Not without protection

The word 'protection' cuts through the haze like a bucket of ice water. Your voice comes out raspy, strained from the moans Alex just ripped from your throat. 'Alex... wait.' You push weakly at their shoulders, your thighs trembling where they’re still clamped around their head. 'Birth control... I’m not... I’m not on anything.'

Alex freezes mid-lick. Their tongue, slick and hot, pulls back from your clit with an obscene pop. They tilt their head back, looking up at you from between your legs. Their chin glistens with your wetness, strands of your arousal clinging to their stubble. Those bright green eyes, clouded with lust just seconds ago, sharpen instantly. A slow smirk spreads across their face, not predatory this time, but knowing. Almost amused.

'Shit, Flora,' they rasp, their voice rough. They don’t move away. Instead, their thumbs dig into the soft flesh of your inner thighs, spreading you wider. The cool air of the room hits your exposed, throbbing core, making you gasp. 'You think I’d risk knocking you up? Fuck no.' One hand leaves your thigh, delving into the pocket of their tight black jeans. They fumble for a second before pulling out a small, crinkled foil square. 'Always carry one,' they grin, holding the condom up like a trophy. 'Just in case a hot opportunity presents itself.' They tear the packet open with their teeth, spitting the torn foil onto the carpet beside them.

You watch, breath catching, as Alex rolls the latex down their straining cock. It springs free from their jeans, thick and flushed, the head slick with pre-cum. The sight of them sheathing themselves, the latex stretching tight over their length, sends a fresh jolt of heat straight to your already soaked core. 'Better?' Alex asks, their gaze locked on yours, challenge and heat simmering in their eyes. They lean forward again, their condom-covered tip nudging against your slick entrance. 'Or you still got cold feet?' Their other hand slides up your body, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your hip, skimming your ribs, before closing possessively over your breast through your bra. They pinch your nipple hard through the fabric, making you arch off the couch cushions with a sharp cry.

'Camera’s still rolling, baby,' they murmur, their voice dropping to a husky whisper. 'Gotta give it a show. Something worth selling.' They push forward, not waiting for an answer. The blunt head of their cock presses against your opening, stretching you, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust. You gasp, your inner walls clenching tight around the unfamiliar intrusion, the slick latex a strange sensation against your sensitive flesh. Alex groans, deep and guttural, their head falling forward for a second. 'Fuck, you’re tight,' they breathe, their hips grinding against yours, burying themselves to the hilt. 'So fucking wet and tight.'

They start moving, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in hard. The **** knocks the air from your lungs. Each thrust is deep, purposeful, designed to drive you wild. Their hand on your breast squeezes, kneading, while their other hand snakes down between your bodies, finding your clit again. Their thumb circles it roughly, matching the punishing rhythm of their hips. 'Look at the camera, Flora,' Alex commands, their voice thick with strain. 'Let it see you take it. Let it see how much you fucking love this.'

The combined **** – the hard cock pistoning inside you, the rough thumb on your clit, the possessive grip on your breast – is overwhelming. Pleasure, sharp and electric, crackles through your nerves, building with every thrust. You try to hold Alex’s gaze, to look towards the blinking red light, but your eyes keep fluttering shut, lost in the sheer intensity of the sensation. 'Alex...' you whimper, your hands scrabbling at their back, nails digging into the thin fabric of their shirt.

'Yeah, that’s it,' they grunt, their pace quickening, becoming almost frantic. Sweat beads on their forehead, dripping onto your chest. 'Fucking take it. Gonna make you come all over my cock while that camera eats it up.' Their thumb presses harder, faster, on your clit. The coil inside you winds tighter, unbearably tight. Your hips buck wildly against theirs, meeting their thrusts, **** for more friction, more depth. A high-pitched cry tears from your throat as the orgasm slams into you, violent and consuming. Your body arches off the couch, muscles locking, inner walls clenching and fluttering around Alex’s cock in rhythmic pulses.

Alex lets out a strangled shout above you. Their hips stutter, slamming deep one last time as they bury themselves inside you, head thrown back, cords standing out in their neck. You feel the hot pulse of their release inside the condom, muffled but still intense. They collapse forward onto you, their weight pressing you into the worn leather, their breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck. The only sound in the room is the low hum of the camera and your own **** panting. Alex lifts their head after a moment, a satisfied, almost smug grin spreading across their flushed face. They glance towards the camera, then back down at you. 'See?' they murmur, brushing sweat-damp hair from your forehead. 'Told you we make magic.'