Pillowtalk | D. O'B.

3. Stars in Your Eyes*

Fucking underneath the moonlight in front of a lake as the swan's watch was not on Rory's bucket list.

But she wouldn't trade this moment for anything in the world.

Especially with him.

She could get caught up in that fact if she really wanted to. She could get caught up in the fact that it's never felt the way it does with him. The fact that he's nothing like what she imagined and yet somehow wildly better than she ever could have dreamed.

But she chooses to repeat her mantra, "Use him and lose him."

It's better that way. Better to take this sweet moment he's created and dwindle it down to what it really is.

Just sex.

"Louder," she demands of him, hands in his roots as she forces his head back.

He inhales through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he tries his best to comply. "Ror—"

"Louder," she hisses, brushing her nose over his cheek as she leaves an open-mouthed kiss along his jaw. "Come on, Teach. Let me hear you..."

His hands pull at her hips, needing to feel her against him as badly as she needs it, and he wants to smile at the nickname. "Shit, Ror...please—"

"Please what?"

His eyes open, finding hers as he begins to smile, lips ghosting her own. "Please let me fucking fill you with my cock."

She hums contently, proud of her obedient little toy. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, wrapping his arms around her back to bring her in even closer. He presses his mouth into her chest, the skin not hidden by her shirt open to his greedy tongue, and he inhales her, grinning at the familiarity. "Let me ruin you. Let me spill inside you, fucking fill you. Use you like you want."

It is what she wants, and she can't help the tiny, pathetic whimper that comes out when she hears him make those promises to her. Or when she feels him across her body, everywhere, like she's on fire with him.

His long fingers move with purpose, slipping into her jeans, clawing at her skin. His lips on her collarbone, sucking his name into her chest, claiming her.

Her shirt is next, and he tugs at it so needily that she wants to blush, feeling more wanted than she thinks she ever has.

It's an odd feeling for her...feeling wanted.

She always has been, she reckons. Wanted for her beauty, or her body, or what she could give people.

Granted, she's giving Dylan those very things...but he knows he doesn't want her for that.

He wants to see her because it's her, and that wouldn't change if she had a different face or a different body.

He doesn't know if Rory realizes that, but now is hardly the time to explain that to her.

Once her shirt is discarded, he moves to her bra, unclasping it in seconds. So quickly, she's almost surprised.

And then she has to remember this isn't his first time.

She's never felt shy under the male gaze, not like this. She likes her body, likes what it can do for people, the pleasure it can give them.

But her favorite part is watching his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store.

This isn't the first time he's seen her naked but you'd never know it with the way he stares at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He doesn't lunge at her, doesn't groan like a prepubescent little twerp, doesn't ogle her like she's real-life porn.