🌶️ Spicy Short [Ardent]

I'm excited for Ardent to get some love, I've been writing so many little scenarios with him while doing his snippet with MC and M. Hope you enjoy. With his birthday in December as well as M, there is a bit more of the dilf to come. Word Count : 2894

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Cupid runs past you, your eyes falling to Ardent’s door, then to yours right across the hall. You’ve not spoken in days, work has kept the both of you busy. The argument from nights ago still fresh in your mind.

A simple date, where he was to teach you how to make Milopita, a Greek apple cake. It was great at first, he opened a bottle of wine, told you about some book he was reading. You reminisced about bumping into him on the street, much to his displeasure, but how were you to know that was just the beginning.

He was slicing the apples; with such precision you’d think he had done it a dozen times. You were nervous, feeling the warmth of the drinks, and clumsier than usual. You wanted to try it out, impress him. So caught up in the moment that you had gotten a bit careless, and the blade slipped, cutting across your hand.  

He stilled, for a heartbeat. His warm olive skin going pale as he took in the sight of the cut, the trickle of blood running down your hand. His lips pressed together, and for the first time since meeting him he looked scared. That was when his words came, harsher than intended, his frustration leaking through the worry. “You need to pay attention! You can’t just..” he trailed off, his jaw clenched tightly trying to hold back the fear that turned his words sharp and biting.

It happened so quickly, your chest tightening, the tone in his voice triggered a memory you thought no longer had control over you. One you didn’t want to revisit – Chris’ voice, harsh and cutting. It was like a reflex; you lashed out, voice defensive. “Ardent, I’m fine! It’s just a cut. Stop making a big deal out of it.”

Cupid trotted past Ardent’s door, instead scratching on yours. A familiar red head quickly opened the door slightly to allow her entrance. You’d deal with that later.

You try to keep your steps light the closer you get to his door, pulling out the envelope containing this month’s rent. You go through the keys on your keychain, finding the one he gave you a month ago when the two of you started dating. Dating…your landlord. Wait until Em finds out, fuck wait ‘til Cam finds out. The thought sends you a shiver down your spine, causing you to quickly open the door. Hm, he didn’t lock it?

As you walk in, you’re met with an unexpected sight: Ardent was supposed to be out. Instead, he’s sitting there relaxed in a kitchen chair, legs spread comfortably apart. An apple in one hand and a small knife in the other, peeling it methodically. Each slice curled away smoothly.

When he notices you, his hooded rich brown eyes hold yours – a touch too calm as if he weren’t waiting for you. His broad shoulders and muscular chest were framed perfectly by the soft glow of the kitchen light. But that’s not what catches your attention: thick, powerful thighs spread wide as he sits. His body was relaxed yet commanding. The denim of his jeans clings to him, hugging his form just right. Every curve and dip of his muscular legs is emphasized.

You swallow hard, as he leans back placing the apple and knife on the table. Ardent says nothing, instead, he gives you a look – an unspoken invitation. He pats his lap gently, that familiar lingering intensity in his gaze, accompanied by a knitted brow.

Even with the lingering annoyance you move forward, placing the envelope on the entry table and settling into his lap. He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close. He doesn’t start with an apology, and neither do you. His head falls to the crook of your shoulder, as he continues to peel the apple.

After a few seconds, he pauses, gently pressing the knife into your hands. His fingers guide yours around the handle. “Here,” he murmurs softly, his breath against the shell of your ear. “It’s your turn.” He positions your hand over the apple, his patience almost feels like an apology in itself. His other hand rests on your thigh, his thumb rubbing  slow, soothing circles. The warmth of his chest against your back, sends a comforting heat seeping into your skin.

His lips find the edge of your jaw. The stubble he forgot to shave, yet again, providing a slight roughness. It doesn’t break the intimacy, somehow the rawness of it is soothing against your skin. Maybe it’s because it’s him. Simultaneously rough and beautiful. Supple lips placing tender kisses along the side of your face, trailing to the back of your neck.

“I didn’t mean to be such an ass,” he whispers between kisses. His voice low and calm, with a hint of regret. “I was worried about you, that’s all.” His lips fall to your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of your shirt. “But, that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

The tension eases, with each gentle kiss, the softness at which he guides your hand. Ardent’s mouth finds its way back to the curve of your neck, each kiss paired with a quiet “Forgive me?”. He slowly inhales your scent. One he had missed and hated to admit he longed for.

You lean back into him, his hands steady around you. His presence grounding you to this moment. His hands never leave you, guiding your moments, each slice into the apple precise and delicate. You settle into a rhythm, the silence filled by your steady breathing and the sound of the blade against the apple.

His eyes drift down, catching sight of the new scar on your palm. You can see his jaw tense out of the corner of your eye, as his fingers trace the mark softly, almost reverently. A flicker of guilt in his gaze, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

There’s an ache, a pang of sympathy, causing you to blow out a gentle breath, “You didn’t hurt me, Ardent. I was drunk and clumsy-“

His fingers gently stop your words, resting against your lips. Regret in his voice as he says, “No, it was because of me. I was afraid and my words…they came out wrong. I should have been considerate. I was an idiot for suggesting we drink while teaching you to cook.” His fingers trail along the scar, causing you to shiver at the softness, his expression solemn as he adds, “I never want to hurt you. Not ever.”

He gently presses his lips to your hand, laying a tender kiss to the mark. The scar on his lip meets the texture of your own, the sensation itself unique. His lips linger against the skin, the softness behind it more of an apology than words ever could be. His eyes drift up to yours, his intense gaze so soft. It’s taken your breath more than once, that  flicker of affection he wears so proudly.

“Cupid missed you.”

You set the knife down, the apple peeled and ready for the next step of prepping. Ardent doesn’t attempt to move. Letting you sit in his lap, back pressed against his chest. You take a small breath, turning to meet his eyes. “Just Cupid?” you ask, barely louder than a whisper.

A smile plays in the corner of his mouth. Ardent chooses not to answer right away, as his hands slide to your waist, shifting you to turn until you’re facing him. He drapes your legs over his, pulling you flush against him. Your breath catches, your bodies aligning in a way that leaves little space between you.

His fingers wrap gently around your wrist, guiding your hand to his face. Ardent leans into your touch the same way you’ve seen Cupid lean into his. “I missed you more than you know.” The sincerity of his words hangs there, wrapping around you.

So many things you’ve longed to hear before from Chris, Ardent says them so naturally, as natural as breathing.

Your lips meet, and the sound that pulls from his mouth lets you know he was waiting for you after all. His mouth moves slowly against yours, almost hesitant, and savoring every second. After a few seconds, it deepens. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, his breath hot and mingling with your own.

His hands slip from your waist, slowly sliding down to your hips, where his fingers grip tighter. He shifts under you, and it’s not long until you can tell why. The tightness of his jeans does little to hide his erection. Stiff, straining against the fabric, and pressing up against you.

Your eyes linger, and Ardent playfully nips your nose with his teeth. “My eyes are up here.”

“Your eyes might be, but I don’t think they’re the ones that need attention.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Mr. Pine, if you’re the one begging, then I don’t think you’re doing your job.” He chuckles, causing your heart to flutter. If you had known Ardent’s laughter to be so pleasing, you’d have caused it more often.

Your hands find his shoulders, gripping them as you kiss him again. His lip’s part, and his tongue warm and enticing slips against yours. Reminding you of when you tasted yourself on his tongue.

Ardent grips you tighter, his legs shifting instinctively as he adjusts you on his lap. You can feel the heat building, radiating between you. Your bodies create an almost tangible haze, as Ardent’s hair clings to his forehead. His fingers press into your skin, pulling you and pushing you. Causing you to grind against him.

The air’s thick with desire. Each breath feels loaded, a mixture of anticipation and need.  His breath comes in rough, uneven gasps. “Is this, okay?”  His eyes filled with both need and concern, search yours.

God he’s beautiful. That’s your first thought, as your heart races in your chest as you meet his gaze. You nod softly, whispering a soft but resolute, “Yes.”

His arms slide beneath your knees, lifting you so that he can pull you flush against him. Hands slipping around to your waist, wrapping securely. His eyes have a familiar glint, the one he’s given you so many times before.

He leans forward, ensuring his hold as his forehead rests against yours, breaths coming in shallow, shared gasps as he begins to roll his hips. He starts slow, each move deliberate, grinding against you.

You feel naked, even though both of you are fully clothed, as his eyes gaze into your own.

For all the times you were with Chris, they never looked at you this way. The way Ardent’s eyes seek to devour you. To take every piece you can give and hold it for his own. But that’s when he gives it back, tenfold. Allowing you to have every broken piece of him.

His breath becomes more like a rasp, his pupils dilated, and you know he’s close. If it wasn’t for the way his lips begin to press into yours, so desperate for air he will take your own. It’s in the way his hips begin to snap. A raw urgency, seeking out every bit of friction, a silent plea.

Each time he thrusts against you, you feel that much closer, his hands dig into you with a force that borders on bruising. His hands leave an ache below his touch, pleasure and pain. Intensifying the heat between you, the need for more.

And more he gives you, grunting as he sets you down. Unbuckling his belt and jeans, finally pulling himself free. The tip gleams, swollen and just a reminder that he was waiting for you.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks, his accent thicker than normal, a rasp to his voice.

You brush your fingertip against it, catching the bead of precum before it can slide down the length of him. He shivers at your touch, always has. This time is no different. Ardent watches you cautiously, his eyes heavy with desire. He gasps, if you can call it that, when you flick your tongue against your finger. Licking it clean. It’s enough to undo him as his lips crush into yours, tasting the saltiness of himself on your tongue.

His fingers pull at your clothes, stripping you of them before he sits back down in the chair and pulls you with him. You hover over him, and it takes a lot to not lord it over him. To know he would probably whine if you teased just enough. But maybe that’s why you two work so well, because you’re just as desperate for him. The heated looks, the soft words he whispers into your ear when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You can see the anticipation in his eyes, as you straddle him. You don’t give in, not yet. Your fingers wrapping around his base as you angle him. “Fuck,” he groans, head lolling back as you stroke him. Each pump of your hand causes him to arch his back. That back you’ve sank your nails and teeth into. Something so simple drives him wild. You worried about scaring his skin, but he always joked that he would wear them with pride.

He moans, and the sound is electrifying. Causing you to bite your lip as it breaks when your finger trails along the vein on the underside. “Fuck me already.” He growls, but the hunger etched onto his face is your undoing. 

“When did you get so demanding?”

“The minute you walked into my life.”

He catches your moan with his mouth, as you guide him into you.

Ardent wraps you tightly in his arms. Allowing you to adjust to him before he sinks into you, fully sinks into you. “Goddamn it.” He groans, before he snaps his hips up into you. His arm is heavy around your waist, his cheeks flushed with color. He says your name so passionately you almost want to stop him. Just let it sink in.

His hips buck, hitting the sharp snap of yours. The chair creaks with each thrust, his breath ragged against your lips as he presses another bruising kiss to your lips. You knew Ardent was strong, that was never a question. But you never imagined he would lift you up, burying himself into you. Thrusting into you like his life depends on it.

“Don’t stop,” Your fingers delve into his shoulders, the pain spurning him on.

He ruts into you feverishly, each time bringing you closer. So close you beg for it, beg for him to give you the release. “Ardent.” Your voice pitches.

He’s good at wringing pleasure from your body. Too good if you’re being honest. His body knows yours; fingers know where and when to increase their pressure. The shift of his hips, the way he angles himself to make sure that he hits the right spot. The one that causes you to beg for him to thrust into you, harder, faster. Leaving you writhing against him, chasing your orgasm like a bitch in heat.

He pulls out so slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him, just to press into you, deep again. That familiar slick slap. Your body tightens, a gasp catching in your throat as another slow deep thrust causes you to come. Pleasure shuddering through you. He grins, closer to a snarl thanks to his scar. “I’ve got you.” He whispers, his lips catching yours as you ride it out, his thrusts slower, as he keeps himself pressed deep into you.

He’s not far behind, his thrusts turn short and sloppy. The pressure building as his fingers bite into your skin. His teeth clench tight before you feel him spill over. A choked groan as his cock twitches with his orgasm, filling you.

He falls hard onto the chair, still buried inside you, deep and warm.  Your head rests on his shoulder, as his hands strokes the base of your spine. “I need to go get cleaned up or-“

He groans as you try to move, hooking his arms around you and nudging himself even deeper. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean us up. Right now, I just want to hold you. I need my brat time.”

You scoff, pulling away just enough to see the mirth in his eyes. “Brat time?”

“I’ve not seen you in days, as far as I’m concerned, I can just live like this.” He motions to where the two of you are still connected.

“Can we at least go to the bedroom, could really stand to be under some blankets right now.”

He nods, as he stands carrying you towards the bedroom. His hair clings to his face, slightly obstructing his view. You rake your hand through it, returning the admiring look he sends you. I’ll show you brat. Then you ball it into your hand yanking his head back. “Ou-hey!”

Your lips press into his jaw, then brush against his ear. “If you drop me, old man. I’ll tell Cupid you tossed out her toy.”

He scoffs, as his foot kicks open the bedroom door. “You wouldn’t dare”

“Try me.”


He smiles, pressing his forehead against yours as he lays you down onto the bed, slotting himself between your thighs. Still hard inside you.

“I am, and I gotta say. Perfect fit.”