I wrote this for sadtomatoff after she gave me the prompt "Drama Queen Twink Riley, older Carlisle, slapping, fucking. Go." So ... this is what I came up with. It's silly and sweet and quick. And smutty. Enjoy!
"Eww. Why did we have to come to this place again, Carly? Everything is so … meaty," he whines, as we both peruse the menu.
"Riley, we came here because after a long stressful week at the hospital, I enjoy a bottle of wine and a good steak. It's once a week. Now, find something to eat without whining and please stop calling me Carly in public. You know how I feel about that." I give him a stern look over the tops of my reading glasses. Getting old is a bitch.
He huffs and grumbles something under his breath as he pulls the menu back up to hide his face.
"Riley. I said without whining." My patience is wearing thin.
"Fine. Carlisle." He's walking a very fine line this evening, and he knows it. Good thing I'm head over heels in love with him.
We met in my hospital. His father was in my care, not likely to recover from the injuries he sustained in a car accident, and we had called his next of kin. Riley had come to see him for the first time since he was fifteen, and for what would be the last time as well. He was such a wreck, my Riley, hating his father yet wanting to love him all at once. All I wanted to do in that moment was take him in my arms and hold him. To show him that he could be loved. So I did. He had molded his body to my own like he was meant to be there, like his mind knew we were supposed to be. Four years and lots of therapy later, I think he finally truly believes it. And I'm patient with him when he digresses to this lost bratty boy, for lack of a better description. Because I love him.
We order our food - a medium rare steak and baked potato for me and a grilled chicken salad for him - and settle in with our wine.
"So, how was your day? Did you go to class?" Riley has been in college for as long as I've known him. I don't know that he'll ever actually graduate, but he works hard at a part time job too.
"Ugh. No. Can I just drop that art history lecture? Please? The professor is such a bitch, and I hate going. Please, Carly?" He tries to soften his voice as he pleads with me, but I stay firm.
"No. Absolutely not. And you better start going, or I'll make you pick up an extra shift at the library." At this, he straightens up a little in his seat. I know he likes to complain about the library, but secretly he takes pride in his work there. I don't know why he doesn't just declare a Library Science major and be done with it.
"Do you think I have time for another shift? I mean, I could always work Sundays, but you always say Sundays are only for us."
"As long as you continue going to school, which I strongly suggest you do, you don't have time for any more shifts. And you most certainly don't need the money right now, so please focus on classes. For me."
"Fine," he says, after a huge sigh. He takes a sip of his wine, and the whining begins again. "Why do we have to get red wine? It has so many more calories than white."
"It's better for you, and this one in particular pairs well with my steak. Now drink it, Riley, or ask for some ice water."
Our meal comes and after some more wine, we relax into our usual rhythm, but when I talk about a peculiar case at work for a few minutes, Riley looks up and interrupts me.
"New rule for our steakhouse dinner. No talk about work or school. We can talk weather, music, the news, anything but work or school. Think you can do it?" He's taunting me with his eyes, the little shit.
"Of course I can. And I'll make it even more interesting than pop culture. Why don't you tell me, in detail, about your latest fantasy." Riley has a vivid imagination, and he's constantly creating these little scenes he wants us to act out.
"Ohhhh, I see what you're doing. Trying to embarrass me out in public. I don't even care what these people think, Carly. You should know that. Hmm." He raises a thin arm and scratches the back of his neck as he thinks, and I know he's trying to come up with something on the fly.
'Well, I've been thinking a lot lately about you hitting me." There's a gleam in his eye, but for once I can't tell if it's a teasing gleam or an excited one.
"Jesus, Ri. Hitting you? I could never ..."
"No, silly. Not like, beating me. Just like, I don't know, we get in a really dramatic argument or something, and you slap me across the face, and then you feel bad, and I let you fuck me to make it up to me. The end." He looks so pleased with himself, I can't help but chuckle.
"Well. The rest of that I'm sure I can manage. I'll have to think about the slapping though. I don't want to hurt your pretty face, baby." He hates when I call him pretty, but surprisingly he doesn't let it get to him for once.
"Are you done? Can we go home yet? It's cold in here, and I need a blankie and some snuggles."
I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness. I asked him twice to put on a jacket or that striped cardigan he wears sometimes before we left the house, but he wanted to show off his newest belt. This one is purple and would 'be covered by his jacket and doesn't match the cardigan'.
The check comes, and I pay while he drains the rest of his wine. Must not be too bad for a red, I think, and he catches me grinning.
"What? What are you smiling about? Tell me." His brow is all furrowed, and I think he's probably on the verge of a big pouty scene, so I simply stand and turn to walk out the door. "Come on, whiny," I call over my shoulder.
The ride home is silent. He's definitely pouting. I know he means well, so I try to make amends by reaching over the console and rubbing his thigh gently. "Want some cocoa when we get home? I'll even make it on the stove with chocolate syrup like you like it."
"Oh, yeah! Can we have whipped cream on it instead of marshmallows? Please Carly?" It doesn't take much sometimes with my Riley. His voice is no longer a whine, and he's happy. Excited even.
I grin at him before looking back at the road. "Of course, baby. Anything for you."
We had our cocoa on the couch while cuddling, and finally at around eleven o'clock, Riley told me he wanted to go to bed early. Eleven is early for him. I'd rather be asleep by nine after most days I have, but I usually try to make a compromise with him on the weekends.
"Okay, baby. I'll meet you in there in a second. I'm just going to wash up these mugs."
"No, Carly. Come to bed. I'll wash them in the morning, I promise." He's pulling on my shirt sleeve and giving me his sweetest begging eyes, so I relent.
"Alright. But let's at least put them in the sink to soak." We drop the mugs in the kitchen before heading down the hall to our bedroom, where normally he pulls his cotton 'jammies' out of a drawer and changes before getting into bed, while I sit on my side of the bed and undress.
Not tonight, though. Instead, he slowly pulls off his thin tee shirt and tosses it on the floor before moving over to my side of the bed and standing in front of me with his hands on my shoulders.
"Wanna mess around?" He gives me a shy grin and looks down at me sweetly. Ah, so that's why he wanted to go to bed. My Riley wants to play, and my cock leaps to attention.
"Always." I reach to settle my hands on his slim hips before stretching up to kiss his neck and shoulder. He's not too tall but he isn't short, and my seat on the bed is making it kind of awkward, so I eventually settle on cuddling my head into his stomach and letting him run his hands through my hair.
"Carly? I love you. I'm sorry I was so … me at dinner."
"It's okay, baby. As long as you stop calling me Carly. Seriously. Now come here." I pull him down to my lap and run my nose along the length of his collarbone and up the side of his neck, before pulling his earlobe between my lips and sucking gently. He leans into me and whimpers softly, so I let my lips take a slow, deliberate path back down his neck and across his Adams apple, up his chin and finally to his lips.
After a few sweet pecks, I deepen the kiss, running my tongue along his lower lip until he opens to me and I can explore his mouth fully, tasting the sweet cocoa on his own tongue. We kiss for several long moments, lazily at first, and then more urgently, when I get an idea. Sometimes he likes it a little rough, and while I'm not sure I'm ready to slap him, maybe that's what he's needing tonight. I reach up with my left hand and pull his face into my own harshly, deepening the kiss, then wind my fingers through his hair and tug gently.
"Do you like that, baby?" I whisper against his lips, still pulling his hair some.
He pulls back slightly, then gets a wicked glimmer in his eye and grins. "I guess it's okay. Don't strain yourself or anything though, oldman." He turns to walk toward his side of the bed, but I grab his wrist and jerk him back to me.
He looks at me in surprise - I hardly ever use any kind of force with him - and then grins. I steel myself for what I'm about to do and lift my hand up even with the side of my head. I close my eyes and swing about as hard as if I were shooing a fly. The light tapping sound as my hand connects with his face falls flat, and I open my eyes to Riley's laughter.
"Is that it? Wow. You really are a grandpa." He giggles, rolling his eyes. "Good night, Gramps. Have fun controlling your bladder and eating Grape Nuts for breakfast."
That's it. He's asking for it now. I lift my hand again and feel the whoosh of the air as it connects with the side of his cheek with a loud thwack. Wow. It feels kind of … good.
Riley's breath hitches, and he reaches a hand up to rub his cheek, while staring at me for a few long seconds. Just when I begin to panic, thinking I've hurt him, he launches himself at me.
He straddles me where I'm perched on the edge of the bed, kissing along my neck and moaning, while he runs his hands up and down my sides. Eventually he pauses at the collar of my shirt. We continue to kiss as he unbuttons, untucks, and slides the shirt off my shoulders and down to the bed, when he suddenly breaks from my lips and drops to his knees.
"Fuck, Ri. You don't have to do that, baby." I say the words, but my cock is already thrusting into his hand as he makes quick work of my fly, jerking my pants to the ground along with my white briefs.
"I want to Carly. Always." He looks up at me for a second before running his tongue along my entire length, then taking the head in his mouth and sucking gently. Slowly, he sucks, taking more and more of me in gradually until I'm fully in his mouth, my head at the back of his throat. Fuck, he's always been good at this. I place one hand on the back of his head and gently squeeze his neck, letting him know he can pull back any time he wants to. Instead of releasing me, he slides a hand along my thigh until he cups my scrotum, gently rolling my balls back and forth between his fingers.
Jesus. Riley could make me come in a matter of seconds, he's so in tune with my body.
"Baby, that's enough. It feels amazing, but I don't want to come. Come on." I gently tug at his neck and at his shoulder, until he finally pulls all the way back from my cock and stands next to me, immediately kissing my neck and clavicle.
"Carly. I want you. Need you. Please." Now this whine. This is the whining I don't reprimand him for. This whine turns me on even more. I pull him down next to me, reaching for his ridiculous purple belt and undoing it quickly so that I can unbutton his jeans and shove them to the floor. Before I make myself comfortable, I go ahead and reach for his underwear too, and let out a choked laugh at what I see. He's wearing the Superman underoos I bought him as a gag gift last year when I was on a tangent about how skinny he is.
"Seriously? Are you kidding me with these?"
'What? They're cozy, and I like the color of blue in the background." My Riley, never apologetic for who he is or what he likes. God, I love him. I pull off the underwear and toss them to the floor next to his jeans, then scoot back on the bed, watching to see what he does next.
"For someone who needs me, you sure aren't making any moves," I tease.
"Oh, you want moves? I'll show you moves." He crawls across the bed toward me, and as soon as he reaches my body begins placing open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach. My calf, my knee, my thigh, my inner thigh, my hip bone, the trail of hair below my navel, my hand and forearm, all the way up until he reaches my lips. He straddles me, and as we kiss, he grinds his cock against my own, and I groan at the sensation.
Just when I feel like I could be lost in our kisses forever, he takes my hand gently and guides it down his side to his hip, and over his ass cheek to exactly where he wants me.
"Get me ready," he whispers against my lips, never breaking the rhythm we've set with our thrusting.
"Jesus. Get me the lube, baby." I let my middle finger slide down his crack and circle his entrance slowly, gently, until he sits up with the bottle. I move my hand between us and let him drizzle some of the liquid on my index and middle fingers, then reach back around as he leans forward to kiss me again. I let one finger enter gently, just to the first knuckle and wiggle it gently.
"Ung. Fuck, Carly. Just like that. God, that feels so good."
Between kisses, I growl at him. "Stop. Calling. Me. Carly." I push the finger in further and then pull out, back and forth a few times until I think he's ready for the second finger. I push them in together gently, then work them back and forth and around, scissoring and stretching him for several minutes as he places kisses all over my face, my neck, my shoulders. Finally, he whispers that he's had enough and that he needs me.
He sits back on my thighs and fumbles for the bottle of lube again. When he finds it, he wastes no time coating me with it and giving me a few hard strokes like he knows I like. I hear the lube hit the floor with a thump before he moves forward again and positions me at his entrance, slowly guiding me into him. He whimpers at first, then says something like "so good" before finally taking me all the way until he's seated on me.
Riley looks down at me, and I whisper that I love him. He says it back. He always says it back. He leans forward just slightly and grasps my hands with his own, sliding up and down gently on my cock.
"That feels amazing, baby," I tell him. "Do what feels good. Yeah. Just like that." He picks up speed a bit, bouncing up and down on my thighs, moaning and telling me how good it feels before saying he doesn't want me to come too soon. I stop him, and without letting myself slip out of him, I help him turn around so he's facing away from me and I rise up on my elbows, resting the weight of my upper body on my arms and positioning inside him at a better angle.
"Ride me, baby. I know how you like it." This is Riley's favorite position. He can set the pace, bouncing up and down on my cock, and usually uses one hand on his own cock while his other hand can reach down below to feel my various sensitive parts. Tonight, he goes straight for that space between my balls and my own rear entrance that feels like it has a thousand nerve endings.
"Fuck, Ri." I thrust upward into him as he touches me there with a firm touch. "Shit, that feels so good."
He arches his back, and I can see around his hips just enough to know that he's stroking himself at a pretty rapid pace, while I relentlessly thrust in and out of him. He moans softly and drops his head forward. I know he's close, so I put even more effort into my thrusts, shifting my weight enough that I can reach one hand forward and grasp his hip.
"Carlisle, I'm gonna, fuck, I'm gonna come. Shit." He falters in his rhythm and then pauses altogether with one long moan. I feel warmth on my right thigh and realize that must be where he let himself release. It's only a few short seconds before he's right back to riding me again, this time leaning forward some, knowing it will get me off quicker.
"Shit. Carly. Come on baby. I want you to come. Please." He looks back over his shoulder at me, and that does me in. With a long groan, I pulse inside of him, long hard spasms until I shudder and fall back onto the bed, exhausted.
"Jesus, Ri, that was perfect. Fuck." I lie there panting for a few minutes while he gently moves from my lap.
"Ewwwww." He gets off the bed and hurries to the bathroom, and I grin in my post-orgasmic haze. My Riley doesn't like the 'after effects' of me fucking him. Ever since we both had two years of clean tests and decided to stop using condoms, he complains about my cum being a mess. It's adorable.
I don't hear him tiptoe back to the bed, and he instantly starts in with the questions.
"What? What's funny? You have a smirk on your face, Carly. Tell me," he whines and slaps my thigh before cuddling down next to me and resting his head on my chest.
I slide my arm around him and reach my hand up to gently run it through his hair, down his neck and rest it on his shoulder.
"Nothing, baby. Just you. You're the worst dinner companion, you're twelve years younger than me, and you whine about absolutely everything. But I love you, Ri. Now, please, stop calling me Carly."
"Whatever you say. I love you, too. And I don't really think you're that old."
"Fuck. I can't believe I slapped you. I feel like some kind of wife beater or something. Jesus."
He nudges me in the ribs and pulls back, taking my face in both of his hands so he can look me right in the eye. "Carlisle, chill. You didn't hurt me, and I asked you to slap me. Remember? Besides, it was really hot. You got all … what's the word? Dominating? Dominant? Dominator? Whatever, it was sexy. Now move over, you're hogging the good part of the bed."
I chuckle at the thought. Is he kidding? My Riley could never be dominated.
I close my eyes and snuggle in for the night. "Night, baby."
"What? You gonna slap me?" He giggles and tries to roll away, but I've got him firmly under my grasp. And I don't intend to let go.