sexual tension

Dom ( nischay )

"Dont you dare fucking walk away from me.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

The couple was arguing  in utter rage.  It was supposed to be date night. And it had started that way, you excitedly getting ready as nischay promised to take you out to that bar you loved so much. But upon arrival things had gone very differently, and you’d been left alone to drown your sorrows on one of the barstools as nischay took a call despite your no work talk rule, standing outside as you watched him through the window. The barman keeping you company with a sympathetic ear and a couple of free rounds.

That’s where the problem started. Even though you had been just chatting to the guy, about nischay and how busy he’d been lately, he had spied you through the window and had misinterpreted your laughter as flirting. This gave him the bright idea to flirt with a fan who’d approached him on his way back to you. Having obviously seen this you laughed a little louder, batted your eyelashes, and twiddled with your hair until finally nischay excused himself and had dragged you out of the bar and into a cab. You’d been fighting ever since.

“Why don’t you go fuck your bartender?” nischay yells, slamming the apartment door behind him as you kick off your shoes and flounce into the kitchen, “I’m sure he’d be up for it.”

“What?” You retort bitterly, throwing your bag on the counter and practically snarling at him, “Like you almost did with your fucking groupie?” He flinched at that, his fans meant the world to him and he didn’t like you reducing one of them like that. “You know what, nischay? Fuck you and fuck this. I’m done.”

You shove him aside, smacking his hands away as he tries to grab you, and storm toward the door, ignoring him as he shouts your name. You grab a pair of sneakers and move to put them on, reaching for the door handle, when suddenly he grabs you and spins you to slam your back against the apartment door.

"You don’t get to walk out on me.” nischay says quietly, voice low and aggressive. You push him back, shoving his chest with your hand and lean in close to his face.

“Watch me.”

You try again, throwing open the door just to see him slam it closed again, hands pressed either side of your head as your eyes lock onto his. You’re staring each other down, waiting for the other to break, feeling yourself shake from how angry you are at him, and you can see it in his eyes that the feeling is mutual. “God, I fucking hate you.”

Your chest is heaving, hands clenched into fists, and you’re mad. You’re so fucking mad, but you can’t look away from him, and without any warning he kisses you. Your back is pressed harder into the wood of the door and his hand is grasping the back of your hair, making your eyes water. Somehow you manage to push him way, slapping him as hard as you can across the face. For a moment he’s stunned, but he turns and looks at you again, hair having fallen into his eyes and you just can’t help yourself.

You surge forward and kiss him again, fast and aggressive as your teeth pull hard at his bottom lip, making him groan as his hand finds its way back into your hair, the other coming to rest around your throat. You’re pushing against him, albeit weakly as your hands lose function, causing him to push back, keeping you flush against the door as he kisses you back hungrily, groaning into your mouth.

Your hands start to work again suddenly and his jacket is on the floor in a matter of seconds, followed quickly by his shirt, leaving you to finally get your hands on his chest, clawing your nails over his pale skin as he scrapes his teeth over your throat. His hands are under your dress, tearing at your underwear impatiently so he can get his hands between your thighs.

"You’re fucking paying for those.” You gasp into his mouth as he tosses the torn lace to the side, making him smirk against your lips as he crouches slightly to grab your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he rolls his hips against you, the material of his jeans rough against your pussy. You gasp, clinging to him harder as he bites down on your shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up.” His voice is deep, rough, making you shiver as he carries you to the sofa and drops you on it, pulling your dress and bra over your head making you grumble about what an asshole he is, before working on his jeans. All you can do is watch, waiting for what you knew was to come. Nischay looks at you again, stroking his cock for a few seconds before wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling you forward, pressing the head against your lips. “I’ll make you shut up.”

Nischay groans, deep and heavy, as you take him in your mouth, fucking into your throat recklessly as you try not to gag around him. His hand is pulling your hair tight, causing tears to stream down your face, and fuck if you don’t love it when he uses you like this. Your fingers grip onto his hips, making him wince.

“You gonna stop being a brat?“ He grunts out, stopping movement, and you wriggle free of his grasp, shoving him away from you. He steps forward again, a hand wrapping around your neck and pushing you back further into the sofa, “Or do I have to teach you a lesson.”

"Make me.”

Rough hands grab you, dragging your hips to the edge of the sofa as his lips latch onto your neck, biting harder than he should but somehow you can’t find it in yourself to care. He spins you around, bending you over, his hand reaching around to grab your throat again as he buries his cock inside of you.

“I don’t like being teased.” He moans out from behind you, each thrust harder than the last as you struggle to stay up. “I don’t like you flirting with other men.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” You gasp out, hands reaching out desperately to grip the back of the sofa just to keep from falling face first. His hand leaves your throat to make its way into your hair again, holding tightly as he brings a hand down to smack your ass hard enough to bruise “I was making conversation since you left me alone.”

Nischay slams impossibly harder at that, scraping his fingernails down your side, before spanking you hard again. You can barely catch your breath, stuck between pressing back onto his cock, and forward away from each slap. He lets go of your hair, pulling your body up so your back is pressed against his chest. One hand arm wrapped around your waist to keep you there as the other grabs roughly at your breast, pinching the nipple hard.

“You’re mine. I don’t want anyone to have you. I don’t want anyone even looking at you.” He shoves you forward again and continues pounding, working faster than before, his hand slipping around to work your clit as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic. You can barely breathe, feeling completely overwhelmed as he pounds into you over and over, his fingers never stopping as you cry out and quake beneath him.

He feels it when you cum, soaking his hand as you scream into the sofa cushion, barely managing to stay up on your knees. Nischay doesn’t waste time in letting you catch your breath and grips both of your hips tight, burying himself into you over and over until you can’t see straight. Finally he reaches his climax, filling you up as his thrusts weaken and he eventually stops, slumping over you and biting your shoulder gently.

It takes him a moment to pull away, standing back on unsteady legs as you slowly turn yourself around to face him, melting into the sofa. Nischay watches you, before leaning down to run soft fingers over the marks he left on your skin, a thumb swiping over the bite marks on your shoulder. You watch him carefully, letting him touch you gently before catching his eyes. “I really wasn’t flirting. I never wanted anyone else.”

Nischay nods, standing up and leaving the room, only to return with the blanket from your bed. He nudges you along and lays himself down beside you, covering you both up and holding you in his arms. His fingers trace circles over your sweat soaked skin and you chuckle against his chest, making him look down at you. “You’re still an asshole.” You grin, yelping as he gently swats your ass.

“Yeah? Maybe so. But you’re still mine.”

A/n - aur bhai kaisi lagi 😚