Pedro Pascal Imagines

Not Safe For Work- Pedro Pascal

He emerged from the bathroom, steam rolling out with him. His hair wet, not brushed through like he usually did though. It was spiked, like he dried his hair off with the towel quickly.

The shirt Tommy left out fit him perfectly, an olive green short sleeve, and an almost perfect match to the color of his boxers.

"Lookin pretty mister." You gushed, leaning back against the pillows on the bed.

"I could say the same about you."

You stuck your arms out to him, watching the scowl that sat on his face permanently turn into a small smile. "C'mere." Making grabby hands towards him.

You scooted down, laying on your back still slightly propped up by pillows. The man making his way towards you on the bed. He crawled on, settling himself between your hips on his knees.

He leaned over, hands gripping your hips.

"Silence. Privacy. For once." You chuckled, him following suit.

"She's still down the hall." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then cheeks.

"As if I ever gave a shit. You're showered, smell great, look great." You let out a sigh, humming happily.

He pressed a longing kiss to your lips, lingering before moving on to your neck. His hands traveled up from your hips, pushing under your white long sleeve.

It was like your body was melting, warmth spreading throughout your skin as you sunk deeper into the mattress the longer he kept his lips on your neck.

"You're dangerous." He whined against your skin, peppering a kiss before sucking your warm skin into his mouth. His hands moved to your rib cage, holding vice there.

"Ah, god. What's that supposed to mean?" You pushed your hands on his back, sticking them up his shirt.

"Nothin' on under here? S' like you were waitin' for me." His speech slurred, drunk on the feeling of you.

"Maybe I was." You pulled a hand out of his shirt, reaching up to grab a fistful of his hair. He let out a grunt, biting down on your neck.

"Joel. Clothes off. Now." You whined, hips bucking up against him.

"Yes ma'am." He pulled back, looking at work he had done on your neck. He used a hand to grab the collar of his shirt at the back of his neck, snaking out of it and tossing it away. Finally working on pulling his boxers down, kicking them haphazardly onto the floor.

He settled between your hips again, hands going back to your ribs. Your hands went to his back, scratching up it gently before splaying out against his warm skin.

His broad shoulders were shown off by freckles adorning the top of them, the honey colored skin of his chest littered with them as well. Like little stars marking his body.

He leaned down, pressing a feverish kiss to your lips, savoring in the fresh minty taste. He went from your lips to your neck again, leaving sloppy kisses.

While having you distracted he worked on pushing your shirt up. The cotton fabric dragging over your breasts until they were exposed. He pushed his hands up to cup them, moving his lips from your neck to your nipples awaiting attention.

A gasp left your mouth when he pulled one into his mouth, your hips lifting from the mattress to press into him.

"Jesus." You whined for him.

His mouth popped off your nipple, his eyes looking up at you. Your eyes half closed, blissed out in arousal.

He leaned up, pressing a kiss to your lips before resting your foreheads together.