As mentioned in my Patreon post, this story is a part of the Say Please anthology, which is FREE on BookFunnel as a gift for newsletter subscribers if you want: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/u74qixbs33
Because I want my Patrons to get first dibs on what I write, as a thank you for your continued support, my story is also shared below!
Please mind the content notes. This story contains degradation, somnophilia, and breeding kink. It is a detailed consensual nonconsent scene.
*
What Are Friends For? (Breeding, That’s What)
Sara
It’s a hot, sticky night. Zero breeze, just an oppressive hang of humidity as I walk the five blocks to Damien’s house.
He’s not there. He’s travelling, because his career as a metalwork artist means he only lives in our small town half the time at best, but he knows I don’t have central air conditioning in my apartment, and this heat wave is gross.
“Feel free to use the pool whenever you want,” he said the last time I saw him, with that easy, friendly grin that always sends my insides into free fall.
We’re friends of friends, have moved in adjacent social circles ever since our best friends got married and had a kid, and more often since he recently moved back to The County. But there was always something keeping us from getting to know each other better. Often, that something had perky tits and very nice hair. Sometimes it was on my side. That fourteen months I tried to make a go of it with a banker who was big enough that in the dark, I could slide into my half-formed fantasies…
But now we’re both single.
And for the first time, we’ve started talking about things other than our mutual goddaughter or the latest birthday party plans.
We’re making secret offers like use my pool and discovering shared, private interests nobody would guess in a million years.
I let myself in the side gate and wind down the dark path to the backyard.
Over the last two weeks, this place has come to feel comfortable and familiar. Even this late at night. Even when I’m all alone.
Ahead is the pool, the glowing underwater lights beckoning me.
I pull off my sundress and drop it, with my towel, on a lounge chair. Naked, I dive into the cool water.
Each night, I try to best the number of laps from the day before. A little game I play with myself, and it has the nice side benefit of exhausting me. The more tired I am, the better I sleep. Even if it’s hot.
I’m really ready for this heat wave to break.
My thighs and shoulders burn by the time I finish. I drag myself out of the water, then rinse off at the outdoor shower next to his deck.
His backyard is private, so I know it’s safe to walk around naked, but my skin still prickles and my nipples tighten as I force myself to stroll back to my towel. Anyone could be watching from the darkness. I didn’t lock the gate, and he does have neighbours, even if their windows are obscured. At night, it’s easy to pretend those trees aren’t in the way. Imagine an unknown man watching me, night after night.
Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to stretch out on the lounge chair and touch myself, but for now, I dry off, then tug on my sundress.
I’m just about to start the slow, damp walk home when my phone lights up.
A text message from him.
Damien Next time you go swimming at my place, can you check for packages? I got a delivery notice this evening.
I didn’t see any, but I was deep in thought as I walked over. I text him back.
Sara I’m here right now, actually. I’ll go check the front.
Damien There’s a key hidden under a flower pot on the back deck. You can use that to let yourself in if there is a package.
He adds some details about the security system and what code to type in once I’m inside.
Sara Inside access to your house! You’ve been holding out on me. And I’ve been sleeping in my third-floor walk-up while you’ve been gone like a sucker.
Damien Feel free to take full advantage of my air conditioning tonight.
It’s an escalation of our friendship, but I just might. I find the key, then circle around to the front door. Sure enough, there’s a courier package leaning against the step. I scoop it up, then let myself in.
The house is so blissfully cool, I sigh with such relief, it sounds like a moan. Loud in the empty stillness.
Sara There was an envelope. I’ve brought it inside and it’s so nice in here, I’m never leaving.
Damien Excellent, my lure worked.
I laugh. If only.
*
The next night, I swim until every muscle in my body is screaming at me, and then I drag myself inside. I take a long shower in his bathroom, ignoring the weird floopy feeling in my belly, because ignoring it feels good in its own way, then wrap myself in his robe—what are you doing?—and go down to the kitchen for a snack.
He’s been gone for more than a week, and he carefully cleaned out his fridge before he left, so I’m limited to a popsicle from his freezer. I let myself out the back door and enjoy that in the dark.
It’s not quite as hot tonight as it has been. Probably tomorrow I’ll have to sleep at home again. Can’t use the heat as an excuse forever.
Inside again, I brush my teeth—yes, I brought all the supplies for a proper sleepover, like a proper little housebreaker—then carefully return his robe to the back of his bedroom door, walk naked to his guest room, and pull on a tank top and sleep shorts. The last thought I have before succumbing to sleep is, I should have slept in his bed. I wonder if it smells like him.
*
“God damn it, I like it when you’re quiet.” The rough, pleased words pierce the heavy, slumberous fog.
I resist my brain’s instinctive alarm. I want to keep sleeping, I’m so tired.
Damien’s not here. But in my dreams, I can smell his aftershave and hear his voice.
“Makes me want to be nice to you.”
Warm, firm fingers curve over my ass, guiding my hips into the air, and I realize my legs are spread wide—no, not spread. Pinned wide.
And I’m wet. Slippery, aching, needy. Wet.
The panic button my brain has been trying to push for…dunno how long, was really trying to resist…finally jams into gear as those fingers make contact with my clit.
I gasp and jerk my thighs together, connecting with a solid mass instead of each other.
A heavy hand shoves against my shoulders, holding me face down on the bed. “Fuck’s sake, you little bitch, why’d you have to wake up?”
Damien???
“What are you doing?” I gasp. I try to blink my eyes open, but they’re sleep-heavy and there’s a light on. It’s too bright, when I thought it would still be dark.
“Shh. Don’t ruin this.” He hunches over me, his familiar voice carrying a strange edge to it. His legs shove my thighs wider apart again, his shirt buttons pushing into my upper back. His hot breath pulses against my cheek. “Can you be quiet? I promise not to hurt you if you just lie there and be soft. I just wanted to use you while you were soft and sleepy. Such a pretty girl.”
“Get the fuck off me,” I manage to spit out. I don’t care if he’s my friend, he can’t—
I try to slap back at him, because I don’t fucking believe him. I don’t think he wants to be nice to me at all, and if he’s going to hurt me anyway, I might as well make it hard for him.
With a snarl, he wedges himself even tighter still between my thighs and pins my hands over my head. “Stop. That.”
Panic swells inside me, because I can’t move, and the panic presses on the weird parts of my brain that kill my thinking. Makes me focus on the hot, heavy weight of him, the cool kiss of the air conditioning against my bare arms and legs, the softness of the bedding.
I was having such a nice sleep. I should have stayed asleep.
Then he growls so softly it’s almost a purr, and he kisses my temple. “Good girl. See? I knew you had it in you to be soft.”
I tremble anew.
“Uh uh,” he warns. “No fighting back. Good girls are soft. Understand?”
A hot, frustrated tear slides down my face, and he groans. “You wish you could have stayed asleep, don’t you?” Almost word for word from inside my head. “Was I making you feel good in your sleep? When you couldn’t think?”
My clit pulses at the physical memory of something I didn’t consciously experience.
Was he touching me in my sleep? Did I like it? “No.” I like the way the protest feels. It makes me feel brave. “No,” I snap again, louder this time. “No!”
He laughs. “Oh, baby. Yes, you did. You got so wet for me. All I had to do was run my hand up your thigh, did you know that? One touch. Stroked your leg up to your ass, and one squeeze did it. Open sesame. Your legs fell open like the hot little slut you are.”
“You’re lying.”
He shifts his weight and drops his hand to my hip.
My thighs flex against his touch, my ass tipping up, as if presenting myself.
“See?” He squeezes, hard enough to bruise me through my sleep shorts, and I shudder. “You like it.”
I snap my hips down to the bed, tensing up. I don’t like it at all.
“Make you a deal,” he whispers as he yanks them back up again. “Beg me to stop. I’d like to hear that. Say please nicely enough. I want to hear some pleading.”
“Fuck off.”
“I guess you really like this,” he taunts.
“You won’t stop anyway.” I stay tense. If he doesn’t like my body all rigid and taut, then I’m going to be a little ball of fury until I can figure out how to get away from him.
“I wouldn’t fucking stop because you don’t want me to,” he growls. “You fucking need this. Look at you. Tense and full of racing thoughts. You hate that. Let me make you feel good, Sara.”
I sob at the way his voice slides from angry to cajoling. From rough to soft in five sentences.
This is exactly your problem. You count sentences instead of just reacting on instinct. Maybe next time don’t sleep in his guest bed like a horny slut, and this won’t happen to you.
“What are you thinking about now?” he asks, his breath close enough to my ear it feels like a lick.
“Nothing.”
“And you accused me of lying.” He sighs heavily. “You’re the liar, aren’t you?”
“Not a liar,” I grind out.
“Such a fucking liar. Can’t be trusted. Only thing you’re good for is this wet little cunt. But it is worth everything, Sara. Seriously. You really lucked out with this pussy.” He squeezes me crudely, his whole hand cupping me between my legs. My sleep shorts grind into my wetness, pressing painfully against my clit.
Want them off. That unwanted thought makes me tense again, my ass squeezing tight.
“I liked looking at it earlier,” he whispers. “Had to, after you teased me. Walking around my house naked. My backyard? Where anyone could see your body?”
I freeze.
“Didn’t you know I have security cameras?” He laughs. “Oh, Sara.”
Hot, desperate shame unfurls inside me. The way I wanted someone to watch me. How hot I thought that would be. How lonely I felt, spinning pathetic fantasies in my mind. And he pushes on that button hard, mocking me for being so innocent.
“You can’t show my neighbours your perfect little cunt and then deny it to me.”
“I didn’t show it to anyone.” It was dark. It was late. I was alone. I was—
“You rubbed it against my robe.”
The shame twists all the way up my spine and wraps itself tight around my head. I twist my neck, pressing my face into the mattress.
“You know what?” He moves lightning fast, flipping me onto my back. He grips my face, making me look at him.
Damien, of the inside jokes and the perfectly fitting oatmeal sweater. My friend.
Now there’s a wild, angry glint in his eye, like he’s been unleashed.
I did that. I took advantage of his space and—
“Stop thinking,” he grinds out.
I laugh bitterly. “It’s not a switch I can turn off. You’re listing all the ways I brought this on myself. So, what, you’re going to punish me for being horny? How does this end? Why would you do this?”
“Because you need it.” He pushes against my wrists, squeezing them tight against the mattress. “You don’t think I see what you need?”
My breath catches in my throat. He can’t see what I need. I can’t even say it out loud.
His gaze rakes down to my PJs. The ratty old things I brought to wear just in case I had to go streaking outside. Nobody ever wants to be naked in front of the fire department. Only in our fantasies, and only if we’re slutty girls who make bad decisions.
“Fucking brat,” he growls as he pulls at the neck of my tank top, as if he’s offended by it covering my body. The old, worn fabric strains, then gives way, ripping with a sharp tear that makes him snarl in satisfaction. “Mmm. God damn it, these tits.”
“I thought we were friends,” I whisper.
“Fuck no. I’ve always wanted your hot little body. Always wanted to pin you down and just take. But you were always…” He trails off and just gropes me, all his attention on my breast. On his hand, squeezing me so hard he’s going to leave fingerprints.
His eyelids hood his gaze, a heavy, possessive glare at my body.
We’ve never talked about before.
I thought this…whatever is was new for both of us, but—
“Stop distracting me,” he snarls. He snaps his hand up to my neck, his thumb dragging along the front of my throat.
My brain stutters, the warm pressure jamming all the signals I know I should be hanging onto. Fight him, part of me screams. But the rest wants to give in. Go back to sleep, is the desperate thought, even though there’s no way that’s going to happen now. Too much adrenaline.
He grinds against me, the bulge between his legs slotting perfect against my aching pussy. “You need me to teach you a lesson? Huh? Show you what happens to slutty girls who parade around naked?”
“Fuck you,” I manage to whisper back defiantly. My voice would crack if I was any louder.
“That’s the spirit.” He drags his hand back to my trembling tit for another not-so-light squeeze. I hate that he can feel how hard my nipple is against his palm. “You like this?”
“No…” I whine.
“That’s a fucking lie, and we both know it.” His breath is hot against my cheek as he shifts on top of me. He slaps his hand hard against my thigh. “What happens to liars, Sara?”
The sting makes it hard to think. Hard to answer. I blink up at him, and he smiles.
“Liars get used as wet, empty holes,” he says with so much warmth it takes my breath away. “Would you like that?”
I cannot like that.
His smile grows. He’s grinning now, his teeth white and his eyes bright. “Doesn’t fucking matter, actually. I like it enough for both of us.”
A wild sensation rockets through me. It feels like a kind of relief, if relief also feels like terror, like cliff diving at night.
He yanks at my sleep shorts, hard enough for the threads to strain and snap in places. “Need you naked now.”
It’s all so disorienting, so fast and chaotic and absolutely mind-wiping. The first yank pulls my shorts hard onto my thighs, the second scrapes them down to my knees, and then he doesn’t even take them all the way off. He uses the tangle of fabric around my knees to bend me in half, legs up against my tits.
All of it rough.
All of it silent.
And I don’t fight back, I go numb as he reveals the wet, hot, swollen core of me, the part of me that must have liked whatever he did before I woke up.
How can I tell him I don’t want whatever might come next, when clearly, I’m exactly what he said. A slutty girl. A liar. A wet, empty hole.
“God fucking damn. Look at you.” He frees his cock and jerks it with one hand while the other keeps me pinned down, a fuckdoll folded-up for his pleasure. His gaze is locked on my pussy. “So needy and empty.”
My clit pulses, my body reacting to his words even as my brain riots. And he notices, damn him.
“Yeah, you like that. Fuck, I need…” He jerks his hips forward, roughly thrusting his cock over my pussy to push against my clit. “That’s it, baby. Get me wet. Don’t want to hurt you.”
“Yes you do,” I whisper.
Hot tears prick at my eyelids.
He frowns down at me. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want you give you what you need. I wanted this to be soft and gentle, but then you woke up.”
I’m sorry. The tears well up, a gathering storm.
His cock slips to my entrance, a thick, hard threatening intrusion. He shudders as he holds himself there.
I can’t see it, but I can feel it. He’s not wearing a condom. I’ve been aroused for… Hot shame spikes inside me. My body has been primed since before I fell asleep. It’s betraying my brain, and he’s prolonging that point. Making me really feel how much part of me clearly wants this.
“Gonna fill you now.” He adjusts his stance a little and my body is forced to stretch around his cock a little more. “Is this what you want? This is the fantasy you can’t get out of your mind, you little slut? Someone you barely know holding you down and taking your bare cunt? Fuck, yeah it is. I can feel how wet you are. Fucking slick for my cock.” His breath rasps in the silence as he works himself deeper into my body. “How long have you wanted me to rape you, baby? How many birthday parties have you squirmed your way through, wanting this dick, huh?”
I gasp for air.
“Can’t answer that?” He grunts. “Too full to talk?”
Too full to think. All my whirring brain energy has muted, drowned out by sensation as he uses my wetness to shove every inch of himself into the me.
My hole.
The space inside me that I’m constantly aware of, in a confused and aching kind of way. Where other people feel some sort of lovely flutter, and I crave…
He rips my shorts the rest of the way, the fabric falling to the bed, and my legs tumble apart, my body opening wide for him. He curves over me, squeezing one tit, then the other. His breath is hot and makes my head spin.
I can’t think about anything when he’s this close.
His lips move against mine. “I can do this all night, Sara. You feel so fucking good.”
I want to tell him to just come in me and be done with it. Use me like a hole. But no words spill over my lips.
I can’t think and I can’t speak, either. All I can do is feel.
Inside me, he’s thick and big, stretching me in a way that takes my breath breath away.
“I’m not stopping until you’re coming on my dick like the horny slut you are. And when your sweet little pussy clenches down on my dick, I’m not pulling out.”
No, no, no…
“That’s my fantasy,” he whispers, swirling a new layer of confusing, arousing wrongness into this violation. “Always wanted to breed you. Knew one day I’d fill your tight little hole with my seed.” He snaps his hips, driving into me again. “Could have been a sweet surprise, Sara. But you wanted to be awake for this.”
Why? Why would I want this?
“Not empty anymore, are you?”
My head shakes. No. No, not empty. But also, no, no, no, no, no. no… The word blurs into a long moan in my brain, and somehow that spills out of my mouth.
“Fuck. Fuck…” He groans and pins me down, then kisses me. His tongue savages my mouth for a second, a rough intrusion in yet another wet hole, before going gentle again. His breath is ragged. “You make me want to demand the most wicked things,” he snaps. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you come. Just use you and be done with it.”
I start shaking.
His words keep coming, a silky onslaught of all the rawest fantasies I’ve ever had. My body melts into nothing, just a warm wet sleeve for his use, and he regains the edge of control he almost lost.
He fucks me slower for a while, drawing out more of those moans on each deep thrust. Then he speeds up, working just the tip of his cock at my entrance. “Milk all that precome out of me, Sara. Pull it into your sweet little fertile body.”
My pussy clenches around him, happily obedient now.
His gaze is full of warm pride that makes me feel sickly sweet and dripping wet.
Then he bends over me again, his firm grip on my hips moving me against his cock, his mouth finding one nipple, then the other. Hot, wet suction. And the filthiest words against my skin. “Gonna make these tits all milky. Fill you up and make you give me a baby. Gonna keep you here and breed you. My naked little captive. Everyone will know what I’ve done to you, won’t they?”
Images flash through my mind. Half-visible slices of a life that’s part reality, part bizarre hyper fantasy. And all him.
Everyone will know I’m an eager little slut.
It’s the first clear thought I’ve had since he started fucking me. The full force of it hits me, powering an orgasm I’m helpless to deny.
Heat twists around my core and explodes, turning my needy pulses into a tight lock around his cock.
He groans my name and falls on top of me, muttering for me to take it like the little slut I am.
*
After, he kisses my temple. My pulse pounds and my extremities are shaking.
He always takes his time easing us out of the scene. Always. Like we’ve been doing this forever, and not just for five short, perfect weeks. Always, as if this is a permanent part of my life and not just a magical summer fling with someone who shares my fantasies.
My best friend’s husband’s best friend. What are the chances?
“You’ve started thinking again,” he murmurs.
I laugh. “Can you feel my brain coming back online?”
“Every time. It’s really neat.”
“Mmm.”
He traces a looping pattern on my back. “Do you want coffee?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost six.”
“Oh, wow. I thought it was earlier than that. I’d swear I was only asleep for a few minutes before you woke me up.”
“I’d hoped to make it actually in the middle of the night, but my flight was delayed. I was so worried I might not get here before you woke up.”
I roll over so I can look at him.
He grins at me. “But I would have just turned that into a home invasion or something.”
“God, your imagination is…” I shiver. “A gift.”
“One that keeps giving?”
“And giving and giving.” I stretch. “Shower together?”
“Definitely.”
He rolls out of bed, then goes ahead and starts the hot water.
I take my time following. My thoughts are racing ahead to the day. If he didn’t sleep at all, then he’ll probably want to crash soon, and I should—
“Come here.” He interrupts my thoughts, picking up my birth control pills from the counter where I set them out last night.
I dutifully stop in front of him.
“May I?” He holds up the packet, and for a split second, I think he’s asking if he can flush them or something.
I must look startled and confused, because his face goes soft. “Give you your pill for the day.”
“Oh.” I huff a relieved breath. “Yes.”
He pops it out of the foil pack. “Open.”
I stick my tongue out and he gives me the pill, his fingertips pushing a little. Then he hands me a glass of water, not that I need it. I’ve taken this pill every morning for almost fifteen years.
“Do you ever want kids?” he asked me a few weeks ago.
I shrugged at the time.
“Same,” he said. Then, “How do you feel about breeding as part of a scene, though?”
He held my gaze so solemnly it took my breath away. And after I found my voice again, I confessed that filled me with a wild heat I had expected, and wanted to explore more.
Now, he brushes his fingertips along my cheek. Watches me swallow. And when I’m done, he murmurs, “Good girl.”
I lead the way into the shower, my fingers tangling with his. Tugging. Wanting to hold on to him a little longer.
“You should bring your shampoo over,” he murmurs as he turns me around under the hot spray.
“I like to use yours.”
I catch a smile before he has me face the wall. “But your shampoo is the scent I remember from our first hug.”
Something inside my chest flips over and purrs. “Okay.”
He nudges my thighs apart and uses the handheld sprayer to wash me gently. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my neck, his face nestling into the hollow between my shoulder and my head. “I don’t have another trip for until after Halloween.”
My heart leaps. “Really?”
“Mmhmm.”
“That’s good. Nice to be home for a while?”
His grip tighten around my waist. “Yeah.”
“We can play more often?”
He exhales roughly. “Fuck, I hope so.”
I laugh gently. But then we fall silent, and when he speaks again, it’s a question that spins me into confusion.
“Are you happy?”
I take a slow, careful breath. “What do you mean?”
“Is this…what we’re doing…is it what you want?”
“Yes? I like it a lot.” Then I hold whatever else I might want to say inside, because there’s a lot I could say, a lot of wild thoughts that could be let loose but who knows how they’d be received, and yes, I’ve overthought that a lot, but—
“I want more.”
“Right. Okay.” I lick my lips and try to remember how our earlier conversations went. “Could we make lists again, of what we like, and where the caution areas are? I’ve probably rethought some of my soft limits since we’re so compatible.”
He doesn’t answer for a second.
Then he spins me around, catching me in his arms with ease, even when I wobble. “Not more kink,” he growls, his gaze dark and possessive. “Although…anything you want. Anything at all. Yes. I’m in. But I mean more of you. Is it too soon to tell you I want you to move in? I hate your apartment. Why don’t you have air conditioning, you ninny?”
I gape at him.
“I take the last part back.” He clears his throat. “I know why you don’t have air con. But I won’t take back the other question.”
“You want me to move in?”
“You know who I am. In more ways than anyone else ever has. You like my pool. Even if you aren’t ready to make it permanent, think about staying here for a few weeks to test it out?” He brushes a wet strand of hair off my cheek. “I miss you when I’m gone. I want you in my bed next time.”
A disbelieving but very happy smile spreads across my face.
“Is that a yes kind of smile?”
I nod.
“Good.” He swears under his breath. “God damn it. Held that in all night.”
I kiss his chest. “No more holding anything in.”
“I wanted to make you say you’d move in while I was inside you.” He lifts me up onto my toes, and works his fingers back and forth over my pussy lips. Then he grunts, and his cock flexes against my hip. “Let’s go have a nap. We’ll pick this conversation back up when I wake you up again.”
“What if I stay asleep this time?” I giggle as he flips off all the taps and drags me to the nearest towel.
“In this house, verbal contracts engaged in while asleep are still morally binding.”
“Mmm, sounds sus.”
He tickles my sides, then picks me up, wrapped in terrycloth, and tosses me over his shoulder. “Not if I record it, and then make you agree to it all over again once you’re awake.”
“This is starting to feel like a trap!” I howl.
He drops me on his bed and braces himself on top of me. “I told you I lured you here. And you came anyway.”
I did. Happily. And as promised, I’m never going to leave.
*
I hope you enjoyed this standalone short! Damien is a secondary character in my novel Shame, and it was fun to write him a little CNC HEA (and I’ve already told Adriana Anders that yes, I’ll be writing more Damien and Sara scenes for here on the Patreon!).
And if you’re curious about a longer CNC novel, Wicked Sin is fifty-thousand words of a police procedural wrapped around twenty-thousand words of a noncon kink revelation.