Trip hadn't planned on being there so late. He perched on the curb outside Kendra’s place, his hoodie up, phone screen barely lit in his hand, earbuds dangling like they had given up hope of music. Her bedroom window was dark, and he tried telling himself he wasn’t waiting, that he was just out for some air, just passing by. But his ass had been planted on that cold concrete for twenty minutes now, and it was starting to get a little pissed at him for it.
He heard the click of her mother’s heels before she came into view. Click... click... click - slow and casual down the walkway, like punctuation for the silence. Seraphine Draven emerged from the side path, halfway out of her jacket, her dress a deep, sinful red that made color itself seem like a bad idea. A cigarette dangled from her hand, forgotten.
She didn’t bother asking why he was there. Didn’t say anything about him loitering by her house, all alone, after hours. She just stopped at the bottom of the steps, one eyebrow cocked, and tilted her head like she was saying, 'I see you, kid. You’re not fooling anyone.'
"You waiting for Kendra?" she asked, voice smoky and low - but not sweet.
Trip sat up straight, his hoodie making him look even smaller. "N-no," he stuttered. "I mean, not really. I was just..."
"Mmm," she murmured, already turning to unlock the door. "So you’re just sitting here. In the dark. Looking like someone left you out with the trash."
He cringed. "It’s just... on my way home."
"Is it?" she said, glancing over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched. "Because your place is in the opposite direction."
Trip’s throat tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding his breath.
Seraphine pushed the door open but didn’t go in. She just stood there, one heel unhooked, slipping out of them with the kind of grace that came from years of practice. She was barefoot now, standing tall and deadly.
"You can come in," she said, not looking back at him. "Or don’t. Just don’t sit out here making it so damn obvious."
Trip took a breath and stood up. He tugged his sleeves down over his hands. His steps were slow and deliberate as he approached, like he was crossing some invisible line. Seraphine didn’t budge as he stepped inside, the screen door whispering shut behind them.
Inside, it was dim and warm, with a weird vibe that wasn’t cozy, but definitely lived-in. Like the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Trip hovered near the door, unsure if he was supposed to be there.
"You always this jumpy around women?" she asked, tossing her keys onto the table. "Or just the ones that could ruin your life?"
He swallowed hard. "I should probably-"
"You should relax," she interrupted, flashing a sharp smile. "Nobody’s gonna catch you here. Not if you come in the right way."
Her eyes held his as she sauntered closer, hips rolling like she knew he was watching. She stopped just in front of him, her heat almost a tangible thing between them. Her fingers played with the string of his hoodie, tugging it down.
"You’re adorable when you’re not hiding," she murmured, nails tracing a line down his throat.
He tensed up. "I wasn’t hiding."
"Mmm," she hummed, nails sliding down to his crotch. "No. Just loitering. Wishing someone would take notice."
Trip’s chest felt tight. "I’m not-"
"Shh," she whispered, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. "You are."
And just like that, she turned and walked deeper into the house, her hips moving like poetry. She didn’t bother with the lights, letting the shadows play with her figure, and he followed, his eyes glued to her, his body moving like he was in a trance.
The hallway got narrower. She didn’t reach for the light switch, letting the dark wrap around them like a blanket. And when they got to her bedroom, she just stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob.
"I’m going in," she said. "You can come if you want."
He didn’t say a word.
So she turned the knob and stepped through.
Trip’s legs moved on their own, carrying him after her.
Her room was surprisingly simple. Clothes scattered on a chair, a half-burnt candle on the dresser. The air smelled like something rich and spicy that clung to the walls like a secret. There was a mirror propped up on one side, not for vanity, but for... other things.
Trip glanced around like he couldn’t decide where to look.
Seraphine stepped closer, her hands on his shoulders, thumbs tracing his collarbones. Not pushing, not pulling, just... there.
"You ever just let go?" she whispered. "Let someone else take over?"
Trip’s eyes searched hers. "What do you mean?"
"You’re always trying so hard," she said, her voice barely above a murmur. "I bet you’d like to forget who you are for a while."
"I-"
"Don’t explain," she said, her thumb pressing against his lips. "You get this moment. It’s all yours. But you gotta want it."
Her breath was warm on his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He nodded.
"Please," he choked out. "Please, touch me."
Her hands found his waist, sliding up his stomach, slow and deliberate. She didn’t kiss him, just studied him, like she was memorizing every inch of his face.
Her fingers found his jeans button, her thumb playing with it, not quite opening it.
"Is this what you want?" she asked.
He nodded, his voice shaky. "Yes."
"You sure?"
Trip nodded again, his breath catching.
Her hand didn’t move.
"Then don’t think," she whispered against his ear. "Just feel."
He didn’t know when she started, just that her hand was there, cupping him through his pants, her palm pressing down like she was holding onto something precious.
Trip’s body reacted before his brain could catch up. He gasped, hips jerking upward, trying to get closer, trying to get more.
Her hand didn’t move.
Just... hovered.
Trip’s eyes rolled back in his head. "Fuck, Seraphine, please-"
"Not yet," she murmured, her mouth against his neck. "Not until you ask."
He whined, desperate, his cock throbbing against her hand.
"Please," he begged. "Let me out."
Her hand didn’t move. "You want me to touch you?"
He nodded, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
"Say it."
"I want you to touch me," he whispered.
Her hand didn’t move.
"Beg for it," she said, her voice like velvet.
"Please," he moaned. "Please, just-just touch me."
Her hand slid down, pressing hard, grinding against his cock.
He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut.
Her voice was sweet, almost gentle. "What’s my name?"
Trip’s breath hitched. "Seraphine."
"Good boy," she whispered.
Her hand didn’t move.
"I won’t let you cum yet," she said, her breath hot in his ear. "This one’s for me."
And after they both stripped down, she rode him, her wetness sliding along his length. The sound of their bodies meeting echoed in the room; slap, slap, slap.
Trip’s hands gripped her hips, torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer.
"You’re not allowed to cum," she hissed, her nails digging into his skin. "I want you to feel it, how good it is when you can’t."
Her hips rolled faster, grinding down on him like she was trying to get off herself.
"Can you hold it?" she panted.
"I-I-can’t-"
"You will," she said, her voice firm.
And she kept going.
Her pussy was so wet, her movements so tight, so deliberate, it was like she was trying to break him. And it was working.
He could feel her getting closer, her breath coming in gasps, her nails digging deeper.
"Fuck," she groaned. "You’re so fucking big, it’s been years~"
Her hips bucked, her body tightening around his cock like a fist.
Trip’s eyes snapped open, watching her tits bounce, her stomach contract.
And then she was cumming.
Her body clenched around him, her pussy pulsing like it had a mind of its own, her moans tearing through the air like she hadn’t made a sound in ages.
He watched her, his cock buried in her heat, his body shaking with the effort not to spill his load.
When she finally collapsed on top of him, panting, her arms shaking with the effort of holding herself up, he let out a shaky sigh.
Her pussy was still pulsing around his cock, her breath hot against his neck.
"Fuck," she whispered. "You just fucked the life back into me."
And Trip, his body a wreck, his cock still hard, just nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps.