Gift Details ♥
Reader Style: cisfem
Character: Silvers Rayleigh
Vibe: NSFW Consensual
AU: Canon -- I am so sorry this is NOT canon au, forgive me.
Prompt: Only One Bed 

Summary: There's only one room, and it's your first time meeting one Silvers Rayleigh.

Content Notes: age gap, accidental edging, fantasizing about an older man, letting him help you orgasm. This would have more but it was already 2k words and I had to STOP.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

You looked over at the older gentlemen standing by you at the reception desk of the hotel. He was older, easily twice your age, you were sure, but he looked comfortable in the suit. Long silver hair, and a well-trimmed goatee. If you had to guess, you imagined he owned a business or two.

"Does the room have a sofa?" You question, and the desk clerk taps some keys.

"Yes ma'am." She replies. "A single king and couch. I'm afraid it doesn't appear to be a pull-out couch."

"That's fine." You assure her, looking back toward the gentlemen. There was an amused look on his face, and you were certain he already knew what you were going to propose. "You seem an honorable sort, and neither of us have any other option anyway. As the shorter of the two, I'll take the couch, if you're amenable?"

"When you put it that way, young lady, it would be rude of me to disagree." He says in an easy voice. "As I am receiving the greatest comfort, I insist on paying for the room."

Nothing about his demeanor or offer leaves you concerned. If he's a beast in sheep's clothing he wears them well enough that there'd be no saving you anyway.

"Very well, but in that case I'd like to treat you to dinner, if you haven't yet eaten?"

"The restaurant is open until 11," the desk clerk interjects. "You have plenty of time to leave your things in the room before getting a table."

"Seems that settles things then." He takes his card from the clerk and extends a hand to you. "Silvers Rayleigh."

You take the offered hand and give it a firm shake, giving him your name as well.

After taking your things up to the room, and sure enough the couch wasn't the pull out style with a spare bed hidden under the cushions, you both head back down to the restaurant. The food was good, and the atmosphere was comfortable. Soft music played in the background and you were able to converse while you ate.

Rayleigh was an excellent conversationalist. You talked about your respective jobs, what brought you to this city at the same time. Two different conventions it seemed, which would explain why the hotels were filled to the brim. You weren't wrong about him either, while he insisted he was retired, Rayleigh was the owner of several businesses, most of which he had passed down to others.

Mentor and adviser were the only jobs he did anymore, but he did enjoy the conventions to keep an eye on any up and coming talents. The simple pleasures of a simple man, as he said. Though you doubted there was anything simple about him at all.

You'd stayed at the restaurant until it was nearly ready to close, losing track of time in the comfort of conversation. Returning to the room, you traded off rights to the bathroom while getting ready for bed. The front desk had delivered a few spare blankets and pillows, with a small note about their appreciation regarding your kindness during the check-in process.

This meant your rest on the couch was going to be even more comfortable than you had anticipated.

As you were showering, however, the comfort of the couch wasn't what was on your mind. It was his face you could see, his voice that was worming its way into your brain while you stood naked in the water, separated by a single door. The shower itself was only encased in glass, even as it steamed up from use there was nothing to really separate you.

You wondered at all the things he could do.

If his fingers were as smooth as his voice. If that tongue could dance against your skin with the same eloquence that it had with words. What could he do to you, with all that experience and knowledge? He joked about being far too old to indulge in all he enjoyed in life, but he'd come out of the shower with his wet hair on his shoulders, and little more than a t-shirt and boxers on.

What you could see was solid. Age was there, certainly, but there was strength and grace beneath his skin.

Shame flushed your skin, but your fingers wandered over your skin as you let your imagination run wild. He was intoxicating, and it wasn't like you were going to try and seduce him once you got out of the shower. This was between you, your fingers, and maybe the shower head. No one was going to need the shower once you were done with it, so it was certainly okay to risk running it out of hot water.

After a few minutes you realized that all you were doing was frustrating yourself. Fantasizing normally worked, but your brain kept insisting you needed him, not the stupid shower head with its water pressure that wasn't quite enough.

Sighing and trying to let it go, you finished up, dried off, and pulled on a baggy shirt that you had packed specifically for nightwear and a pair of cotton underwear. Nothing fancy, after all, you hadn't planned on being in the same room with anyone else. Certainly not a hot silver fox like Mr. Silvers out there.

You were surprised to see him awake, reading a book in bed. "Sorry, I hope the water running didn't keep you up."

"Not even a little." He assures you with a smile. "If the light bothers you, I can turn it off."

"Oh, no. I'll be fine, ah - thank you." You notice the couch has been made into as much of a bed as possible and Rayleigh smiles.

"Thank you, young lady, for trusting me and treating me to such a delicious meal earlier."

Your smile feels a little guilty, the nervous chuckle escaping you as you nod. You couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't going to sound like an offer of the more intimate kind, so you wish him a good night as you get comfortable in your little neatly made cocoon.

The light was not the problem.

The problem was that every time you closed your eyes you could see him, and practically feel him. Your mind was cruel and perverse, at least right now. You were getting irritated that you didn't have enough self-control to stop thinking about someone you barely knew long enough to go to bed.

Oh, he wasn't single, but he had an open relationship with his wife. He showed you pictures, she was beautiful as he was handsome, and there were always two or three other people in the pictures with them. There was nothing sexual, but these people weren't ashamed of smooching in the middle of selfies.

What would those lips -

No, dammit, you had places to be tomorrow you had to sleep.

If you came you'd sleep.

...

The shower hadn't been enough, but tucked under the blankets maybe. If you were quiet. You didn't have to move much, you were all wound up already. If it wouldn't give you away entirely you'd just go into the bathroom.

But he was reading, and the little bed lamp wasn't strong. The blankets were dark. If he asks tomorrow you could just say you can be restless when you sleep. You'd never see him again, so what did it matter.

Resolve set, you slipped your hand under the band of your underpants as carefully as you could and began to move your fingers. You were soaked and it was hard to get any real friction going, but you needed to either succeed, or at least wear yourself out trying.

Unfortunately, your arm was tired, you weren't, and you were no where near relief. Farther from it, honestly, as you'd done little more than edge yourself into frustration. The small sob that leaves you is louder than you'd like and after a second of being completely still your stomach knots.

"Trouble sleeping?" He asks quietly. Quietly enough that if you were just making sounds in your sleep he wouldn't accidentally wake you, but you know. You already know. He knows. He's known.

The man's observant. You figured that out from the beginning. He probably knew what you'd been doing in the shower the smooth bastard. There was no other choice, not really, he wasn't truly leaving you with one.

"... Yeah." You admit quietly.

You hear the book close. "Anything I can do to help?"

His tone. His damn tone. It's so sure, so soft, so inviting, and there's not an ounce of allure in it. He's not trying to seduce you, he's giving you the most neutral option to come to him he can provide. Considering he'd been - intentionally or not - seducing you all damn evening.

"I... wouldn't want to impose." There's frustration in your voice. Not aimed at him, just at your situation.

"It's hardly imposing if I've offered." He counters and you practically whimper.

"Then... yes, please." You say after a moment's consideration. "I need to sleep, and if you're offering to help, I would like to accept."

There's a shift in his tone, and you can picture the smile on his face, despite having your back to him right now. "Then, please, come to bed, young lady."

You flinch a little, removing your fingers from your clit before moving the blankets aside. Getting up you step over to the bed, but you can't quite bring yourself to look him in the eye. You can feel blood rushing through you and you have to wonder just how much he knows.

He moves the blankets aside. "Come, sit in my lap." His words feeling commanding, but not absolute. He's guiding you, giving you permission, but not forcing you.

You swallow, nerves making your stomach flop, and you get into the bed. The idea of looking into his eyes is a little too much, so you sit with your back to his chest, resting your thighs against his.

"Lean back," he says it softly, warm hands on your arms, guiding you carefully backward until you're settled against his chest. You're a little surprised that there's nothing pushing against your ass, and also a little extra frustrated that he's not nearly as hot and bothered as you are.

His hands move down your arm, and his fingers slip over yours. You know he feels the slick on your fingers, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'm just going to guide you." He explains, moving your hands with his. He has you pull your shirt up, until the bottom hem is by your lips. "Open," he says, and you do. He has you tuck the cloth into your mouth before bringing your hand down to your breast.

He slips your other hand, the one already slick and wet, under the band of your underwear. You moan as he guides your fingers against your clit, legs shivering against his thighs. He moves your hands, keeping your movements and pace steady, changing the pressure and movements as he whispers into your ear.

"Not too fast."

"Pinch a little more, there you go."

"Not there yet, move your fingers deeper. Just like that."

"Those sounds you make are divine, young lady."

"There we go. Listen to you, you're so close."

Your body begins to tense as you squirm against him. "Rah-Rayleigh," you gasp, voice barely muffled by the fabric of the shirt, his fingers moving yours steadily, not letting your building pleasure hasten the pace. "Please, please, I'm almost..." You roll your hips, your body on fire and desperately needy. "Please!"

He makes you twist your nipple more harshly than before, and presses your fingers against your clit with more fervor. Hot lips against your neck nip at your skin and everything brings you to climax, biting down on your shirt as you tense and moan.

He keeps you moving for another minute, slowly helping you ride out your high.

"All better?" He prompts and you make a soft sound.

"M'sorry," you mutter, brain and body hazy from the sweet release after so much accidental edging.

"For what?"

"Been... thinking of you... for hours." You admit, your voice a dream-filled sigh.

"Oh." He muses, fingers slipping from yours and pressing against your skin directly. "Then please, young lady, tell me what you desire, and I promise to do my best to exceed your thoughts of me."