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“How much longer?”
You sighed, knowing the answer would deceive both of you. “Twenty minutes or so.”
“Mmh.” König's hand moved from your thigh to your stomach, longer fingers stretching dangerously close to your crotch.
You tried bargaining again. “I told you we can turn it off.”
“I don't mind waiting.”
“Come on, I've seen it a bunch of times. I already know what happens,” you whined.
“But it's your favorite.” You'd have been flattered to see your boyfriend care so much about your interests if it wasn't for the fact that he only did it to torture you.
About half an hour ago, he'd said those same words to you, struggling to find the appeal of watching half a movie, let alone one you knew by heart. But you seemed so happy to stumble upon your so-called favorite that he didn't feel like deterring you. That was as far as his understanding went though. He didn't bother acting intrigued, knowing you didn't expect that much from him. It was well established that König wasn't a big fan of fiction, and the lack of context did nothing to help him want to pay attention to what was happening on screen.
König knew a quick fix to his boredom, but he wasn't sure how you'd take it. It felt a tad disrespectful and selfish to ask you to drop everything and do what would please him instead. So he chose to suck it up. Well, at least for a moment.
At first you didn’t pay much mind to his hand sneaking under your–his–shirt, stopping on your hip for a reaction. It was a bit chilly in your apartment, but you preferred cuddling against your boyfriend’s hot body rather than putting on pants. Therefore, he was free to rub his thumb in soothing circles near your hip bone, which, again, wasn’t too unexpected coming from him. Because you were laying sideways, his other arm served as a cushion for you. You nestled back against him, slothing your cold feet between his. You could never resist being pressed up against him like this, even when you had nothing else in mind, which made you a bit oblivious to how he could feel about it. He moved with you, bringing his hand to your shoulder instead of letting it dangle off the couch. He was closing in on you like a trap and you had no idea.
“What’s so nice about this movie?”
“It’s hard to explain why you like something… Now that you asked, I don’t know if I'd have liked it that much if I saw it for the first time today…”
König didn’t hear anything you said after that. Making you talk was a great distraction, allowing him to slide his hand towards the inside of your thighs. They were clamped together, so all he could do for now was wait for an opening. He could feel your chest rumble with your explanation, but none of the words were reaching his brain. He just hummed affirmatively, pressing a series of kisses to your shoulder. You fit together like two puzzle pieces, and in a moment of distraction, he allowed his hips to lightly grind against you.
“What are you doing?” you asked, both incredulous and amused.
The question took him a minute to process, realizing after a moment of silence that it was aimed at him and not just part of your monologue. “Nothing. Getting comfortable.”
“Sure.”
Now your attention was directed there, you did notice the feeling of his growing erection against you. Casually, you slipped your hand over his, and he didn’t dare move for a few minutes. It was hard to tell whether you were putting a stop to his antics or pushing him to go further. Either way, König didn’t have a lot of resolve. Sooner rather than later, his palm traveled up, pushing your shirt up in its way. Yours was limp, allowing him to take you along with him. So you weren’t opposed. Interesting.
You ended up moving out of the way, leaving him to grope your chest freely. You arched into his touch, thus grinding back against him. He reciprocated, though he tapped into the sliver of control he had left not to do it twice. He toyed with your nipples alternately, pinching and rolling them between his fingers. It earned quiet gasps from you, and your hand reached out blindly to settle onto his hip.
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Feels nice,” you sighed, voice hushed.
“The movie,” he clarified, pleased that you fell for it.
“Ah. That too.” Truth is, your eyes were too unfocused to even know where it was at.
König continued his assault on your chest, leaning down to nip at your neck. You repositioned your head, granting him further access, and slid a hand into his hair. He hummed, leaving a mark below your ear. His touch traveled south, hand stopping on your stomach for a beat, hot and possessive like a fire branding. You had mindlessly shifted your leg, resting your foot on the couch because your own skin suddenly felt too warm. An open invitation for König’s hand to nest between your thighs.
A sigh escaped you when he caressed your core through your panties, sparks blooming in your stomach as he put more pressure on your clit the second time around. Soon enough, you were panting as he touched you, petting your pussy through the fabric as if it wasn’t even there.
You turned your head to look at him, and found him already watching you. As you parted your lips to ask–beg–for more, he hushed you.
“Don’t pay attention to me, look at the TV.” The hand resting on your shoulder guided your face away, and you complied, a bit disoriented.
It was hard to ignore him when he was looming over you like a hawk. Something about seeing you fight to focus was turning him on. Your whole body yearned for him, and yet you had to pretend like you weren’t affected.
“I know what you need, you don’t have to tell me,” he affirmed. Your panties got pulled to the side as he spoke, exposing you.
Your shirt was pushed high up your waist, and you suddenly felt very naked. Those thoughts quickly dissipated when his finger wandered between your lips, collecting your arousal. You gave a true moan this time, hips twitching in his grasp. The bastard hushed you again, though his ministrations didn’t seize. Still, you mechanically obeyed, attempting to keep your noises down and your stirring minimal.
Minutes later, your lips were bitten raw, struggling not to moan as his fingers went to town inside of you. It was the right pace, the perfect amount of pressure, and you cursed him for knowing you so well. Before long, your orgasm hit you, turning you into a twitching mess in König’s arms.
Dazed, you watched his hand pass by your face, barely registering that he was licking his fingers clean. You saw a window of opportunity, feeling around behind you until you met his erection. He groaned as your fingers stroked the outline of his cock.
“Patience.”
He brushed your hand away and pulled on the cords of his sweatpants. The couch dipped as he shifted around, pulling his cock out. He stroked it once, twice, before aiming it between your legs. You whined when he brushed against your clit, slowly rubbing his tip up and down through your wetness. After what felt like an eternity, he paused at your entrance and began sliding inside. He gripped the back of your knee, keeping your legs apart, but you were so wet that he slipped in without resistance. You could hear him sigh as he buried himself home, and you deplored not being able to see his face.
You moaned with him, uttering a crude, hungry, “Fuck me.”
König didn’t react right away, instead forcing his breathing to go back to normal. He made sure he was as deep as physically possible before letting your leg down.
“The movie isn’t over yet,” he finally said, like that was a logical way to answer your plea. What did that have to do with anything? His grip on your hip wasn’t allowing you much movement, and you soon realized he wasn’t planning on moving either.
“König…”
“You feel so good, I could stay like this forever.” Forever seemed a bit too long for you. So did the final act of the movie. You cursed the characters for not finding a resolution quicker. Dragged out endings were good when you craved a dose of suspense. Not when your boyfriend’s cock was buried deep inside of you, motionless because of it.
“Where’s the remote? I can turn it off.”
“No, we’re going to watch it.” He sounded so serious you almost sobbed in protest. It was even worse to hear him include himself, as if he gave two fucks about how the story ended.
That is how you found yourself in your current situation, trying to convince König that your favorite movie wasn’t even worth watching. He had a discipline of steel, staying true to his word and doing his best not to give you any sort of satisfaction, keeping you full of dick and frustration. It was torture for him too, which you tried to play to your advantage, but all it did was make him hold you even tighter.
An eternity went by until you could finally announce, “That’s the last scene.”
You heard him curse under his breath, his facade cracking. “Endlich…”
His eyes were fixated on the screen, counting the seconds between shots. They somehow seemed longer and longer. Each one felt like the last, and yet it kept going.
“König please…” you whined, too far gone to care about sounding so desperate. “You’re not gonna make me watch the credits, right?” you joked, voice shaky with a hint of genuine concern. It wasn't below him, but you were pretty sure you’d die if he made you endure as little as an additional minute.
The first name rolled around and his hips spurred into motion, dragging his cock out in a painfully slow motion. You both couldn’t help a moan as he thrust back in, finally granting you real stimulation.
You gasped, nails digging into his side as if to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “Don’t stop.”
He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Now that his restraint had snapped, there was nothing on his mind beside the gnawing need to repeatedly bury himself inside of you. His hand moved to your neck, not quite choking you but providing a firm hold that assured you didn’t bounce too far. He was once again holding your leg up, granting himself the space to hit deeper. Each thrust was more unbridled than the former, but he always made sure not to keep you empty for too long.
Proximity aside, he was loud, louder than he’d ever been. There was usually some sweet talk involved when he was pressed up against your ear like that, but right now, even he couldn't decipher the gibberish that fell out of his mouth. He was mixing up languages, words getting cut off by grunts you only heard when he was in pain. And fuck, maybe he was; denying himself the pleasure of having you was pure barbary. The sheer desperation in his voice made you wet enough to hear it, so wet in fact that on one deep thrust he slipped out. Your hands bumped into each other as you both rushed to get him back inside. König was quicker, pushing into you as soon as his tip brushed your entrance. His slick fingers landed on your clit, the rocking of his thrusts enough to stimulate you. It punched moan after moan out of you, and you didn’t remember when you’d last said a coherent sentence.
You reached down to lay a hand over König’s, splaying your fingers on either side of your lips to feel the stretch. He damn near lost his mind when you went even lower, balls drawing so tight he thought he might cum on the spot as you brushed against them. Gallantry was the only thing holding him together at this point. His fingers came to life on your clit, impatience getting the best of him. And soon enough you were chanting his name, writhing and panting until your voice broke. König couldn’t even talk you through it, too focused on keeping his orgasm at bay while the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy did everything to draw it out of him.
You squirmed, hands seeking purchase wherever you could. The following instant your whole body tensed up, the sheer force of your orgasm mobilizing what felt like every single muscle in your body. You didn’t know how loud you were moaning or if you’d had your voice knocked out of you, ears buzzing with the rush of blood. The shape of your nails was stamped deep into König’s skin, a last resort attempt to keep yourself grounded as your vision went white.
When at last you slumped back against him, he couldn’t hold it anymore, all finesse and reserve long gone as he started chasing his own orgasm. Just like yours had, his hand looked for something to hold onto. He settled for a soft spot on your stomach, your skin folding into his grip like a mere bedsheet. There was a stinging, almost painful sensation, but it was eclipsed by the fact that you made him feel this good. Profanities stumbled out of his mouth until he was cut off with a whine, shuddering behind you as he finally, finally came. He panted, hot against your neck, spasms driving his trembling hips into you a few more times.
König let his head fall back against the couch, breathing out a curse as cold air hit his blazing face. He’d rarely had his mind this foggy after his orgasm had already subsided, but for now, he was basking in it. The room was quiet except for the sound of you two trying to catch your breaths, the TV turned off after a long period of inactivity.
He finally stirred, pushing your hair out of the way, and you met him halfway for a kiss. He then placed one on your temple, before murmuring sweet praise into your ear. You relaxed back against him, eyes falling shut. He was still inside of you, your thighs bound together by a variety of sticky fluids you didn’t feel like dealing with just yet.
“We should move,” he mumbled, the embrace he had you in saying otherwise.
“It can wait.”