𝒹𝒶𝓁𝒾𝒶 𑣲⋆

The Fourth of July, the damn biggest event in your neighbourhood, and your dad was the one who hosted it every time.

Families gathered in your backyard, kids running around, neighbourhood moms bringing their homemade goods, and all you had to do was sit back, smile, and tell the silly stories about college. It was pretty easy, and your boyfriend sitting beside you made it easier.

You’re sitting at one of the tables scattered around the yard, giggling to your boyfriend about something, his hand on your thigh, rubbing where the edge of your denim shorts stops. You met him in college, and he’s currently the talk of every grandma who comes by you, immediately accusing the young guy of being your future husband.

Yeah, right.

Your dad stands by the grill, quietly cursing to himself, and it catches your attention; he’s messing around with the propane tank beneath it, mumbling something about being out. He’s clearly stressed out; the entire neighbourhood’s stomach depended on him serving something.

Slipping off the lawn chair, you hurry to your dad’s side, and he turns to you.

“Dad, what’s going on?” you ask, eyes glancing at his struggle, then back at the kids behind you, asking their parents when the food will be done.

“Left the new friggin’ propane tank in the garage,” he groans, peeking up at you through a wrinkled brow. “You don’t mind grabbin’ it, do you, honey?” he asks, giving you a nervous-needy smile.

“No–no, I don’t mind,” you mumble, shaking your head and glancing at your boyfriend, who should be the one grabbing it, but he acts like he doesn’t notice. You roll your eyes.

You bypass the parents and kids, go through the side gate of the house, and head to the front yard, then to the garage.

“Kiddo,” a familiar, deep voice drawls behind you, and you quickly turn around, seeing him, in all his stupid cowboy glory; Beau Arlen.

He stands in your driveway, a grin curling at his lips, his beard untrimmed and unforgiving, his green eyes roving over your body, his hair messy, strands falling over his forehead. How the hell has this man babysat you before?

“Sheriff Arlen,” you say in disbelief, not having seen him in about three years, and his grin widens.

“C’mon,” he laughs with a shake of his head, taking long strides towards you. “You use’ta call me Uncle Beau, and now I’m Sheriff Arlen?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It’s–it’s just been so long,” you stutter, shaking your head as he approaches. “Like… not since I went off to college, type of long,” you laugh, finally smiling.

“And ya’ missed me that entire time, yeah?” he teases, lifting his hand to ruffle your hair. “C’mon, give me a hug,” he says, not even offering; he just opens his arms, and you naturally find your way into his.

It’s not the same as when you were twelve, and he hugged you to calm you down after you fell off your bike. 

He’s all firm and muscular now, warm and thick, his cologne wrapping you up just like his arms, and his large hands rest against your back, pressing into the white cotton of your shirt. It’s a longer hug than usual, gently squeezing your frame.

“Cannot believe the size of ya’,” he says, looking you up and down. “Remember when you were jus’ a little thing, could fit in my arms,” he shakes his head, looking back at your height.

“Yeah.. yeah, it’s been a while,” you agree, shyly backing up, and he adjusts his belt with one hand.

“Your daddy givin’ you trouble?” Beau asks, his grin still stuck on his face. “Even when you were off at college, still pissin’ me right off, callin’ me over and all that,” he laughs, briefly wetting his lips with his tongue.

“No… no, he’s been fine, everything has been fine,” you nod, and he huffs, resting his hands against his hips.

“Good… I’m glad,” he agrees, looking past you at the open garage. “Need help with somethin’, darlin’?” he asks, noticing you’re not in the backyard with everyone else having a good time.

“What on earth is taking you so long?” your dad suddenly blurts, stepping into the front yard to see you and Beau standing there, and he instantly drops the dad-mode he shifted into.

“Beau, finally, thought you were skippin’ this year,” your dad laughs loudly, instantly forgetting the conversation, leaving you to stand awkwardly there. You ignore the propane tank completely and walk back into the backyard to find your boyfriend again.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend grins as you return, and you cringe at the silly pet, giving him a small smile. “You mind if we leave before… like eight?” he shrugs, looking beside him as you sit down.

“Fireworks don’t even start until nine?” You furrow your eyebrows, staring at his boyish features twisting into an obnoxious glare.

“You wanna watch fireworks?” he laughs in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. “We have my car, babe… you know… maybe,” he teases, reaching over to pinch your waist, and you shift away, rolling your eyes.

“In your dreams,” you groan, crossing your arms, looking away, and sighing.

You watch as Beau enters the backyard; all broad and smiling, his strong hands carrying the tank. You swear you’ve never seen him this way, but it’s hard not to when everyone around him is fawning over him, and his jeans fit him a little too well. You look away when you notice him approaching.

“Beau,” you say softly when he reaches you and your boyfriend, and he glances between the two of you, suddenly eyeing the young man instead of you.

“And who’s this?” he drawls, his southern accent heavy.

“My boyfriend,” you nod, looking to him; he’s busy doing something on his phone, ignoring the Sheriff’s hand that’s currently hanging in the air, waiting for your boyfriend to shake it.

God, you want to crawl into a hole.

“Seems like a gentleman,” Beau says sarcastically, turning to you, and that’s when he finally looks up.

“Oh, hey,” your boyfriend mumbles, shoving his phone into his shorts. “You’re her uncle?” he asks, looking back at you.

“Close,” he shrugs, his thumbs resting in his belt as he stares down at the two of you. “She’s like m’daughter, ya’ hear?” he mumbles, and there’s a threat laced into that tone that makes you shift in the plastic chair.

“Yeah… I hear…” your boyfriend mutters, mostly confused, awkwardly looking away from the much taller man, whose eyes do not leave that poor son of a bitch.

“You havin’ fun, sweetheart?” Beau asks, switching his attention to you, and he looks at your shy body, curling into itself in the chair.

“Yeah,” you mumble with an unenthusiastic nod, and he knows you well, so he purses his lips.

“Why don’t ya’ come with me? I’ll make you somethin’ to eat,” he offers, waving you over, and you look to your boyfriend, who is currently flipping through something on his phone.

You hesitantly nod, but smile the minute Beau grabs your hand. It’s like you’re twelve again.

“Piece o’work, I’ll tell you that, darlin,” Beau mumbles quietly to you, still holding your hand as he walks towards the table filled with food others brought. “That boy… the hell are you thinkin’?”

“Shut up,” you mumble to him, laughing a little, and he grins at the way he’s made you laugh more than your boyfriend ever has.

“No… no, darlin, I’m serious,” he laughs along, stopping in front of the table, and he releases his hand from yours, gently resting it against the back of your arm. “Dumbest decision I’ve seen ya’ make… and I use’ta watch you go barefoot in ponds,” he shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

“He’s better when you get to know him,” you explain as Beau hands you a paper plate, and you reach for one of those sugar cookies that make your teeth rot. “He’s just… shy, awkward,” you defend, shrugging.

“Mmm…” Beau hums, giving you a knowing look as you shuffle down the long table. “We’ll see,” he shrugs, reaching over to add another sugar cookie onto your plate. He knows your taste buds more than you do.

After the two of you finish loading your plates with food, treats, and appetizers, Beau carefully walks you back to the table you were sitting at; two random people have taken the other spots, and your boyfriend stands there idly, realizing there are just two spots left.

“I don’t know what the fuck happened. I left to take a piss, and suddenly they’ve taken up the spots,” your boyfriend rambles on, and Beau cringes internally at the foul words leaving his mouth, and he glances at the disgust curling in your features.

You deserve better, and a mere 10-minute observation tells him everything.

Beau had been there before you could even remember; he was in the audience at your middle school graduation, watching you win award after award, and he even made it to your high school graduation, your GPA as high as ever. He couldn’t have been prouder of you. He braided your hair, tied your shoelaces, wiped your tears when boys picked on you, and now you were grown as ever, with a boy who did not deserve you.

“I got you, kid,” Beau suddenly chimes in, taking a seat in one of the chairs and immediately glaring as your boyfriend awkwardly takes the other. 

Unfortunately for the poor kid, it plays into his plan.

You look between him and your boyfriend, suddenly noticing Beau patting his thigh, and your eyes widen.

“C’mon, it’ll be like y’er ten again,” he laughs, and you look at your boyfriend; back on his phone, completely oblivious to Beau asking you to sit on his lap.

You look at Beau, and he’s looking right up at you; those green eyes pour into yours, eyes crinkling in the corner from his gentle smile. You look back at your boyfriend again, then slowly turn around and lower yourself onto Beau’s lap.

“There’s m’girl,” he mumbles happily, leaning back in the plastic chair, one hand holding the plate, the other resting lightly against your hip. This feels a lot different from how it used to.

You glance down at your plate and realize your appetite is mostly gone; the pressure of Beau’s thick thigh between your legs is doing for you more than your boyfriend’s lousy thumb has ever done. You really want to die right now.

Your shaky hands pick at the food on your plate, lifting the sugar cookie to your mouth and taking a slow bite. You glance at your boyfriend, who is either oblivious or simply doesn’t care that you’re sitting on another man's lap. You sigh. 

“Ya’ doin’ okay?” Beau draws quietly from behind you, and you turn your head slightly to glance at him; he’s looking right up at you, and the summer breeze stirs the stray strands of his hair that fall against his forehead. 

“Yeah… yeah, of course,” you smile nervously, and Beau’s eyebrows furrow as he glances at your mouth.

“Hey, c’mere,” he mumbles, and you look around nervously, laughing at the way he lifts his hand. “Icin’ on your chin,” he explains, his thumb lightly wiping away the red-and-blue mess.

Beau smiles in satisfaction, looking up at you. Maybe he really does see you as the little girl he drove to school, but it’s hard to tell with the way he’s gently rubbing your hip with his free hand.

“Hey,” your boyfriend suddenly mumbles to you, nudging your shoulder, and he grimaces when he realizes the position you’re in; on Beau’s lap, his warm hand holding your hip.

“What?” you ask quietly, trying not to let Beau tune in to the conversation, but he already has a hand gently squeezing the soft skin beneath his palm.

“Too hot out, can we go to your bedroom?” he asks, his tone casual and carefree, glancing back down at his phone. Your cheeks burn red, knowing Beau obviously picked up on his implication. 

“No… no, we can’t,” you mumble awkwardly, looking away from your boyfriend, who is huffing dramatically, shaking his head. You feel the embarrassment creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks, all red and warm. 

A silence settles around the table, and you shift on Beau’s thigh, looking down. You make the softest noise when you do, and he lightly taps the waistband of your shorts with his thumb, and you shift again. 

Beau looks at you from behind; your hair draped down your back, the white cotton shirt glowing in the warm sun, and he has the strongest urge to slide his hand right up the back of it. He holds back and shifts his hips in the chair, glancing at your dad, who occupies the barbecue. 

“Ya’ havin’ fun, kid?” Beau suddenly asks you, and you look behind, seeing those eyes looking right back at you. God.

“Of course,” you say, smiling and nodding.

“I can get ya’ somethin’ to drink if y’er thirsty, or anythin’,” he offers, nodding towards the cooler packed with drinks. He taps your waistband again, watching your expression shift in real time.

“I’m okay,” you practically whisper, and he pats your hip in confirmation.

“Jus’ makin’ sure, baby,” he drawls quietly, and you feel yourself melt onto his thigh, all soft and warm, and it’s not from the July heat.

By the time dinner is finished, the evening has fully settled in; the sun is setting, and it begins to cool down, soft lanterns lighting up the backyard, kids already with sparklers. You’re still on Beau’s lap, the half-eaten plate in front of you, while he chats with another neighbourhood dad, all the while you occupy his thigh.

“Babe, hey,” your boyfriend says, and your eyebrows furrow as he stands up, looking down at you. “Gonna head out now… something going on with my friend,” he lies, gesturing toward the backyard gates.

“What?” you ask in confusion, standing up too, and Beau naturally guides you with two hands, not breaking away from the conversation he’s having with the man beside him. “Fireworks are in like, forty minutes, you said you’d stay.”

“Yeah… but, you know, there’s booze at this party,” he laughs, acting like you’d understand his reason for dipping early; his friends are having a better party, with alcohol.

“Yeah… but you said you’d stay for fireworks, and then you were going to sleep over,” you explain more, shaking your head. “My parents don’t care if you sleep in my bedroom.”

Beau raises an eyebrow, glancing at the two of you as you have a light argument, then returns to talking about the things Sheriffs usually talk about.

“Yeah, like we’ll have sex,” he scoffs, and you grimace at how loud he’s talking. 

“Stop,” you mumble through gritted teeth, and he rolls his eyes, looking over his shoulder.

“I’m just saying,” he waves you off, looking around the yard, crossing his arms.

“Fine, then go,” you say, dismissing him, not wanting to beg someone to stay who clearly doesn’t want to. “Just… I don't know, text me when you get there,” you shrug, looking away from him and back at Beau. 

Your boyfriend scoffs and turns away from you, slipping out of the backyard and bypassing the kids running around with their moms. You sigh, taking a seat where your boyfriend once sat instead of Beau’s thigh, and groan quietly to yourself.

There’s a beat of silence before Beau chimes in, leaning forward a little, resting his forearms on his thighs.

“Kid,” he mumbles quietly, clearly seeing that interaction. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, raising your eyebrows at Beau in defence, and he sighs quietly, realizing he had missed most of the angry young-adult stage.

“No, you’re not, darlin’,” he drawls just as quietly, and before you can snap back, he reaches over and gently pats your knee, shutting you up.

“Remember when you were jus’ a lil girl?” Beau starts, blinking slowly, gazing at the side of your face. “I use’ta drive you aroun’ whenever you got upset, to calm ya’ down,” he explains, and you slowly turn your head to realize what he’s offering.

“Right now?” you ask in surprise, remembering all the times he had you sit in the passenger’s side, driving you around town, buying you ice cream, and sneaking you back in when your parents were tucked away in bed.

“Right now,” he agrees, and you quickly smile, standing up from the chair, and he’s standing too, with a soft groan, quickly remembering he’s pushing fifty and can feel it in his knees.

Beau lightly takes your hand again, and you pass your dad, who is currently hunched over, messing around with fireworks in a way that would make anyone who knew anything about them have a panic attack. You don’t bother interrupting him.

Stepping into the front again, and you immediately spot it; the red Land Rover, years old, much too outdated, but it fits him perfectly; the rugged sheriff, spending his days off drinking. You remember it like it was yesterday and quickly head to the passenger side.

Beau watches you run across the lawn and towards it. He remembers hoisting you up, grabbing your waist, and you’d giggle when he buckled you in, wide eyes staring up at him, and now here you were, grown as ever without needing his help.

“Hold y’er horses,” Beau laughs as he jogs across the road, finding his way into the driver’s side.

“I remember all of this,” you smile, gazing at his dashboard, the CDs discarded in the centre console, bands and artists you didn’t know. He had a knack for that.

“M’sure ya’ do,” he smiles, quickly firing up the engine and rolling down the windows, immediately taking you down the street. 

The summer breeze blows through the windows, your hair messy and blown out, and he can do nothing but watch you; streetlights occasionally dust across your pretty features you’ve grown into, and your teeth aren’t crooked anymore, all fixed by braces, taken off before he could notice them. He’s in awe of you and what you’ve become, and he knows that kid doesn’t deserve an ounce of your time.

You and Beau speed into the town square, and most people know his vehicle by now–dark red and completely vintage, and they smile as he drives by, occasionally waving. You forgot just how renowned he was in this small town, and you suddenly feel lucky for getting this time with him.

You glance back at the sudden loud sound; fireworks are going off in the background, being lit from your backyard, though you don’t care at all. You’re currently with Beau Arlen, soft music on the radio, the summer breeze in your hair, and all he can do is eye you. The pretty thing you are.

“Ya’ wanna watch em’?” Beau asks over the radio, reaching over to gently rub your shoulder when he notices you’re focused on the bright explosions behind you.

“You don’t mind?” you ask softly, and he instantly shakes his head, quickly making a sharp turn down a back dirt road, taking you both out of town.

“Use’ta take you here when you were just a lil’ girl,” Beau smiles with a slow nod, and he’s pulling up to a small clearing in a cornfield. “You loved it–the fireworks, watching them all damn night,” he explains further, taking a left into the driveway that leads to nowhere.

Beau parks the Land Rover on the dirt road, and you instantly hop out, taking his hand in yours as he guides you a little farther down the endless dirt driveway. Crickets buzz around you, and it’s still as humid as ever, but he’s taking you to the light clearing right beneath the stars. He’s always known this place.

With a thud, the two of you land on the hard ground, and he smiles at you, immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close and into his side. You lean into him, resting your head onto his shoulder, and he doesn’t even hesitate before pressing a gentle kiss against the side of your head. Warm and grounding.

“Listen,” Beau starts quietly, and you lift your head up, turning it to face him. “That boy…”

“Beau,” you cut him off, biting your lip with a light tilt of your head.

“C’mon, baby,” he scoffs, shaking his head and lifting a hand to brush your hair back. “Smartest lil’ thing I’ve ever known, and y’er with him?” he asks in disbelief, eyes widening.

“Who should I be with, then?” you ask, raising your eyebrows, but you’re smiling now, and he lets his hand cup your jawline, a warm thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“You tell me,” Beau nods, his eyes narrowing, his tongue swiping over his teeth.

“No,” you refuse softly, shaking your head, and he finds it the most endearing thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Beau pauses and gazes at you, green eyes darker in the nighttime, and he slowly leans in, and you hold your breath. He doesn’t kiss you, no, he merely lets his forehead rest against yours, noses innocently brushing, and you’re still not breathing.

He leans in just a bit more, breathing quietly against your lips, and his tongue barely slips out, running over your lower lip, which is drooping from your mouth being agape right now. You exhale, and that’s when he finally leans in, pressing his lips against yours.

A soft sound slides by your lips, slipping right into his, and Beau doesn’t hesitate to carefully slide his long fingers in the back of your hair, long fingers curling into your strands, tugging, and you pull back, moaning softly at the grip. You’ve never been treated like this.

“Baby,” Beau breathes out at your reaction, staring at the way you’re already melting, breathing heavier. “He never touch ya’ like this, yeah?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head.

He immediately kisses you again, pressing his warm lips right into yours, tugging even harder to get that sound out of you again–a soft moan breaking out of your mouth and right into his. He’s basking in it, the feeling of you finally experiencing something, instead of just serving some stupid boy.

You’re kissing back sloppily, not used to being kissed properly. You lift your hand and gently hold the side of his face, his light beard pressing into your palm, and you slide your hand down, resting it against Beau’s chest, and he grins into the kiss.

You pant softly as he carefully maneuvers you, slowly but surely moving you to lie on your back, right against the dirt ground, and you whimper, and the thought of your shirt getting dirty. 

Beau is nudging his way between your thighs now, gazing down at you; eyes wide, and soft lips parted and glistening in the mix of your saliva, and he swears this is the prettiest he’s ever seen you.

He moves down against, this time lightly kissing your jaw and then down the side of your neck, mouthing at the warm skin–he’s quick and feverish, breathing heavily, running on pure adrenaline, and your head is tipped back, gazing at the darkened sky and stars.

“Beau,” you moan softly as he lightly bites into where your neck meets your shoulder, and you grip his shoulder, squeezing. “Someone–someone is gonna see us,” you plead quietly.

“M’know this place like tha’ back of my hand, darlin’,” Beau mumbles into your neck, his hand briefly sliding down, long fingers finding the button of your shorts. “You trust me, dont’cha’?” he whispers, pulling back to look down at you.

You hesitantly nod, and he’s carefully unbuttoning your denim shorts, unzipping them. You gasp quietly when he lets them open, and he takes a look at your underwear; that’s when the guilt slips in, but he’s too far gone to stop now. You don’t even want him to.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he whispers, lifting his hand to rub the side of his jaw as he shakes his head. “Prettiest thing ever,” he shakes his head again, fingers hooking into the denim waistband, and you whine.

“Beau,” you whisper again, and he looks up at you, his eyes narrowed. “I… I’ve always wanted this,” you admit quietly and nod, and he practically groans at your admission. Beau curses quietly under his breath, breathing heavier now, clearly affected by your sweet words.

“Good, baby, that’s good,” he nods, reaching downwards, tapping the side of your hip, and you instinctively lift them, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide your underwear down with your jean shorts.

Beau leans back on his haunches, eyes blown out at the sight of you; spread out on the dirt ground, hair splayed behind you, wetter than you’ve ever been in your damn life–the pathetic sex you have with your boyfriend doesn’t compare.

“My God,” he mumbles in awe, glancing down between your thighs, and his jaw ticks; he sees the slick gathering, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide his hand down, two long fingers gathering it.

You moan softly the minute he touches you, head tipping back, and he quickly realizes how neglected your body is.

“He never touches ya’ does he?” Beau asks, referring to your boyfriend, who is off at some party, oblivious. “He don’t deserve a second with ya’, baby,” he shakes his head, shifting further between your legs.

You whimper, your white sneakers digging into the ground beneath you, and he lightly slides a free hand up your shirt, the other one mercilessly exploring your folds; he’s just touching around, almost analyzing. Your head is tipped back, mouth agape, breathing ever more heavily.

“He don’t know how to fuckin’ touch you,” he practically groans in disgust, his thumb immediately pressing onto your clit. “Can’t fuckin’ do anythin’ for my girl,” he growls this time, rubbing in quick, even circles.

You moan louder than you ever have–you didn’t think you could, not with the way you’ve been touched before; your back arches and your hips stutter, a small hand reaching to wrap around Beau’s strong forearm.

“Yeah? M’makin’ you feel good? Better than he ever could, huh?” Beau sneers, pressing harder than ever, and you feel every nerve in your body twitching and igniting. Dear God.

“Yeah–oh, my gosh, yeah,” you pant out, whining through a bitten lip, feeling the cool earth ground beneath you. It’s firm, keeping you somewhat grounded.

“This is all you ever should feel, sweetheart,” he mutters, watching your eyes practically rolling back into your head. “Sucha’ shame you’re datin’ some loser.”

“Sorry–I’m sorry, Beau,” you whine, feeling him picking up the quick circles, only to pull back, immediately going towards his leather belt.

“Don’t apologize for nothin’,” Beau says, quick fingers undoing the clasp, the soft clink clattering amongst the crickets. “Jus’ upsettin’ you’ve never been fucked properly.”

Your eyes widen at the vulgarity dripping from each word, and you glance down; he’s hard as ever, a prominent bulge right at the front of his denim jeans, thick and throbbing. He notices the look on your face and scoffs.

“Lemme’ guess,” he croons, letting his belt hang open as he pops open a button. “Doesn’t compare to ma’size either?” he practically laughs, his zipper following suit, and your eyes practically pop out of your damn head when his large hand wraps around himself, pulling it out of his boxers.

“No… no, not at all,” you shake your head in disbelief, helplessly staring at the way Beau is stroking himself, long fingers careful, his thumb rubbing the tip, and your legs fall open further, an invitation.

“Could tell,” Beau ticks his head, nudging further in between your thighs, his free hand resting on your bare knee. “Squirmin’ around like a worm on ma’knee… knew right then and there that no man has ever pleased ya’ in y’er life,” he shakes his head, and you whine at the call out.

“No… no, don’t get all shy on me,” he laughs, shifting closer, aligning himself with your entrance, just a slight pressure. “It’s me… jus’ me,” he coos, and you bite your lip.

Beau doesn’t hesitate to rock forward, pushing in without a single ounce of care in the god damn world–he just wants to make you feel better, wants to make sure you know what it’s like to be fucked by an actual man, and not some douche who uses you like a living breathing sex doll.

You cry out the minute he’s in fully. You didn’t know sex was supposed to feel like this; pure fullness and pleasure, your body instantly clenching around Beau, tightening and constricting, and he tips his head back, groaning aloud.

“Fuck, no man deserves this,” he groans out, one hand now holding your hip, the other one gently spreading your thighs. “So.. fuckin’ tight, baby,” he pants, not even in disbelief.

You whine, feeling him push even deeper, and your head is tossed back, right in the dirt beneath you, and he instantly is thrusting, gripping your hips tighter than he can even think. 

“Beau,” you moan louder into the night air, feeling the light breeze against your bare thighs, the soft echo of fireworks crackling behind the two of you. “Beau, oh, my gosh,” you cry.

“M’right… right here,” Beau grunts, each word punctuated with a hard, deep thrust, sending your body rocking. “M’got you… gonna make you feel.. So good, so deservin’ of feelin’ good.”

You’re seeing stars, and it’s not the one in the sky; it’s behind your closed eyes; a burst of light and warmth, and all you can feel is Beau Arlen, back and forth, deep, consistent thrusts. You can’t even think; all you can do is mewl and whine, still gripping his forearm.

“Look at ya’,” he mumbles, staring at that pretty face, all flushed and sweaty from the summer heat. “He ain't seen ya’ like this, never will,” he taunts, relentlessly thrusting.

The mere thought of your boyfriend being unable to do this is motivating the ever-living life out of Beau, and he feels he can’t stop himself as he moves deeper and deeper, watching your head loll back, limbs limp and blissful. 

“Gonna look so.. So pretty, filled with me, so pretty,” Beau mumbles, his head tipping back, groaning and grunting, just thinking of filling you up, stuffing you, not your stupid boyfriend.

You’re just taking it and taking it, whining loudly, your voice suffocated by the emptiness of the field you’re currently lying in. 

“He ever cum in y’er pretty tummy? Ever make ya’ all full and warm?” he asks, and you’re shaking your head, knowing you never let him despite taking birth control every fucking day.

“Yeah… yeah, savin’ yourself for me? My girl… my sweet girl,” he mutters through gritted teeth, and he’s it; the twitch in your hips, the tensing of your chest, and he knows you’re close. First time in your life you’ve ever been close.

“First time cummin’ too,” Beau comments, and you whine louder, nodding to his words. “Pathetic boy he is, gonna teach him a fuckin’ lesson or two,” he’s getting himself angry, and it’s turning you on more than you’d like.

You feel it; the tightness, the knot, the coil that has your toes curling into your shoes, and your back arches, and Beau watches it, and feels it; warmth all over him, the loudest sound you’ve made in your entire life slipping by your lips. He swells with pride, and it only pushes him further and further.

Beau still fucks into you despite you finishing, and he’s just as close now, his hand pushing down on your hip, applying pressure, and he’s breathing heavier and heavier, eyes closing in bliss as he feels it build, and build. He cums without a single warning; just a loud groan, and a warmth blooming deep inside of you.

“Atta girl… mhm, stuffin’ you,” Beau groans, his other hand resting right beside your head, holding himself up, panting heavily, letting himself just stay pushed inside of you. He wants you to feel it, every inch, the warmth.

“Only… I can ever do this to ya,” he mumbles, out of breath, shaking his head. “He don’t deserve… any of you, baby, nothin’,” he rambles on, just groaning and grunting, refusing to pull out.

You’re blissed out, head still tipped back, eyes fixed on the stars above you, glowing and bright. You can hear the fireworks still, mixed with his breaths and pants and groans, and you’re completely out of it, just high on him.

“My girl,” Beau finally claims, fingers pressing into your hip.

“Y/N!” You heard your friends squeal your name as they ran to you, all laughing and talking at the same time.

“If you’re gonna ask me to go to the mall again, the answer is gonna be no,” you giggled and held your binder to your chest as you shut your locker and made sure to rearrange the numbers. “My parents are coming home tomorrow and I have to clean up and stuff.”

“And stuff? What’re you gonna do? Rub one out the last night you’re alone?” Alana, the loud and dirty one of the group, questioned you and made an obscene gesture with her fist and mouth.

You shoved her and covered your blushing face with your binder as your friends giggled around you. You rolled your eyes at her filthy antics and walked in between them. “I’ll let you guys know though, okay? I have studying to do and food shopping.”

“Oh, let me know when you go food shopping. I need to get more snacks,” Beverly, the insanely smart and talkative one of the group, told you as she fixed her glasses on her nose. “I ate too much of everything again and my parents are gonna freak when they see how empty the cabinets are. Especially my dads secret stash. No wonder he keeps a lock and key.”

You and Alana shared a look and laughed. Alana wrapped an arm around Beverly’s shoulders as you three made your way out of the school. There was still a bustle of students here and there - some waiting for the bus, some waiting for their parents, others just loitering. Alana and Beverly were chatting amongst themselves, and judging from the way Bev was sucking her teeth annoyingly, Alana was probably saying something dirty or poking fun. You were in your own head as your eyes scanned your surroundings.

They suddenly landed on a beautiful red mustang parked across the street. The man in the driver’s seat was significantly older than you. You weren’t sure if he was a parent or a teacher, but his eyes never left yours the minute you spotted him. A nudge to your arm brought you back down to earth and you quickly turned your head to focus on your two friends.

“We’re gonna head to the arcade. Danny’s supposed to meet us there. You sure you don’t wanna come?” Bev asked you, furrowing her eyebrows and biting down on her bottom lip with her brace covered teeth.

“I’m sure,” you smiles and fixed the straps of your bag and held your binder tighter to your chest as you took a few steps back. “I’ll see you guys Monday!”

They both bid you a goodbye and went around the school to where the football field was to cut a shortcut. You trotted down the steps and began to make your way home which was just a 10 minute walk, 6 minutes tops if you ran. But do you really wanna run in a skirt? You shook your head to yourself and giggled softly. The air was so fresh and clean. It rained last night and today was a beautiful morning. The smell of grass and flowers overwhelmed your senses as the birds chirped around you.

“Excuse me, young lady,” you heard a gentle southern voice call at you from beside.

You gasped and looked to the side and saw the man you had seen before. He rests one elbow on the the drivers side window as the other rests on the steering wheel. He was wearing a sailor’s hat and had a Hawaiian shirt on, only the top three buttons undone, showcasing a hairy and well built chest with tattoos. He had some on his arms as well and it gave you butterflies. He lowered his sunglasses just a smidge and gave you a charming smile. Up close, he looked so handsome and rugged.

“I sincerely apologize for startling you,” he told you. “Do you, by any chance, know where Collins Avenue is? I’m afraid I don’t have a map and I have a doctor’s appointment.” He seemed so friendly. It made you feel at ease. You stepped closer to the car and looked down the street, missing the way his eyes roamed you up and down.

“You’re gonna go down that street here. And then when you’re about to pass that yellow house, you’re gonna make a right. And then there’s gonna be a blue house at the corner, then you’re gonna wanna make a left and then keep going straight!” You told the directions and gave him a bashful smile, hugging your binder closer to your chest again. “Do you get it, mister?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, darlin,” he huffed and licked his lips, sucking his teeth and tapping his thump against the steering wheel.

“Well, I can draw it out for you if you’d like? I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand,” you giggled quietly, making the man smirk as he bit his lip.

“Would you like to take a seat inside so you’re more comfortable?” He offered and unlocked the doors of his car.

“I’m not allowed to get into cars with strangers, mister,” you told him softly, nervously biting your lip.

“Well look at how smart you are!” He praised you, causing your cheeks to blush pink. He didn’t miss that and grinned wolfishly. “My name is Max Cady. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him, taking a small step towards the car when he outstretched his hand to shake yours. His hand was so much bigger than yours, fingers long and veins protruding on his hand and arm. You swallowed down a whimper at the touch.

“See, now we ain’t strangers anymore,” he winked at you, laughing quietly as you looked down. “I promise you, I’m a respectful man and you seem like a lovely lil lady.” He fingers tapped against his thigh as his knee started to bob, a sign of impatience. But he needed to get you to trust him. He needed to simply wait it out until it was the right time. When your hand touched the handle, something inside of him jumped for joy. “There we go!”

You opened your binder and turned to a clean sheet of paper, pulling out a pencil from its pocket and beginning to draw an outline of where Max needed to go. You can feel his eyes on you as you neatly scribbled down street signs and little squares as houses. His scent suddenly filled your senses. The cologne he was wearing smelled so intoxicating. You wanted to bury your nose in his neck to keep that scent around you. You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together under your binder, hoping he didn’t realize your squirming. Oh, but he did. His eyes trailed down to look at the exposed skin hidden under your pink checkered skirt, your white thigh highs fitting so snug around you. It looked so soft and supple. He needed to squeeze your flesh and sink his teeth into them to leave his mark. He suddenly wonders if you bruise easily.

“So, you go to this school here?” Max asks you, wanting to make small talk to keep you longer. “I hear it’s the last month before summer.”

“Yes, I do! It’s my last year too, and then I go to college,” you beamed with excitement and he almost found it adorable. “I can’t wait. It’s gonna be so exciting.”

“No kiddin’. What’re you studying?” He licked his lips and looked at your neck and collarbones, suddenly wondering what you’d taste like if he trailed his tounge across. How long would he have to choke you to make you pass out?

“English! I wanna be a writer,” you gave him a shy smile, watching as his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled back at you. Man, was he handsome. “I never asked where you’re from, Max. I recognized your accent.”

“Oh, just a lil town up in Georgia,” he shrugged. “Nothin’ too special, I guess.”

“Georgia? I heard they have great peaches up there. I always wanted to go to a peach farm,” you pouted.

“Can I let you in on a secret?” His voice dropped down to a low baritone hum as he moved closer to you, the heat of just him engulfing you like flames. His breath tickled your ear. “They ain’t that good.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and covered your mouth with your palm. Max chuckles to himself and elbows you lightly. Your skin was soft. His hands twitched as he moved back to his spot. And what perfume were you wearing? It smelled like strawberries and rose water.

“Um, here you go, sir - Max!” You handed him the paper and closed your binder after putting your pencil away. “If you just follow those directions, you’d be out on the main street and then the doctor’s office should be around there. I promise, you won’t get lost.”

“Well, since you’ve been such a lovely samaritan, I do believe you deserve a reward,” he tells you and reaches over to open the glove compartment, the back of his hand briefly touching your knees as he rifles around and pulls out a heart shaped lollipop. “Somethin’ sweet for a sweet peach.”

You blushed and took the lollipop with a soft thank you, sir. You unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, immediately letting out a soft moan, not even realizing it as you suckle and lick. Max never once took his eyes off you. His face changed into one of seriousness. He need to have you. And if he couldn’t right now, he’d find a way. When you went to look at him, he immediately gave you that charming smile of his.

“How about I take you home? You’ve been so good to me and I would just feel so bad letting you walk alone out here,” he told you and laid a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down as he looked into your eyes. Almost hypnotized, you nodded. “Where do you live, peach?”

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When Max stopped in front of your house, he took notice of the absence of cars in the driveway. You turned in your seat and gave him a blushing smile. He rests his arm on the seats behind him and spreads his thighs comfortably. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes look down before quickly looking into his again.

“Thank you for the ride, Max. I do hope you get to the doctors office safely,” you told him gently, leaning over the console to give his stubbly cheek a kiss, once more smelling that cologne.

“Pleasure’s all mine, peach,” he grins and tips his hat to you like a gentleman, savoring the little giggles that escape your red tinted lips that was from the lollipop.

He watches as you exit the car, waving back at you as you walk up the long walkway that leads to the steps. When you reach the top, you unlock the door, turning back once more to wave at Max. He gives you a wink as you shut the door. His smile drops from his face at an instant as he puts his car into drive and parks a few houses down. All he has to do is wait now.

When you get inside the house, you drop your bag down with a sigh and envelope the silence that fills up every room. You hated silence with such a passion. It was so quiet, yet so loud at the same damn time. You needed excitement and wonder and boisterous adventures. You trudged up the carpet steps and enter your lonely room. Tugging off your shoes, you neatly put them back in the empty space under your bed, pushing them back just a tad so your bedsheets cover them. You remove your headband and run your fingers through your hair. You sat down on the edge of your bed with a sigh. Coming home to an empty house was the worst feeling you ever felt.

“I need a dog,” you mumbled to yourself and walked over to the radio that sat on your windowsill, sliding in your favorite tape of Queen and smiling happily again when Somebody To Love came on. You hummed along to the lyrics and began to pick up any dirty laundry lying around. You had to make sure the bathroom was in tact as well before your parents came home. You made a mental list in your head of things you needed to do as you left your room and entered the small laundry room just beside yours. You loaded the washer, poured in a small cup of detergent, and turned the novel so that it would start rotating the clothes around.

You walked down the steps and entered the guest bathroom that was adjacent to the back door. You put your handle on the knob and turned it to make sure it was still locked before you left for school and after you came home. Just as you walked down the hallway to check the front door, the familiar Hawaiian shirt caught you off guard in your kitchen. You gasped and pressed your back against the walk beside the steps. Max Cady was standing in your kitchen eating an apple from your bowl of fruits.

“You should learn how to lock your doors, honey,” he tells you, taking another bite out of the apple as he motions with his hand around. “I mean, anybody can just walk in.”

“Wha-What’re you doing here, sir?” You whispered helplessly, feeling as thought you’re about to collapse just from how fast your heart is beating. “My parents will be home a-any minute, you need to go.”

“The calendar says otherwise,” he tells you condescendingly and steps in front of said calendar. He points to a circled date that was tomorrow and reads aloud, “Mom and dad come back.” He turns back to you, seeing the evident fear in your ears and the tremble in your body. “Now, why on earth would you go and lie about somethin’ like that? Your parents taught you about strangers, but I guess they ain’t teachin’ you about lying.”

A small tear rolls down your cheek as you try to muster up a response, but all that comes out is a feeble, “Please.”

Max sets the apple down on the countertop and begins to stalk towards you just as you make a mad dash for the front door. You swing it open just when his strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the ground and throwing you back down behind him, causing you to scream and fall on your hands and knees. He slams the door and chases you up the stairs as you helplessly crawl. You sobbed and fought at his rough hands as they grab your arms to slam you against the wall, making one of the picture frams fall onto the ground. You cried and clawed at his skin, trying to smack his face to catch him off guard.

“Get over here,” he growls and enters your room, throwing you onto the bed and slamming the door shut with his foot. “I do believe you need to learn some manners.”

You cried and hiccuped as you hugged your knees to your chest, desperately holding onto them as grabbed onto your pillows as well. You watched with tear filled eyes as Max turns off your radio. He gets on his knees on your bed. You helplessly shake your head and cried out when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you down onto your back, causing your sheets to come undone and your stuffed animals to become disheveled.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered and closed your eyes tight, feeling his nose against your damp cheek as he chuckles in your ear.

“Kill you? Oh honey, I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he tells you, his southern drawl becoming thicker. He sits up straight, looking down your body and at how your thighs are trembling, your skirt pooled around your hips to show your tight gray panties. “Look at what we got here.”

You hiccuped and fearfully opened your eyes to see him staring down between your thighs with such hunger. You go to close them, but he smacks your thigh with such force that it makes you cry out. You rub at that sensitive and pained flesh, suddenly wishing that you never interacted with the man. He grabs your blouse and rips it apart, your buttons flying everywhere. You hear some clatter onto the ground as you lay helpless under him.

“I don’t want to hurt your pretty lil self, so how about you just cooperate, hm?” Max sternly tells you, pointing a finger down at you as if scolding a child. When you let out a small, “okay,” he nods in approval. “Now, have you ever been touched by a man?” You shake your head no. “You ever been touched by a woman?” You shook your head no. “You ever touch yourself?” You shook your head no once again. He laughs to himself and rubs a hand down his jaw. “You shittin’ me?”

“No sir,” you weakly whisper. “I’ve been saving myself.” You jump from his boisterous laugh. “What?”

“Well, I never thought of you to be such a holy girl.” His fingers gripped your thighs and he groaned as he saw the flesh turn white before pink. “Sweet, little innocent thing, hm?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as his fingers moved further down until they stopped at the rim of your panties. “W-What’re you gonna do to me?”

“Well, I wanna choke the life out of you and destroy every inch of this body of yours, but I’m a gentleman,” he grins and tips his hat before putting it to the side. “I like you, Y/N, and I think we’re gonna get along just nicely.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, sliding the blade under the fabric of your panties and lifting up in quick succession as he rips the fabric out from under you. He whistles and licks his lips as he first sees your bare cunt.

“Freshly shaved, just how I like ‘em,” he grins and rubs his fingers against the lips of your private parts. You jumped from the foreign feeling and gasped, thighs trembling to fall shut as he applies pressure to the swelling button hidden beneath your lips. “Thatta girl. Just let daddy do what’s best for you, hm?” He forces your thighs further apart and notices a small string of arousal sliding out of your tight hole. “What do we have here?”

You’re nervously panting as you play with the locket around your neck. Max slides his fingers to scoop up slme of your slick and shows it off to you with a filthy smile, spreading his fingers lewdly to show you the strings of arousal that look like saliva.

“I-I don’t know what that is,” you softly tell him. “And I don’t want to know. So can you please leave me alone, sir.” More tears filled your eyes as he laughed at your pathetic attempt.

“Darlin’, we’re just getting started,” he tells you and suddenly roughly shoves in his middle and ring fingers inside your tight cunt, laughing maniacally at the way you scream out from the painful intrusion. “That’s what I like to hear!”

You try to shut your thighs, but his large body and his arm between your legs stop you from doing so. He reaches over and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing and forcing you further down ontk the bed. You cough and grab onto his forearm, digging your nails into his tattooed and hairy skin. You kick your feet out as he begins to move his fingers in and out of you in quick succession. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to distract yourself. But every single one of your thoughts are violated by Max. He squeezes your throat much harder than the last, relishing your weak gasps for air and the wet sloshing of his fingers inside your virgin pussy.

“You think I didn’t notice those little fuck me eyes looking at me inside the car?” He crooned. He removed his hand from your throat, watching with a hungry expression when you weakly gasp for air, your eyes dazy and unfocused. He slaps your cheek condescendingly, loving the small whimpers that leave your lips as he does so. “You wanted me from the start, little peach.” He leans over with a hand planted in the side of your head. You look up at him, thighs trembling even more as he speeds up his fingers, the tips prodding at this sensitive part inside of you that forces more slick to pour out.

“Mmhmmm,” you whimpered softly and threw your head back as your toes curled in your thigh highs. This feeling was so foreign, yet it felt so good. Max knew what he was doing, and yet you didn’t want him to stop. “Please... daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” he grins, crooking his fingers and moving his wrist upward as he ferociously begins to finger fuck you. You gasped and reached down to grab his forearm, but he shakes his head and laughs at your weak attempt.

“Oh G-God!” You squealed, eyebrows furrowing and cheeks burning up as the churning in your stomach envelopes into something bigger and stronger. “I-I feel... I feel... uuhhnnggh.”

“Let it happen,” he growls, slapping you in the face just as you squirt all over his hand and forearm, your juices spilling out onto your bedsheets and his pants. “Look at that!” He laughs as you try to catch your breath.

“Wha-What just happened, Max?” You whispered, feeling so dirty from letting an older man - a stranger - touch you so inappropriately, and you liking it.

“Oh honey, that ain’t nothin’,” he draws out and begins to unbuckle his belt. “We’re just getting started.”

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TAGS: Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

His house sat on the quieter edge of Jackson, marked by a ‘Miller’ mailbox, a wooden porch, and a dried-out garden. (You couldn’t blame him though, he was working way too hard to keep up with his garden.)

Three knocks.

“Hi.” You greeted him, a smile tugging on your lips. His eyebrows quickly furrowed—just as you know him. Joel looked exhausted. His green flannel dirty, hair messy and dirt stained boots. He just came back from work.

“Whatcha doin’, girl?” His voice hoarse, deep. Sending shivers down your spine.

And you knew this was a bad idea. Heck, asking Joel—your mentor, your teacher and someone who took care of you countless times—to show you how to give someone a blowjob was embarrassing.

But you didn’t know how else to learn. You were way too inexperienced—no enough friends to ask, no porn, no education in this town.

And after your last time, having to interrupt a heavy make out session with that one boy who works at the day care, you needed desperate help for next time.

“Bought you cherry pie.”

His eyes lingered over the pie for a moment, then landed on your body—following the curve of your skin up and down, lingering far too long on the red crop top you were wearing.

“Made me pie, eh? It’s cold outside. Come on in.” He opened his door wide, a hand coming to the small of your back and letting you in—lingering a bit longer than usual.

From the inside, his house was cosier—the last bits of sunlight spilling from the windows, painting everything into a golden haze. His furniture, old and rugged like him, was scattered with soft pillows and a few photos here and there. And of course, his beloved wooden carved animals, carefully crafted, sat in every corner, quietly collecting dust.

You carefully place the pie on his kitchen counter, nervously biting the inside of your cheek.

Joel already pulls out two forks, one for you and one for him. “Now what do we have here.”

You knew he adored your pies. Sometimes you’d bake him two or even three, and he’d devour every last bite—but only after he’d done something in return. Whether it was fixing something around your apartment or bringing you something from patrol, there was always a little exchange involved.

“What’s the matter with you? Why the face?” he asks, and your heart leaps, suddenly remembering why you came. He already took a generous bite of cherry pie, a smear of filling resting messily at the corner of his mouth.

“Just—uhm. Can you do me a little favor?”

“A favor? Should’ve known. Y’never bring that old man pie without wanting any favors.”

You giggle quietly, also taking a bite of pie.

“What is it this time, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

The first time he called you that was when you were together on patrol. He taught you how to use a sniper, his hand landing gently on your shoulder, squeezing softly when you did well. Or when you helped him fix your light—tools in your hand, his voice calling you a good girl when you handed him the right ones.

Or when he had you creaming around his fingers. After giving him his pie, quietly, on your couch. Leaving small kisses on your neck, the other hand rubbing your nipples through your shirt, telling you how good you are for him.

And a ‘this can’t happen again.’ leaving you with wanting more.

So, you weren’t sure if you were here because of that boy or because of Joel. Because, admittedly, you have been aching for his touch since then.

“Cat got ya tongue?” He interrupts your thoughts with a quick snap of fingers. “My back is fuckin’ killing me. Let’s sit down on the couch, then you can tell me about that little favour of yours.”

Before you can answer him, he pulls out two plates, carefully puts one slice for you and two slices for himself, and then walks to his living room with them.

You take a deep breath.

Walking into the living room, you see him sitting there—already one of the slices gone—as he starts on the other. You gently make your way to him, sitting down next to him. He takes his fork with pie and brings it to your mouth, making you giggle and take it, a coo leaving his lips.

“C’mon, say it,” he urges, nudging you. Your mind spins with all the ways this could end.

Either he’ll react well—just as you know him—and help you, or he’ll make you leave his house and never contact him again.

You start, “So there is a boy.” And you can see him clenching his jaw tight, fork leaving his hand as his eyebrows furrow.

“That so?”

“Mhm. And I—I don’t know how to ask you this but—“

You look down, your fingers fidgeting with each other, heart thudding in your chest like it’s about to break out.

“Spit it out, kid.” He sighs, sets the plate down, and turns his body toward you—making it now impossibly more difficult for you.

“I—I want to do things with him. But i’m kinda too inexperienced.” Your cheek heat up while you’re talking, your gaze falls down not wanting to look into his disturbed face. The air in the room now feeling impossibly thick.

After an awkward silence you peak up to Joel, who is just looking at you. You can’t tell if it’s disbelief or disgust. Or maybe something in between.

“Jesus christ, girl.” He mutters out. “And what do you want me to do? Hold your hand while you’re getting dicked down?”

Your eyes widen, a gasp leaving your lips at his wording.

“Oh my god—no, no. That’s not what I meant.” Well, what you meant might be just a little bit worse than what he interpreted it as.

“Just—ya know…maybe show me how to give a blo—“

“Nah.” He interrupts you swiftly, shaking his head. “Not happenin’”

You sigh, defeated. Not only did you feel embarrassed, but you probably just ruined your almost perfect relationship with him. Joel took a pillow, mumbling something under his breath, and placed it over his lap. Your eyes perked up at that—he was hard. And he was trying to hide it.

“B-but, you also showed me something else the other time. Wouldn’t be that the same?”

He sighs. “Baby, you ain’t comin’ here dressed like that, bringing me cherry pie and asking me to give you sex ed.”

“Y’know I ain’t got anyone else.” You pout—maybe that’ll help. “And besides, you told me to come to you whenever I needed something right?”

“Christ,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. “Just can tell you how it’s done, yea? Nothin’ more.”

You hesitate. Hearing it out loud would be more awkward than him simply showing you. His eyes leave no room for choice, so you give a small nod.

“Comin’ here asking me how to blow someone.” He shakes his head, in disbelief.

“Heyyy, Joel—I don’t know how else to learn okey? I don’t want to embarrass myself.” You whine.

“S’fine.” He grumbles under his breath, sitting up straight. “Y’start by teasing.”

His eyes land on your tits.

“Show ‘em. Every boy will appreciate it.”

Your cheeks flush red.

“Then you get on those pretty knees. Take it out, give it some love.”

You ask, curious. “How do I give it some love?”

“Can’t serve everything on a silver spoon can I?” Grumpy, annoyed—making you amused. The pout from earlier starts to form again, you give him a pleading look.

He sighs once again. “Give kisses first. From top to bottom. Stroke gently.” And you notice how the tip of his ears are red.

“And the rest is pretty much self explanatory, ain’t it sweetheart?”

You look at him, the curiosity not letting up. As if you had no clue of the world, wanting him to explain it to you in every single detail. And you were so amused at how flushed and annoyed he was getting.

“God damn, girl. Open them lips, wrap them around and go up and down.”

“How fast?”

“Just how fast that person likes.” He shruggs.

“How do I know how fast that person likes it?” And it’s laughable at how dumb you were making yourself seem, but seeing him grip the pillow over his crotch tighter, his cheeks flushed and sweat dripping from his forehead—it was worth every single second.

“I let my girls know when I gather their hair in my palm and push them faster down.”

Your breath hitches, his girls.

“Then I buck my hips into their mouth,” he continues.

All this time, you thought Joel was a miserable, lonely man with no relationships whatsoever. Embarrassment washes over you as you think about how you believed you were the only one he liked—and that when he fingered you, you were special. You came here to get educated—no, you came here to seduce him. And that was the plain truth.

“Got that in your pretty little head?” He asks you, suddenly pinching your chin between his fingers and making you look at him.

You wanted him to push your head down and buck his hips against you.

“Not really.”

“You’re getting on my last nerves.” He grumbles before putting the pillow away and revealing his bulge. Your eyes land on it, as he zips down his pants, looking at you. His eyes darkening.

“C’mon. That brain of yours had to take some sort of information, right?”

His eyes land on your tits.

You quickly nod, pushing your crop top up quicky, revealing your breasts to him. You hear a groan leaving his chest, then a chuckle.

“Good, that’s what I like to see.” His hand finds your chest, fingers squeezing, then pinching your nipple. “Now what do we do?”

“Get on my knees.”

“Atta girl. Get on those knees.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when you slide down the couch and kneel in front of his bulge. Nodding, he gently pulls his hard one out of his boxers.

You almost start to drool at the sight.

He was so big. And he was pulsing. Red mushroom head, precum dribbling from the slit and decorated with veins from bottom to top.

“Now, what did we say?” He asks, his hand gently pumping himself up and down, while your eyes follow.

“Give it some love.”

Your hands shakily grab his cock, looking small compared to his length. Stroking up and down, looking up to him with doe eyes and placing kisses on every inch while you listen to Joels groans.

“That’s it.” He gathers your hair into his palm, forming a loose ponytail to keep it from falling in your face. “A man should always do this, yea? Not let you do all the work.”

Your cheeks heat up again, his eyes lock into yours as you nod. There was a warmth spreading inside your panties. You had already difficulties taking his fingers last time, you wonder how it’ll be if you took his cock.

“Wanna take him into my mouth.” You mumble.

He coos. “‘course ya do. C’mon then. Show me how good you listened.”

“Up and down.” You nod. “Hm, up and down, that’s right.” He answers.

You open your lips, hand gently stroking up and down his dick. Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip, hearing him shudder in response.

You try different things out. Swirling around, getting deeper, pulling out and giving small kitten licks. All the while Joel groans your name, and without noticing, your ponytail wrapped in his fist, he moves your head—slow, deliberate—up and down his length.

“Just like that. Y’learning fast.”

The pleasure in your abdomen getting unbearable. You feel yourself soaking through your panties as you start grinding your hips against the heel of your foot.

“Would ya look at that.” He chuckles, his hand going faster.

And as Joel’s movements get messier, he dives your head down until a gag rises sharp in your throat. You cough, and he pulls out quickly, watching your face closely.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths, baby.” He carefully tries to calm you down, and while you try to breath normal again, he starts apologising: “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That should’ve not happen. Got too lost in the pleasure.”

“S’okey.” You smile lazily to him, drool hanging from the sides of your face, lips swollen red. You looked too beautiful for your own damn good right now. And Joel wants nothing more to take you right then and there.

“I think that’s enough for today. You already learned how to use your mouth. I’m sure you’ll do good.”

Disappointment washes down your face. You sit there looking up to him with pleading eyes. The throbbing in your cunt unbearable and the urge to take care of him way too big.

He slips the edge of his shirt over his thumb and brushes the drool from your mouth, slow and careful.

“Pretty girl. You let that boy treat you well, yea? Or else.” He mumbles, but your eyes are only on his wet, aching cock.

The boy was forgotten, and Joel could see it in your hazy, fucked-out eyes. You were needy—needy to be touched—and he wished he could just take you, right on his couch. But he made that mistake once. He couldn’t let it happen again.

You move before you even realize it, climbing onto his lap and settling on one of his thighs. His hard cock grazes your skin, and he takes his time looking at you—your lips, your tits.

“Oh angel, we can’t.” A breath leaves his mouth.

You lean in and start kissing him—his cheek, his neck—fingers stroking through his hair as you suckle on his collarbones. His hands find your waist, gripping tight. One hand cups your breast, pinching your nipple. And before you even realize it, your hips are grinding against his thigh.

“Why?” You ask, laying your head against his chest, moving your hips in a slow rhythm.

“I would ruin you.” He answers, “And people in this town would kill us.”

“But you’re just teachin’ me something. Nobody has to know.”

A groan leaves his lips when your hands wrap around his cock, gently stroking up and down.

“That so?”

“Hm”, you nod. “Y’still need to teach me how to take cock.”

“Jesus christ, sweetheart. When did ya get so bold, huh?”

And you want to say ‘when you left me with aching for more’ but you don’t. Instead, you focus on the pleasures building in your tummy. Grinding harder against the rough fabric of his jeans, and a whimper slipping from your lips.

Suddenly, Joel mumbles a “fuck it,” then follows with, “Pull your pants and panties down. Now.” He demands it—and you do just that, standing up and tugging everything down.

“But you ain’t gonna complain if it hurts.” His hands pull you back into his lap, making you sit down again. “All this begging and then complaining about it hurting would be pathetic, girl.”

“C’mere. You’re wet enough.” One hand touches your folds, the other holding his cock. You buckle up, his tip gliding over your folds as you release a breath.

You gently and slowly, sink down.

“Easy, easy, babygirl.” He helps you. Squeezing your hips and guiding you through. A cry leaving your lips when you fully sit down. His length stretching you, touching places you’ve never even felt before.

“S’big, yea? That’s a mans cock, baby. Not gonna gave that much satisfaction when you ride that boy.”

Your head falls to his shoulder, biting down, clenching on his cock. “So big.” A whimper falling from your lips.

“Oh I know, I know.” He whispers. “But you’ll take it, baby. Still need to teach you, don’t I?” He says it playfully. Joel knows the boy is long gone from your mind—and that you came here for one thing: to get fucked by him. There’s no denying it.

He shifts underneath you, gripping you by your thighs and thrusts two times up, leaving you breathless.

“Good?”

“Mhm. More.” And he doesn’t need to hear that twice. He starts giving you quick thrusts, altering between deep and slow, while your moans fill the room.

Your hands grip his shirt, looking at him, his eyebrows furrowed, concentrating, rough breaths leaving his mouth. Tits start to bounce up and down, while he pumps in and out of your squelching cunt.

“Ain’t the one I used to be, girl—help that old man, will you? Start moving your hips.” He groans.

Your body almost limb from the pleasure, starts moving at his request. Going up and down, circling. His hands guiding you, helping you. Biting your lips, whines filling the quiet room and as Joels body suddenly shudders, you feel it.

His cum pumping you. Spurt after spurt, filling you to the brim.

You whimper, looking down, seeing drops of cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.” He coos. “Tightest fuckin’ cunt i’ve ever had. Made me cum in no time.”

And you’re still aching for more.

“Could’ve just go to him.” You shrug. “He would’ve at least lasted longer.”

Joel looks at you with widen eyes. The relief after his orgasm completely gone, his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushing red. Not with shame or embarrassment.

But anger.

Without a word, he grabs your hips and forces you down onto the couch beside him. Your eyes widen, hands clutching his neck as he looms over you.

“Joel, what are you doing?” You ask, with no answer. Instead, he spreads your legs and grabs his cock.

He glances down, noticing he’s still soft. After a few frustrated strokes, he mutters, “God dammit.”

You giggle.

“Find that funny, huh?” He asks and you can’t even answer before he fills you with two of his fingers, a yelp leaving your lips. “Still got my fingers, baby.”

“Joel..” You squeeze your eyes shut when he curls them, his thick fingers going in and out of you.

“M’right here, angel. Y’think that boy of yours can reach those spots huh?”

And the spots he reaches are indescribable. Your mouth falls open when he hits your g-spot over and over again. Your legs start to shake, as you feel yourself getting close.

“Look at that, y’let me cum in you so well.” He whispers, looking at the ring of sperm build around his fingers whenever he pulls them out of your cunt.

“Joeljoeljoel.” With that you clench down his fingers, hips bucking, tummy clenching, you come around his fingers with a big cry.

Before you can even come down, he’s filling you again—his cock sliding in. The stretch feels good this time, and you clutch his shoulders as he murmurs your name. Your sensitive walls tighten around him, his length still a bit soft but just firm enough to push deep.

“Takin’ it so so good, baby.” He gently whispers in your ear. His lips latch into your neck, kissing and biting. Your moans start to fill the room again, as his thrusts begin in a quick rhythm.

“Feels good, feels so good.” You whimper, and squirm around. “I know it does, I know. That boy may last longer, but he won’t give you a reason for your pussy to be swollen red.” He looks down at your cunt while saying, a thumb landing on your clit.

You can’t even listen to him as the pleasure grows in your tummy once again. “M’gonna cum, please.”

“Good, c’mon then.”

His thumb speeds up at your clit, your leg falls from the couch because of the hard thrusts. Your hands grip impossibly tight to his shoulders.

“Gonna fill you up again, show this whole town who you belong to, yea?” Your eyes get wide at that, making him chuckle. His thrusts growing sloppier and sloppier.

“Joel, please.”

“Shh, s’okey. Cum with me, baby.” And you do.

You let go. This time, it’s harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. Your mouth falls open, silent, as Joel gives you two more hard thrusts before spilling inside you—filling you up again, his release dripping onto the couch beneath you.

He kisses your temple, your nose, your forehead while you come down. His breathing is still hard and deep just like yours, softly coming down from the hard orgasms you two just had.

He pulls out, sits up slightly and watches as his cum oozes out of you.

“Christ, all filled up aren’t you?” His fingers wander to your slit, then he gathers the cum that drips out of your hole and pushes it in with two of his fingers.

With all the exhaustion, you can only whimper.

He thrusts them in and out, thumb gently landing on your clit, just slightly grazing it and making you shudder because of the sensitivity.

“No boy, yea? You’re mine. And if that takes, that’ll prove it.” He looks at you, furrowed eyebrows. And you nod your head softly, limbs to weak to function as you lay on his couch filled to the brim while his fingers are still working inside of you.

The next orgasm rolls in quietly, soft and fleeting—just enough to leave you relaxed and sleepy. Joel lets out a quiet chuckle, then pulls you close by the waist and shoulder. You nestle your head against his shoulder, and he kisses your forehead with quiet affection.

“God damn, y’need to bring me more often pie, sweetheart.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 just need that old man so bad…

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Your thighs are shaking, pinned wide open by Clark’s hands, his grip near desperate as he ruts into you with a punishing force. It’s not as hard as he could go, you know that he must be biting through his lip trying to control himself. You wish he could go harder, that he could really give it to you. 

He deserves it. He works so hard, he deserves a nice warm hole to pound into after saving the world for the hundredth time—or after turning in another perfect front page piece to Perry.

You’ve brought it up a few times, when Clark was too drunk off the feeling of your lips against his own and the taste of your tongue on his to shy away from the conversation.

You could take it, you’d take anything he gives you with open arms and spread legs and a smile on your face.

Clark’s far too sweet to ever pin you down and just take. He’s a gentleman through and through, he was taught to treat ladies with respect. Superman isn’t an exception to those good farm boy manners of course, no matter how many times you’ve daydreamed about him flying through your window and tossing you on the mattress and using you.

God, you really do love him like this though.

“Sorry,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, dark curls mussed. “I’m sorry, I can’t—I can’t stop. You feel too good, baby, you’re so good.”

Clark’s voice breaks on the last word like he’s begging you to understand, but the thrust of his hips says otherwise. There's nothing apologetic about the way he’s fucking you—like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Like his survival depends on it. The bed’s screaming under the weight of his body, your body, his strength.

Your spine arches off the bed as his hips slap against yours hard enough to sting, wet and relentless. “Clark,” you gasp, nails raking down his back uselessly. “Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop.”

His cock splits you open again and again, thick and flushed and incessant, pistoning deep and hard and needy. It’s too much. It always is. Too thick, too long, the fat head of him kissing up against something so deep inside you it shouldn’t be physically possible.

The room smells like sex. Sweat and musk and Clark—rain, ozone, sunlight. The sound of your bodies coming together bounces off the walls, the wet slap of skin on skin. The filthy, slick noises of your pussy sucking his cock deeper makes your ears burn.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come. Clark hasn’t. Of course he hasn’t.

“Five,” he groans, burying his face in the sweaty expanse of your neck. “You’re so sensitive now, baby, I know—I can hear it, your heartbeat skips every time I do this—” he pulls out, just halfway, then slams forward and stays there, his cock so deep your stomach distends a little. “Gosh, look at that.”

You’re soaked, ruined, you know it. You’ve been trembling under him for five rounds, but you love it. Every ragged thrust, every strangled apology he can’t stop moaning, every load he pumps into you like his body has to. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, drag him even deeper, and Clark whines.

“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna come again—please, baby, let me—please—”

He’s come three times already. You can feel the wet, hot mess he’s made of you, dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets. You’re already so full. You feel full.

The last time he came inside you he barely gave you a minute before he was hard again, aching and apologizing even as he buried himself back in your cunt. His come is still dripping out of you in thick, creamy ropes, and he still hasn’t stopped chasing it. He can’t.

"Yes." Your legs wrap tighter around his waist. You want it. You need it. “Give it to me, Clark.”

That's all it takes for him to lose it again.

His body locks up—hips jerking, mouth falling open with a loud, broken moan.

You cry out as you feel him twitch deep inside you, and then it happens again—hot, endless, thick spurts of come painting your insides, filling you up so full it hurts. Clark’s gasping, his mouth falling open against your shoulder, his whole body trembling. 

His cock doesn’t go soft, it never does. Not when he’s buried in you like this. Not when you keep fluttering around him, squeezing down like you want to milk every last drop from his body.

“Shit, I didn’t mean—‘m sorry—I keep—” His hips stutter and then roll again, like he’s addicted to how you feel around him, like stopping would kill him. “It’s too much—I know, baby—I just—you make me so messy—”

There’s even more come leaking down your thighs in thin streams of white, soaking the sheets, slicking his cock every time he pulls out just to slam back in. You can feel how slippery everything is now, how swollen you are, how stretched. And still—he doesn’t stop.

“You—shit, you take it so good,” he moans. “My good girl—my pretty girl—look at you, look at how much I gave you.”

Clark looks down, a soft groan rips out from somewhere deep in his chest at the sight of his cock punching up inside of you. His eyes go, glassy and unfocused for a moment. That’s the only warning you get before he tilts his hips ever so slightly, and you’re crying out when he hits that spot up inside you perfectly on the next thrust.

That’s a definite perk of dating a metahuman, x-ray vision. You know that even without any special powers he could take you apart until you were a crying, shaking mess. That being said, the MRI eyes help.

Clark has spent hours learning each and every part of your body, inside and out. He’s made a home between your legs and watched your nervous system light up more times than you can count. 

He’s watched the way your dopamine levels spike when he mouths at your clit just right, the way your pulse lights up when his fingers slide deep and curl at just the right angle. He’s studied you like scripture, like a blueprint.

You cry out, screwing your eyes shut as your hands slide down his back. You revel in the feel of him on top of you, the muscles of his back rolling and working under your greedy touch. You’re going to come again, you know you are. The spring inside of you starts coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.

“Please,” Clark gasps, nearly sobbing it. “Let me—one more time, I promise—please—I know you’re full, baby, I know—just one more.”

“You’re gonna break the bed again,” you gasp, too dumb and lost for words to say anything else.

Clark doesn’t respond—maybe he can’t. Maybe he’s already too far gone to hear anything but the desperate squelch of his own come leaking out of your ruined pussy and down the hard length of his cock.

“I love you—I love you so much," he mutters incoherently, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the meat of your hips as his cock carves a place for itself inside you. "You feel too good—god, you were made for me.”

The mattress jerks violently beneath you with every thrust—you can feel the wood frame groaning, splintering. Not the first time. Probably won’t be the last.

It’ll be worth it.

MINI NAT'S NOTE: anyway this movie changed my life. i started rewatching 70s superman the second i got home. james gunn thank you for making superhero movies with love and whimsy again.

thank you so much for reading, love you!