A/N
Guys, I had a dream I had a threesome with Adam Driver and another girl but I think in the dream both women were me. That's how selfish I am. But everything was as big and magnificent as I ever dreamed of.

Then two weeks later I dreamed that we were roommates and he was talking to me in the bathroom in just black boxer briefs and an open, thin black robe. I could stare at his beautiful body as much as I wanted and he didn't even mind. The world is a wonderful place! And it inspired me to finally finish this so I hope you enjoy! Xox - Z

***

"Lie down."

I walk gingerly, damp from the shower.

"Face down." I follow his orders.

He is dressed in tiny black boxer briefs that cling to his thighs. A soft bathrobe hangs open around his barrelled, smooth chest. His hair curls at the ends.

"Spread your legs." He's taking his time, eyeing me, assessing his options.

"Wider."

You hear him cross the room. He picks something up, runs his palm across its flat surface.

"Do you want to please me?"

"Yes."

"Good."

He approaches.

"Should you have made me wait this long?"

"No."

"Should I punish you for making me wait this long?"

You pause. The need for him between your legs grows. You know he's on the edge so you're scared and turned on, simultaneously.

You hear the high-pitched ding of a ping pong ball bouncing on a paddle. He's playing? WTF?

This is not the way you'd always imagined this going down.

That grin of his, as he counts each ping pong bounce. 22, 23, 24. He's actually pretty good.

"That's a preview, darling. However good I am is how bad you're going to be."

He saddles up behind you, wraps a giant arm under your waist and pulls your ass to him. You're on all fours, feeling very exposed. He runs his hands gingerly along your very erect nipples, you can feel him pressed against you. You feel vulnerable, but safe in his care. He runs a giant hand along your throat, his ogre finger is in your mouth, the other grabs your ass.

SMACK.

He just spanked you with a ping-pong paddle. Is he fucking serious?

"Oh, you think I'm playing? I am not playing, my love."

SMACK.

Your ass smarts, your breath catches, warmth floods your senses and you let out a strangled moan. He grips the area where it's happened, runs a hand between your legs.

"That's two. In the military, the guys called me Ears 2."

You laugh. His ears are endearingly large, and he's always nervously tucking his hair behind them.

"But then, you already knew I served."

Your heart stops.

SMACK. That's three.

"I saw you take my dog tags. We had one rule but you just couldn't resist, could you? Well, now I can't."

SMACK. 4.

"But you like it, don't you? You like disobeying me."

He's right. You like the burn, like whiskey down your throat.

"You want me to go harder, don't you?" You nod.

5 is harder. 5 takes your breath away and you feel him get harder against you. That just makes you want it more.

"Oh you like it hard." He runs the ridge of the paddle across your sex, trails his finger in the wake. He rubs the tip of himself against you, teasing.

"Fuck this." That's followed by the paddle flying across the room and his hands palming your breasts. He is tucked up close to you, bent over your back, kissing your shoulder and your ears, whispering unconscionable things in your ear about how wet you are, and how many times he's going to make you come. You beg, reach to touch him, his rippled abs, thighs like the majestic trunk of an elephant. You want to look at him, kiss his drunken lips, rub your face against his cheek bones, a finger along his jaw line. You want to kiss his collarbone, run you hand along his round bicep, up into his armpit, like you're some sexual explorer, venturing into the unknown, running fingertips along his tensed, pale forearm as it grips you tightly. You want a lot of things but this vise grip he's got you in means you're at his mercy. For however long he plans on torturing you.

"What now?"

"I call the shots. In the military they'd  call that insubordination, and that requires a new punishment."

He brings out small clamps, almost like evil paper clips, and black. He picks you up by the waist, plants your feet in front of the full length mirror, his giant body towering behind you. Like the first time you met, he runs a hand down your body: sternum to belly and below. You crane your neck, he makes you look back at the two of you in this mirror. Like the best porn you've never seen, you cannot wait to watch what is about to pass. First he rolls your nipples, applies the clamps. It's a delicious sort of pain. He follows it with pleasure: kisses along your neck with his drunken lips. You can feel he's on the edge now. You want to take control but can't handle another level of this play.

But you can play dirty and lay on the seduction thick. You moan and purr like a kitten. He grunts. You arch your back, wrapping your ass around his cock, urging it lower. You make eye contact in the mirror, lashes heavy with desire.

"Oh you minx. I see what you're doing. Two can play at this game." He pauses from the physical torture and continues his verbal assault. His deep voice slays whatever front you were putting up. He describes exactly what he's going to do to you as he's doing it. You're putty in his monstrous hands.

"I forfeit." You have never wanted anything so bad. There is only the place inside you where he should be, now and forever. Is that what love is? Not needing anything but his face and body and stories to keep you entertained for the rest of your life.

You've been staring into his eyes, facing him and he doesn't avert them. You get lost in his lashes and the way one of his eyebrow hairs has fallen out of place. You brush it back in, grooming him, even though you love him wild.

He kisses you, deeply, his tongue saying the words you're both thinking. There is such a strong need there and it goes beyond sexual desire. It is something longer lasting. There is only before you met him and now.

He picks you up, cupping your ass. He lays you gently on the bed. He nods, as if asking permission and, elegantly slipping on a condom, because this is real life, enters you. He whispers sweet nothings, as his body moves through you. You kiss, you take refuge in his neck, breathing in the smell of him, his damp shower skin now coated with a thin layer of sweat. You grab his ass to push him further inside you. It's all happening in slow motion so you can savour it. He kisses your chest, removes the clamps to tenderly kiss your nipples with his tongue. He makes love to you, like an animal in the Serengeti, wild, untameable but at home, a wonder to behold.

You breathe in unison with him. You say his name over and over. Adam. Adam. Adam. Damn. You feel him pulsing within you, the rhythm of your bodies like ocean waves, being pulled down shore by the moonlight. He is close, he whispers. You moan and he holds your hands above your head, grasps your body beneath him, bites his lip before kissing you deeply. You come with him, your body convulsing, having spent an eternity at the cliffs of desire. You jump and sail through the air together. It is release, edged by warmth, elation, a cushion after a long fall.

He collapses on top of you, like a child overcome by exhaustion. You like the weight of him, the way he still needs you close. "That was everything," you hear him mumble. He kisses your neck, his lips envelope yours.

He rolls over and is awake, almost high on the adrenaline like you. "I bet I know what you want, kid."

You can think of a million different ways you would answer that. This, forever? His musky essence, bottled? To clone his cinnamon body and make it your robot sex slave?

"A clove in bed, like the middle school rockstar you are." He winks and your body crumples further into his sheets.

He lights it for you, takes a drag, kisses you and you can taste the spice on his lips. Wrapping the sheet around you, you take a long drag.

Thank god you kept your silly habits, the quirks that got you here. You smile, look ahead. He grabs your hand, fingers interlock with his. The sun is just coming up.

**FIN**