<333 5 was “biting to stay quiet,” and I went with Jake/Amy and then it turned into pegging, because…of…reasons. [eta: now on ao3]
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Jake asks, for
the fourth time. “Because we can just ditch that thing, toss it out a window,
do it missionary like the founding fathers intended.”
“Do you still want it?” Amy asks, also for the fourth
time.
Jake looks at the strap-on that’s finally strapped on,
hanging between Amy’s legs. She’s still wearing her old NYPD sweatshirt,
standing in Jake’s bedroom with her arms at her sides, smiling down at him
where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.
“…yeah,” he breathes. “Yes, yeah, I want it.”
“Anyway,” Amy says, shrugging a little. “I’m pretty
sure the founding fathers just kind of stuck it wherever they wanted. That’s
basically the entire plot of Hamilton.”
“I still can’t believe that you won the lottery and
you took Gina,” Jake says.
“You think I’m going to make an enemy of Gina?” she
asks. “I’ve seen what she can do.”
“Almost get arrested for stalking Jefferson,” Jake
says. “That’s what she can do.”
“Exactly,” Amy says. “Imagine what she’d do to me if I
kept her from that opportunity.”
“Imagine what she would do if you hadn’t been there to
almost arrest her,” Jake says, smiling when Amy laughs. She pulls at the bottom
of her sweatshirt for a moment before one hand slips down to run over the
dildo, holding it loosely. Jake stares at it for a long moment before he looks
up to see Amy watching him, looking shy and a little determined, no makeup and her
hair pulled back in a smooth business-like ponytail.
“You should take your pants off,” she says, firmly. “That’s
probably step one.”
God, he’s super in love with her.
“Did you write down the steps?” he asks, getting to
his feet to step out of his pajama pants. “Were there flash cards involved?”
“Of course not,” Amy says. “Who uses flash cards for
sex?”
Jake gives her a look.
“There may
have been a—flow chart,” she says,
nonchalantly.
“That’s my girl,” he says, and Amy makes a soft happy
noise and steps in to kiss him, her fingers sliding across the line of his jaw.
They slide into his hair when he opens his mouth for her.
“Lay down on your back, Jake,” she says, when they
pull apart, kissing him one more time when Jake stares at her with wide eyes
and nods. She hugs him close for a second. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”
Jake feels weirdly speechless as he climbs back onto
the bed. He’s not used to that. That’s not—a thing that happens to him. He
sprawls on his back in the middle of the bed and ignores the urge to touch
himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Amy move around the
room.
She says, “Catch,” and tosses a bottle of lube at him.
He fumbles it, making a face at her.
“I’m an only child with an absent father,” he says. “You
can’t just throw things at me.”
“Sorry,” she says. “Let me make it up to you.”
When she pulls her sweatshirt over her head, so she’s
standing in front of him wearing nothing but the strap-on, Jake momentarily
forgets how to breathe.
“Okay,” he says, weakly. “Make it up to me.”
Amy bites her lip around a smile, and the dildo
bounces when she climbs up onto the bed, and it’s—this overwhelming mix of literally fuck me right now hot and how are you even real cute that is
linked exclusively to Amy in his mind. He can barely stand it, reaches out for
her and letting out a sigh when she lets him pull her on top of him.
The dildo nudges up against his stomach when she
kisses him.
“Amy,” he says.
“I’ve got you,” she says, sweetly, combing fingers
through his hair. “Spread your legs.”
“You’re not gonna get a diagram out?” he asks, as she
moves down to press a soft kiss to his stomach, his hip.
“I don’t need it,” she says, brightly, tapping her
fingers gently at the base of Jake’s dick so he squirms while her other hand reaches
for the lube. “I practiced.”
“You practiced?” he asks, voice breaking on a
desperate laugh when slick fingers slide up his dick. “How?”
“On myself,” she says, then slides her fingers down slowly
to press against his hole.
“Oh,” Jake says, faintly. “Right.”
This might kill him, but what a great way to go out.
“Tell my story,” he says, reaching up to touch Amy’s
face.
“…sure,” she says, slowly. “Anyway, I think I’ve
really got this down—I mean, the angle’s different, and there’s definitely more
hair happening, but—”
One of her fingers slides inside of him, and Jake
says, “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Amy says, happily. “Anatomy’s really just
anatomy.”
She pets his side aimlessly as she fucks him open,
slow and methodical, while Jake tries and fails repeatedly to make words come
out of his mouth. When he makes an overwhelmed noise, Amy just asks, seriously,
“Do you like it?” and twists her fingers a little.
“I love you,” Jake says, a little ashamed of how
dreamy his voice is.
Amy laughs.
“I love you,”
she says, pulling her fingers out and leaning over top of him to grab a
washcloth from the nightstand. On her way back, she stops to kiss his forehead,
and he wraps his arms around her so she’s pressed up against his chest. She
turns to press her smile to his cheek. “Are you ready?”
“Uh huh,” Jake says. “Ready, so ready, let’s do this
thing.”
“Good,” Amy says, patting his cheek, and Jake grins
stupidly at her as she moves back down to kneel between his legs. He moves when
she touches him carefully, until she has a pillow under his hips and she’s pushing
inside of him.
The noise he makes kind of reverberates off the walls.
He’s maybe a screamer.
“Jake, sweetheart,
remember the noise complaints,” Amy says.
Amy’s neighbors are squares and also villains.
“I can’t guarantee anything,” he says. “I’m expressive, it’s part of my charm.”
“I know,” Amy says, pushing in a little more,
squeezing Jake’s hip when he moans again. “I know, and I love that about you,
but Mrs. Johnson’s going to take me off her Christmas card list and you know that’ll haunt me.”
Their hips are nudging together now, and Amy’s hand
tightens where it was just sprawled over his waist. When she rocks up a little,
he genuinely can’t stop the noise that comes out of him, one hand groping up so
he can grab her arm.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Amy says, softly. “I’m just going
to—”
She leans in to touch fingers to his lips, nodding
when he opens his mouth and lets her slip them inside.
“Bite down,” she urges, as she starts to fuck him
slowly, and Jake nods erratically, biting and licking at her fingers to hide
the fact that he’s basically just whimpering. But, you know. Like a man.
“Faster,” he says, garbled around her fingers.
“Yeah?” Amy asks, shoving in hard. He bites down a
little too hard on her fingers and she yelps, laughs before she murmurs, “That’s
it. Good boy.”
Okay, that’s not even fair. Amy stumbled on that little phrase a few weeks ago and has
been ruthlessly exploiting it ever since.
She fucks him harder, getting a rhythm up until Jake’s
running his hands up and down her back, saying nonsense around her fingers to
urge her on until she says, “Are you—should I—”
Her other hand moves from where it was digging into
his waist to touch his dick, and Jake moans out a reply that he’s pretty sure
is an equivalent to a yes because Amy’s hand starts to move, her hips pushing
forward in neat little strokes.
Her fingers press against his tongue when he comes,
loudly, barely muffled.
Next door, Mrs. Johnson’s dog starts to bark.
“Sorry,” he says, even though he’s not, breathing
heavily as Amy moves to collapse on top of him, still inside of him. “No
Christmas card this year.”
“Screw Mrs.
Johnson,” Amy says, fiercely.
“Santiago,”
he says, grinning.
“Peralta,” she breathes in reply, pressing a kiss to
his mouth.
“Let’s get that thing off you,” Jake says, getting a
hand between them to slip fingers under the harness, “and see if you can get
loud enough to make her move.”
oh my god, they were roommates 