Written for image 12 for the April context
~
Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you,
Layla groans, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her hands grab for the top of the sheets, tugging it over her head, only to be stolen away, leaving her to shiver in place. She kicks her feet in place, making no effort to quiet her whines. “Ughhhhh.”
“Happy birthday, baby,” Milo greets her, snuggling up at her side and kissing her on the forehead, pausing the song on his phone.
“Thank you, baby.” Happiness turns the corners of Layla’s mouth up, and she leans up to kiss his lips. The kiss lingers, and she opens her eyes, squinting to protect from the room’s brightness. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine,” he says, smiling.
She pouts, pulling the covers up to her chin. Her arms cross under the blankets, and she grumbles, “The birthday girl wanted to sleep in until, like, noon. And binge the new season of my show with takeout all day.”
“Why don’t we go out?” he asks. “It’s your birthday! It’s special!”
“It’s just another day. One that I don’t have to put on pants.” She bites her lips, feeling his hand on the inside of her thigh. Her legs part. If this is one of her birthday gifts, she won’t say no, but her frown returns when the hand wraps around her waist, squeezing her side.
“What if I said I had a whole day planned?” he coos. He has her attention, and she sits up.
“What kind of stuff would we be doing?”
~
Milo has the entire day blocked off, and it sounds intimidating, but the breakdown sounds like plenty of fun. He’s so excited the whole time, tugging her by the hand. On their way out the door, Layla spies a new bouquet on the windowsill, already cut with plenty of water. She feels loved already, and part of her wishes they weren’t in such a hurry; it’s so tempting to pull him onto the couch and thank him for his thoughtfulness.
Oh, well. There’s time for that later.
They start with breakfast at her favorite cafe. She can’t decide between savory and savory, and when all hope is lost, Milo creates a compromise: Layla gets her favorite biscuits and gravy (no one makes it like they do here), and he opts for her usual runner-up option: the red velvet chocolate chip pancakes.
Drinks come in. Aesthetic lattes, one of the cafe’s staples, make for excellent posts, and Layla snaps a few pictures, loving the carefully-crafted floating hearts in the cream. She takes a sip, enjoying the warmth and caffeine, and Milo laughs, wiping froth off Layla’s top lip.
They eat just a little more than comfort allows. Thankfully, their next stop involves plenty of opportunity to walk off the extra calories. Milo is in peak form, more patient than usual as Layla sorts through purses she doesn’t need, cosmetics she may not use, and snacks they have no room for at the moment.
He pushes the cart, following behind Layla, and whenever she peeks back at him, she can only blush. The way he looks at her: that warm smile and eyes that trace every curve as if seeing her for the first time all over again; her stomach flutters (they’d been at the store long enough to know it’s not indigestion from breakfast).
Whenever Layla contemplates an item too long, checking her bank account, Milo snatches the item away, reads the packaging, and drops it into the cart, shrugging. The newest item: a set of false lashes. Layla puffs out her cheeks and furrows her brows. “We don’t need it.”
“It’s not about what you need. You want it, don’t you?” Milo asks, met with a hesitant grin. “Easy as that. Let me treat you, birthday girl.”
“You already paid for breakfast,” Layla grumbles. A rack of blankets steals her attention. She combs through the options: different colors, characters, different levels of softness. One calls out to her, and she hugs it to her chest, enjoying how soft it is. A pushed-out bottom lip is a plea, even though she’s nearly certain he’ll say yes, but a shake of his head makes her clutch it harder. “But I want this one!”
“I feel like this one would be better,” Milo says, pointing at the label on a blanket he picked.It’s almost 7 feet in both directions.
“That’s huge.” Layla’s eyes sparkle. She eyes the pattern: hot pink checkerboard with flowers and skulls. How the heck did she miss this one? “This is perfect. It’s so me.”
“And that’s why I picked it.” Milo tries to hide his smile as he adds the blanket to their cart. “And also why we’re not leaving without it.”
Instead of leading the way as she had the whole time so far, Layla takes her spot next to Milo, grabbing his hands, gripping it tightly, and she lays her head on his shoulder. “You really love me.”
“I thought you knew that already,” he says before shyly kissing her on the top of Layla’s head.
The true test of courage is the gauntlet of various line items. Candles. Mugs. Miscellaneous cleaning supplies. Milo‘s particular weakness is the variety of snacks (usually chips and popcorn), and Layla is too much of an enabler to let him leave empty-handed.
$150 later, and it’s around lunch time. Layla could eat. She raises a brow when Milo parks at the movie theater.
“What?” Milo asks. “They have food here, too. I really like their chicken strips.”
“Are there even any good movies out right now?” Layla squints at the posters on the front of the building. It’s the usual lineup for a slower part of the year: romcoms, a generic action film, a kid’s movie that’s been running for at least a month too long.
“I think you’ll enjoy what I picked,” Milo assures. He practically jumps out of the car, looking back towards Layla. “Come on! What are you doing?”
“I’m bringing the new blanket we got. It’s too comfy, and I always get cold in the movie theaters.”
“Good call.” Milo puts an arm around her, hugging her to his body, and walks with a grin. Layla knows this kind of smile. He must be up to something. There’s no way he’s not. At the ticket counter, Milo whips out his phone and flashes a QR code for the employee to scan.
The employee prints out two ticket stubs–one for each of them. Layla brings the stub to her face, hoping to finally find out what they’re watching. She rolls her eyes when it just says “Special Event.” That could literally be anything
In the middle of the week, there aren’t many other patrons here. Perks of a birthday during the school year. Layla’s mouth waters as she stares at the menu. She picks a few items, and of course, a large popcorn is a must (with extra butter). Layla pulls out her wallet, but it’s too late; Milo’s too fast, especially with tap-to-pay on his phone.
Milo has his hands full, and Layla walks around, draped in her blanket. She feels bad that she’s not helping, but knows that’s the last thing her boyfriend would want. She helps herself to a handful of popcorn, smiling with full cheeks, and Milo steals a quick peck.
“You taste like butter topping,” he says, licking his lips. They find their seats in the middle of the theater, at the very top: Layla‘s usual first picks, as long as they get the option. After they get settled, the screen glows bright red. Layla hears the familiar bumper sound, and a Netflix logo flashes across the screen
She looks at Milo, baffled, and a nudge towards the screen tells her to just watch. Her jaw drops when it’s a recap episode for the show she wanted to binge tonight. Layla grabs him by the sleeve, bouncing on her recliner seat, nearly spilling popcorn everywhere. “Oh my God! Are you serious?”
“Tada! The new season on the biggest screen I could afford,” Milo explains. “They don’t have the show in IMAX format, unfortunately. I know you were super excited to watch it, so I set this up with the theater. It’s a private showing, so it’s just the two of us.”
He nods to himself, smug with the surprise. “That means I can ask as many questions as I like.”
“You should’ve just watched the other seasons with me. Now you’ll have no idea what’s going on,” Layla says with a giggle. she opens her blanket up and drapes it over the both of them. “I think you’d like it, anyway.”
This series has been Layla‘s obsession these past few years. A regency era drama, with a heavy emphasis on romance, all of her favorite tropes, packaged with historic fashion, antiquated class dynamics, and filled with British accents.
Milo gets into it rather quickly, finding himself leaning forward and concentrating on the screen while he munches away at the popcorn. During the first sex scene–a staple for the series–he looks over in shock towards Layla. “I didn’t know it was this kind of show.”
“Like you’re complaining,” Layla says. Playfully, she grabs Milo’s crotch. “I bet you’re hard just watching this!”
“I’m not,” Milo laughs, moving her hand off of him. He reclines his seat, putting his hands under his head.
Layla follows suit, finding a place on top of Milo and nuzzling into his chest. “Aren’t you glad I brought the blanket in here?”
“It’s pretty nice,” Milo agrees, kissing the top of her head. He yawns. “Be careful, though. I could fall asleep this way.”
“It’s okay if you do,” Layla tells him. “We can always watch what you missed when we get back home later.”
“No way. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see your show on the big screen!” Milo gushes excitedly.
“How many episodes did you have a theater blocked out for?”
Milo taps his chin. “I think…I said the whole season. How long are episodes? Like thirty minutes each?”
Layla‘s eyes widen, but she giggles shortly after. “The episodes are like an hour long! We’re gonna be here for the rest of the day, at this rate.”
A daytime scene brightens the screen, and Layla peeks up at the brush of pink on Milo’s cheeks. He smiles nervously. “I guess there go our dinner plans. I was kind of looking forward to the Cheesecake Factory.”
“Dang, that’s tempting.” Layla scrunches her nose and leans in to kiss Milo before finding her spot on his chest again. She moves her hand down under the blanket and rubs Milo’s crotch. He shifts away from her, but Layla scoots closer, grabbing around the contours of the hardening bulge.
He laughs through shallow breaths. “What are you doing?”
“All these talks about missed dinner plans,” Layla says, nonchalantly. Her hand skillfully unbuttons his pants. She rubs her palm over the front of Milo‘s boxers. “It makes me really want some dessert right now.”
“I don’t know about this.” Milo laughs nervously. From the way he breathes, he’s definitely into it, but he’s always been a bit shy in public. Rightfully so, but this is a special occasion.
“You said you rented the entire theater out, right?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s just us?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I think it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, don’t you think?” Layla asks. Her mischievous grin widens. She tugs at the top of Milo‘s pants, and he lifts his hips so she can slide everything down. She keeps the blanket over him, watching how her hand moves along his shaft. “I’ve never given a blowjob in a movie theater, and this is the best time to do it. No one around to catch us…”
“True,” Milo says, peeling the blanket away to watch Layla stroke him. “Maybe I can eat you out instead? It’s your birthday.”
“You’ve been treating me all day! I want to do this!” Layla insisted. “So let me suck your fucking dick already.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Milo agrees without much more convincing. He nods for her, and that’s all it takes for Layla to swallow him whole. She slurps and sucks. There’s no need to be quiet. Hearing her noises fill the theater only gets her wetter.
“You’re gonna miss your show,” Milo says through hearty heaves. Despite his protests, his hands still find the back of Layla‘s head, pushing her down so that his cock can push deeper.
“Ith ohay,” Layla says, muffled, pulling away to breathe. She wipes the drool dripping from her mouth and smiles. “We can always watch it again when we get home, so let me have my fun now.”
Layla bobs her head while her hand lightly squeezes Milo‘s balls. Her lips trail down his length, and she can feel him pulse in her mouth. She sucks harder; her tongue flicks at his tip and caresses the bottom of his shaft. His hold on her hair tightens, and Milo moans, exploding into her mouth. It’s more than she expects, and he nearly drips out past her lips.
Her tongue massages along his shrinking hardness, ensuring not a drop is wasted. Milo pulls her off from the rising sensitivity. Layla grins, pleased with her performance, and kisses Milo affectionately. “So yummy. Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Milo says, still lightheaded from pleasure. His lips absolutely crave her, indulging in another deep kiss. “Can it be your turn now? Let me finger you…eat you out…something.”
Layla loves seeing him this needy. It’s cute, and it makes her feel desired even after all these years. Milo‘s no stranger to voicing what he wants, and she’s usually at the top of his list; today is no exception. He shudders when he pulls away to breathe, and his voice is low. “Please…”
“Fine, if you insist on spoiling the birthday girl,” Layla concedes playfully. She climbs over his lap, facing away. Her back arches, and her hips sway side to side. It’s an attempt to hypnotize Milo and draw him in, but he doesn’t need any encouragement.
He pushes her dress up, takes a handful of her cheeks, and squeezes away. His hands are deceptively strong, sending tingles between her legs. Layla bites her lip, feeling his fingers tracing along the front of her panties. The screen has her attention, but she can tell her ass has Milo’s
“Fuck,” she says, gripping his thighs. Her nails dig into his legs. She continues watching the screen, and things heat up there as well. Moans fill the theater from the speakers, but also Layla’s own. Her legs clench, and he knees squeeze against Milo’s legs. “Take them off already.”
Milo peels her panties down, and she lifts her legs up, one at a time, to maneuver out of them. Layla looks back, expecting him to discard them in the next seat over. She grins when she catches him taking an indulgent sniff. His eyes widen when they meet Layla’s. “S-sorry.”
“Do whatever you want,” Layla tells him smugly, but her impatience renders her voice a whine, “Just as long as you give me your fingers already.”
Milo slowly traces along Layla’s slit, and she tries not to twitch too much from this touch. It’s useless trying to hold back. She wants him so badly that she finds herself pushing back against his fingers until they finally wiggle inside. Layla gasps, biting her lips, stifling the noises that threaten to escape. She can’t concentrate on the screen, but she’s glad that the characters aren’t the only ones having some fun.
She feels soft lips against her ass cheeks, getting closer and closer to the top of her crease. Layla clenches, giggling, feeling the tip of his tongue against her tight hole. “Hey…what are you doing back there?”
“You said whatever I wanted, didn’t you?” He teases with a nervous grin before pulling his lips away. His free hand travels to grope her other cheek. “I’ve never tried it before. Maybe we can give it a shot?”
Layla can barely think with how light her head. Milo’s fingers continue working her walls, and her inhibitions melt away. She nods, finally, pulling her dress over her head to rest it on the top of the row of seats in front of them. “Go crazy.”
His tongue laps slowly over her hole. Her muscles relax slowly as his fingers press against her sweet spot. He always knows just what to do with his hands, and the new feeling on her ass is a treat on its own. Layla pushes back against him, and she winces when his tongue pokes into her ass.
She feels him wiggling while she tightens around his fingers. Her breath picks up, and her head ducks down, resting against Milo’s knees. “Shit.”
His tongue tickles. The familiar warmth of his tongue feels so nice against her. She grinds against his face, and his fingers curl faster. “Fuck, Milo. I–”
Her lips lock closed, and her hips roll to Milo‘s rhythm. Layla closes around his fingers as waves of heat course through her. The pleasure forces her mouth open, pushing out shallow, sweet moans. She collapses onto Milo’s legs, and her legs quiver from the aftershocks. She regains her composure, slowly, and she sits up. “Oh, my God.”
Layla swings a leg over to face Milo, feeling his hardness press up between her folds. She smirks, raising a brow. “Already, huh?”
Milo leans in closer for a deep kiss. “You’re so fucking cute when you come.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Layla says, practically ready to melt into Milo‘s lap. “Or you’ll leave me no choice but to ride you.”
Layla pushes Milo down until his back clashes with the recliner. He stares up at her, grinning. She steadies her feet, one firmly planted on the other side of his body, and lowers herself, mounting him properly.
Milo has her dripping already, so he slides right in. Layla groans when his hilt clashes against her ass. She bounces generously, cursing with every thrust. Every deep stroke presses against her sweet spot, and she grinds to press him into the engorged part of her walls.
She places her hands on her knees and lets her hips do the work, grinding back-and-forth along Milo. She bucks faster, nearly losing control, and she moans with every slam of his cock against her sweet spot.
A thumb in her mouth quiets her cries, and her lips lock around him, sucking and slurping just as he did as she did on his dick earlier. Milo withdraws his thumb, and Layla stares at the way saliva connects it to her mouth still. She leans forward to suck it again, but Milo quickly moves it to clit, rubbing against the hard nub. “Fuck, that’s not fair.”
Her hips speed up, and every frantic movement is a race to feel the building heat. When he presses against her clit and favorite spot, breath barely escapes as her moans pick up. Her heart is pounding in no time. She’s gasping for air. Whimpers form. “Milo…babe….”
Milo sits up, wrapping around an arm around her to cup her ass, and his thumb keeps circling her clit. He scoots back and forth in his chair, following the speed she needs, and it doesn’t take much more for her to keel over.
Her face sinks into Milo‘s shoulder, and she wraps her arms around him, rolling her hips until she crashes. Her desperate breaths are reduced to needy sobs, and she presses her lips against his. Words barely drip through. “…coming…”
Layla’s body tenses, and she holds on for dear life, grinding and bucking. Riding and fucking. The last few grinds of her hip grab whatever embers of pleasure she can hold on to, and she breaths sharply as she comes down from her climax. Her body is ready to give ou, and her heart is pounding. She wants to keep riding until he fills her. The idea of him dripping out of her all over their seat sends her into a frenzy.
She needs Milo to come again. Powering through sore, spent legs, she raises herself off of him and kneels at his side. A tight grip around his base lets her slap him across her tongue, and she swallows him up with ease, bobbing her head. Her juices drip down his shaft, and she licks up what she can.
Milo’s voice is low and husky. It leaves goosebumps on Layla’s neck. “You’re so fucking greedy today. Do you wanna swallow all of my cum, don’t you?”
“Please,” Layla whines. Her eyes plead with him, and she nods while stealing a chance for a breath. “Give it to me.”
She throats him, and lewd, guttural noises fill the theater as Milo humps into her mouth, fucking up into her face.
“Come for me,” she says, muffled, “Come down my throat–”
Hands on the back of her head, push her all the way down, and Layla feels tears well. Milo pulses inside of her. Veins pop with every spurt inside, expelling a rope of seed into her mouth. The rhythm slows in time, and Layla eases off, sure to lick up any struggling drops that dribble. She gulps everything down and smiles at Milo before sitting up to kiss him.
As she finds her dress to put back on, her stomach grumbles. Layla smiles nervously. To heaping servings of cum sates her craving for dessert, but it’s not substantial. “Do you think you can give me some chicken strips?”
Milo nods, holding the back of her head to kiss her forehead. “Sure thing.”
Layla’s heart flutters, and she watches Milo walk down the steps to the theater’s exit. Halfway down, she calls out to him, “Hey, babe!”
“Barbeque sauce,” he says, and his smile is bright enough to light the room.
To be known is to be loved, and Layla couldn’t ask for a better birthday.
submitted by /u/rotonoscope
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