Work Text:
You are spending the night with your boyfriend at his apartment, a quiet evening in, movies and pizza; simple but comfortable. He is in the shower right now, you are sitting on the couch, waiting on your food. You feel pretty relaxed as you leaf through a magazine, feet resting on the coffee table that is laden with tonight's DVD selections. Your hand reaches down amongst the primed and prepped snacks littering the table-top, and closes around your open beer. While reading some vaguely interesting article you bring it up, you take a sip and hear a knock on the door. Beer is set down, feet on the ground and the magazine is slapped closed, you toss it onto the other cushion as you get up.
You walk to the front door and open it up, greeted with the delivery guy holding the bag, he speaks in an unenthused tone, “Good evening. I’ve got two medium pizzas, one hamburger, one classic pepperoni?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” You reply, and he responds automatically with your total, “That’ll be twenty dollars flat.”
“No problem.” You say as you feel your pocket and realize your wallet is in the other room, shit. You glance down to the hall table, to your boyfriends' wallet, right where he always drops it when coming inside. Snatching it up without a second thought, you open it, your fingers dig in and close around a crisp twenty dollar bill. After pulling it out, you poke through for this guy’s tip when your eye catches on something that is very much NOT legal tender. Brows raise in curiosity at the glossy corner of what looks like a Polaroid picture, you snatch another bill without looking at it and shove both into the guy’s outstretched hand. He passes over your boxes and tells you to have a good night, you hum in acknowledgement before closing the door with your foot.
One hand holds the boxes, the other grasping the wallet, you march yourself to the kitchen. The pizzas are dropped on the counter, and you investigate the wallet, you remove the picture and your mouth falls open in shock when the image comes into view. The picture is of a completely naked woman, photographed from the waist down, with what is obviously your boyfriend’s hand gripping her ass cheek. The bedsheets she is splayed out on are rumpled and creased, the evidence is damning, the sheen of sweat on her flushed skin catching on the camera's flash. The worst detail of all, however? The tattoo on the woman’s lower back. You know it well because you were present when she got it etched into her skin.
Your boyfriend is fucking one of your best friends behind your back, and apparently has been for who knows how long. With a heavy sigh you walk yourself back into the living room, snatching up your beer you down the rest of it in a few thick swallows. Pulling back the can, you exhale out, “What the fuuuuuck-”
You crush the can in your hand and drop it on the table, you walk to your bag and take out some bills to replace the ones you took from your boyfriend’s wallet. After that, you put the offending picture back where you found it and place his wallet back on the hall table as if you never touched it in the first place.
The pizza boxes are left unopened on the kitchen counter as you get another beer from the fridge, you crack the can and take another long and lingering sip. You stand there and stare out the window over the sink and into the darkness as you try to figure out just what the fuck you are going to do about this.
You do not do anything that night, you need time, need to think. When your boyfriend comes out, you indulge in pizza, drink some more, watch exactly one movie before proclaiming extreme tiredness and bail out on the rest of your plans. He seems disappointed, but you could not give less of a fuck. You give him a quick hug and have to hide your disgust, you do not initiate your usual kiss good night, and depart shortly with your bag slung over one shoulder.
After getting home, you spend far too much time thinking and crying, staying up too late. You make a decision to do something the following morning that you think will give you some real clarity and direction. You manage a few hours sleep and then get up and get ready, leaving for the one place you want to be more than anywhere else right now and what is surely the last place your boyfriend wants you to go.
Once arriving you knock on the door immediately, it is a little earlier than you normally come over but fuck it, this is a big deal. You know once you explain he will be fine with it. The door opens and Mickey is standing there, in just a pair of low slung pajama pants, hair a bit all over the place and sleepy. He sighs out, “Oh, it’s you.”
Now Mickey Altieri is one of your best friends, you’ve known each other a long time, get on like a house on fire, and you trust him immensely. The hangouts you have are amazing, from seeing movies to attending parties and everything in between, you have so much fun together it is stupid. Your boyfriend however has never been Mickey’s biggest fan, he would pick fights over it when you quote, “spent too much time together”. He didn’t like how close you both were.
He said it made him feel weird, whatever that meant. You’ve tried to dig into why he feels that way occasionally, and the answers given are always less than satisfactory. You refuse to stop hanging with Mickey, your boyfriend refuses to let it go, so you’ve both been at an impasse on it for a while, neither budging nor giving way. It’s been a while since you’ve had an argument about it, but the tension lingers when he knows you are going to meet up. You feel like you can talk to Mickey about anything and know that he is the right person to set your head straight on just what you should do about last night's shocking revelation.
Mickey speaks again, “If it was anyone else, I was going to give em hell for coming over this early.”
You respond, quickly apologizing, “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, but I promise it’s for a good reason. And-” You raise up the takeout tray holding two coffees and the warm bag full of food, “-I come baring breakfast.”
He grins and leans back, holding the door open as he says, “Ahhh the magic words, all is forgiven. Come on in.”
“Thank you.” You exhale as you do so, coming inside. The door is closed, he takes the bag and tray as you remove your shoes and coat. The pair of you end up on his couch, he is unpacking the bag as he asks, “So, what is so important it’s got you here before eleven on a Saturday?”
You release a heavy sigh and say, “My boyfriend is cheating on me.”
His brows raise, eyes going wide, and his hands pause mid removing the breakfast sandwich from the bag. He looks at you and asks, “What the fuck?”
Your head tips back with a humourless laugh before you impart, “Ha, yeah, that’s what I said after I found out.”
“Seriously, like that is all I can say, what the fuck? What happened?” He insists, and you tell him everything. How you were chilling out while your boyfriend was in the shower, you get up to get the pizza, take his wallet to pay and discover the proof of his affair on accident.
After filling him in on the whole sorry situation, Mickey exclaims, “Oh my fucking God, that piece of shit! I cannot believe this-”
“Me either, I am still feeling shocked.” You admit with a shrug, and he asked, “What’d you do after you found the picture?”
“I put it back in his wallet and placed it on the table like I never touched it. He came out of the shower, I ate pizza, downed another beer and left early after one movie.” You explain further, and he asks completely shocked, “You didn’t confront him right then?!”
Further elaborating on your thought process, you say, “No, no, I wanted to take some time to think on what to do. I went home and the conclusion I came to was coming to talk to you about it honestly.”
“Well, clearly, you can’t fucking stay with this asshole!” He scoffs, and you agree quickly, “Oh yeah no, absolutely not! I don’t intend to! Fuck him completely!”
“Shit, okay good. Glad I don’t have to talk you into dumping him at least.” He sighs and resumes removing stuff from the bag, you roll your eyes and say, “Have some faith in me, I do have some self-respect remaining.”
Mickey quips, “I dunno, you were willingly dating a guy who likes fucking hamburger pizza.”
He takes a sip of the coffee and hums, pleased with it, you’ve bought him so many coffees over your friendship you remember exactly how he takes it. With a nod, he says, “So I don’t get it. He’s a cheating scumbag, you don’t want to stay with him, planning on breaking up, obviously.” He sets the cup down and begins unwrapping his sandwich as he asks, “What exactly do you need my help with? Just support and some shit talking? Cuz I can do that all day, I’ve got no plans.”
“While support and shit talking are great and for sure needed and going to happen, thank you in advance by the way-” You say with a gesture to him, he responds easily, “Happy to do it.” You continue your original thought, “-I want to do something to him. This is a supremely fucked up thing he’s been up to, he can’t get off easy. I want to hurt him, I want revenge on some level before I end it and hopefully blind side him with this break up.”
He has a grin on his face, has been nodding as you’ve been talking, he speaks up excitedly, “Yes! Yes, I fucking love this plan! I will gladly help you find the best way to fuck with his head before you drop the hammer down.”
He is holding out your sandwich as you respond, “Yes, fuck, thank God.” You reach out and take the offered out food, unwrapping the paper, “I knew coming to you was the right call, I can always count on you no matter what.”
“What are friends for if not for enacting revenge on shitty cheating soon to be ex-boyfriends?” He asks with a grin, and you laugh for the first time since before you found out your boyfriend was the worst. Breakfast is eaten first, after egg and cheese on toasted bagels has been consumed, hash browns eaten and coffee’s drained does the planning truly start.
“So here is what I am thinking-” Mickey begins, and you smile at the fact that his mind was clearly running the entire time you ate and talked about other things. “-we do a classic. Eye for an eye, right?”
You prompt, “Lay it out for me, Mick.” He does so with gusto, “You found a filthy picture showing how he was fucking around on you, so we take a nasty picture of you in an equally compromising position! Can even replace the one in his wallet with yours and let him discover it.”
You pause and think on it, soaking in his words, turning them over in your mind. The longer you think, the more right it seems. Mickey really nailed it, got it in one even. It is a deliciously evil idea, you can only imagine how much that would screw with his head, imaging his expression alone, my God that is great. It’s so good, really you love it, but Mickey’s plan presents one small problem.
You vocalize it, “Mickey it’s a nice thought, I mean that, but who would ever agree to such a ridiculous idea though? And who could I trust enough to do something where I am that vulnerable! Staging a naked revenge picture, I mean really-”
The mischievous grin on his face, the look in his eyes, and it clicks. Your sentence trails off with a small, “-oh.”
“Now you’re getting it.” He laughs with a nod, you are taken aback by his offer. Asking him, “Mickey, would you really do that for me? Just to get back at him?”
“For you? I’d do just about anything.” He imparts sincerely, leaning forward he rests his elbows on his knees as he speaks further, “And this guy really deserves this, I mean what kind of a fucking brain-dead idiot is he? Cheating on you, taking photographic evidence of it, and carrying it around in his WALLET?”
It was then you remembered that you forgot to mention one very vital and important detail, “Oh! I didn’t even tell you the worst part! I know who he has been fucking!”
Mickey looks at you expectantly as he inquires, “Who?”
You wait for a moment, leaning nearer and looking him in the eyes, you let the suspense build before you say, “Tetra.”
His mouth falls open with a gasp, he looks a mix of horrified and offended on your behalf as he says, “No!”
“Yes!” You confirm, “The picture was of them on his bed, she’s got nothing on, and he is grabbing her fucking ass! I knew it was her because that lower back tattoo she got last summer was on full display! It’s totally her!”
“Putting the tramp in tramp stamp, unbelievable! See, I so called it, I told you that nickname Tetra The Terrible suits her!” He exclaims, and you laugh, head tipping back, “Okay, I concede your nickname for her was spot on after all.”
He huffs out, “Thank you for finally recognizing it but really, I mean, what the fuck? With one of your best friends? Are you kidding me?!”
Mickey is right, it is completely unbelievable and so completely cliché’. He is amped up as he says next, “Oh my God, yes, we have to do this!” He reaches out and takes your hand, both of his clasping it as he implores, “He is asking for it, and we are gonna give it to him! Just what he fucking deserves.”
You are sold on the idea. You trust Mickey more than anyone, on top of that you think he is the only guy you can stomach looking at right now, let alone be okay with touching you. The pair of you have been friends for years, you’ve been through so much, no way this will change a thing. On top of all of this, Mickey is very good with a camera, he can take a truly believable picture that will be seared into your boyfriends head forever.
“Yes, fuck it, let’s do it.” You affirm with a nod and with a reassuring squeeze of your hand in his, he asks, “Really? You’re sure?”
“Completely, I trust you, hell I think you are the only conceivable person who I could pull this off with.” You admit, and he says, “Fuck yes, we are gonna ruin this guy's whole year! You are not gonna regret this.”
You really don’t think that you will.
“So where should we-” You start to question, and he fills in the blank before you can finish your question, “Probably in bed, right? It’s the ideal setting, plus it’ll mirror the picture that set this in motion.”
“I mean, you’re the expert photographer and this plan was your idea, so I defer to you.” You watch as he gets up, and you head to his room. You’ve been in Mickey’s bedroom before, plenty of times, grabbing something for him or hanging out casually, but never have you crossed the threshold with such intentions. This time when you cross over the carpet and sit down on the edge of his bed, the air feels different, thick and heavy with the promise of something hard to define but thoroughly felt. You are alone in here for only a minute when Mickey comes in, focused on the Polaroid camera in his hands, fiddling with some setting.
You have no idea how this should start, there certainly isn’t a rule book for this kind of thing. Your fingers brush back and forth over his comforter, savouring the feeling of the soft fabric as your mind wanders, to the same place it has been repeatedly since last night, namely; how fucking bullshit this all is. Your soon-to-be ex is an unbelievable asshole, a complete fucking tool, he deserves what you are about to do. You allow the flare of anger to lead you in your next action, your hands coming down, fingers hooking in the bottom of your shirt before pulling it up and off.
Mickey’s head snapped up and towards you immediately, eyebrows raised, and he quips, “Eager?”
You drop your shirt to the floor, leaning back on your hands with a smile as you respond with a question of your own, “And you’re not?”
He laughs with a nod as he walks closer, standing in front of your spread legs now, “Oh, to help you get revenge? Very fucking eager.”
You reach behind yourself to start unhooking your bra as you fire back, “Mmm, just for that, right? Nothing else?”
He lifts the camera and leans down, lining up the first shot of the morning as he says, “Nope, not a thing other than that. You’re crazy.”
You shrug, so the bra straps fall loosely down your arms, your hands remain at your chest holding the cups against yourself. A good tease and he snaps that first picture. It spits out the bottom, and he snatches it, looking down at it as it develops. You ask, “Not gonna shake it?”
He stands upright as he explains, “You aren’t actually supposed to do that, people just think that helps it develop better, but it can actually make the picture worse. Believe it or not-”
You cut him off with a laugh and a fond roll of your eyes, “Okay, thanks for the photography lesson nerd, I get it.”
His mouth falls open in offence, “Nerd? Fuck you! I’m doing something real noble helping you out here, and you have the balls to insult me in my own room?”
“Wouldn’t call helping me stage a revenge sex picture noble-” You mutter. He finally looks down to the picture in his hand, and his expression shifts, he seems pleasantly surprised. You ask, “How is it?”
“See for yourself.” He passes it over, and you take it in and wow, you look pretty amazing. The picture captures you from just below your nose, your lips curved up in a playful smile, the lines of your neck, shoulders and elbows inviting. Your curves are soft and in focus as you hold the bra to yourself. Further, the sun pouring in from the window behind you creating this incredibly dramatic effect, haloing you in light, you think you might have never looked better.
“I mean Mickey, this is an all-time picture for sure, but it is not dirty enough.” You sigh as your eyes flick back up to look at him. He grins back wolfishly and says, “Oh no, not at all, but we are just warming up.”
And that is the cue you take to drop your bra to the carpet between your feet. His reaction to seeing your bared tits is fantastic, a hand to his chest, eyes tracing over your exposed skin as he releases a sound of awe and utters a quiet, “Oh my Goddd-”
“Never seen a pair of tits this nice before?” You ask playfully, and he responds honestly as he lifts the camera again, “You are about to make my job here today very easy, in fact I’d say they are so nice you would fit right in the centrefold of Playboy.”
Isn’t he being so sweet? Mickey compliments you, sure, but usually nothing this flirtatious or explicit about your body. You figure the scenario at hand has a lot to do with it, however. You arch your back, pushing your chest out further while you say, “I’m already half naked and in your bed, you do know that, right? All the extra flattery is nice, but unnecessary.”
He continues talking as he is lining up the next shot, “Yeah, and saying nice shit about the sunset when the sun can’t hear it is unnecessary too, yet people keep on doing it.” He snaps another picture, continuing on, “Almost like a ton of life is full of things that can be called unnecessary, but we do em anyway.”
Your brows raise and you question, “Did you just compare my tits to a sunset?”
He is looking at the newest picture, informing with a shrug, “Sunrise, sunset, take your pick. Both are beautiful and fitting.”
Hmm, you suppose complaining over him heaping on compliments is silly. A simple, “Well, thank you.” Has him responding with a, “Don’t mention it, just being honest.”
You get up on your knees without him asking, turning your body to the side, hands behind your head, and you ask, “How’s this?”
He drops the picture in his hand and starts adjusting to get the next shot, he admits, “I love it.”
This is how it goes for a short while, you feel surprisingly comfortable in your state of partial undress and him capturing it. More polaroids join the pile. Soon enough, you prompt him, “Well, are you gonna get on the bed now?”
“Oh, are you feeling ready?” He inquires looking over the camera, and you laugh lightly before you insist, “Very, c’mon Mick, I need your hands.”
You might be playing it up just a little, putting emphasis on the word “need” in a flirtier tone than needed. But this has been the mood of the whole morning, hasn’t it? Playful and flirty, boundary pushing further than you ever have in your friendship. Ultimately it isn’t a lie though, you do need his hands, the whole thing wouldn’t work without some undeniably masculine hands touching your body and the photographic proof of the act. He gets onto the bed, on his knees as he repeats an approximation of your words, “You need me, hm?”
You hum, a nod as you hold his gaze and he leans nearer. One hand holding the camera up for him to frame the shot and the other reaches out confidently, cupping your breast and at the contact your lips part, arching up into his touch just a hair. He catches the moment beautifully, of his hand on the softness of your chest and your open mouth.
That first touch really opens the door, he gets another picture of his hand feeling your other breast, of brushing over your collar bone, his hand loosely around your throat and that makes your breathing stutter. The one that you can’t wait to check out later is one where he gently pinches your nipple and twists just slightly. The pair of you are caught up in the photo shoot, letting polaroids fall to the sheets and the floor, worried about checking them out later. He does a good job of capturing multiple pictures of every piece of exposed flesh and new place he touches.
You are on your back, hips raised as his hand grasps the waistband of your pants, he starts to slide them down and takes a picture as soon as the top of your underwear is revealed. Your hands assist in him removing your pants, and then you are left in just your panties, you open your legs and Mickey hums, “Oh wow.” His hand falls between your spread thighs and his thumb runs up and over your clothed pussy as he utters, “Wet already?”
He presses harder over where your clit is, and you inhale harder, head tipping back. You can’t lie to yourself, you are getting pretty turned on from all this attention and him touching you, of course it is starting to show. The thin fabric is stuck to your quickly dampening cunt, you try to play it off, hide how he is affecting you. The pressure and heat of his touch on you feels much too good, you want to squirm up, grind against him, but you hold yourself back. You sigh out, “Yeahhh, trying to make it convincing, you know?”
Mickey wants to laugh as he takes the next picture, thinking to himself, “Oh, I am so sure.” Instead, as the photo falls to the right of your hip, he opts to say, “You’ve got me convinced.”
Honestly, you think that you are more than ready for the next part. You suggest, “You should lose those pants.” The camera slips down, his hand remains between your legs, his thumb absentmindedly stroking torturously slow over your clit. The easy simmer of pleasure makes you bite your bottom lip. He meets your eyes, he asks, “You sure? We already got a lot of pictures for your revenge.”
“Duh, if we are doing this, let’s really do this.” You prop up on your elbows, he is still touching you, that point of contact maintained. He keeps up a perfect pace like a metronome, up and down, over and over. You continue your thought, keeping your voice steady, “Pictures of you feeling me up are great, but if we are truly gonna destroy him emotionally, we need a picture that looks like we’re fucking.”
The photo you found was obviously post sex, you want to do better, one up him, so the natural escalation is a picture that looks like it is taken in the middle of the act.
Mickey is glad it is going to go this far, he was hopeful that it would, but he needed it to be your idea, and you are never one to disappoint. He agrees, “I think you are right, what we’ve taken so far IS good, but let’s ramp it up.”
He stops touching you, his hand lifts, and the loss of pleasure makes you want to pout. He sets the camera down and gets up briefly, allowing you to see how poorly his pants are at concealing how hard he is. Mickey takes them off, and you find that apparently he doesn’t bother wearing underwear to bed. You can’t stop your eyebrows from raising or your reaction that mimics his when you revealed your tits to him, getting an eyeful of his thick cock. You utter a quiet, “Oh my Goddd…”
“Hmm, second time that’s been said this morning.” He muses as he gets back on the bed, and you retort with a gesture below his waist, “Like you are the only one who can give credit where it’s due.”
“No, no, never said that. M’ just not used to hearing ‘oh my Goddd’ like that without actually getting inside someone first.” He jokes, hand closing around the camera again as he gets closer. You are very sure that is the case, you reach down, fingers hook, and you start to drag your underwear down and off. “Mmm, can’t say I blame whoever you’ve been fucking, looks like it’d be impossible to not say those three little words when someone is stuffed full of that.”
You drop the damp material to the floor and get comfortable on his bed, legs parted and not a single stitch of clothing on. The camera raises once more as he mutters, “God, what the fuck is that shitheads' problem?” His finger presses down on the button, and he says next, “He had this whenever he wanted and fucked around on you? What a greedy, selfish, dumbass.”
You have to agree, he is a complete idiot for fumbling you. A soft murmur of agreement leaves your lips, “His loss.”
Mickey nods and the camera adjusts as he does, slipping down as he gets in position, slots himself between your spread legs. His hard dick nudges against your folds and your body tenses slightly from the contact. The mental turn on is massive in a way you hadn’t been anticipating. Your long time best friend, the guy you trust most in your life, is naked and pressed to you while you are in his bed. Mickey, the one person that your boyfriend fucking hates the most, has his bare cock resting against your slick and swollen cunt, about to take a picture of it. His hips move, a small grind of his shaft, his head slipping up and over your aching clit, causing you to make this soft pleasured sound.
He apologizes, “Sorry, just-” He grinds again, it’s smoother this time, the mess you’ve been leaking causing him to glide easier. Another wave of sensation flows through you, and he breathes out, “-trying to get the angle right.”
The next grind makes your reply break off, “-S’ ah, fiiine, do what you need to.” Finally, with a few more movements, he seems satisfied as he gets the next picture of his shaft lying right on your slit.
He looks over the camera and down at you, he explains the next shot he wants to take, “Alright, I’m not gonna actually go in, but I’ll get one that looks like I’m about to fuck you. That okay?”
The thought of that image makes your eyes want to roll back. You nod firmly, “Mm, yeah, good idea. Go for it.”
His hand that isn’t around the camera goes between your bodies, to the base of his shaft, and he drags himself down over top of and then past your clit as he slides down the middle of your lips. Once low enough, he lines himself up. You feel the hot velvety tip of him pressed to your hole, he leans back a bit to properly get the photo that looks like he is about to split your cunt in two. The shutter and the flash makes heat curl up your spine, you think you might have a Pavlovian arousal response to that sound and light combination by the time this morning is done. It would be pretty inconvenient, getting wet and thinking of this any and every time you get a picture taken, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
He pauses, holding the camera in both hands and still poised at your entrance, he looks considering. Your heart is hammering in your ribs, and you are using all of your remaining self-control to not begin to ease him inside of you. You ask, “What’s up?”
With a small shifting of his hips, prodding at your hole, Mickey explains where his head is at, “Well, I am thinking if we mess with the angle, we can make it look like I’m actually inside of you when I’m not.”
A fantastic idea, but you think you might have a better one that is all his fault. He is nudging against your entrance over and over, stoking the fire further, making the want burn brighter. He put the idea in your head, really. Your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip, you swallow and then start to suggest, “Orrr…”
His eyes catch yours, he stills completely, curious he prompts, “Or?”
“To make it look, you know, as real and convincing as possible, you could just…” You shrug, try to seem casual and not needy as fuck as you finish your thought, “-actually go inside.”
He seems surprised, Hell, he is surprised. Mickey never thought it would actually go this well, that you’d want him to get inside of you. He has been paying attention, seeing how you’ve responded to his touch, not shutting him down once, leaning into it constantly. He noticed your shallower breathing and how wet you are, he can still feel your slickness on himself from the earlier grinding, yet even with all of that he still had doubts this final boundary would be broken. Mickey knows that he needs to play it cool, continue this whole good guy, worried best friend act. He is sure that once he gets inside, that you won’t be able to resist any further. With just a little more, he can have everything he has ever wanted since your friendship first started years ago.
He checks in, asks in a concerned tone, “Are you sure? I mean, you haven’t technically broken up with your boyfriend yet and are so vulnerable right now, I’d hate to take advantage-”
You cut in with a light laugh, “Mick, you aren’t taking advantage, and who fucking cares that I haven’t dumped him yet? He cheated first, that is the whole reason we are doing this-” Your legs move, wrap around his hips, heels pressed into his lower back. You keep assuring him, “-I’m sure, but only if you are. Do you want to take it this far?”
Oh my God, fucking jackpot. He nods and assures you, “Yeah, I’m sure, and fuck it. I want to.”
He is still right fucking there, poised at your hole, your heels dig into his lower back, drawing him near. You cross your ankles at the small of his back as your legs pull him in, he starts to slide with ease into you, both of you inhaling harshly at the feeling. Urged on by you, he moves too, quicker and with more urgency. The hand not gripping the camera falls to beside your head on the bed, and his body pitches forward, pressing his hips into yours until he is flush with you and filling your pussy in one fluid motion until he buried completely.
His breathing stutters just slightly, you feel so fucking tight and wet, unbearably hot, better than he ever imagined with a hand around himself. You thought he looked big but feeling him inside is completely different, the stretch is almost too much, you clench around him involuntarily. The pair of you stay like that for a moment, drinking in the feeling and breathing harder than normal, locked together almost chest to chest. You speak first, strained as you ask, “Ta-take the picture?”
“Fuck, yeah, right.” He nods once and adjusts, your legs loosen to allow this. He is trying to stay deep as he can while still getting a good shot of where you are joined. Mickey manages to get the photo and stays there for another second, desperate to enjoy every millisecond of this, before he slowly starts to pull out. Even that, the sensation of him dragging along your swollen walls is too good, you can’t take it, fuck the plan and the pretense at this point.
Hands reach out, you needily grip his forearms, giving him a pleading look that makes his hips stop and eyes go wide. You repeat yourself from earlier when you were trying to entice him onto the bed, changing it slightly as you whine out, “I need you.”
Mickey rushes out, “What are you saying?” A shuddering exhale before you beg him, your nails biting into his skin, “I’m saying fuck the stupid pictures and the plan and just fuck me.”
“Oh, thank God-” The camera is tossed to the space on the bed beside you. He closes the gap again, one confident move of his hips and he is back to being fully inside and pressing himself to you. His chest is to yours and his face is buried in your neck, your legs tighten back up around him and your arms loop around him, holding him near as he begins to pull out again before driving in once more. The pace he starts is slow, deep, pulling nearly all the way out before slipping back in, making you both unable to hold in your moans. The closeness allows him to grind and provide amazing friction to you outside that makes you want to sob, but it isn’t enough. You need it quicker, rougher, gasping out, “-more, please Mickey-”
You urge him on when you breathe out his name so close to his ear, needy and wanting. He can’t stop himself from giving in, going faster, harder as you demand. He craves to hear more of the phenomenal sounds you are making and make this better for both of you.
His mouth is right there, and he wants to, so he does. He kisses along your throat, and you tense in response with a whimper. Christ, in all of his wildest fantasies, he never thought that you would whimper when getting fucked. His teeth scrape, you repeat the sound and that emboldens him to flat out bite, and you clench around him with the best cry he’s heard from you yet. Mickey’s head lifts, he looks down at you, catching the amazing expression on your face, lips parted and eyes unfocused. Your bodies rock together, and the pace is perfect, you compliment him shakily, “Yo-you feel so fuck-ing good-”
He laughs breathless, a shake of his head as he imparts, “M’ pretty sure you feel better.”
Again, so much flattery, yet you want to more. You lean up, your face closer to his as you ask, “Yeah?”
He leans in further as he tells you, “Oh yeah, fucking incredible-” You moan at his words and how he punctuates that last word with an extra hard thrust and that hits on a spot inside that makes you bite back an embarrassingly loud moan. You go with it, legs unwrap from him, feet on the sheets you adjust so he hits that spot again and with more accuracy, your eyes squeeze shut, and you curse weakly, “Fuuuck-”
“Mm there it is.” One of his hands locks onto your hip, helping hold your new position a bit better so he can continue to assault that spot, making you release a wavering moan of his name.
You want too badly, your hand moves, fingers slide up into his hair and twist, you pull him down into a kiss that the pair of you groan into. It progresses pretty quickly after that point, the creaking of the bed and skin on skin meeting, filling the space. The sloppy and heated make-out continues, your wandering hands drink him in, touching over smooth skin and feeling his body as he keeps fucking you. In a few short minutes the pleasure is building for both of you, reaching its fever pitch, everything from the scenario and mental stimulation paired with the intensity of the physical becoming too much to bear. His movements are becoming messier, he can’t be far off. You just need a little more if you are going to make it across the finish line before he does.
One of your hands finds space between your bodies, quick fingers touch yourself. You focus on stroking your straining and throbbing clit in tight circles, just how you need it. You are lost in the feeling, in his lips and tongue, every snap of his hips and thrust of his dick and the sounds you both let out into each open-mouthed kiss. You can feel yourself being dragged to the edge at a blinding pace. He breaks the kiss to tell you, “M’ close-”
A shaky nod as you tell him quickly, “Me too, God-”
“Don’t stop, okay? Keep touching yourself.” He rushes out, and you let out a small hum of acknowledgment. Less than a minute more, and you’ll be cumming, but Mickey can’t hold out, and his request makes sense. He pulls out, a hand locks around himself as he strokes himself through his end. You cannot look away, his face creased with pleasure, his mouth open, your name staining his tongue and the slight shudder of his body as he cums. He unloads onto you, streaks of white painting your stomach, hips and even dripping onto your still busy fingers between your legs.
Mickey reaching his peak and coating you while you were already so close is more than enough to push you over. The height of it steals your breath and all coherent sounds, you wish you could return the favour he gave and moan his name, but you are simply unable. The tension begins to release immediately as bliss overtakes, writhing below him as your hips buck up into your touch, riding out your orgasm. When the ecstasy reaches its natural end, your hand falls away, and you suck down a lungful of air. You are still reeling when he picks up the camera again, taking a picture of the artful pools of his cum splattered over your skin.
You never even questioned the action, but he confesses, “Had to.” You get it and would never dream of complaining. After that, he sets it aside again.
Mickey joins you in laying back down, stretching against the sheets, you both stare up at the ceiling in the relative quiet. What do you even say to that? The first thing that comes to your mind, spills forth, “Oh my God.”
Mickey laughs, his head turns and so does yours to look at him. He asks, “Do we need an ‘oh my God’ counter now, or?” You laugh, too, rolling onto your side to face him better. “Shit, maybe?”
The pair of you lay there, holding eye contact, your fingers tracing some invisible pattern on the sheets between you until it catches on the glossy corner of one of the pictures you snapped earlier. A quick glance down, you snatch it and bring it up, it’s the picture he took of himself poised at your hole. You exclaim, “Woah, this came out so hot!”
“Yeah?” He questions, and you scoot closer, holding it up. Mickey whistles low as he takes it in, “Daaaamn, that is a good one.”
The rest of the pictures are collected and you both lay there in his bed to review them. He has an arm hooked around you as you cuddle into his side and try to decide which picture should be given to your soon-to-be ex. You have been praising Mickey heavily for his impeccable camera skills, and he says, “Eh photography is easy with such a good subject.”
You laugh and roll your eyes, flicking him in the side, “Oh booo! Fuck you, that was sooo corny!”
He is snickering to himself and flipping through the pictures again. After another quiet moment, he asks, “So which one are you gonna gift to captain cheating fuck ass?”
You look at them again, considering and taking your time and scrutinizing. From the pictures of your exposed flesh and his hand on your chest, to the ones with him rubbing your pussy through your panties, to the hottest ones of him about to and then actually fucking you and the aftermath. You are struck with a realization and an idea at the same time. Your cheek nuzzles against his chest briefly earning an affectionate squeeze from him, before looking up at Mickey and saying, “You know I think these pictures are too good for him, I think I wanna keep all of them.”
“Oh really?” He questions, and you confirm, “Yeah, I think so, but I have an even better idea to make up for this.”
He grins, dying to hear what you have to say and asks, “This’ll be good, what is it?”
“Well, I was laying here thinking, what is the real way to one-up him and his pathetic little picture?” You pause for dramatic effect before informing him, “A full on sex tape.”
You are without a doubt, completely mind blowingly amazing. He can’t stop himself from immediately kissing you, an action you return and deepen, your tongue parting his lips. The kiss is filthy but brief, he pulls back, with a laugh and his hand runs through his hair as he compliments, “You are a fucking genius, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told on occasion.” You sit up, arms reaching over your head as you stretch, “I suggest you check that you have a new tape for that video camera of yours because I’m going to be on top this time.”
He practically scrambles to get out of bed and retrieve his video camera, and you giggle as you watch him go. It’s funny that in less than twenty-four hours, your boyfriend cheating on you went from the worst thing that ever happened to you, to what might be the very best thing that ever happened to you.