

The last bit of his sanity, hanging by a thread, officially snaps.

He lifts her off of his cock, pulling so her lips barely touch the head of him, watches as she gasps for air and spit drools down her chin. She swallows, then opens her mouth again quickly, sticking her tongue out and looking up at Chan.

“Pretty please,” her eyes say, and Chan grits his teeth, guiding himself back into her mouth and groaning at the way she manages to take a little more of him. He fucks her mouth slowly, at first, trying to catch his breath and gather some semblance of control, even as she moans around him every time he fucks into her throat.

He mourns the loss of the braids she had in her hair earlier, wishes she’d kept them in a little longer so he could pull at them, but finds this might be better, especially as he looks at them in the mirror once more, watches as he gathers her hair in a ponytail and uses that to control her. Chan takes in the lovely expanse of her back, all smooth golden freckled skin, eyes zeroing in again on her pretty little feet under her pretty heart shaped ass.

Chan’s not really a feet person.

But he might be for Felicity.

Her hands are flush on her thighs, manicured nails scratching at the tops of them as she tries to focus on being able to take him, on letting him fuck and use her throat to his heart’s content. But Chan doesn’t like the idea of her marring her own skin in such a way, doesn’t want there to be lasting scratches that he didn’t put there himself.

He’s delicate as he pulls her off of him, and her eyes open slowly this time, her gaze syrupy as she stares at him.

“Daddy?” Her voice is fucked, and Chan feels a rush of egotistical pride to know he made it that way. “What’s wrong?”

“Stroke me, Pretty Girl,” he coaxes gently. “Use those pretty hands for me.”

Felicity complies easily, and Chan loosens his grip on her hair when she takes him back into her mouth, bringing her hands up to cover the rest of what she can’t fit. Her big eyes stay on his face, watching for his reactions, what he likes, what he doesn’t like, what he wants more of.

Slowly but surely, her throat manages to take a little more of him, and one of her hands falls away, settling on his thigh while she uses the other to continue stroking what she can’t fit. Her eyes are shut, and little moans continue to work their way out of her throat as she goes, eager to please him.

Chan watches in the mirror as she squirms, rubbing herself against the pillow between her thighs. There’s a wet spot on the fabric already, growing darker the more she sucks at him, the more he fucks her throat. He’s already reached a new level of depravity, so he’s not ashamed to admit within his own private thoughts that there’s a part of him — a concerningly large part of him — that would lick that wet spot of her pillow, if Felicity asked him to, if that was the only way he’d get to taste her.

Or, he could always, you know, ask, like a normal fucking person.

“Pretty Girl,” Chan coos a bit meanly, scratching gently at her scalp, “You’re making such a mess on that pretty pillow of yours.”

Felicity whines around his cock, her eyes fluttering open to peer up at him. Her eyelashes are wet with her tears, pretty hands and mouth wet from where she’s still working his cock.

Chan releases the grip on her hair, smoothing down the strands. He brings one hand up and thumbs away her tears, rubbing the soft, velvet skin of her cheekbone with the other. “Let’s go to the bed, Pretty Girl.”

Felicity gently pulls off his cock, taking a gasping breath. She smiles up at him, pressing a kiss to the head of him and wiping at her messy mouth with her fingers. Chan leans down, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so he can kiss her swollen mouth.

She moans against his mouth, rising up on her knees and burying her hands in his hair so she can deepen the kiss, her hot, silky tongue rubbing against his, spit gathering at the corner of their mouths. Chan gives it right back to her, making the kiss just the right side of nasty as he bends down further, securing his hands under Felicity’s thighs and lifting her up and off the floor, away from the offending pillow.

Felicity gasps in surprise, clinging tightly to Chan’s frame as he brings her legs to settle around his waist, her little ankles locking at the base of his spine as he blindly walks them to her bed. She doesn’t break their kiss for a single moment, her hands and her body clinging to Chan desperately, hips moving in little circles and rubbing her wet cunt all over Chan’s naked abdomen.

When his legs bump into the bed frame, he plants one knee on the bed to gently lower Felicity to the sheets. She releases her hold on him once she’s comfortable, but she doesn’t stop kissing him, too wrapped up in it, too eager now that she has his mouth.

It physically pains him to have to pull away from her — his cock gives a pathetic throb at the lack of proximity — but he does, pressing a flurry of chaste apology kisses to her lips before he rises up, shucking off the flannel shirt and tossing it to the floor behind him.

He can see a whine of protest working its way through Felicity, so he’s quick then as he reaches out, yanking her to the edge of her bed by her thighs and then pushing them up as he gets down onto his knees. She squeals in surprise when Chan wastes no time, burying his face into her wet cunt like a man dying of thirst.

His first taste of her is as heavenly as he expected. She’s warm and wet against his mouth, her plush thighs cradling his head between them and all but burying Chan in the heat of her. Felicity’s moans and mewls are muffled to his ears, but he can feel the way her body practically vibrates with excited energy.

Chan squeezes her thighs in his hands, feeling the give of her skin, the strength in her muscles there, the way they tremble in his hold.

“Hold your legs baby,” he murmurs against her core, humming in a little pleased note when she complies, resting her small hands over his larger ones. Chan removes his hands once Felicity has a good grip, and then he’s pulling her by her waist until her ass hangs off the edge of the bed a little.

It gives Chan the leverage to tilt her body up just a little, so he can cup that pretty heart shaped ass in his hands and hold her pussy to his face, like he’s holding a chalice of communion wine to his lips, drinking his fill of Felicity until he feels holy all over with the taste of her embedded on his tongue, the slick, sticky arousal of her dripping down his chin.

She’s shaking by the time Chan finds it in himself to have mercy on the Pretty Girl beneath him, done exploring her and devouring her with his lips and tongue for his own pleasure and content to focus on making her come until he can swallow her release like a greedy dog. His tongue flicks at her clit and Felicity whines, high and reedy in her throat when he’s sucking it into his mouth in the next second, lapping at it like he’s trying to get to the center of a lollipop.

Quick and gasping breaths make Felicity’s chest heave rapidly as she babbles, a mixture of “Daddy, Daddy please!” and “Oh Daddy there, right there please, yes like that, with your tongue, oh my god —” spilling past her lips.

Chan slips two fingers inside of her, curling them up and fucking them inside of her at the same pace as his tongue. He can feel the way her walls flutter around him, the way her body begins to shake, and he has to put a hand back on her thigh to steady her, keep her where she is so he can satiate his hunger.

When Felicity comes, it’s with a moan that rasps into a scream, her grip on her thighs finally giving out. Her thighs clamp around Chan’s head as she shakes through her orgasm, and Chan welcomes it all as the taste of her floods his mouth and he swallows every drop she has to offer. It’s not till Felicity sighs in relief that Chan pulls away, but only so he can start to clean her up with his tongue, making sure to not let a single bit of Felicity go to waste.

She flinches away when his tongue laps at her clit, her hands diving into his hair and squeezing the strands in her fists as she tugs.

He rises up on his knees at the same time that she sits up, and they meet each other in the middle in an open-mouthed kiss. Felicity chases the taste of herself on his tongue, and Chan lets her have her way, lets her use the grip on his hair to turn him this way and that before she eventually parts from him. His eyes flutter open, something prideful and possessive flooding his veins when he takes in her appearance.

Felicity’s face is flushed a pretty, deep pink, her eyes glassy and tears still caught in her lashes like little diamonds, her hair wild and beautiful around her. Chan’s checking her expression, her demeanor, making sure she’s okay, that it wasn’t too much. Realistically, he just met Felicity today, but he still wants this to be good for her, for her to enjoy herself and take what she wants.

Chan’s about to open his mouth to check in, when she makes a soft noise, her brows furrowing as her eyes roam over his face. He only catches a split second of the devious look on her face before she’s sliding off the bed and into his lap, his hands barely having time to hold onto her waist to steady her before she’s gripping at his hair to tilt his head back a little.

She looms over him, her sharp, pretty teeth smiling before she opens her mouth a little, that dangerous tongue slipping out, and then she’s licking at his chin, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and —

She’s cleaning him, Chan realizes, gathering her arousal from where she’s made a mess of his face, tongue licking in fat, soft stripes as she goes. She hums softly to herself, pleased, as she works, and Chan can’t help the depraved thought as she starts to rub herself against his body that it’s all very cat like.

Chan would let Felicity treat him like a scratch post, he thinks. Would let her do whatever she wanted as long as she sunk her claws deep into him and never let him go. Images of Felicity in cat ears as blonde as her hair, with a matching butt plug at the end of a fluffy tail run through his mind. He imagines himself on the floor beneath her, her leash around his neck, sharp claws digging possessive, marking lines into his chest.

“Daddy,” she purrs against his jaw. “Want your cock.”

Chan shivers when he feels her teeth nip at the skin below her lips. She rises up on her knees, reaching between them and notching his cock at her entrance. Felicity sinks down without any warning, and his hands squeeze her waist, shocked and overwhelmed at the tight, silky slide of her pussy.

She takes him to the hilt in one breath and their moans echo around the room, both their bodies shuddering in pleasure once she’s fully seated on top of him. Chan welcomes the way she seizes his mouth then, the kiss slightly uncoordinated when she begins to bounce on his cock.

“F-fuck,” she stutters out against his mouth, the grip she has on Chan’s hair tightening.

“S’ it good, Pretty Girl?” He murmurs, nipping at her plush bottom lip. “You feel good on Daddy’s cock?”

Felicity laughs. “Feels so good Daddy,” she sounds a little insane as she says it. It only turns Chan on more, makes his dick throb from where it’s buried in her tight little cunt. She leans back a little, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it to her stomach. “Can feel you right here, see?”

Chan does see, is the insane thing. He can see where his cock pokes out, making her stomach bulge a little, and his hips practically buck up in response. Felicity cries out, her cunt clamping down around him and making Chan see stars.

“Ah, baby,” he hisses, bucking his hips up once more. “So fucking tight.”

“For you, Daddy,” Felicity smiles. She releases her grip on his hair to wind her arms around his shoulders. “S’ all yours.”

“Yeah? Just me?” Chan taunts, grinding his cock deeper. “Nobody else, Pretty Girl?”

“No Daddy, no one, I just — ah!” Chan’s hands tighten around her waist, and he punches his hips up at the same time he pulls her down onto his cock, fucking into her tight, beautiful heat as deep as he can manage. He does it again, and again, and Felicity chases after it, starting to bounce on him at a near frantic pace.

“No one?” Chan grits out through his teeth, a hot lightning strike of jealousy coursing through his veins, blood like molten lava even as Felicity rides his cock like her life depends on it. “You weren’t waiting for some random man to come by so he could fuck you? I could’ve been anybody, baby, and you just showed your pretty body to me so easily.”

Felicity takes a shuddering breath, her brows furrowed as she pouts. “Wouldn’t have showed it to anyone else. Just you.”

Chan latches onto her the top of her breast, sucking hard and biting down a bit meanly, wanting his mark etched into his Pretty Girl’s skin, wanting it to stay and remain long after he’s finished with her here. Felicity cries out when his teeth scrape against her, even as her pussy clenches around him. “Daddy! Feels so good, please.”

“Why me, Pretty Girl?” He coos, switching to her other breast.

Felicity shudders, and he can feel the way her body tenses when he teases his tongue near her nipple. “Just needed you,” she sighs, completely blissed out while fucking herself on his cock. She breathes in, a semblance of a hiccup, and tightens her hold around him.

“Needed me, baby?” He sucks her nipple into his mouth, and he can feel the way she pulses around him again — she’s getting close, he can tell — so he scrapes his teeth against it, laughing when she shivers in his embrace.

“Please Daddy,” Felicity begs, “I’m so close.”

“Focus baby,” he chides, humming against her nipple. “Daddy asked you a question, didn’t he?”

She nods, resting her forehead atop his and kissing him. “Needed you, Daddy, just you.”

“Show me, then” he coaxes, “Come on Daddy’s cock.”

Felicity cries out when Chan immediately sucks her nipple into his mouth, and then she’s coming around him, securing his cock in a tight grip as her body shudders in his hold, crying out his name in a desperate plea.

Emotion floods Chan’s system, and his hands fall to her thighs once more, rising onto his knees and then to his feet so he can carry her to the bed. “Good baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Came twice for me already and Daddy’s barely had his cock in you for five minutes, huh?”

He slips out when she’s resting on the sheets, and he moves her up the bed so she can rest comfortably among her pillows. He walks on his knees until he’s settled between her legs. She reaches for him, and he goes to her easily, kissing her softly.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she murmurs against his mouth, parting from him with a happy sigh as he rights himself again, sitting up and back against his haunches. Chan is gentle but his hands are firm when they press against the backs of her thighs, pushing them back towards her until Felicity is nearly folded in half. Her hands come to cover his so she can hold herself open for him, and he can’t help but stop to admire the gorgeous sight she makes.

Pretty and golden and pink, pussy glistening in the light of the room, winking at him from where she wants him most.

His hands run over the silky-smooth skin, trailing down to her ass and then back up her legs, all the way to her ankles on each side before he rises up on his knees and notches his cock back into her pussy, the two of them groaning when he’s fully seated again.

Chan leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Felicity’s lips as he props himself up above her, and catches sight of a familiar design out of the corner of his eye.

He turns his head, notices Felicity’s pretty, dainty foot where it slightly rests near his shoulder, and the cursive “C” she has tattooed on her ankle, right next to the outline of an intertwined sun and moon.

Chan can’t help himself — he grabs hold of the sole of Felicity’s foot to press a kiss to the tattoo, murmuring her name as he thumbs over the design.

“Chris,” she beckons quietly. He turns his attention back to her, dropping his hand to fit back to her waist as he thrusts forward. Felicity moans, releasing the hold she has on her thighs so she can cup his face in her hands. Her thumb rubs behind his ear, over where he has a matching tattoo — an “F” next to the outline of an intertwined sun and moon — pressing the pad of her finger against it as he crashes his mouth to hers.

His Pretty Girl.

His Felicity.

His beautiful wife.

Chan can feel the way the façade drops from around them, can feel it in the way their bodies become more relaxed, the way Felicity’s body begins to respond to his in the way it always has, how even just by a change in her breathing that he knows the scene is over, and that she’s just his Felicity again.

“Did so good for me,” he murmurs against her mouth, kissing her sweetly. “Played so well, Pretty Girl.”

“You too,” she gasps when he fucks in deep. “So fucking hot, Daddy. S’ not even fair.”

“Me?” He laughs, nipping at her bottom lip, digging his fingers into her waist. “You’re the one who didn’t play fair, baby. Teasing me the whole time with your pretty ass, gorgeous tits.”

Felicity laughs, delirious and drunk on pleasure. “Had to, Daddy. Needed you to lose control.”

“I always do when it comes to you, baby.” Chan gathers her close, flipping them until she’s on top. “I lose control only so I can give it to you, isn’t that right, Angel?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Felicity says with a smile, accepting his kiss as her hair falls like a curtain around them.

God, Chan thinks. After all this time, I’m still so pathetically in love with her.

She’s the picture of divinity when she rises up, placing her hands on his chest, manicured nails digging into his pecs as she starts to ride him. Chan puts his hands behind his head, flexing his muscles the way he knows his wife loves, content to watch her as she fucks herself on his cock.

Felicity gets this angry kitten look on her face when she sees his muscles, leans forward to adjust the angle, and Chan groans when her cunt squeezes down just right. His mouth parts a little when she rises up, feels the way she clenches around him as she sinks back down.

“Little fucking tease,” he grits out.

She smirks, leaning forward even more, looping her hands under his head and lacing their fingers together. Felicity sinks forward, letting her tits bounce in Chan’s face. “You like it when I tease you, Daddy. S’ why you married me.”

Chan married Felicity for about a thousand reasons, truthfully. The way she manages to tease him when they’re intimate was reason four hundred and twenty-seven.

Four hundred and twenty-six, maybe.

“Pretty Girl,” he basically agrees. “Where’d you hide your ring this time?”

She gets shy now, hips slowing as her head turns towards the mirror. Chan sits up, then, to get a better look.

At one of the top corners of the floor length mirror, he spots it — a dainty gold chain and at the end, like a pendant, her pretty wedding ring fused to her engagement ring, the diamonds on it glinting in the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window.

Chan’s smiling when he looks back at her, and she tilts her head, her own curious little smile on her lips as she slowly starts to fuck him again. “Where’s yours, Daddy?”

“In my wallet,” he answers easily. He’d left it on the kitchen counter before he’d gone out to drive the stupid rental car into the pothole. He’s surprised Felicity didn’t notice it, since it was there when she invited him inside. She usually tends to clean a little before they get into scenes like this, always insistent on them being as authentic as possible.

Felicity snorts a little, rolling her eyes. Chan nips at her jaw playfully, and when she squeals in delight, he flips them back over, cradling her close to him as he drops his full weight onto her.

She sighs happily, wrapping her limbs around him and burying her face into his neck as Chan starts to fuck her in earnest again, murmuring his name along with a happy string of praises.

He feels his orgasm creep up slowly, like thick, dripping honey as it works his way up his spine.

“Gonna come, baby,” he pants, “You gonna come with me?”

Felicity nods, and he turns his head so she can kiss him while one of his hands moves down to her pretty pussy, rubbing her clit in tight circles the way he knows she loves. It’s easier now, to make her come, to get her to that point without pretending that he has to learn how, without pretending that they don’t know every minute detail of each other’s bodies, their souls.

Her third orgasm hits Chan’s wife like a freight train, her body practically quaking beneath him, and he follows suit quickly, groaning into her mouth as he shudders on top of her. His wife swallows down the sound, licks into his mouth sweetly and petting a hand over his sweaty curls, the other rubbing up and down his naked back.

He’s careful as he rolls them over so he’s on his back once more, his beautiful wife tucked against his chest as they bask in the late afternoon sun spilling through their bedroom window.

Time passes like molasses for a while. Chan’s content to just hold Felicity, to let her rest on top of him and relax into the bed beneath him.

The farm house is something Chan’s still getting used to. He’d bought it last year, after Felicity had visited one with Lily, wanting nothing more than as much land as she could have to plant as many flowers and other plants as she desired. And as her husband, Chan would always give Felicity what she wanted.

He’d encouraged her to decorate it as she saw fit, wanted her to fill every corner of their little getaway home with bits and pieces of her. Chan wanted no part of himself in here other than his physical body — he wanted to be able to step into the home and be surrounded by his wife, by the things she loves and adores.

Her turning the house into their little fantasy roleplay getaway was an added bonus.

They’re snapped out of their little daze by the aggressive vibration of Chan’s phone, lost somewhere among the bedsheets.

Felicity snorts. “That’s probably your mom.”

Chan winces. It probably is, considering Lily is actually getting married later this weekend. “How mad do you think she’s going to be that we’re now” — Chan glances at the clock on the wall — “Over an hour late?”

“Oh she’ll be mad, alright,” Felicity laughs, curling up against Chan’s chest, clearly having no intention of moving, even though they probably should at least get up to go shower and put on clean clothes. “But you leave that to me, she’ll be fine.”

Chan can’t deny that that’s true — his mother adores Felicity, she always has — and that he’ll probably only get half a lecture about timeliness from his mom if Felicity’s the one who pleads their case.

He presses a kiss to his brilliant, beautiful wife’s forehead now. “I love you, Pretty Girl.”

She snuffles happily against his chest. “I love you, too. Thank you for playing with me today.”

“Always, baby,” Chan swears. And he means it.