Chapter Text
Listening wasn’t on purpose— at first at least.
But, Sonar finds himself rushing home, turning down plans just in case he’ll miss out on seeing you in the hallway returning from work in your dainty pencil skirts, averting your gaze when he makes a show of tilting his head over your frame with a low whistle.
“Mmmh, my favorite skirt.“
“You said that about the last three skirts.” You respond.
“What can I say,” He shrugs, “They make your ass look great, and I’m a boob guy.”
You squint your eyes up at him, “Does that mean I don’t have nice boobs?”
“What? No, no, you have good boobs. I mean you have great boobs,” He explains, raising his hands palms up as he tries to explain himself, “Real perky, favorite pair to look at in fact.”
There’s a beat of silence, your lips slightly parted as heat rises to your skin from his words.
“Well—uh, thanks.”
You waste no time today, Sonar wonders if you’ve even managed to take off your skirt or if you just raked it to your hips impatiently before spreading your thighs wide.
He almost laughs at the sheer speed you got your fingers pressed to your clit, how wet you already sound from mere seconds. He wonders if you had a bad day at work, melting your stress away with pleasure.
He likes to pretend it’s because of him.
That you’re imagining you worked up the courage to invite him in. That you’re imagining how far down the hair on his chest reaches. How he would tip you over the edge again and again and again with his fingers and tongue.
Maybe he’s the only one imagining all that, how your smell would be enough to drive him mad, how you would taste, salty and a little sweet.
He fists the shaft of his cock when he thinks about how warm you would feel, gummy and soft, sheathed around him, under his fingertips, curled into his chest. Pumps his length to the image of you arched under him, thighs shaking, digging indents into his shoulders with dewy eyes.
He finishes unexpectedly when he hears his name on your lips.