You’re standing at the dresser, half-dressed, fumbling with your shirt buttons while muttering under your breath about traffic and how you’re already running late. Your back is to Rick, but you can still feel his eyes on you. “Of course the one time I stay the night, I oversleep. My boss is gonna kill me,” you grumble, tugging your pants up your hips. Behind you, Rick is sprawled across the sheets, chest still slick with sweat from your earlier round. He’s quiet, but there’s something heavy in the silence—the kind of stare that makes the hairs on your arms stand up.
As you reach for your belt, you feel a sudden nudge at the back of your thigh. His foot. You freeze, then glance over your shoulder, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Did you just kick me?” you ask, half-laughing, half-annoyed. Rick props himself up on his elbows, his messy blond hair sticking every which way, his dog tags sliding against his chest as he leans forward. His eyes burn into you, that same look from last night—hungry, commanding, like he’s deciding whether he’s going to let you leave or keep you right where you are. “Not a kick,” he rasps, his voice low and rough from sleep. “A reminder.” You raise an eyebrow. “Reminder of what? That I’m already—”
“—that you’re not goin’ anywhere yet.” He cuts you off, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. He sits up fully now, the sheet falling away to reveal the solid lines of his body, the fading scratches you left on his chest. His eyes rake over you, lingering where your waistband sits low. “Round two. Get your ass back here.”You huff a laugh, turning to face him. “Rick, I don’t have time—” He tilts his head, that dangerous grin curling at the corner of his mouth. “You keep talkin’ about time, but I know your body better than your boss does. Ten minutes. That’s all I need.”
You hesitate, torn between responsibility and the heat building in your gut under his gaze. His stare doesn’t break—it pins you, holds you in place. He knows exactly how to reel you back in. You let the belt slide through your hands, hitting the dresser with a soft clink. Rick’s grin widens as he sees your resolve slipping, his hand already reaching out, beckoning you closer. “Thought so,” he mutters, voice thick with satisfaction. You crawl back onto the bed, straddling his lap before he even has the chance to pull you down. His big hands find your hips immediately, gripping tight enough to bruise. He drags you against him, grinding his already hardening cock against your thigh.
“See? Body remembers me just fine,” Rick murmurs against your throat, his lips brushing your skin before his teeth sink in gently. You tilt your head back, groaning. “Rick—fuck, I really don’t have time—” “Then shut up and ride me quick.” His words are a growl, his eyes locked on yours as one hand slides between your thighs, fingers teasing at your entrance, spreading the slick still lingering from earlier. “You’re ready for me. Don’t pretend you’re not.” Your protest dies on your tongue as he pushes two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right. Your body jolts, clenching around him, and his smirk deepens.
“Knew it,” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth before withdrawing his hand. He grabs himself instead, stroking once before lining up with you. “C’mon, soldier. Sink down.” You brace your hands on his shoulders, lowering yourself onto him inch by inch, both of you groaning as the stretch hits. His grip on your hips tightens, grounding you as you take him fully. “Fuck, Rick…” you breathe out, head tipping forward. “That’s it. Take all of me,” he growls, bucking up once you’re seated flush against him. “Look at you. Tryin’ to run off to work when you’re this tight for me.”
You start to move, rocking your hips, your nails digging into his shoulders. He meets you thrust for thrust, his abs flexing beneath you as the bed creaks. The pace is fast, desperate, just like he promised—ten minutes, hard and rough, enough to leave you wrecked for the rest of the day. “You think I’m lettin’ you walk outta here without feelin’ me all day?” Rick snarls, dragging your body down hard against his. His breath is hot against your ear, his words making you clench even tighter. Your moans fill the room, mixing with the slap of skin on skin, the sharp drag of his dog tags swinging against your chest. Sweat beads at your temple, sliding down as you ride him faster.
Rick’s hand snakes up your spine, cupping the back of your neck as he kisses you messy, biting at your lip. “That’s it. Gimme every damn sound you’ve got. Wanna hear how much you don’t wanna leave.” His thrusts grow erratic, hips snapping up harder until you’re almost bouncing out of rhythm, your vision blurring with the heat building inside you. “Rick—I’m close—”
“Wanna feel you cum on my cock before you even think about goin’ to work.” he commands, fucking up into you with everything he has left. His voice is a growl in your ear, his hand bruising your hip. You can’t hold back anymore—your body clenches down hard around him as you cry out, spilling hot across his stomach between you. Rick groans at the way you grip him, his rhythm stuttering as he holds you flush against his hips. “Fuck—there it is,” he growls, his voice breaking into a grunt as he jerks up into you, spilling deep inside. His head falls back against the pillow, his jaw tight, the sound of his pleasure rumbling low in his chest.
For a long moment, you both just stay there, trembling, breath ragged, sweat cooling on your skin. Rick keeps his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you pressed to him like he’s not ready to let go. Finally, his hand comes up to brush damp hair back from your forehead. His voice is quieter now, softened in a way you don’t hear often from him. “You okay?” he asks, thumb stroking lazily along your temple.You chuckle breathlessly, still catching your breath. “I was supposed to be out the door twenty minutes ago.” Rick smirks, kissing your jaw, then your lips, slow and lingering this time. “Yeah, but you’re smilin’ again. Think your boss’ll live.”
He shifts carefully, sliding out of you, and you wince at the sensitivity. Immediately, his touch gentles—he rolls you onto your back and slips off the bed, grabbing a clean towel from the dresser. He cleans you up first, murmuring a soft, “Easy,” as he presses the warm cloth between your legs, before tending to himself. When he’s done, he crawls back under the sheets with you, tugging the blanket up over both your bodies. His arm hooks under your shoulders, dragging you against his chest like you belong there. There’s a beat of silence, the steady thump of his heart under your ear. He rubs circles into your back with his thumb, grounding, protective, until you can breathe evenly again.“You should call in,” he murmurs. “Stay with me.” You glance up at him, meeting the soft but hungry glint in his eyes. He doesn’t look like he’s joking.
“Round three?” you tease, smiling weakly.
