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lucig00se · 28 days

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Personal Space - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 6

Word Count - 3.5k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content

Also available on AO3

Steve Raglan has not kissed a woman in years. No one since his wife, the idea of it not even a blip on his radar.

Until you.

Now that he’s started he can’t seem to stop. Making up for every time he’s wanted to since he first met you. Planting them on your forehead and cheeks and jaw and neck. Working his way back to your mouth. Teasing along the shell of your ear, the patch of skin behind it that makes you shiver against him. Tasting the last of the drying tears that flavor your skin with salt.

Your hands slip into his. He’s held them multiple times now, but this union feels different. You take a step back and tug on them, guiding him forward. Moving away from the front door after a quick pause to toe his shoes off before continuing through the living room. Glancing behind you to make sure you don’t collide with any furniture as you progress towards a closed door.

It’s already been too long since he’s been at your mouth and he presses you against the white painted wood, his lips crushing yours again. How had he ever resisted you? He’d had you half naked in bed in the hotel room and he’d still denied you every time. It’s unfathomable now. He hears the metallic rattle of the doorknob as you fumble with it, shoving the door at your back open. You’re backing away again, leading him forward, pausing beside the bed. His eyes dart to the mattress, something large and pink drawing his attention.

A giant Hello Kitty plush. Of course.

You turn to follow his gaze. “Don’t start.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“I can see it on your face. You don’t approve.”

“Do you sleep next to that thing?”

“Sometimes,” you reply, looking a little defensive. “It’s like, you know, comforting. To have something to hold. When I don’t have a grouchy career counselor next to me.”

“Grouchy, huh?”

“And old. Can’t forget to mention that.”

“Ouch.” He lays a hand across his chest as if you’ve wounded him. “That’s it? Grouchy and old? That’s what I’m to be known as?”

“I mean, you know, there’s hot as fu—ahem. No profanity, I know,” you hastily correct yourself.

“I said in polite conversation. There are times when it’s warranted.”

“Is this one of those times?”

“Might be.” He smirks. “So I’m hot, huh?”

“Yes.” You grin back at him.

“As fuck, were you about to say?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding.

“Hmmm.” He pauses a moment before he moves towards you, pushing you down onto the mattress beneath him, a mirror of what he’d done in the hotel room that first night.

Except this time, he wouldn’t be stopping.

“Steve!” You squirm underneath him but he’s got you pinned, his hands wrapped around your wrists, now sliding them forward to lace through your fingers as he bends to capture your lips. “Hey,” you say softly.

“Hey.”

“I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“A lot.”

“Yeah, same.”

“You’re not going to get mad about this later, are you? Blame me for, I don’t know, taking advantage of you or something?”

“The only regret I have,” he begins, nuzzling the side of your neck, “is not doing this sooner.”

You sigh against him. His glasses are slipping down. He hastily removes them, tossing them in the direction of the nightstand. He thinks they landed safely. If not, he doesn’t particularly care. He had other pairs. They weren’t important.

The stuffed animal is the next to go, the plush cat lifted and dropped off the edge of the bed.

“You won’t be needing this tonight.”

You smile, the gesture fading as you ask your next question. “What made you change your mind?”

The bearded man sighs heavily. “I couldn’t bear to see you that unhappy. Because of me, because of what I’ve done to you. I don’t want to hurt you. Something inside of me just snapped when I looked over at you in the parking lot. It…hurt me.”

“I forgive you.”

“Do you?”

You nod. His lips brush yours. Again. Your mouth parts beneath his, granting access. His tongue taps yours, stretching, curling over and under. Trading positions. The blood pools in his groin, making his cock lift, straining against his fly.

You’re moving restlessly beneath him, not trying to playfully get away but writhing up towards him. Trying to grind your body against his. He lets his weight drop, allowing you to feel his arousal, moving that hard line against the dip between the soft curves of your hips.

He hums against the side of your throat, burying his face in your hair. Inhaling your scent. Rolling his hips, huffing in pleasure when you part your lower limbs, bringing your knees up so that you can wrap your lower extremities around his thighs. Properly dry humping now, something he hadn’t done since he was teenager. It had never been that good back then; mainly frustrating. This was something else entirely. Taking his time with you. His body getting to know yours through the layers of clothes before being properly introduced. The friction of his dick along the seam of your crotch. The way your knees squeeze him, the dig of your ankles.

He moves a hand to one of your breasts, kneading the soft curve. Laving at the hollow above one collarbone. The sounds you’re making. God, better than any pornography he’d ever watched on occasion. Nothing forced or pretend in this. Only sincerity. Little gasps that escape as his mouth works over your skin, sucking and kissing and nibbling. The moans as he caresses the globes of flesh rising from your chest. The deeper, more guttural noises that tear loose when his clothed cock scrapes your pussy just right, sounds that he echoes.

At last Raglan finally begins undoing the buttons of your blouse, deft flicks of fingers to release each bit of plastic. Kissing his way down each successive patch of exposed skin, your legs dropping back to the mattress as he goes. He loves how soft and smooth your skin is, the fragrance of the soap you use, something with lavender, light and clean and fresh. He unbuttons your slacks and pulls down the zipper and you lift your hips so he can slide the pants down over them, dragging until he’s cleared them from you.

You watch everything he does, your eyes fixed on his face, his mouth, his fingers, now sliding along the inside of your thigh, your legs parting, granting him access to your center. He wants your mouth on his again, moving so that he’s lying beside you, propped up on one arm, his fingers slowly tracing along the cotton crotch of the panties you’re wearing. You gasp and your hips jerk up, pressing you more firmly against his probing digits. He can feel how wet you are already, the fabric saturated with moisture. He sucks your bottom lip and strokes until he’s at your clit, rubbing at that small erect nub in small circles, still with the barrier between you, teasing a little further.

“I didn’t call you that night because I couldn’t sleep,” you whisper, and Steve’s fingers grow still.

“Why did you call me?”

“I wanted to talk to you. I missed you. I wanted…I wanted to talk dirty with you,” you admit with a final gasp.

“And what would you have said? Hmmm?” He nibbles on your jaw, waiting for you answer, his hand still paused further down between your legs. He conceals his surprise. This is a side of you he hasn’t expected.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened that day.”

“What happened that day?” He parrots your words, trying to cue you.

“When you licked my fingers during lunch when I fed you. When your hand was on mine in the car. Struggling to get the seatbelt off. I needed your hands on me. They’re so big…”

“These hands?” He dives beneath the waistband of your panties and your back arches, lifting you off the mattress when his fingers glide through the dewy folds, teasing against your entrance before pressing against the side of your clit, mashing the sensitive nub against the bone beneath.

“Steve…oh my God…”

“Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Before or after we hung up?”

“Steve…”

He drags his hand away again and you whimper with need.

“A little bit before. And after.”

He inhales sharply. His erection gives a lurch to remind him of its confinement. He’d had no idea. Oblivious. Thinking it was only on him. Not able to sleep that night. The naughty thoughts creeping in. But he hadn’t acted on them.

You had, though.

“Did you cum?”

You're hesitating again. Suddenly shy.

“You brought this up. You were the one that said you wanted to talk dirty to me.”

“But that was different, then.”

“How so?”

“I was drunk, for one thing.”

“That’s a poor excuse.”

“Yes, I came,” you admit grudgingly.

“Hard?”

Your cheeks flush. “Yes.”

“How? With your fingers or did you use a toy or…?”

“Fingers. I don’t even own a toy.”

He thinks maybe he’ll treat you to one at some point. Something he’d use on you himself, maybe. “What were you thinking about when you came so hard?”

“Your hands on me. Inside of me. Stretching me with those big fingers. That big cock. I knew it was big, even before I felt it, I knew…”

He huffs loudly. The discomfort in his pants is reaching its limit.

“I was imagining us at work. You bending me over the desk. Fucking me hard. Filling me up with a hot load of cum…”

“Jesus,” he blasphemes through gritted teeth. From zero to sixty. There was no in between with you.

“So would it have worked? Would you have gotten off to that?”

“Yes,” he growls, his fingers once again fondling your moist sex.

“Did you ever…”

“No.”

“Oh.” You sound dissappointed, the noise vanishing beneath the gasp as he unexpectedly plunges a finger inside of you.

“Not because I didn’t want you. Because I was trying to be respectful.”

“Mmmm…was what I did…nnngh…disrespectful?”

“Yes.” That little regretful noise escapes you again. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Is that something you do often?”

“Maybe…God that feels so good, you get so deep, fuck…”

“When was the last time?”

“I don’t know.” Your cheeks are scarlet. A second finger enters your canal, his thumb working on your clit, dragging another delicious sound from you.

“I think you do.”

“Fine. It was…at the hotel. The last night. I went in the bathroom and…I was really worked up and frustrated and…”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He kisses your cheek softly, at odds with the lewd things he’s doing to your pussy. “You know I’m only teasing, right? I’m not upset. At all.” He kisses your mouth. “You’re gorgeous. Sexy. I like it. All of it. Everything about you drives me crazy in the best possible way.” He withdraws from your opening and reaches for your hand, guiding it to the bulge behind his fly.

“I knew it. Fuck, Steve. You’re going to destroy me.”

He smirks. “I’ll try to be gentle, Miss Know It All. At first, anyway. After that, no promises.” Your hand squeezes and he groans. “You want to reenact that fantasy scenario of yours? Minus the desk, of course.”

“Yeah, I do.” God, your smile. It still got him every time. “You, sir, have entirely too many clothes on.”

“I was just thinking that same thing.”

It’s a team effort. You start at the top of his shirt and he works from the bottom after dragging the hem free from his work pants. Loosening the tie. Setting his watch beside his glasses—they had found their way to the top of the nightstand after all—before working on his belt and the opening of his pants.

The older man touches your eager hands, halting you. “A reminder. The scars. Nearly everywhere. Just so you’re prepared.”

“I don’t care, Steve. I mean, I do care, but…you know how you said you liked everything about me? I find all of this appealing, too. Scars included.”

“Okay.” He kisses you but you’re still frowning. “Okay, I believe you. I don’t understand it, but I believe you.”

Apparently mollified, you finish removing your own clothing while he stands beside the bed, slipping off his dress shirt and pulling his undershirt over his head.

You drop your blouse, brassiere, socks, and panties to the carpet, now completely naked. Steve halts midway through stepping out of his slacks, eyeing your nude form appreciatively. “Absolute fucking perfection.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, I do say so.”

You scoot over until you’re seated in front of him. “Come here.”

He kicks off the pants leg still clinging to one foot, standing in front of you.

“I love your body.”

“I’m not as fit as I used to be.” Overall, he’d maintained a relatively healthy weight over the years, a lot of muscle built up from…he’s not going to recap the reason for that in his mind right now, but he was definitely more lean than anything else. Except for his stomach. That had stubbornly remained a little softer than he’d like.

“Bullshit. I love every,” you rise and place a kiss on one side of his chest, “last,” another kiss, this on his abdomen, near the umbilicus, “inch.” Your mouth pressing against his cock through the boxer briefs. He hisses in pleasure, threading his fingers through your hair. You continue kissing wherever you can reach, your lips pressing wetly, tongue darting out to taste his skin. Dragging along the patterns of the scars. Still sensitive after all this time. A wet mark stains the front of his underwear. He can’t remember the last time he was this level of aroused.

You curl your fingers into the sides of the shorts, dragging them down slowly. His cock springs free and he sighs with relief. Your eyes widen. If there was one thing he could brag about, it was that feature. A size that would put a porn star to shame.

“You like it?”

“Yes.” You lean against him, one hand on an ass cheek, nails digging in slightly as you plant kisses on the shaft and tease a little lick along the tip.

“You want me to fuck you with it?”

“Yes.”

“Lie back down.” You obey, shifting until your head is resting on the pillows. The mattress creaks as he joins you, climbing over you. That confidence you’d exhibited earlier seems to be wavering a bit now that the moment has finally arrived. “You’re sure you’re ready for this? This is what you really want? We don’t have to—”

“—Steve, yes. I want you,” you interrupt.

He straightens, kneeling, tugging your hips towards him. Cleaving your lower extremities with his hands. He runs the head of his cock over your pussy, watching your reaction. Lingering over your clit. Then meeting your entrance. No going back now. He begins pushing forward, exploring the same tunnel he’d filled with his fingers earlier.

You gasp and he pauses, his thumbs stroking your abdomen in soothing circles. Impaling you a little further, eliciting another desperate grab for air. You were tight, even with him previously prepping you with his fingers. Sopping wet, too, which was definitely helping. He eases deeper into your heated canal. Some resistance, your muscles clenching down. He slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, leaning his weight forward, bringing those limbs with him, letting the downward momentum bring him the remainder of the way inside of you.

You moan, your fingers knotting in the pillowcase. His lips find your throat. Your knees press against his ribs as he withdraws almost completely free before sliding back inside. Repeating the process. It’s becoming easier, your body relaxing. Loosening up.

“Steve…” Your hand cups his bearded cheek. His mouth drops back onto yours, his hips pistoning in a steady rhythm. You rock your hips up against him, matching his pace. Sending him even deeper into you. “You feel so good.”

“You’re amazing. Perfect for me. My beautiful girl…” The praise spills out easily as he lost in a haze of pleasure. He shouldn’t have waited so long to have this. You both wanted it so badly.

“Promise me we’ll still have lunch together. See you at break time. After work…”

“Whatever you want.”

“Do we have to pretend that we’re just coworkers?”

He slows his pace, looking at you. “It’s better that way. When other people get involved…just trust me. You don’t want that.”

“But if we got married like Katherine and Matthew, then everyone would have to know.”

“You’re cute. Being married isn’t as romantic as it seems, though. Take my word on that.” He senses the shift in the mood. “You want to stop for a bit? Pillow talk?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt or kill the mood or…”

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night.” He withdraws fully, settling beside you. You turn on your side to face him. “I know what you want. What you’re expecting. I don’t know if I can fully give that to you. It’s not about the physical commitment. You are more than enough for me. But the emotional one. That’s the part I’m going to struggle with.”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I think if you just give me a chance…”

“It’s not that I don’t feel anything. I’m fucking this up already, I can tell.” He sighs in frustration. “I really like you. A lot.”

“A lot a lot?”

“Yes. That much.” You smile. “See, that right there. That’s part of it. I like seeing you happy. I love being the one to make you happy,” he adds softly. “You deserve it. I don’t think I deserve you.”

“I think you’re perfect just the way you are.” Your fingers reach for his. “And we’re good together. We balance each other out. I know you’re worried about whatever it was that happened in your past. And it’s okay that you’re not ready to tell me. Yet. I’m hoping someday we’ll get there. And you’ll trust me enough to say it.”

“It’s not about trust. You just…it’s not something simple.”

“Even if we never get there. As long as you’re with me. And you’re happy. That’s what matters.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you. You could do anything you wanted. Be with whoever you wanted. And you’ve decided on me.”

“Yeah, I have. You’re fighting yourself again. Don’t do it. Just let yourself have this. Give me a chance to make you happy. I know I can.”

“What even are you, you strange Hello Kitty loving, torture mobile driving, dipping French fries in sweet and sour sauce—which I still say is a crime—girl with a thing for old men—”

“—not all old men, just you. And you liked those French fries, so don’t even bother pretending you didn’t.”

“I liked the licking more than the flavor, to be honest.”

“Hmmm.” You smirk. “And I freaking stripped my car for you. No more Hello Kitty. Besides, I can’t help it if those long legs of yours don’t fit.”

“I told you I felt bad about that. You can put it all back. You should put it all back. Your car absolutely sucks, though. I’m not budging on that.”

“I was trying to save money. I have school loans to pay back.” Your lips twitch again. “At least my vehicle came from a recent decade.”

“Are you insulting my car’s age again?”

“Maybe. What are you gonna do about it?”

You shriek when his fingers dive towards your ribs, brushing against your arm pits before you have a chance to defend yourself. You giggle, attempting to return the attack. Rolling on top of him. The laughter subsiding. Your face hovers above his. “What do you think? Can we try it out?”

He should be telling you no. But he doesn’t want to. You’ve nearly convinced him that there’s some hope for a future for the two of you.

”Okay,” he agrees. You smile again, bending to kiss him. The casual brush deepening, your tongue parting his lips. The fire he’d felt earlier is rekindling. He holds your hips as you lower yourself onto him. The hand you’d used to guide his cock back into your pussy remains there between your bodies, rubbing against your clit every time you rock against him.

”Steve.” He should resent it every time you say that name, moaning it out with so much desperate pleasure. It’s not his real one. But the way you’re moving against him, that soft affectionate look in your eyes, something he hasn’t been gifted in so long, makes him wish it was.

Raglan’s got you pinned beneath him again. Nothing gentle this time. Fucking you properly, hard and fast and deep. Driving you to the moment your body finally surrenders, coming undone around him. An urge to mark you as his seizes him. He wants you to be his. Only his. Your name moaned before his lips meet yours, spilling his seed inside you.

Maybe he should just be the man you want. Fully become Steve Raglan, Career Counselor. And leave the other behind. A bad memory. Less than that.

Just forget William Afton ever existed at all.

#this is the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read

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