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ken-dom · 2 months

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I've Got You On My Lips

Luke Glanton x gn!reader

1.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Luke gifts you lipstick. It is for you, but it's also very much for him.

∘₊✧ Authors notes: Entirely inspired by this! Thank you as always to my darling K for beta reading, once when I first wrote it and again when I kinda re-wrote it... The title is taken from My First Kiss by 3OH!3 & Kesha, also thanks to K 🩷! Incase you're wondering, lipstick does wash out of denim so... might have to do it all again later. Oh, and, happy Valentines, Geese 💕

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, reader wearing lipstick, smoking, dry blow job (?), cumming in pants, lipstick kink?, mild bit of exhibitionism (semi-public, and... well, the pants situation)

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Luke smirked. His voice was quiet and low, and you wouldn’t have heard him through the noise of the carnival if not for the way he was pressed almost flush against you with his lips hot at your ear when he drawled, ‘That colour looks good on you.’

He drew back to consider you again, thumb pressing firmly to the centre of your bottom lip while his fingers cradled your jaw and his eyes sparkled over the lipstick he’d asked you to put on for him.

Your cheeks glowed under the intensity of his gaze and you knew he could feel you trembling. Your eyes slipped shut.

Biting his lip, he dragged his thumb, smearing the deep red over your skin, leaving a pretty stain across your cheek.

‘Mmh.’

He leaned in, finally closing the inch between you that had been thick with desire for what felt like eternity.

Luke’s tongue was needy, seeking yours out with a gentle exploration as he kissed you with unparalleled hunger, moaning into your mouth and winding his fingers into your hair.

With a single shove of his knee he parted your legs easily, pressing his thigh to your heat and smirking as he felt you writhe against him.

He knew what he was doing to you, and that knowledge was making his blood boil.

‘Fuck,’ he panted when he eventually paused for breath, his swollen lips now also coloured red.

He’d asked you to apply it thick after gifting it to you, so you’d guessed he wanted to make a mess of one another. He did tend to like it messy. Your lips curled at the thought.

You could feel his cock throbbing in his jeans where it was pressed to your hip, and he rutted against you just a little as he watched your pupils dilate some more, whimpering at the friction.

You itched to push your hand into his trousers and bring him off, but your logical mind briefly pushed through the haze of arousal.

Pressed against the outside of his trailer, you were just out of sight of any passers by – and definitely out of earshot with all the sounds of the carnival downing you out, but it was almost midnight, and he had his last show of the evening then. You knew if you started touching him when he was this worked up it would escalate; Luke was never satisfied unless your legs were wrapped around his waist and you were screaming his name while the trailer rocked with the force of your passion.

You needed to be quick, make this just about him and only him. And you knew he would make sure you got yours later, when he was fresh from the cage, adrenaline pumping through his veins, smelling faintly of gasoline and sweat.

‘Wait- wait, Luke, I’ve got a better idea,’ you breathed, pushing at his shoulders until he stepped back (as much as it pained you to lose that delicious friction).

You grabbed him and spun around, pushing him firmly into position with a thud against the side of the trailer where you had been pressed, dizzy with lust, only moments ago.

‘Light a cigarette would you?’ you asked, low and seductive.

Luke’s eyebrows raised, inquisitive, already liking wherever you were taking this. As he pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket and lit the cigarette he’d sucked from the pack, his eyes fell immediately back to your lips.

So pretty, all stained for him.

‘Need a refresh,’ he mumbled, never looking away, his own stained lips busy holding his cigarette in place before he took a long, satisfying drag.

You obliged, pulling the tube of lipstick from your pocket and reapplying a layer to your lips. Luke watched just as carefully as you watched him smoke; each like a work of art that had captivated the other.

‘Since when do you wear all white, anyway?’ you asked as you eyed him, twisting the red stick back into its sleek black holder.

‘Thought you’d like it on me,’ he shrugged, voice husky. ‘Do you?’

‘Definitely,’ you cooed, dragging your palms down the loose fitting cream shirt he had tucked into his pale jeans, ‘but I think we could… jazz things up a little. What do you say? Do you trust me?’

‘Unconditionally,’ he grinned, smug, but mostly excited.

You dropped to the ground in an instant, dry dirt coating your knees with a layer of dust, and reached up to pull at his wrist, guiding his cigarette down to your freshly coated lips, leaving a shiny red ring around the tip before releasing him. You watched his eyelids flutter as he lifted his arm and studied what you’d done to the paper around the filter and his mind swam with the possibilities.

His focus was pulled directly back to you, though, when he felt the soft warmth of your mouth pressing to his thigh.

He stared down at you, watching you admire the lipstick stain you’d left, stark against the fabric, in the shape of your perfect lips.

Luke immediately lost his breath. You were marking him up, letting everyone see where your lips had been. And he liked it.

You left another mark, higher, and then another, lower this time, by his knee, and kept going until his left leg was covered in an attractive pattern of kisses. Your kisses.

Luke watched in awe. He wasn’t sure if lipstick washed out of denim. He hoped it didn’t.

His thoughts were abruptly cut off when he saw you move up to press your mouth against the space just beside where his cock was straining in the confines of the fabric you were busy decorating.

Just when he thought this would be it, that he would finally feel some semblance of relief, you dropped back to your ankles, applied another coating of thick red, and kissed his other knee instead, starting the process all over again to make the design almost symmetrical.

It didn’t actually take long to finish your artwork, mere seconds in reality, but to Luke it was a lifetime of torture.

He needed more.

He was so worked up he might just explode without you even touching him. Imagine that… he smirked, sure you’d think it hot if he did. You seemed to like him flustered and lacking control now and again. He didn’t mind it so much, either.

With one final kiss to the tip of his leaking, twitching cock, Luke drew in a deep breath of anticipation, and you dropped back again.

Tease! he thought, (Keep doing it).

But this time, the brief absence of your lips against him was only to reapply the lipstick once again.

Once your lips were sufficiently coated, you glanced up at Luke, eyes dark and glittering, and ran your tongue slowly from one corner of your mouth and back again, all the way around your parted lips.

Luke whined. He felt weak. His head was spinning. He needed those lips on him again, somewhere — anywhere

‘Hold on tight, Handsome,’ you smirked up at him, and dove forward, finally pressing your lips to the underside of his cock and mouthing hungrily at the fabric.

All the breath was knocked out of him, cheeks blazing and fingers grasping behind him for something to hold onto. Something to ground him.

The denim over his cock wasn’t as soft as you would feel against his sensitive flesh, but it created a delicious friction. He rolled his hips into it, chasing whatever pleasure he could get, vaguely aware he would be needed on his motorcycle in less than five minutes, and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to ride it like this, all worked up and painfully hard. Not without you finishing what you’d started. Or had he started it? He wasn’t sure any more. He didn’t care.

You were lapping at him as though the denim wasn’t there, sloppily sucking and kissing, and staining the crotch of his jeans with your efforts.

His fingers found your hair and wound tight into it, feeling every movement, anchoring himself in the moment with you, rocking his hips in time with your affections, moaning loud and unashamed.

He could feel his release approaching fast and his head thudded back against the trailer, eyes squeezing shut as his seed spilled, hot and thick, inside his underwear.

You didn’t stop mouthing until he was whimpering and weak with sensitivity, and only then did you stand, kissing him softly on the mouth with your swollen lips, most of the rouge left behind on his jeans.

‘Fuck-’ he repeated, breathless, as you broke apart to hold him through his recovery. ‘That was so fucking hot- Jesus-’

‘You’ve gotta go,’ you interrupted with a whisper.

‘No,’ he groaned.

‘You do, it’s your last show of the night. You’ve got two minutes!’

You stepped back and Luke straightened himself up, glancing down at the glorious mess you’ve made of him.

He could smooth his hair down and wipe the evidence from his mouth easily enough. But there was no time to change, so he would simply have to throw on his jacket and do this show with the print of your lips smeared all over his cock, complete with a sticky wet patch just above where the red stains ended.

‘Shit,’ he smirked.

You handed him his jacket from where he’d left it on the lawn chair beside the trailer door. ‘Go on. I’ll be waiting for you.’

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