Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.


184. Owen Grady 9

~You twirled a lock of your hair around your finger, trying to catch Owen’s attention.
“Oweeeennnnnn,” you whined.
“Not now, baby, c’mon.” he turned another page of the book he was reading, some annoyingly long tome about velociraptors pack behavior.
You scowled; you were standing before him wearing only lace panties and a bra, and he still wouldn’t pay you any attention.
“You already know everything in that damn book.” You said.
He ignored you.
Alright, that’s it, you thought, and you tugged the book out of his hands, at least making sure you marked the page before you put it aside. Before he could protest, you plopped yourself down on his lap.
“Baby, I gotta work-”
You frowned, then started rubbing yourself against him. You could feel him grow hard beneath you and you smirked.
“Still gotta work?” you asked.
“… I suppose it can wait.”
“Oh, you sound so disappointed!” you pouted.
“Well,” he protested, “this book is important!”
You moved to hop off of him.
“I could just let you go back to work,” you offered, fully aware of his arousal.
“Not bloody likely.” His hands planted firmly on your waist, holding you in place.
You grinned at him in a very smug manner before you leaned forward and kissed him, looping your arms around his neck.
You were enjoying your moment of dominance; it made you complacent. You should have seen it coming, really, but you were still surprised when he stood up, carrying you with him, removing your bra along the way.
He dropped you onto the bed, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. Your moment of dominance was over.
You pouted at him.
“Owennnn,” you whined, “I was having fun. I like being Alpha.”
That comment got you a little smack on the ass and a bite to the collarbone. The bite stung; you were going to have a mark there. His lips crashed to yours, one hand still pinning your wrists above your head, the other practically tearing your panties off you.
You were in for a rough ride. You’d challenged his dominance, never a great idea. Oh, sure, he was capable of being a gentle, considerate lover. But sometimes (okay, most times) he was animalistic, living up to his Alpha title.
You weren’t even his Beta, for crying out loud.
“Who’s in charge?” his lips were at your ear, his hands wandering.
You decided to play coy.
“Me?” you guessed; you received another sharp smack to the ass for your coyness.
He punished you another way too; you could feel the tip of his arousal brushing your entrance, rubbing your clit.
“Eyes on me.” he clicked at you, for god’s sake, like you were one of his velociraptors. And you were strangely okay with that.
“Owen, please…” you’d needed him all day, and now he was going to tease you? Not fair. He tried to hide his smirk by nibbling little bites on your neck and breasts, but you saw it.
“Who’s in charge?” he repeated.
“You are,” you sighed.
“A little louder?” he was definitely smirking now; he slid into you a little way.
“You’re in charge, O-” you couldn’t finish his name, on account of the sharp intake of breath you gave as he entered you fully.
He still had your hands pinned above your head, with no sign of releasing you. His free hand was planted firmly on your hip, holding you in place as he found a rough, deep rhythm that had you practically screaming his name.
“Owen…” you whimpered.
“Wrong name, sweetheart,” he growled as he thrust into you, hitting the sweet spot deep inside you.
You knew what he wanted. At first it had been embarrassing, but you’d soon grown to accept that it was just kinky as hell.
Still. That didn’t mean you were obedient in all things – sure, your eyes didn’t leave his, but you didn’t grant his demand straight away.
“Oh, god, Owen… please… don’t stop…”
He pulled out almost all the way and you whined pathetically at the loss.
“Get it right, baby…” he slammed into you, making you cry out.
You moaned and whimpered; he released your wrists and you raked your nails up his back.
“Say it, sweetheart…”
“A-alpha,” you gasped as you reached your climax, “my alpha…”
“Good girl…” he murmured as he filled you with the warmth of his own climax.
After, you lay beside him, your head resting on his chest.
“Who’s the Alpha, baby?” he asked lazily.
“You are, Owen.” You replied, placing soft kisses on his chest.
“Good girl.”
You snuggled into him.
“I’m exhausted,” you informed him.
“Me too,” he sighed, “and to think, I was going to go back to that book.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Stay with me, alpha?” you asked.
“Of course.” His arms tightened around you, lulling you to sleep.

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