Take a Bite

A Flip/AFAB Reader twit fic
🔞 NSFW

CW // bondage, biting, edging, degradation, pet names
You loved Flip.

You were *in love* with Flip.

You had moved in with, and were going to *marry* Flip.

So why did bringing this up to him make you feel so anxious? 1/
"Just do it," you tell yourself, pacing the length of the bedroom, the soft loops of his deep blue shag rug cushioning your steps, the corner of your crisp white comforter brushing your calves as you pass. "He loves you. It's not weird. He won't laugh." 2/
"Who won't laugh, kitten?"

You meep and flush, meeting his eyes but chickening out.

"Nothing!"

"Oh really?" He purrs, pulling you close by the belt loops, and when you're flush against him, one hand slides up your waist to cup the back of your head against his chest, 3/
the other coming down to tuck into your back pocket.

"Doesn't feel like nothin' to me," he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "You're trembling like a leaf."

He doesn't press, rocking slightly side to side. You're warm, and safe, and home in his arms; the 4/
smell of his cologne and skin and cigarettes is comforting, and soon you feel your heartbeat start to slow.

"Now, what did you need to tell me?" 5/
Your head snaps up, eyes wide as you meet his.

"Well, it wasn't... I mean, I didn't.... I mean.." you trail off as he raises an eyebrow.

"You trying to lie to a detective, doll? That's ballsy, even for you."

"No! I just!" You dive back into his neck, hiding. 6/
"You won't feel better until you say it. And you need to be able to trust me implicitly if we're gonna be married soon."

Shit. He's right. He's right all the damn time. It's simultaneously the best and worst thing about arguing with him. You rarely disagree, but when 7/
you do, he's usually right, the bastard.

"Mehwnnannghww."

"I'm sorry, what was that? I don't speak gibberish."

You pull your head back to look at him, the sass just rolling off your tongue.

"Oh really, Phillip Zimmerman, the great detective, doesn't understand 8/
everything that's spoken to him right away?"

His eyes narrow playfully, trying not to smile, and the hand in your pocket twitches to pinch your ass, your body flinching even closer to his. 9/
His arms tighten around you and he dips down, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"You want to try that again? In english this time? Or my spanish is getting better, you could try that."

"Okay, but... If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh. Or think I'm weird." 10/
At this, he's smirking again, and says, "No promises."

So you hide again. 11/
"C'mon doll, I'm joking."

The hand in your pocket starts to travel up and down your back in smooth circles, the way your mother did when you were a child. He remembers the little things like this, and it's what gives you the courage to whisper into his collar. 12/
"I want to try something new in bed" 13/
You feel more than hear the tumble of his "mmmmmm?" in response, the indication that he's interested.

"Mmm-hmm. Do you remember last Saturday, after court?"

It's seared into her memory. He had been so pissed. Shoddy work by the prosecutor meant that his two 14/
witnesses and half of his evidence had been dismissed for possible tampering, because the man had gotten drunk and taken the defence lawyer's secretary to the office to "show her a good time". 15/
The house had rattled from the force of the door slam, and she heard the tromping of his feet down to the basement to work out his frustrations on the punching bag.

He'd come up, sweaty and red but still with energy to burn, every movement deliberate as he 16/
closed the blinds to the window that looked over the front lawn, removed the novel from your hands and marked your place, and pulled you up out of your chair, only to settle you on the floor, never breaking eye contact. 17/
He had stripped you down, mouth all over your body, working methodically, making sure to hit all of your erogenous zones, to get you ready for him as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He stripped his own shirt off and pulled up your arms to cross them just 18/
over your head, one hand holding them in place as he hitched your opposite leg open by the knee. He stared you down, an apex predator who knows when their prey is trapped, as he took a deep inhale through his nose. 19/
"You smell that, kitten? That perfect cxnt that always does exactly what I want it to, exactly when I want it to. Always so sweet," he gazes down at where she's spread open, flushed pink and dripping for him. 20/
He returns his gaze to your face, and a squeeze to your wrists let's you know he's expecting an answer, and a shuddering "No," leaves you with the added stimulation.

"Can't have that," he gruffs out, and licks a stripe from hole to clit, scooping up your slick with 21/
his tongue. "Here, then, kitten, have a taste," and he's kissing you, invading your mouth, and you taste your salty sweet essence as your tongues stroke and twist together. 22/
After a minute, he breaks off, panting, and makes his way back down your body, paying special attention to the patch of freckles under your left breast.

His nose nuzzles your curls, then moves in to brush against your c|it one, two, three times before his lips 23/
open yours, tongue, and nose working in tandem to push you over the edge alarmingly fast.

"There's my good girl, such a little s|ut for me, always coming all over my face or fingers or cxck whenever I make you. What do you think, s|ut? You think I can get you to 24/
make such a mess that you'll have to get on your hands and knees to scrub the stain out of the carpet tomorrow?"

You nod as he nuzzles your inner thigh, beard scratchy, and his eyes bore into yours over the hardened peaks of your breasts. 25/
"That's all you're good for, isn't it, sweetheart? To be my warm little hole and to keep my house nice and pretty, waiting for me all perfect whenever I come home?"

He finishes his little speech with a lightning fast lick to your nub, sending aftershocks through your body 26/
and a hissed "yessss" out of your mouth.

"Mmmmmm, I don't know, though. Don't think this pretty little puxsy is ready for me yet. Think you need to earn it before I give you my cxck."

And with that, he dives back in, refusing to settle on any kind of pattern, knowing 27/
he can keep you on edge like this for as long as he likes.

It goes on forever, it feels like, torturous in the best/worst way. You're positively dripping, slick smeared in his facial hair, on his cheeks, lip, and nose, soaked into your curls, onto your thighs 28/
and even a little trickling down to pool in that furled hole that Flip has taken to playing with whenever you ride him. His hand slides down as he pulls his head back a bit, thumb coming to rub your slick into the skin there.

"Soon," he whispers, "but not today." 29/
Without warning he slides two thick fingers into you, the squelching sound they make obscene. He's leisurely with it, no plans to make you come yet, working a hickey into the soft skin of your belly. Your moans have changed into a pattern of soft, staccato cries 30/
that burst forth in time with his fingers. He tightens his hand around your wrists again, squeezing, and you clench around his fingers in reply.

"I'm gonna let go of your hands, but they better stay exactly where I put them unless you want me to stop, understand?" 31/
You nod weakly, but his now free hand pinches your nipple in response.

"Say it out loud."

"Yes, Flip."

Another pinch, this one followed by a soothing caress of the thumb.

"Yes... Sir."

It comes out more as a question than a statement, but it seems to be 32/
the correct response because his hand caresses your breast before moving down to join his other at your apex, spreading you out and then pulling back the hood so your c|it is completely exposed to the cool air. 33/
That doesn't last long, however, as his lips wrap around it and gently suck, the tip of his tongue just barely touching as he flips it back and forth the way he knows you like.

He doesn't stop, doesn't deviate from the pattern, and soon your entire body seizes, shoulders 34/
lifting and knees curling towards your stomach.

Breaking through your rictus of pleasure, though, comes the horrifying realization that you've lost control of your bladder, or at least you think you have, but Flip is groaning like a dying man from 35/
between your legs, lapping at the mess he's made of you. 36/
Silent tears stream down your cheeks in embarrassment, body trembling and trying to turn onto your side, so hide away from him and your shame, but your arms stay pressed to the floor above your head. 37/
Never say that Detective Flip Zimmerman isn't quick on the uptake, though, as he sits up and withdraws his hands, letting you turn to the side. His sticky fingers stroke firmly up your side and down past your hip in a steady motion, while his other comes up to caress 38/
your face.

"What's this all about, sweetheart?" He asks, soft and low. "You did so well for me, my good girl, letting me make her body do exactly what I wanted it to." 39/
Your eyes stay squeezed shut tight, unable to face him in the slats of afternoon sunshine that sneak through the slats of the blinds.

"I- I- " you hiccup, dissolving back into sobs, whimpers breaking through clenched teeth as he gently lowers your arms down and gathers 40/
you into his lap.

"Shhhh.... Shhhh..." he comforts you, a gentle rocking motion as you cry into the crook of his neck. "You were perfect... Did so good... My good girl... So sweet... Came so pretty... All over my face and the carpet... This room is gonna smell like you..." 41/
This last one breaks you out of your stupor.

"Wha- what?"

"Mmm-hmm," he kisses your forehead, "Wish you could have seen it. I let go as soon as I felt your body start to clench around my fingers and saw you come all over me and my arm and the carpet. Fxcking 42/
sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. Hope you'll let me do it to you again soon."

"So- so- so I didn't... soil myself?"

"Fuck, no, sweetheart, you just came really hard. I mean, you hear about it in penthouse or playbxy sometimes, but from locker room talk 43/
I don't think it happens that often."

"Oh."

"Mmm-hmm." 44/
"I'm sorry," you murmur into his collar, relief warring with disappointment in your heart.

Flip stiffens and sits up straight, demeanor hardening just a bit as he takes your chin into his fingers.

"Hey, look at me," he demands, and your eyes meet his. "I never want 45/
you to apologize for anything that happens between us in bed, or on the living room rug, for that matter. Do you hear me? This is between us, no one else."

He holds your gaze until you acquiesce, nodding. You lift your arms around his neck, moving to straddle him 46/
hands carding through his hair as his slide up and down your back, and you tuck your face back into his neck. You're pretty tall for a woman, and while that makes it hard sometimes to find clothes that fit properly, you relish in how your height allows the two 47/
of you to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As the minutes stretch on, you switch from running your fingers through his slightly damp lock to gently scritching your nails against the skin at the base of his skull. The combination of that, your breasts pressed 48/
to his chest, and your still wet center against his abdomen bring his body back to interested, the tip of his dick nudging your backside as he grows hard again. 49/
You place a kiss on his adam's apple and then slide back, saying "Here, let me," and move to line yourself up over him. He slides in so easily, but in this position he reaches so deep, and you can't stifle the little gasp of discomfort the oversensitivity brings. 50/
He stops immediately, moving to separate himself from you, saying, "Maybe next time. Let's draw you a bath."

"No, I we should-"

"You're in pain. I don't want to hurt you."

"What about what I want?"

"If you really want to, you can use your hands or something, but 51/
it's-"

"I don't want to use my hands," you reply. Here, like this."

You lay back, your arms around his neck pulling him down to join you on the floor. He slips out as you both maneuver into more comfortable positions, him on hands and knees, your hips cradling his 52/
with your feet back on the floor. Missionary is not a position either of you particularly prefer, but it will keep him from getting too deep and will get the job done. 53/
He lines himself up and slowly pushes in, rocking his hips and watching your face for any sign of discomfort. Once you've got a rhythym established, he moves one hand to begin to thumb at your clit, but you push him away.

"Too sensitive," you whisper I to his ear. 54/
"Besides, this is about you now."

He drops his head, groaning, and his hips snap particularly hard before he lowers his mouth to your breasts, worshipping at the only altar he knows. It feels good, you're enjoying the journey, not worried about the destination, 55/
no build up happening as his thrusts begin to become more erratic. His mouth fastens to the fleshy underside of your breast, sucking a bruise there. As he comes, the pressure increases to pain and he bites down just enough for his teeth to break the skin. 56/
The unexpected pain triggers a white hot orgasm, and when you come to, your body is languid, boneless, completely relaxed as you lay liquid on the living room rug. 57/
"Of course I remember. Best day of my damn life."

"Really? And not our engagement?"

"So damn sexy, watching you trust me, then fall apart, then insist on taking care of me too, then feeling you come around me again even after you'd reached your limit. Think about it 58/
all the time. You want a repeat?"

"Wellllll.... Yes, but not exactly."

He backs up to the edge of the bed, falling backwards and taking you with him, and you both giggle at the thump of the bed against the wall.

He reaches over and pulls the duvet edge up, and quickly 59/
rolls you both, now in a cocoon of down.

"Tell me." He places a kiss on your nose, and then presses your foreheads together.

The sincerity in his eyes, the delicate way he's holding you, the memory of what had happened a week before give you the courage to continue. 60/
"Okay," you murmur, building up your courage. "I really liked when you were holding my wrists, and I couldn't move them. And..." you trail off, and Flip gives you an expectant look, his hand around your ribs sliding up to trace delicately along the edge of your bra. 61/
"And this?" he asks, thumb rubbing gently back and forth where the marks from his teeth are just starting to turn a mottled green from purple.

You nod, glad that he understands you so well, that he can voice the things that stay hidden in your mind. 62/
"Yeah. I didn't... I didn't expect to enjoy it at all. But," you glance down at his lips, and then back up to his eyes, "I really, really liked it. I liked them together. Can we try it again? Maybe with your cuffs?" 63/
His eyes darken, pupils blown wide.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... Wait. No. Not my cuffs. They'll scratch the shit out of your wrists."

"Mmmmm.... What about rope? We could use the ties from the dining room curtains? It would be soft enough?"

"Fxck, doll, you're ki||ing me. 64/
We can't use rope. I don't know enough not to fxck up your wrist. Fxck!"

He pops up to kiss you, flirty and possessive, gentle nips along your jaw before coming back to kiss you deeply. You're both breathing deeply when he pulls away. 65/
"Give me time. There's a store downtown, just opened up last week. Might have what we're looking for. Give me some time?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good girl. Always trusting me, always letting me take care of you." 66/
His hands reach for your shirt, and he flings it across the room. He then spends the rest of the afternoon putting the logistics out of both of your minds.

This is the end of pt 1. Pt 2 will pick up after a time skip and should be posted tomorrow ❤️ 67/
It's been two weeks. *Two weeks.* 14 days. 336-ish hours (okay, closer to 330) since your rat bastard of a fiance has let you come.

He's been sweet and attentive in a other aspects. Breakfast in bed. Surprising you at the bookstore with coffee and a muffin from the diner 68/
around the corner. Inviting your parents over for dinner, and proceeding to be a charming, loveable asshole.

It's been the fleeting touches on your bare shoulders and under the gems of your skirts, trying to get as much mileage out of your summer dresses before 69/
the chill of fall sets in, the makeout sessions that haven't gone past removing any clothing, and to top it off, the way he stumbled home from the bar last night and jerked himself until he was almost done, and then woke you up just so he could spend himself inside 70/
you before passing out, completely dead to the world.

Justifiable homicide is a thing, right?

You'd have to ask Ron. 71/
It wouldn't be so bad if you were able to take care of things yourself, but it's like the man had a sixth sense about it, interrupting you in the shower, matching his work schedule to yours, and even calling the house once, the sharp trill of the phone startling you 72/
out of your climb.

To put it simply, you were hard up and poorly done by and your fiance better make you come tonight or you'd use the entire labor day weekend to plot his slow and painful demise. 73/
Which leads to today, Saturday afternoon, laying starfished on top of the freshly made bed, completely naked, a cool breeze from the open window tightening your nipples into stiff peaks, sticky between the legs from your own frustration and your dumbass detective. 74/
The clock ticks over to 2, and it's another three and a half hours before you will be able to get any kind of relief.

But then you hear the door close downstairs, and Flip calls out for you.

"Bedroom!" You call out, not bothering to open your eyes as you hear him 75/
bound up the stairs.

"Well well, isn't this a pretty sight," he drawls, running a hand from ankle to knee.

"Don't touch me." It comes out waspish and curt, and immediately he removes his hand. "Unless you're going to help me ruin all my work from laundry 76/
this morning, you're going to keep you hands to yourself and sleep in the guest room until you get your act together."

There's the sound of something being set on his nightstand, and then he walks around the bed to shut the window and close the curtains. 77/
"You mad at me, kitten?"

He's trying to be playful, but you are done.

"Yes." 78/
It would be different if they were in this together, but last night let you know that the only one not getting off was you.

"Don't be like that, doll. You know you love me."

You pop one eye open, and his eyebrows rise at the pure venom you shoot him. 79/
"You went too far last night."

He places his hands on either side of your head, careful not to pull your hair or touch any part of your body as he leans down to whisper "You know you're just a little hole for me to put my cxck into whenever I need it." 80/
And oh, boy, does he have another thing coming if he thinks dirty talk is going to fix the mess he's made.

"No. I'm not. I'm your fiance, and we're supposed to be in this together," you glare up at him. "And from what I can tell, this little game of yours has only 81/
been about torturing me. You only get to do things like that because I *trust* you to take care of me too, and you haven't. So you need to make it up to me now or leave so I can take care of myself."

You gesture to your nightstand, and the vibrator that lives there. 82/
He lets out a low exhale and sits on the edge of the bed, one hand coming to cup your neck and jaw, thumb stroking your collarbone, and the other rests on his knee. Your eyes return closed as he sits in silent contemplation. 83/
"Well. It looks like I have quite the apology to make then, don't I?" 84/
Hey, so!!!! Due to secondhand embarrassment I will Not be updating Bite again today.

FF is different from RPF for a number or reasons and out of respect for those boundaries this fic is gonna go on hiatus until at least Monday.
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