A little smutty WayHaught one-shot to ease my way back into writing.


(Dev is my beta for ever and ever and ever, amen)

Rated X. Very NSFW.

* * * * *

As she walks towards you, you find that you can’t breathe. She’s red cheeked, still in her winter clothes, her coat wrapped around her and the sparkle of snow on her hair. You’ve only just let her in, into your house, into your heart, but she’s filled the spaces and made them her own. Now she walks towards you like a woman with something in mind and if you didn’t already trust her you might have been a bit scared.

“Wave—” you begin, but she lifts a hand, and you stop talking. The room has been warmed by the fire you’ve had stoked all night, but suddenly it’s warmer in here, and your cheeks burn. First, she undoes her scarf, laying it across the back of a chair deliberately, and then her coat is off.

Then she’s walking towards you again until she reaches you, and you smile. At first you lean down to kiss her, greet her, but there’s an unexpected hand in the centre of your chest. The air constricts in your lungs and your eyes widen as you’re gently but firmly pushed backwards until you hit the wall by the hall door. The air whooshes out of you and you swallow.

Her fingers trace the line of your jaw, down from the angle to your chin, tracing the slight dimple in the middle, while her face looks thoughtful, before drawing her fingertip up to trace a gentle pattern over your lips. You can’t help yourself and they part for her, a slight puff escaping as you wonder what the hell is going on.

You briefly mourn the loss of her finger, of the feather-light touch, before you realise that both her hands are occupied unbuttoning your shirt and you swallow again.

“Waverly.” This time it comes out like a prayer. If there was any question in it, it’s whisked away by her gentle smile and a barely perceptible shake of the head. Clearly, she doesn’t want you to talk. Clearly, she does want you exactly where she has you. Your knees tremble slightly as you lock them together and she undoes the last button.

Gentle hands part your shirt and you’re in love with the look on her face. It’s loving and gentle and warm and, of course, beautiful because it’s Waverly, but right now it’s also hungry and you can’t believe you’ve put that look on her face.

Waverly lifts her hand and starts a gentle descent from the notch at your collarbones, down your sternum, between your mostly covered breasts. Your nipples tighten immediately and you grind your teeth down to supress a whimper. Your body is alight with sensation, on fire for her, but you hold still.

Her nails scratch gently down your stomach and you can’t prevent the clench of those muscles. She seems to like that, tracing the lines between your muscle and then running her thumb around your navel. You bless your stars you bothered to do all those sit ups and crunches. Her hands come back up, finding your collar and the backs of her fingers caress your neck.

You wonder if you should be touching her, should be joining in and the thought of Waverly’s skin under your fingers makes your arm move from the wall before you can really process the thought. It’s returned there, gently but firmly.

You blink at her, but she’s not looking at your face. She’s regarding your sternum again and then her hands are sliding your shirt off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor and leaving you topless, breathless.

Her hands skate down from your shoulders, down your biceps, tracing such light patterns that you involuntarily shudder a little with pleasure and strangle a moan in your throat. Her hands reach your fingers and for a second you think she’s going to tangle them with her own but she traces back up to your shoulders and then down again. Now down your arms, down your chest, down the outside curve of your breasts, making you whimper, and then to your waist.

She leans in, and kisses your right breast gently, on the soft upper swell, and then the left. Her fingers are swift now, moving to the front and unsnapping your jeans with efficiency. She lifts her face to stare at you and watches your eyes as she pushes the jeans past your hips. You’re almost so lost in her you barely notice that your underwear has gone too, until you’re naked in front of her and pressed back against the wall.

If she was to look down, if she was to touch you, she would already find you wet and swollen for her. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and she’s barely touched you. You haven’t kissed her, haven’t touched her—hell she’s fully clothed—but you’re ready, willing and open for her.

And then Waverly Earp is on her knees in front of you and you have to let out the muffled cry from your chest before it explodes.

Her mouth is on your stomach, tongue and teeth leaving tiny bite marks across your abdomen and your hands slap backwards into the wall because, goddamn, and you want to grab her head, her shoulders but you know you can’t. When her tongue circles your navel and then she catches the edge with her teeth, tugging, your head slams back into the wall and you lift your hand to your mouth, biting on the base of your thumb to keep from crying out.

Waverly either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind because instead she’s using her shoulder to gently move your legs further apart and you comply, dazed. It doesn’t occur to you not to, because clearly you’re not in charge here but you certainly don’t mind what’s happening. If Waverly hadn’t looked so certain, so sure, so utterly ravenous, you may have questioned all of this but right now you know deep inside you that you’re giving her exactly what she wants and hell, that’s more than okay with you.

You know she can see you now, because the thin strip of silky hair that’s left on your pubis covers nothing and you’re wet enough you know she can see it. Her hands come to frame your sex and you bite gently on the base of your thumb, curling the fingers of your other hand into the wall to stop from grabbing at her.

You think you may last slightly less time than the average teenage boy when she finally touches you.

Her thumbs come up, rubbing up and down your smooth outer labia and you whimper, your hips jolting ever so slightly. She spreads you then, allowing all of you to be on display, and your clitoris stands up, hard as nails.

You hear her exhale and feel the breath on you at the same time, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to gain some control, before looking back down at her. She’s staring at you, staring like you’re a feast and she hasn’t eaten for days.

You get to watch, you get to fucking watch, as she gently pokes her tongue out and runs it over the prominent, straining tip of your clit. You can’t help the whimper and let out another jolt of your hips. Apparently deciding that you can’t be trusted, Waverly moves her hands to your waist, then slightly down, and holds you still.

It’s lucky she does, because she also uses the opportunity to bury her face between your legs and stop teasing. She’s holding your hips still and that’s good because you can’t help moving against her as her tongue finds you with unerring precision. She slides up and down and around your clit, refusing to find a rhythm, and just when you think one is settling in, she sucks you between her lips, gently pressing with her teeth and then releasing.

You are so close to coming, you want to scream. You also don’t want this to end. Waverly seems to have no intention of making it end soon and she teases you back and forth until you’re moaning almost constantly. When she moves one of your legs up, drapes it over her shoulder, and opens you further, you let her without question. She uses her free hand to open you again, spreading you so that your wet, glistening pussy is on display for her. The tighter she stretches you, the harder your clit strains out, until the erect nub is pulsing into cold air.

Then Waverly starts lashing it with her tongue, roughly, over and over, and it’s too much. Your hands come down and grasp her head, threading through her hair and you explode.

“Fuck, oh god, Waverly, oh god, oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuuuuuuu…”

It’s the first you’ve spoken since she told you not to, and she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s pushing her tongue against you harder while holding your hips and it’s almost too much. You think about pulling her head away, giving yourself some relief, but she just won’t stop tonguing you. Just as you reach your limit, still orgasming, but on the border of pain as you reach towards something you’re not sure you can reach, you feel two fingers at your entrance.

She isn’t rough and she isn’t gentle, because you’re wet enough to take almost anything, and she slides into you in one easy motion. Her fingers curl forwards on each pump inwards, and corkscrew, stretching you on the way out. You haven’t had sex enough times for her to know how to work you this perfectly yet, but she is. She’s never been with a woman before, but she knows how to touch you like nobody ever has.

The second orgasm that you never have hits you like a freight train. Your muscles tremble from head to toe as the pleasure rushes through you and you cry out indistinctly. When it’s over, you would collapse except that she’s holding you up, stroking the aching muscles of your thigh and pressing soft kisses just below your navel. When she lowers your leg from her shoulder, you slide down the wall and wrap your arms around her, and pull her into your lap.

For long minutes you sit there, your face nuzzled into her neck, breathing her scent. She seems content to stroke your hair, hold you while you hold her. When you finally lift your head to look at her, you find her shining, happy eyes, smiling back at you.

“Come to bed?” you ask.

You want to hold her. You want to make love to her if she’ll let you, but that’s up to her. Whatever Waverly wants, she’ll tell you in her own way and own time, and you’ll try to give it to her. Whatever she needs, you’ll see that she gets it; that’s your job.

Your heart squeezes with joy as she nods and then stands to help you to your feet. You’re still a little shaky and you enjoy the look of smug satisfaction that passes across her face. You can’t help but reach out and cup her jaw gently, then lean down to kiss her.

She tastes like sunshine and cupcakes, and then there’s your own flavour. And, like the moment she walked through your door tonight, full of determination, your world is filled with Waverly Earp.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

One Comment

  1. T
    Posted 26 July 2016 at 10.49pm | Permalink

    Where have you been?! God it’s good to have you back! Keep it coming (pun intended). In the meantime though, I’ve really enjoyed re-reading everything you’ve both written. But bring on the new!

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