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And then he's sitting on the edge of the bed with his jeans thrown to his ankles, bunching around his Docs and rooting him to the spot, and Lottie's kneeling in front of him. Her eyes are flickering with this odd little mixture of recognition and curiosity, and she... Fuck. She literally just licked her lips, her tongue a quick swipe as she rakes her curls out of her face to better look at him.
Nat bites the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to bury his mouth in his sleeve and scream about it.
Lottie’s mouth, on the other hand, is drifting downward. She’s grinning now, and Nat’s heart fills at the sight. He forgot how much he loved that jagged canine she has on the right, the way it peeps out and flashes whenever she smiles, laughs, bites... As if she read his mind, Lottie leans in to kiss his naked thigh, dragging her teeth across the skin and making Nat’s breath hitch. Her hands come to his knees and push them apart, and then she’s sucking the inside of his leg before pressing a sweet kiss to the fresh hickey she’s left him.
The sight of Lottie so close, the feel of her breath, the suction of her mouth—yeah, it’s making Nat hard. It’s a sensation he never gets tired of because, fuck, it’s just so good. There’s something special in the way everything gets a little firmer, a little tighter, the fucking swell of it all. Realizing his mouth has parted and shutting it with a snap, he glances between his own legs and shivers. It’s definitely a different way to be with someone. It’s more vulnerable, to strain like this, to have your desire so visibly known.
And Nat’s not been with Lottie for a while. Shit, not for at least two years now. And even if he thinks past the way she’s currently kissing and tonguing at his thigh, he has to wonder… Will Lottie still like him like this? Will she like him how he is now?
Taking a break from lavishing Nat’s leg, Lottie’s gaze drifts back to his center, and he feels himself start to blush. Because it’s so fucking obvious how much she’s affecting him, and he doesn’t know—well, he doesn’t know if—
“Fuck,” breathes Lottie, a simple syllable that buries itself in Nat’s stomach and kicks up an inferno. She glances up at him, eyes sparkling with something devilish. “That’s so fucking hot, Nat.”
At a loss for words and positively throbbing, Nat’s embarrassed that his primal fucking response is to scoot forward on the bed and spread his legs wider. He’s aching so badly to be touched, and he can’t help it. Groaning, he brings his right hand to his crotch and lets his dick slip between his middle and index fingers before pulling back a bit. He doesn’t know when he started doing this before sex, but it’s always felt so natural—to rock up and down with his fingers, pumping a little and drawing himself out.
Below, Lottie’s eyes are bright and fascinated. She makes a breathless sound when he touches himself, and the timbre of it has Nat wanting to yank her face into him and bury his hands in her hair.
He doesn’t though. He’s still hesitant. He’s still trying to figure out how much Lottie wants this.
“Can I kiss you?” Lottie asks, and Nat smiles at the dissonance of the question. Of course, she’s asked him it before—what feels like a lifetime ago now—and it’s sweet. But he’s different now, and he needs different things than back then. Nat doesn’t bother to tell Lottie that though. Instead, he gives an affirmative grunt, a familiar tension building in his abdomen. He figures, if Lottie has stuck with him this far and is seriously considering taking him in her mouth, well… They’ll catch each other’s drift in the process.
Letting his hand fall away from the pump, sighing at the release of it, he finds the back of Lottie’s shoulders and rubs encouraging circles. Looking so hungry it makes Nat’s stomach clench, Lottie bends forward, pauses briefly as she nears him, and then cuts the distance and presses a wet mouth to the tip of him.
It’s hard to explain how it feels. Certainly, it’s not the same as in the past—there’s been a definite before and after with testosterone. Basically, there’s a lot more of Nat to work with. And he’s not quite as fragile either. It’s tender—sometimes more so than others—but he’s also, to be so fucking frank, quite jerkable now. Touching himself over the course of this journey has been a delicious adventure. Over time, the intuition built—cautiously, and then ravenously—about just how rough he can get with himself. You know. How much he can pull… how savagely he can stroke… how hard he likes to be sucked…
God, it’s so fucking different. And it’s so fucking good.
So, when Lottie kisses him, it’s a bit of a spark, but it’s not all that much yet. His thighs twitch when she starts at him with the flat of her tongue, gliding up and down his cock and getting him all warm and wet. Nat likes this better than the kiss, and he grunts into the feel of Lottie’s mouth as his hands start to tangle in her hair, coaxing her closer.
Dark eyes flicking up to watch his expression, Lottie keeps at it, lapping at him. Because he’s bigger and she doesn’t have to search for him, she sort of bobs her head as she tastes him, and the sight of hair swept over her neck as she chases the perfect angle to lick him is so fucking hot. It has Nat rocking his hips up into her, trying to grind.
And yeah, Lottie’s mouth feels good, especially when she swirls her tongue to either side of him—a move that makes his knees tremble. But it’s still… Just surface level. Just shy of what he needs.
After a moment, Lottie takes a breath, flicking Nat upward in a way that zings pleasantly. She falls back from him and raises an eyebrow, looking honest to God a bit pouty.
“I remember being better at this,” she says.
Nat blinks, fingers still wrapped in her curls, and he opens his mouth before closing it, unsure what to say.
Between his legs, Lottie’s not having it. “Well, hell, Nat. Don’t save my feelings. Tell me what you need.” At this, she digs her nails into Nat’s knees, and he can’t help but laugh, his chest shaking with it. Because this demand is so fucking Lottie Matthews. Her face says it all: she came here with a purpose—to make Nat come—and shit, he guesses she thinks he’s wasting her time. He keeps laughing.
In front of him, Lottie pouts. “And now you’re—what—laughing in my face? Really?” Despite herself, Lottie is chuckling too, her frown splitting into a toothy little grin. It’s a moment before their laughter dies down, and then she’s moving to trace the skin of Nat’s thigh, her expression growing so intent that his throat tightens.
Watching her own hand move, Lottie speaks in a dusky voice that’s sparking memories. “C’mon, Nat…” That’s the voice she’s used to get Nat to do just about anything in the past. God, Lottie fucking Matthews. What a goddamn siren. “I’ll do anything,” she tells him.
Feeling a little lightheaded at the implication of that, Nat averts his eyes and fights off a blush. He admits, hating how bashful he’s grown, a simple truth: “It, uh… Well... It feels good when you suck.”
There’s a brief pause where Lottie’s brows pull together, and she kind of nods to herself. Nat can almost hear her think, Wow, no fucking shit. And then there’s no preamble at all. She ducks her head down, taking him full in her mouth, lets her lips sort of settle around the girth of him, and she…
“Fuck,” Nat groans, fingers curling into Lottie’s hair as she wets him. The hot feel of her mouth, the tug of her, is making him see stars. And the way Lottie’s tongue is still fucking moving, lingering beneath and at the sides of him while she pulls his dick out, mouths him whole, the suction of it all...
It’s over in a second, and Nat’s bucking his hips for more when Lottie slides away with a literal pop.
“Oh, that’s fun,” she comments, eyes a little hazy and lips a bit wet, and Nat wonders if he’s going to survive this.
“C’mere,” he begs, hands falling to her neck and urging her back to him. Looking smug now, Lottie complies, and she takes him whole again, a lazy tongue drifting down the length of him before she sucks down.
Something feral is breaking loose in Nat as he watches Lottie begin to move up and down. She seems to have gotten the memo about what exactly they’re doing here because her whole demeanor has shifted, and fuck, she’s really giving him head right now. And fuck, she really seems to be enjoying it.
Humming against Nat, Lottie sucks in a flurry, happy to let her tongue loll and lap at him while he’s still in her mouth. Every time she breaks away, her eyes drift to his face, her expression growing so intense that it’s making Nat shudder and growl.
For his part, he’s mostly fighting off the urge to lose it and fuck Lottie’s face in full. At this point, he’s pretty sure that she would let him—and Lord help Nat, that she would like it. But he’s not ready to get rough just yet. Not when Lottie’s being so sweet and still learning how to work him.
The next time Lottie pulls back with another obscene pop, Nat is panting. He looks down in time to see Lottie burying her face in his inner thigh as she groans a strangled sound into his damp skin. “You’re getting so big,” she tells him, and Nat’s stomach drops, prompting him to glance between his legs.
He never was really “small” to begin with—something Lottie had always liked pre-T—and he’s grown a bit since. But now… Yeah, there’s something so hot about how he gets when he’s been pumped and sucked off. Lottie’s mouth has left him flushed, aching, so taut for her. She’s right—he is big now, straining so hard. And he’s desperate to be jerked, to be sucked, to shove himself into something hot and wet.
“Can we…?” Nat’s not even sure how to ask this question. Usually, when it comes to this part, he’s already on top of the other person, and they’re already spread and waiting for him. The idea of feeling Lottie like that—in a way he’s certainly felt her before, but not like this, not like he is now—is making his neck hot and his palms sweaty.
Resting a cheek to his thigh and lazily reaching out to trace him, firm fingers circling his cock and tugging a bit in a way that makes Nat hiss, Lottie watches him. “Can we what, Nat?” she asks, getting a little too smug for his liking.
He sighs, letting his hands retreat from Lottie’s head to tousle his own hair. He sweeps his messy mop—no different than how it’s ever been—out of his eyes before scratching the barely-there, mostly-shaven stubble on his jaw. He tries to remind himself that this is Lottie. They’ve fucked countless times before—she’s seen him in every way that matters. And yeah, it’s been more time between their fuck sessions than usual. And yeah, he’s different now…
But Lottie is still his girl. And God help him, it’s like nothing has changed between them. Not really. Lottie is looking at him like he’s a goddamn prey animal right now, and what could be more normal than that?
“You want to feel me?” he asks through a shudder, and there’s a beat where Lottie stops tracing him. Her face sparks with interest, like she’s pre-gaming the proposition in her mind and coming to the conclusion that, Yes. Yes, she fucking does.
Nat’s mouth falls open when she immediately gets to work, ripping off his shoes like a vetted service top and pulling his jeans the rest of the way off. Then she’s standing, hiking up her dress, and shoving down her panties before tossing them across the room.
Oh God. Nat has the faintest glimpse of Lottie when she takes the panties off, the shine between her legs mingling with her wolfish grin and the darkness in her eyes, and fuck. He’s about to move, about to make some space on the bed for her, so he can fall into his usual position—get her under him, kick her thighs apart, and coordinate how best to get himself in contact—
But apparently, Nat’s usual position isn’t what Lottie’s interested in. Because now she’s pressing her hands into his shoulders and pushing him flat on his back. Nat blinks, his breath catching as his knees remain hooked at the edge of the bed, legs dangling. He makes a downright ridiculous sound when Lottie crawls on top of him, straddling his thighs and bunching her dress around her waist.
Lottie’s pubic bone is hovering over him now, and Nat glimpses the scatter of dark hair beneath her hiked skirts. The sight has always made him a little crazy, and all he wants now is to flip her over, dive between her legs, and put his mouth there—devour everything she’s got. But he resists the urge. Because, suddenly, looking up at Lottie staring down at him through her curls… He’s realizing his invitation to feel him has translated to Lottie as to ride him. And there’s something just so… Just so…
Well, there’s something just so fucking hot about that.
“Do that thing with your hand again,” she murmurs down at him, and Nat’s horny brain has to buffer for a beat before he catches her drift. Feeling like some kind of snared creature, he shoves his hand between his own legs, letting his dick ride between his middle and index finger again. He pulls back, exposing more himself, swollen and ready for her.
Clearly turned on by the gesture and the sight of him, Lottie steadies one hand into the ruffled bedsheets by his hips while the other tugs his shirt up, pulling it away from his abdomen. She chuckles a little when she glimpses his faint treasure trail, and she lets her fingers run over his skin, the grazed contact causing Nat to twitch with anticipation.
“You ready?” she whispers, and it’s so fucking sweet at the same time as it’s also making Nat start to get a bit wet himself, the flushed feel of it making his dick pulse. In answer, he pulls himself back more, so turned on at the way his dick slides between his fingers. He’s so hard for Lottie.
All it takes is another grunt of affirmation, and then Lottie’s lowering down on him, and Nat’s seeing stars at the wetness, the warmth, the softness of her as he slides between her folds. He can feel how worked up she’s gotten for him, the collateral accumulating on the fingers he’s using to offer up his dick. It’s sticky and hot.
“Fuck, baby,” Lottie is gasping over Nat, her hand growing firm on his abdomen as she struggles to keep balance. She’s rocking down on him, trying desperately to bring him deeper. “That’s all for me?”
God, the way she’s talking to him is going to make Nat lose it. His dick feels so taut, so white-hot, that he brings his free hand to his face and bites his sleeve to keep from crying out. He’s growling into the fabric, his hips rocking up, bucking hard and hungry. There’s something to that and testosterone too. The way Nat has this unbearable urge to rut now. The way everything in him wants to fuck.
Lottie is riding him, bringing her pelvis forward so that he’s not just sliding through her, he’s actually at her entrance and going inside. Nat shudders at the feel of her walls around him, so intimate and grooved as they hug the tip of his dick. He’s realizing he doesn’t even need to hold himself back anymore because this position, the way Lottie is grinding down on him, has made him harder than he’s ever been. He’s so goddamn big for her.
Hand seemingly free to pursue other things, he finds it drifting between Lottie’s legs, and he dips his fingers into her, circling her clit while she hugs and rides his dick with her entrance. And the sound she makes when he does that—the animal growl and the heat of it. Nat whimpers, feeling a trickle at his inner thigh that makes him want to turn his face to the side and shout into the sheets. He doesn’t always like getting fucked himself—he has to be in the right mood for it—but Lottie… If she keeps making sounds like that, he’d be more than willing to let her pound him all night.
Something to explore later, for sure.
As it stands, he’s pounding her, and it’s so fucking delicious. As his fingers continue to circle and slide through her, he brings his other hand to her hip and digs his nails into the fabric of her dress. He’s bucking hard now, their pelvises gnashing somewhat painfully, but the bright pleasure of touching, of sliding, of being connected like this overrides any discomfort.
Above him, Lottie’s brow is furrowing, and Nat can feel her clit getting a bit swollen, her core almost pulsing in his hand. For his part, his dick is starting to feel so raw, so brought out by slipping in and out of her. It’s not straightforward; rather, it’s messy, and sometimes she loses grip of him as she rides. But she always reorients, and the friction of coming back inside her is making something unfathomable build in Nat’s stomach.
“Don’t stop,” he growls as Lottie’s hand tangles into the bedsheets at his side, her other palm growing firm and flat on his abdomen in a way that only builds the pressure. Nat’s panting hard and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last. Lottie’s riding everything out of him, sapping up his throbbing cock and leaving him with an unbearable swell. The thought of coming into her has him grinding his teeth. The thought of letting loose inside. Fuck.
“It's so good,” she’s murmuring as his fingers continue to circle her, and her ass starts to make an obscene sound as it hits his thighs, their mingled wetness blatant and crazy-making. “God, Nat, you’re so fucking good.”
Lottie’s moans and breathy encouragements continue on, rambles of how much she’s enjoying this, how good he’s fucking her, and it’s not much longer before Nat loses it. His fingers stutter on her clit, and he forces himself to continue rubbing her through his own climax. At her hip, his hand grips hard as his thighs twitch, and his legs spread, and he gasps and growls and shoves his face into the bedsheets, shutting his eyes and groaning into a sweating, feverish pile.
Above him, Lottie only stammers out a few more grinds—lightning on Nat’s tender cock—before she’s tumbling over the edge too. Moaning, she throws herself over him, kisses him hotly, slips her tongue inside, and rides out the pleasure. It’s a few moments of this before they’re sagging into each other, a pile of shaking limbs and shuddering chests.
Lottie presses her forehead to Nat’s, nips at his cheek, and then smiles into his neck. For his part, the blaze in his stomach is like an imprint on the back of his eyes, and he’s feeling all sorts of dazed as he looks at Lottie on top of him.
“You’re still into me,” Nat observes, a bit stupidly, and the statement makes Lottie laugh into his collar bone.
“Of course, I am,” she mumbles, and Nat can still feel the remnants of their lovemaking in between and on top of his thighs. Lottie is flush against him, her naked legs clammy against his own. “You were worried?”
He’s not sure how to answer that because… Well, why shouldn’t he be? It makes sense, after all. You discover something new about yourself, something that pushes you into a new space—a space that others might not want to follow. It's just how it is. Nat doesn’t say anything.
“Hey,” Lottie says, finding his hand—still sticky with the feel of her—and tangling their fingers. “It’s always going to be you for me, you know?” She kisses his cheek sweetly. “No matter the shape. Now, well… Now, you just get to be my guy.”
There’s a swell in Nat’s chest as he makes eye contact with her, and for fuck’s sake, he’s starting to feel gooey—the way Lottie always makes him feel. He wonders, for the first time in a while, if they might last this go around. If this time, it won't be weeks, months, or even years before they come back together. If this time, they’ll stick.
“I love you.” It’s not the first time Lottie has said it, but it’s the first time she’s said it to him—the him that he is now. Nat smiles and cocks his head so that he can kiss her, sinking into the feel of her soft lips and the hum of her skin.
When he breaks away, he murmurs, feeling it to his core, “I love you too.”