Give It Right Back

You don’t take it lying down.

The second his grip loosens even a fraction, you surge back against him hard. Your hands slam into his chest and shove with real force. He stumbles, back hitting the wall with a solid thud. The air between you turns thick and hot almost instantly. Both of you are already sweating — skin slick, chests rising fast, the smell of sex and effort rising off your bodies.

You grab him by the hips hard enough to bruise and drive forward until your bodies crash together again. Both cocks, still rock-hard and dripping, get crushed between your stomachs. The heat and wetness and sweat make everything slide and stick at the same time.

You don’t stop at pinning him.

You mark him.

Your mouth drops to his neck and you bite down hard — teeth scraping, skin giving, a clear red print left behind. You drag your open mouth across his collarbone, tasting salt, and bite again lower. Then again on the side of his throat. Each one is meaner than the last. You’re leaving proof. Your sweat smears across his skin with every press of your body.

He curses, sharp and broken, but his hips shove back against you just as hard.

{if game:confidence >= 75 and reader:cock_desc = "on the smaller side"}

You keep him pinned with one forearm across his chest and shove his shoulders down until his knees hit the floor. Sweat runs down your stomach as you step in.

“Mouth. On my balls. Now.”

When he opens you push forward and settle your smaller cock and heavy sack right over his face. You teabag him without mercy, grinding your balls across his mouth and nose, making him breathe your scent and sweat. Your cock rests hot against his forehead, leaking.

“Tongue out. Rim them. Don’t fucking stop.”

You keep him there, hips rolling, skin wet, forcing him to take it while saliva and sweat mix on his face.

{elseif game:confidence >= 75 and reader:cock_desc = "seriously hung"}

You spin him hard and shove him face-first into the wall. One hand plants between his shoulder blades; the other guides your bigger, heavier cock between his cheeks. You don’t push inside — you hotdog him with open force, dragging your thick shaft up and down the sweaty cleft of his ass, smearing precome and sweat along his hole.

“Feel that?” you snarl against his ear, breath hot. “That’s what you’re getting later. I’m going to stretch you open with this and make you take every fucking inch while you’re dripping.”

You keep thrusting between his cheeks, mean and relentless, skin slapping, both of you slick with sweat, while you bite the back of his neck hard enough to mark him.

{elseif game:confidence >= 75}

You shove his face into the side of your neck, then lower, into the wet heat of your armpit.

“Breathe it,” you order, voice rough. “Smell how hard I’ve been working for this.”

You hold him there by the hair while you grind your cock against his, both of you sliding on sweat and precum. You bite his shoulder hard enough to leave a deep red print while he is forced to inhale your musk with every breath.

{else}

You stay chest-to-chest and just frot against him with pure aggression. No finesse. You grab both of your cocks in one rough, sweaty fist and stroke them together hard and fast while you bite and suck dark marks into his neck and collarbone. Every thrust of your hips is punishing. Sweat runs down your spines and between your bodies. You’re not trying to be skillful — you’re trying to overwhelm him with friction, heat, and force until he is the one making the broken noises.

{endif}

He takes it. His skin is hot and wet under your mouth and hands. His cock stays rock-hard, leaking steadily against you or in your grip. Every bite you leave on him draws another rough, punched-out sound from his throat. The room smells like sweat and sex and the sharp edge of competition that has turned fully mean.

You keep the pressure on — marking him, using him, giving back every bit of the roughness he started — until both of you are left breathing hard and dripping, cocks still throbbing, his skin already showing the red, wet evidence of what you just did.

By the time the intensity finally peaks, one thing is settled:

This is going to stay rough.