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The first time, Lars was nervous. You’d expected as much; he’d only touched you over your clothes, desperately kissing while your hands were in his hair and his groped and rubbed at you through the fabric until you came undone. He was left breathless every time, even when he came in his underwear, rutting against you.
He was growing ever more comfortable with being close to you. Your lips on his didn’t burn at all for one thing, which had been a pleasant surprise. As such, he became enamoured with your kisses, falling asleep each night replaying the memories of them in his head before dreaming about them. Every day he’d seen you, his fingers would subconsciously move up to trace his lips while he worked at his desk, head filled with thoughts of the night before.
Lars also loved the taste of you as much as the sensation of your lips soft and wet and warm against his, and the way your tongues slid together in a slow but desperate dance, moans muffled and lips swollen.
Each time you moaned into his mouth, his impatience to touch you – really touch you – increased. He’d never felt that way before, actually needing to feel someone on his skin.
All these thoughts merged into the spark of an idea one day when Lars was drowning out Kurt’s nonsense at work, distracting himself with the thought of you again. The photo of you pinned to the board behind his computer screen had been drawing his eyes away from his work so regularly he simply gave up in the end, gazing into your eyes and daydreaming of your lips.
At that moment, while Kurt tried to get his attention with the latest porn related news, Lars very easily decided that he wanted to taste you tonight. Once he’d started kissing you, he couldn’t keep his hands — or lips — off you, yet he still craved more. And tonight, he wanted a different taste on his tongue.
After a quietly romantic dinner at his little two seater table, he cleared away your dishes and returned to take your hand in his, as usual, leading you to sit on his bed where, usually, you’d make out until way past your usual bedtime, and then he’d walk you to your car, longing to ask you to stay the night but not yet having plucked up the courage.
‘How did you enjoy dinner?’ Lars asked a little skittishly as he settled beside you on the edge of his mattress.
‘Delicious,’ you smiled, leaning in to press your lips briefly to his.
When you pulled back, Lars smiled so sweetly you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You always adored how flustered he became from such a simple little act, cheeks flushed and blinking his gaze away. It was such a delicious contrast to the almost possessive, needy way he gripped you when his tongue was down your throat and his thigh was pressed firmly between your legs.
‘I… I wondered if I could try something new tonight?’
You tilted your head. What was he up to?
‘Don’t worry! We can still kiss, I just wanted to do something else for you. I- I think you’ll like it. If I do it right.’
‘Oh?’ A thrill ran through your body and settled low in your gut. Surely he didn’t mean…?
‘Could you just,.. lay back for me? Spread your legs?’
Without hesitation, you did exactly what Lars had asked, eager to see what he had in mind, already shivering at the thought of where this was going.
Lars squeezed his eyes shut tight, taking a deep breath and collecting himself with a quick shake of his head before dropping down to his knees between your parted thighs.
Your core throbbed when he licked his lips and glanced up at you. He really had no idea how effortlessly sexy he could be, hair impeccably neat except for that one chunk that stuck out as though you’d already had your hands in it, a naughty sparkle in his eyes and his lip trembling with anticipation.
‘Alright,’ he whispered softly when he was composed, gesturing to the fastening on your jeans, ‘could I…?’
You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips to help him shimmy them down and off your legs.
He let out another long breath, tilting his head into your palm when you stroked his hair to soothe him. Another physical affection he’d grown to love with you.
‘Are you ready?’ he breathed shakily.
‘Whenever you are, Lars, sweetheart.’
He swallowed down a high pitched, ‘Ok!’ and leaned in, hesitating for a moment with his lips bit together. He dove forward, mouthing at your centre through the thin layer of underwear.
Your body jolted, hands flying down to tangle in his hair while his strong hands slid up your thighs and to your hips, holding you in place while his tongue lapped at your core, warm and hungry.
Lars felt too hot. He was already relishing in your reactions, cock straining in his trousers and twitching each time you let out a little gasp or a moan. It wasn’t enough. His cheeks were burning so hot against your inner thighs, he thought that if he didn’t do something about it soon he might burn up entirely.
‘Nmm-t-tss-tou-’ he mumbled against you, impatient strokes of his tongue unrelenting.
‘Wha- what was that?’ you panted, pushing through the haze of bliss and pulling at his hair to try and prize his mouth off your folds long enough to understand him.
‘Need to taste you,’ he slurred, fingers moving from where they held your hips still to fumble at the elastic of your underwear instead.
You whipped them off, giggling quietly at how desperate you both felt, and Lars’s fingers seared into your hips again the second they’d dropped to the floor, but he was otherwise frozen to the spot before you, eyes fixed on your core.
‘Y-you’re so… wet,’ he choked out, eyes sparkling, ‘for- for me?’
‘Of course,’ you heaved, feeling yourself throb with need.
He reached out and dared to touch your folds with a gentle fingertip, watching carefully as you writhed, and memorising the way you moaned as he caressed your clit with a slick-coated finger.
‘It-it’s like silk,’ he muttered, mostly to himself, exploring so carefully, so tenderly, you could come undone just watching him.
‘May I taste you properly now?’
‘Yes, please.’
His hands slipped down to grip your thighs, pushing your legs a little further apart and holding them firmly in position. He licked a long stripe, painfully slowly, through your folds, tongue circling your clit with such precision you wondered how it was possible he’d never done this before.
With his hands on your thighs you were able to roll your hips a little, rocking against his tongue while one of his fingers stroked at your entrance, teasing its way inside.
And what followed was the start of Lars discovering that he had a favourite activity in the bedroom.
When you came undone on his fingers and tongue, his name tearing from your throat, Lars moaned against you in such a way that you knew he was spilling into his underwear untouched, and when he caught his breath, he came up to kiss you just as he’d promised he would.
His chin was shiny, and his neatly trimmed mustache was soaked. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand looking so satisfied your core clenched at the sight.
‘Did that feel good?’ he whispered against your lips before pressing his own against them.
You nodded, deepening the kiss, tasting yourself and throwing your arms around his shoulders.
The next night, Lars didn’t wait until you’d finished dinner.
He dropped to his knees under the table, removing your trousers hurriedly and spreading your legs in one easy motion, not even bothering to remove your underwear this time. He simply slipped it to one side and began to lap at your folds like a starved man, his dinner left to go cold above him while your fists slammed on the table.
The night after that, you’d planned to watch a movie together. Settling on his bed with a bowl of snacks, you leaned your head against his shoulder and pulled the thick blanket over your legs. You’d done this plenty of times in the past, usually made out a little toward the end of the film, and then finished up the snacks together before heading home.
Tonight, you were barely ten minutes in before his fingers were toying with the button of your jeans under the blanket, fingers sliding through your slick, teasing you. He pulled his hand out of your underwear to suck his fingers clean, glancing at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes that nobody else would ever believe he was capable of.
And then he was under the blanket, instructing you to try and keep track of the film while he focussed all his attention on your throbbing clit, fingers pumping just right until your thighs clenched around his head.
It was the next night that he finally asked you to stay. He’d made you cum twice already, once on his fingers ‘just to warm you up,’ and then again on his tongue, moaning into you as though he’d craved the taste for weeks, not hours.
‘Stay with me tonight?’ he breathed when he came up to kiss you as usual, and your hand had slipped down to rub him through his trousers. He was already so close.
‘Yes,’ you agreed simply, and he came hard with a choked out sob, fingers bruising into your wrist and head burying in the crook of your neck.
When he’d composed himself, he pulled back to smile at you, all dazed and sated, and endearingly sleepy.
‘Would you like a wake up call?’ he uttered under his breath with a cheeky smirk.
‘Every morning. Forever,’ you grinned. ‘Could I book that in right now?’
Lars’s heart skipped a beat, and he nodded, blinking his gaze away. He felt so naughty. So filthy. And yet, it was the most alive he’d ever felt. The most excited. How could that be wrong?
You pushed him back onto the pillows and laid against his chest to begin a slow, languid goodnight kiss, but Lars froze beneath you.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’
He bit his lips together, looking up at you through big, concerned eyes, fingers coming up to rub thoughtfully at his mustache.
‘It’s just, uhm…’ he struggled, breathing becoming quickly uneven as his mind raced.
‘Take your time,’ you soothed, your hand covering his.
‘I’m not making you… sore, am I? You know… down there? My mustache-’
Softly, you curled your fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. ‘Not at all. You don’t realise just how good it all feels for me, do you?’
Lars shook his head and you stopped him, stroking at his mustache with tender fingertips. He gasped.
‘Well, you haven’t given me carpet burn yet if that’s what you’re worried about, but you have given me more orgasms than I can count so… please don’t change anything, will you?’
Lars squeezed his eyes closed and he sucked in a sequence of rapid, sharp breaths. He might be eagerly providing them at every opportunity, but actually hearing you say the word orgasm so openly made him feel suddenly lightheaded.
‘Besides, you’re so handsome with that mustache. And I like the way it feels.’
Lars was just about ready to pass out, but your kiss brought him back down, warm and soothing.
After cleaning up and changing into his pyjamas (and lending a spare set to you), he fell into a restful sleep with your head against his chest, despite his mind buzzing with the thrill of what he had planned for the morning and the warm feeling that spread through his gut when he thought about you wearing his clothes.
Lars woke before you as he’d hoped, the sunlight spilling in through his little window, warm against his face. You’d remained on his chest all night, still in a deep, comfortable sleep.
Lars whispered a loving, ‘Good morning,’ to you and ever so gently slid you onto the pillows, burrowing beneath the duvet excitedly, his heart slamming against his ribcage.
He gently pushed your legs apart, holding his breath, trying so hard not to wake you. Not yet. He wanted you to wake already wracked with pleasure.
Your legs complied, and Lars heard a quiet snore from above the duvet. He unfastened the pyjamas he’d given you last night, revealing your core and he paused to steady himself at the sight of your folds, glistening already. Perhaps you’d dreamed about him, too. His mouth began to water.
A familiar warm, wet, feeling surged through your unconscious state, gradually bringing you to consciousness. As your eyes blinked open and your brain tried to play catch up, a million thoughts a minute rushed through your mind. Legs trembling. Heart racing. Fingers digging into the mattress beneath you. You were in Lars’s bed. Sunlight. It was morning. You were wearing Lars’s pyjamas. It was Friday. What time is it? Core throbbing. Thighs wet. Lars was not beside you.
Moments later, bringing all the thoughts to one crashing realisation that this was the wake up call he’d promised, your upper body lifted from the bed, a strangled cry tearing from your throat as Lars’s tongue flicked expertly over your sensitive nub and his fingers curled against your g spot.
Chuckling and feeling brave, he snuggled into your side as you caught your breath. ‘Waking up to an orgasm, isn’t that neat?’
Lars was grinning and humming to himself the whole time he spent getting dressed and ready for work. He brushed his teeth as normal, but you noticed he didn’t bother cleaning his mustache the way he had last night, even though it had been soaked again when he kissed you and mumbled a husky, ‘Good morning,’ while you tried to catch your breath.
With an excuse that you’d stopped by this morning to return one of Lars’s sweaters before work, he took you for breakfast with Gus and Karin at the house. He was eager for them to properly meet you, and what better time would there be than this, right before he had to depart for work, when they wouldn’t keep you both for so long that he’d miss out on ending an evening the way he’d become so accustomed to?
They didn’t really buy it, of course. They’d seen your car there last night and it hadn’t moved an inch. But Lars ploughed on with talking their ears off about how fantastic you were for the full half hour, and left for work just on time.
But not without leaning back over your shoulder first to whisper, ‘I just wanted to tell you that you tasted incredible this morning,’ into your ear. You knew Gus and Karin probably heard, and your cheeks felt hot, but really, you didn’t care at all.