Work Text:
There are stakes involved in anything worth having. Rupert Campbell-Black, Olympic gold medalist and Tory MP, knows it better than most.
It’s the reason he’s been all-cards-in with Venturer from the start, and why, when he gave Cameron the application and invited her onboard, he merely saw it as a follow-through. They need her kind of staying power and skill if they expect to win the bid—and taking away Tony Baddingham’s most personal asset is just a delicious bonus.
But it’s also the reason that he ends up fucking Taggie on the counter of the O’Hara’s upstairs bathroom after things are satisfactorily sorted with Cameron.
Because for all the reasons Rupert is supposed to stay away from her, he’s horrifically realized that Taggie might actually be the only thing worth having.
Cameron showing up at the Priory earlier was already half the battle won. With everyone’s eyes on the two of them, Rupert had no choice but to follow through . Even when he saw Taggie leave in the midst of it.
She was crying beside his dog on the stairs—that’s how he found her after.
Had the dog’s scruff between her fingers like she was seeking comfort in the absence of anyone she needed. The sight made his chest ache.
Taggie startled when he asked what was wrong, seemingly too distracted to have noticed him there. But she just wiped roughly at her face after and said, “Nothing. I’m probably just hormonal.”
Jagged words that Rupert knew were said only to prevent a follow-up; a dismissal punctuated by her then releasing her hold on the dog and turning to head up the stairs.
“Wait, just wait a second.” He let the dog pass and then took the stairs by two until he caught up with her. She didn’t stop or even slow down, but his legs are longer and he was able to get in front of her without even a change in his breathing. “Why are you crying?”
Taggie glared at him with still-watery eyes, pushing past him into her bedroom. When she didn’t shut the door in his face, he pressed himself against the doorframe.
“Are we back to this, then?” he asked her, not deaf to the exasperation in his voice. “The cold shoulder?”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she said, choosing to rifle through various items on her bed rather than look at him.
“Can’t you at least look at me?” He softened his voice to hide the drop in his stomach.
And she did spin to face him, but there was an equal amount of hurt and ire in her voice when she next spoke. “I know that nothing is ever very serious to you, but that doesn’t make the people on the other side of your actions any less real. Not everyone is around for your amusement.”
Rupert exhaled sharply, successfully caught off guard by her bitter sincerity and sudden closeness. He assumed she was still upset about his less-than-candid dealings with Cameron, and he only made a bigger mess of things by going on the defensive.
“I’m sorry, I was under the impression we had gotten past this.”
Taggie just scoffed at that, nodding in obvious disappointment before moving to push past him again. He felt like a champion bastard but, still, he stepped in her way to prevent her from leaving.
“Look,” he told her, having to tilt his head down to look at her, “I know I should’ve been more transparent about my moves with Cameron, but it was a calculated risk and I-”
“I know,” she interrupted, but she was almost crying again and the tears made her voice weak. “If you really trust her, then I’m sure it will work out.”
For a moment after, she was staring at his chest and he was looking at her face, and neither of them were moving. And in that moment, Rupert understood and felt rather pathetic for being so slow on the uptake.
“Taggie.” He said her name with the same kind of desperation he felt: helpless and so terribly wanting.
She looked up at his face then, and his breath left him so harshly that it hurt. The pain in his chest only worsened when Taggie pressed forward, all in one swift movement, and kissed him.
Just a brush of lips, and she pulled away as if stung—a reaction to his rejection because he’d backed away first. Before he could even apologize or explain, she was already past him and heading towards the bathroom.
And he followed her there, too, even though he had no right to.
She was wiping the tear stains from under her eyes when he said to her, his voice low, “It’s not Cameron.” She snapped her attention to him in the mirror, warily urging him to clarify. “Taggie, Christ, I wish things were different.”
“I just wish you would be honest with me,” she replied, sounding too vulnerable. “I’m old enough to understand, you know.”
He thought about Declan and Maud somewhere downstairs, everyone in Venturer who’d be ready to tear Rupert apart if he made another disastrous move. Like sleeping with his business partner’s daughter.
He’d never used to care about consequences. What divine retribution, he thought, that this girl of twenty should be the one to challenge his conviction now.
“And maybe I have no right to ask that of you, I’m sorry—”
But Rupert was the one to interrupt her then, by coming forward and shutting the bathroom door behind him. Because he suddenly needed Taggie to understand so greatly that the stakes became inconsequential.
And that’s how he has Taggie on the counter now, stripped down to her underwear and white t-shirt.
She asked him to be honest with her, and he was tired of speaking; she’s always needed more validation than bare words anyway.
So he kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her.
And she kisses him back like a girl—soft, sweet, inexperienced. He gives her the rough guidance she needs; holding her face while he leads her into rhythm with him, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue.
Rupert has his other hand in her underwear, and she’s already so wet , the girl. He’d forgotten the easiness of youth, how excited they get over the mere idea of something.
He uses two of his fingers to trace her seam, draw the wetness from her opening up to her clit, and she makes such a pretty mewling sound and arches against him. He’s watching her face as he asks, “Do you like to be touched like this?”
Gentle strokes, mapping the swollen softness of her cunt, pulling sweet staggering breaths from her, never quite touching her the way he knows she needs.
“Don’t tease me, Rupert,” Taggie complains, and the words are barely out of her mouth when he pushes a finger into her. She moans, a cut-off curse falling from her lips as he chuckles in droll amusement.
Her cunt is so tight around his finger, it takes him a few strokes to be able to move it in and out of her fluidly.
“How can you be so wet but still so tight, angel?” A rhetorical question that earns him a faux-annoyed look from her. He makes it up to her with another kiss, which she readily accepts.
Rupert drags pleasure from her effortlessly, it seems, pushing another finger in and making the stretch that much easier. The sounds she makes feel like a vice to his bloodstream.
Taggie’s so wet that he can hear that, too, whenever he hooks his fingers forward—and, God , this girl has him unbearably hard.
And she’s so sweet for him the whole time, begging to be kissed whenever he takes it a bit too far. But she likes that, he can tell. Likes that he knows what she’s capable of and will help her through it.
She keeps one hand on the back of his neck like she needs him to stay close, and the other she uses to hold onto his right forearm. Eventually, her grip on both turns white-knuckled and he can tell she’s close.
“It’s not fair,” she cries, “that you can make me feel this good, and I-I will never be able to do the same for you.”
Rupert doesn’t allow his fingers to falter, even as her words settle between them.
“Don’t give me that much power, Taggie,” he tells her genuinely, his voice rough. He tangles his other hand in her hair and cups her face. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“ Rupert .”
Taggie presses her face to his neck and holds on even tighter, as if surrendering to him. A thought that has him sweeping his fingers repeatedly over that spot inside her while his thumb works her clit in tandem.
He makes her sob for him.
“You’re almost there, angel,” he says, looking down at her. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”
“ Yes.” A plea, her words. So fucking pretty when she begs. “I do, please help me.”
So he helps her.
Right when she’s teetering on the edge of her orgasm, he adds a third finger inside her and presses his body against hers so she can’t push him out. The way she moans—pain soaked in too-much pleasure—makes him answer with a groan of his own.
For several strokes, Rupert grinds his hips into hers—a mirage of fucking that both pushes his fingers deeper into her and allows him blinding friction.
Taggie shudders out something that sounds like wait , digging her nails so deeply into his skin that it might be drawing blood.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, just to be a little cruel.
She looks up at him with those pretty, tear-kissed eyes and slightly nods. “But I feel…I feel like–”
“I know, Taggie, I can feel you.” Her cunt contracting around his fingers, her little hiccuping gasps that get louder and more frantic the closer she gets to that precipice.
Rupert takes her over that edge easily, kissing her temple while he works her through it. Taggie only thrusts herself closer to him, begging him for the things he was made to give her.
Comfort, reassurance, love.
“What a pretty mess I’ve made of you,” he says, after she’s fully come down and he’s removed his hand from her underwear.
When he brings his fingers to his mouth, he smirks at the way her eyes widen.
“You taste like heaven, Tag,” he groans, meaning it more than he has any right to.
“You’re insane,” she scoffs again, shoving at him with burning cheeks.
He laughs. “Oh, I’m just getting started, angel.”
It’s more damning than anything, the moment he slides his cock into Taggie.
Fully seated, Rupert now knows how wrong she was before: she makes him feel so good it’s actually distressing. Her cunt fits him so perfectly he can’t think — so warm and wet he has to grit his teeth against the feeling.
“ Fuck, Taggie,” he groans, burying his fist in her hair. She answers him with a cry, desperately clinging to him.
When he starts to move, her cunt nearly pushes him out. So tight, his girl, even after he’s broken her in on his fingers. He gets his hands on her waist, dragging her to the edge of the counter in one fluid movement so he can thrust deeper, shoving past that last bit of resistance.
They both let out involuntary sounds when he hits the back of her.
“ This is what you do to me, Taggie,” he breathes in her ear, pressing his forehead to her temple. “You make me feel insane.”
“Oh my God, please,” she moans, her voice barely a rasp. “‘m so full, Rupert.” It’s so terribly arousing, the way she sounds like she can barely take it.
He pulls up her t-shirt to expose her soft belly, his large hand taking up the expanse of it when he lays it flat and presses down. As she cries and says something about the pressure, again about how full she feels, he only fucks up into her that much harder.
And he would think he was hurting her if she wasn’t absolutely gushing around him and pulling him impossibly closer with her legs around his waist.
“Help me,” she pleads again. He tears his eyes from her stomach, where he’s moving in her, to look at her face. She’s so beautiful, undone like this, that it makes the tension immediately leak from his own face. He lets out a wrecked breath. “You’re s-so much, please. ”
Rupert pets her hair with his free hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “But look how brave you’re being, darling. Made to take me, weren’t you?”
Taggie nods at that, looking to him for reassurance.
He gives her it with the way he says, “Made for me, Tag.” Leans forward to kiss her jaw while he keeps his thrusts deep and steady—driving him half to madness.
She gasps, urging his mouth back to hers. It’s there that he can taste her fresh tears, and his cock throbs in her. “Only you,” she promises into his mouth.
“ Fuck, angel,” he swears, slamming his fist against the mirror behind her when she starts to roll her hips against his, chasing her pleasure with a desperation that kills him.
“W-why did it take you so long?” And he knows what she means.
“I promised your father I wouldn’t touch you,” Rupert tells her.
“Why?” Taggie asks, as serious as she can be when he can feel her cunt squeeze around him.
“Because you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He looks at her pretty bare thighs wrapped around his waist, the contrast against his slacks creating such a forbidden image in his mind. He makes a tight sound in his throat. “And I was trying to be a better person.”
“I don’t believe you.” She’s smiling, has her fingers against his jaw, even as she moans.
He smirks at her, putting his thumb back on her clit, watching her squirm. “I wouldn’t believe me, either.”
Rupert only has a few strokes left in him, with the way Taggie seems determined to milk him with her cunt. He has no idea if she’s even aware she’s doing it, but he’s quickly losing his rhythm and he somehow gathers the wherewithal to ask.
“Where do you want me to come?” A roundabout way of asking if she’s on anything. When she doesn’t answer right away, he grabs her face in his hand and says, “Taggie, where .”
“ Inside,” she begs, tightening her ankles around his back. He groans, his hand coming down to hold her thigh in a bruising grip. “Inside, please. Please don’t leave me, I’ll do whatever you want me to, just please .”
Then he moves his hand back over to her stomach, running his fingers down the plane of it. “Here? You want it in here?” And now he knows he’s insane, lost his fucking mind, because she’s so young and he has no right to even think about it.
But he is—thinking about it.
About getting her pregnant, making her his in the most loud, life-altering way possible. This is the first time Rupert has ever touched her and yet the thought has already made a home for itself in his mind.
Taggie’s cunt is still squeezing around him, her abdomen tightening up beneath his hand as she nods in confirmation that it is what she wants.
“But I’m not on…anything,” she confesses then, suddenly unsure.
And this is so far from anything Rupert would’ve ever gotten off to in the past; he never wanted to give any woman a reason to stick around.
But with Taggie…
“That wasn’t what I asked,” he says tightly. Christ , the girl makes all rationality and common sense evade him.
She looks at him, their eyes locking, some understanding passing between them, and he’s right on that edge, and so is she —
“Inside, do it inside,” she begs once more, and Rupert kisses her, desperately stroking his tongue over hers to stop himself from saying something truly damning.
But he makes her come again first. Makes her shatter around his cock and cry his name; so pretty when she comes he wants to memorize the image.
“Taggie, fuck , darling, that’s it,” he tells her, and then he spills inside her moments later while she’s still fluttering around him.
His orgasm is torn from him so violently that he can’t quite catch his breath. Taggie kisses him after, and that feels so intimate that it takes him a while to be able to let her go.
“Do you need me to get you something?” he asks her when they’ve cleaned up and are alone in the kitchen downstairs. Everyone seems scattered around the house, and Rupert was somehow able to push off any conversations in favor of making sure Taggie’s okay.
“Like what?” She sets her glass of water down on the counter. Neither of them can stop looking at the other, but that’s nothing new.
“For a backup, darling.” He hates to ask, especially when it seems like she doesn’t regret asking him to finish inside her, but he has to be responsible. She makes him want to be responsible.
Realization dawns on her face, and she blushes. “Oh, right.” Before she can answer, though, Declan’s calling his name from the other room. They both startle and laugh, knowing that the man is far too distracted to have picked up on anything amiss between her and Rupert. “Later?” she asks, hope shining in her eyes.
“Later,” he confirms, smiling—a promise.
He pulls her in quickly to brush a kiss to her forehead, and she melts against him. It feels nearly impossible to walk away from her after.