Chapter Text
Gilfoyle was taking advantage of Monica’s forced sobriety to truly embrace the first tenant of Satanism “indulgence instead of abstinence.” He wasn’t getting obliterated like he was still in his 20s, but he was more than the tipsy he usually got when in public. And he was happy. Since their shotgun wedding—as he had taken to calling it mostly because it made Monica roll her eyes—they had both been shocked to find that they felt giddy over being married as both of them had assumed it would feel like no big deal, and perhaps more shockingly the rest of the world seemed to want them in a new way. Gilfoyle had never been hit on so much in his life. At coffee with Dinesh a barista had written her number on his cup; at dinner with Monica the waitress had touched his shoulder every time she came to the table, much to Monica’s amusem*nt; even some of the women in the office were going out of their way to talk to him. On top of that ego boost, after close to two months of barely having any sex, Monica was horny for him. They’d had a healthy and very active sex life before she got pregnant and he had an ‘effect’ on her, but now she was, in her own words, ‘horny’ for him. Even with 2 weeks to Russfest and it becoming abundantly clear it would be physically impossible to accomplish everything, Gilfoyle was on cloud 9. He felt like calling things rad. She was a good version of the Kennan Vortex, all of the same happiness with only friendly and occasional manipulation.
He was having fun presenting himself as a nobody low-level coder to the women from out of town at the baptism, it was his own little game to see at what point the magic of being happily married wouldn’t be enough and he’d becoming unappealing. However, the most recent circle of women was too inebriated to care and the game was losing its shine, so he switched tact to praising the beautiful and talented CFO that had deigned to marry a lowly, talentless, code monkey like himself. It was an easier game too. Monica frequently called him a sappy drunk, and he was when it came to her, and he was very drunk, so singing her praises was easier than downplaying his own skills.
“She’s incredible,” he told the group. “She even came tonight as a wedding present for me.”
“You’re married?”
“Yes, to that beautiful woman over there,” he grabbed her elbow and pointed out Monica, who appeared to have surrounded herself with a protective shell of coupled acquaintances to ward off any advances. He waved Monica over and felt elated when she excused herself from the group to make her way over to him. She snaked her arm under his flannel and put her hand on the small of his back under his shirt. It was normally his move to her, but he’d noticed that since she’d shifted from flu like symptoms to horniness, she’d wanted to touch his skin more. He liked it a lot.
While introductions were made, he watched the faces of the women. He was an expert at reading people, it’s what made him so good at insulting them and these women had indulged enough that every thought and feeling seemed to play across their faces. They openly appraised her, she was wearing jeans and a purple floral blouse, she looked like she’d dressed for casual Friday at a law firm. He saw confusion and jealous on their faces, but while she talked, they seemed to become even more interested in Gilfoyle. As if they thought if he could convince this incredible and normal woman to marry him and attend Satanic events there must be something even more appealing to him than what had initially attracted them.
Edibles were offered with the warning they were more potent than you’d expect. Gilfoyle happily accepted one.
“I think you should take me home,” he whispered in her ear.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” she smiled at him, Gilfoyle read amused judgment and arousal on her face.
Monica POV
“Tara made videos with other guys for you right?” She asked, eyeing him as he sat across the couch from her; their legs intertwined in the middle. He still wore his jeans, but she had ditched hers in the hallway, much to his drunken and high delight. ‘The way you take your clothes off in the foyer might be one of my favorite things about you,’ he’d happily exclaimed and playfully slapped her ass as she went to the kitchen to get them water.
“Yeah?” He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Did you make videos for her?” Monica bit her lip, the thought exciting her even more.
“No,” he was looking at her curiously, if he was sober, she was sure he would have sussed her out immediately, but he was very drunk. A very happy and extra saccharine drunk. He’d spent the whole ride home telling her how happy he was to be married, even if fundamentally all that changed were intangible legal aspects. Which had led him to monologuing about how lucky he was to be procreating with such a beautiful and intelligent woman currently and he couldn’t wait to provide his contribution to future procreations.
“Did you make videos with her?” She hoped he didn’t see she was shifting her legs, she was shocked with how horny the idea was making her.
“Are you interesting in seeing me f*ck another woman?” He said with a wolfish smile finally catching on.
“Not seeing something like now, I don’t think. I don’t know. There was something tonight knowing those women wanted you, for you. Not like the founder hounders who want you for Pied Piper. They wanted Satanist, sardonic, asshole, but sometimes charming Gilfoyle. The Gilfoyle I love. It was really hot.”
“You liked that people were attracted to me?”
“Yes, all those women thought my baby daddy,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “was attractive.” He smiled wide and goofily at her word choice. She knew he’d like it, same way he liked to say he basted her turkey. “And it was hot to be surrounded by women that were attracted to you. My sisters think your hot because you’re good with kids. Which I didn’t know you were until Christmas, and it added a new dimension to my attraction to you, but they didn’t get it before that and they still don’t.” She crawled across the couch and straddled his reclining form.
“So, your sisters didn’t understand why you’re with me when they met me,” he was still smiling up at her.
“Not really, no. Scruffy, sarcastic, dry, unapproachable, unkempt… historically not my type,” she gave him a teasing kiss before continuing, “Cassie assumed you were great in bed.”
“I am,” he interrupted.
“Because nerds are grateful,” she continued with a mocking smile. “But even the lesbians thought you were hot after seeing you play hide and seek with all the kids.” He hummed thoughtfully in response.
“What is historically your type?”
“Clean cut with no more than a 5’o’clock shadow, sweet and awkward or very charming.”
“Hmm, but scruffy and unapproachable is what you let get you up the duff,” he countered with a proud look on his face. She knew he wasn’t looking for reassurances, it was an ego thing. He liked that he won out over the Richards and Matts of the world. It was almost a kink.
“Yes, asshole, for some reason I have chosen to let you father my child.”
“Which is outstanding, my love,” he slapped her ass, then looked up at her thoughtfully. “Tonight, you got all hot and bothered because the women wanted me for me. I didn’t think you liked that I was a Satanist,” he was holding her hands and moving their arms playfully.
“It’s not my favorite thing about you, but I find your conviction sexy. They were attracted to your personality, like I am,” as a goofy grin split his face she quickly continued, in a joking tone, “most of the time asshole.”
“We could make a video, I’d like that.”
“But I already know I find you hot and that you’re good in bed. I don’t think it’ll be the same.”
“I don’t know what the official term is, Tara would, but you, my love, have a petty kink,” he chuckled at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked in mock-offense; she was pretty sure knew what he meant.
“You think it’s hot that other women find me desirable, you have an interest in watching a video because it proves I’m desirable and that I’m good in bed which adds to my desirability. You like that other women want me and that I’m yours. You like knowing I’m a high value mate.”
“Mate is a gross way to put it,” she rolled her eyes and he laughed heartily at her.
“We very literally mated, my love. I indulged on your behalf because of our mating.”
“Fine. So, in your professional opinion, I am turned on by the idea of other women wanting you and you f*cking other women because I’m petty?”
“Yes, my love. You are petty. You like that other women want me but that only you have me. I’m desirable and I’m exclusively yours,” he playfully bucked his hips up against hers.
“You never answered my question, did you make videos with Tara?”
“Yeah, a few,” he reached up and ran his thumb over her bottom lip and she playfully bit him. “One even made it to p*rnhub after she got hacked,” he smiled sweetly at her when she inhaled sharply, “I’m wearing a mask, you can’t tell it’s me unless you’re intimately familiar with my body.”
“It’s not gross right? Like how intimately familiar with your body does someone have to be to know it’s you?”
“It’s not a close up of my asshole if that’s what you mean,” he laughed at her disgusted face. “As someone who has regularly seen my naked body you’ll recognize me,” Monica unconsciously shifted her hips at the thought. He laughed again and gripped her hips guiding her against his erection. “Go grab my computer and I can pull it up.”
Monica’s face flamed red in embarrassment when he heartily laughed at her urgency.
Her stomach knotted with excitement as he pulled it up. The still showed a man, clearly Gilfoyle to her, wearing a goat horned masquerade mask and a woman in a green plant themed one. Gilfoyle sat back, leaving it up to her to press play.
“Are you sure you want to do this, my love?” His hand was rubbing her back as he sat next to her.
“Yes.”
“Come here,” he maneuvered her so she was leaning back against his chest and cast the video to the tv. “It was supposed to be Eve and the serpent but the snake mask didn’t camera test well,” he kissed behind her ear and she visibly shivered. “If you want us to watch, press play.”
Monica’s thoughts ran: Tara and her had drastically different body types, what if Gilfoyle remembered how much he preferred a curvy short woman; what if he didn’t prefer a curvy woman and the baby made her body change; but ultimately her curiosity won out and she pressed play.
Gilfoyle was running his hands up and down her arms gently, the on-screen Gilfoyle moaned as Tara took his co*ck into her mouth. Monica was a little disappointed that all she could see was Tara and his co*ck, she wanted to see his face, but it was weirdly arousing to see a woman literally drooling over him. Monica hummed slightly when video showed Tara a string of drool and precum hanging from her lips to the tip of Gilfoyle’s co*ck. He chuckled in a husky way behind her. Gilfoyle pinched Monica’s nipples through her shirt and she arched her back and moaned.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered to her and Monica lifted her arm up hold his head and give his hands more access to her body.
“It’s… hot… like ah… it looks like she’s literally drooling over you,” she couldn’t keep the arousal out of her voice. The on-screen Gilfoyle grabbed Tara roughly by her hair and pushed her on to the bed. The POV camera changed to another view, the angle showed Gilfoyle’s head between Tara’s legs but focused on her as she squirmed and arched her back in pleasure. Gilfoyle started to massage Monica’s breast and she hummed in response. “This is really high production quality,” Monica said thoughtfully and Gilfoyle’s chuckle rumbled through her body.
“Take your clothes off,” Gilfoyle huskily commanded Monica. She wiggled out of her underwear, shirt and bra. He lifted her leg and draped it over his, hanging it off the couch and increasing his access to her puss*. “f*ck you’re wet,” he whispered as he swirled a finger around her entrance before he started to rub slow circles around her cl*t.
Monica turned her head to kiss at Gilfoyle’s jaw line. She was well aware of how good he was at oral sex, he was in-tuned to his partner’s body and obsessed with her pleasure, but watching Tara come apart under his ministrations drove home just how good he was. Monica pushed herself against his hand and he obliged her by increasing the pressure. On-screen Gilfoyle was f*cking Tara with his hand and held his other to her throat, demanding she tell him how much she wanted to sin. Monica laughed, she thought it was ridiculous, but her laugh came out husky and a little breathless.
On-screen Gilfoyle used his grip on Tara’s throat to pulled her to him. He tied her arms behind her and then manhandled her onto a sybian. He grabbed her hair and face f*cked her while playing with the dial in his other hand. The Gilfoyle behind her rummaged around in the side table bringing out a vibrator.
“What the f*ck?” Monica asked him alarmed.
“I booby-trapped the house with sex toys after I moved in,” he said like it explained everything. “Jared did it at Newell with business supplies, it was effective” he continued like somehow that explained it all.
“You will un-booby-trap the house tomorrow,” she said seriously while her hips rhythmically pushed against his hand and the toy. She noted he kissed her instead of replying.
After a few minutes the camera cut to Tara’s face, she was slacked jawed and her eyes were glazed over, she looked drunk. Monica knew the feeling of being drunk on org*sms and Gilfoyle.
On-screen Gilfoyle grabbed Tara by the neck again and she stumbled as she stood. He bent her over the bed and used her bound arms to add leverage as he f*cked her, Monica moaned lightly at the sight, and again a second later as her org*sm took hold. Gilfoyle pinched her nipple roughly as she came.
They lay there as she basked in the afterglow, Gilfoyle gently traced nonsense patterns low on her stomach. She could feel his erection against her back, but when she looked up at him, he seemed lost in thought. When she moved out of his arms he protested, but didn’t move.
“Come back,” he told her.
“I have to move if you want to have sex,” she said lightly. “Take your clothes off,” she commanded him, and watched as he slowly undressed.
He dug his fingers into the flesh of her ass when she slowly lowered herself onto him. She moaned as he filled her. She slowly rode him, savoring the sensation. The sounds he made mingled with the sounds coming from on-screen Gilfoyle. Monica found it all very arousing.
“You’re angelic,” he whispered reverently as his hand reached up to cup her cheek.
“Are you corrupting me again?” She asked playfully turning her head to kiss his palm.
He huffed out a laugh, “no, you’re just very beautiful.”
She leaned down to kiss his chest before making her way down his body to take him in her mouth. He came minutes later and groaned when she swallowed.
He gently pulled her back up and kissed her while he fumbled around for the remote to turn off the tv, before pulling her to his chest. Monica listened to his heartbeat while tracing patterns on his chest thinking.
“Do you want to have rougher sex?” Monica asked him.
“What do you mean?” He asked before kissing the top of her head.
She propped her chin up on his chest and looked up at him, “I mean you aren’t that rough with me, is that something you want to do?” Monica watched him as he thought, she thought it would be an easy yes/no question, but as the silence carried on it was clear it wasn’t. After several minutes she prompted him again, “hey, asshole? Care to share?” She teased him, lightly tickling his ribs.
“I don’t believe in restricting speech, but perhaps you can find a better pet name for me before our child starts developing language,” he smiled at her.
“I’ll consider it, now what were you thinking about vis a vie rough sex?”
“Rough sex doesn’t give me any more pleasure than tender sex, it’s maximizing your pleasure that gets me off,” he smiled softly at her, stretched down to kiss her nose before continuing thoughtfully. “If you are interested in rougher sex, I am happy to oblige my love. However, upon reflection, the idea of being rough with you while you are carrying my progeny makes me uncomfortable. I would prefer if you did not ask me to until it’s outside your body.” Monica’s nose wrinkled as she laughed.
“Uncomfortable with rougher? Or has thinking about it now made you uncomfortable with your current level of roughness with me?” She questioned him with a smile.
“Unclear, my love,” he nodded looking truly confused and alarmed at where his own thoughts had taken him. He was really high. He never masked his emotions with her, but being high was making his face comically readable and it was adorable.
“How high are you?” Monica asked with another laugh.
“It would seem it was hubris to ignore the potency warning on the edibles, my love,” he told her seriously.
Monica stood from the couch and wrapped his discarded flannel around herself, and he let out a whine of disappointment, “the vessel incubating your progeny is very tired and going to bed now.”
“You jest, but that’s a hot way to put it,” he told her with a yawn as he followed slowly towards the bedroom.
