Escaped Audios

-smut, slightdom! Ash, sub! Denny's, first time

The airport doors slid open with a hiss, and Ashley Walker stepped through, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder and his eyes scanning the waiting crowd. He spotted her instantly, a blaze of familiar red hair against the bland terminal walls, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Ash!” she called, voice cutting through the hum of announcements and rolling luggage.

He dropped his bag and caught her as she launched herself at him, her arms tight around his neck, the familiar scent of her cheap, sweet shampoo filling his lungs. “God, Denny’s,” he murmured into her hair, holding her so close he felt her heart hammering against his chest. “Half a damn year.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her green eyes bright and wet. “You’re bigger. What were they feeding you in New Jersey?” She kissed him then, a hard, hungry kiss that tasted of airport coffee and cinnamon gum. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing the high curve of her cheekbones, and kissed her back until they were both breathless and drawing curious glances from passing travelers.

They broke apart, laughing softly. He grabbed his bag and her hand, their fingers lacing together automatically. “Let’s get out of this zoo,” he said, and she led him through the parking garage, her small hand a warm, anchoring weight in his.

He tossed his bag into the trunk as she slid into the driver’s seat. The engine coughed to life. “So, ‘Rising Actor Ashley Walker,’ huh?” she asked, merging into the sluggish California traffic. “Was it as glamorous as it sounds?”

Ashley leaned his head against the window, watching the palm trees blur past. “Oh, incredibly. So many famous actors and actresses, Denny’s. So, so many. He reached over, his hand finding her knee, his thumb stroking the inside seam of her jeans. “I missed you. I missed this. Normal things. You.”

His touch was a slow, deliberate burn through the denim. She took a sharp little breath, her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. “I missed you too. Fick burger has been too quiet. The other workers have been nice to costumers.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower, more intimate register. His hand slid higher, massaging the taut muscle of her thigh. “yeah, I'm lying,” she whispered as the setting sun bled orange and purple across the horizon, painting the freeway in long, sentimental shadows. The car felt like its own tiny, moving world.

He was quiet for a few miles, just watching her profile, the way she bit her lower lip in concentration. The loneliness of the last six months, a cold, hollow thing inside him, began to thaw under the heat of her proximity. It wasn’t just wanting her, though that was a sharp, undeniable ache. It was the need to close the distance, to erase the time and miles, to reconnect in the most fundamental way he knew.

“Pull over,” he said softly, his fingers stilling on her leg.

She glanced at him, a question in her eyes. “Ash, we’re on the 405. There’s nowhere to—”

“The next exit. Please.” His voice was gentle but utterly firm, the same tone he’d learned to use on set to get what he needed, but now it was laced with a raw, open vulnerability. “I can’t wait. I need you. Now.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then flicked the turn signal. She took the next off-ramp, cruising through a quiet, commercial district until she found a deserted office park, its lots empty for the night. She parked under a broken lamppost in a far corner, the engine ticking as it cooled. The silence was sudden and immense.

Before she could speak, he unbuckled her seatbelt with a soft click. “Come here,” he murmured, and she went to him, climbing awkwardly between the seats into the back. He followed, his larger body filling the cramped space. The upholstery was scratchy under his palms.

He didn’t kiss her immediately. Instead, he just looked at her, his gaze traveling over her face as if memorizing it anew. He traced the arch of one eyebrow with his fingertip. “I thought about you every night,” he confessed, his voice rough. “Every damn night in that hotel room. What you were doing.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “What you were wearing.”

She shivered, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders. “Ash…”

“Tell me you thought about me too,” he whispered, nipping gently at her earlobe.

“Yes,” she breathed, tilting her head to give him better access. “All the time. It was agony.”

He kissed her then, deep and consuming, his tongue sliding against hers. It was different from the airport kiss—slower, hotter, full of intent. His hands went to the hem of her shirt, and she raised her arms, letting him pull it over her head. The pale skin of her stomach was a shock in the dim light. He bent his head and kissed the gentle swell above the lace of her bra, his tongue dipping into the hollow between her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his hands working the clasp of her bra. It fell away, and he took one tight nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before laving it with his tongue. She arched against him, a low moan escaping her lips. His other hand slid down, popping the button of her jeans, sliding the zipper down with a deliberate, rasping sound.

“You’re in charge,” she gasped, her head falling back against the seat. “Just… tell me what you want.”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark and heated. “I want you wet for me. I want to taste you.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and panties, peeling them down her legs. She kicked them off, and he settled her back against the seat, pushing her knees apart. The intimate scent of her filled the small space. He knelt on the floor of the car, his shoulders pushing her thighs wider. “Look at you,” he said, his voice full of awed hunger. “All for me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He lowered his mouth to her, his tongue finding her clit in one slow, firm stroke. She cried out, her hands flying to tangle in his hair. He held her hips down, his grip firm but not painful, as he licked and sucked, learning her rhythms, listening to every gasp and whimper. He was thorough, attentive, a servant to her pleasure, his own need a secondary, thrumming pulse. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them, and her whole body tightened. “Yes, right there, Ash, please,” she begged, her hips rocking against his mouth.

He redoubled his efforts, the heel of his hand pressing against her as his fingers worked and his tongue circled her clit. He felt her climax build, a gathering tension in her muscles, the sharpening of her cries. When it broke, he stayed with her, gentling his touch as she shuddered and went limp against the seat, breathing in ragged pants.

He moved up her body, kissing her stomach, the valley between her breasts, her throat. He was still fully dressed, his own arousal a hard, confined pressure. She reached for his belt buckle, her fingers clumsy. “My turn,” she whispered.

“Not yet,” he said, catching her hands and bringing them to his lips. He kissed her knuckles. “I’m not finished with you.” He shucked off his own jeans and boxers, freeing himself. He was hard, flushed, a bead of moisture already glistening at the tip. He reached into his discarded jacket pocket, fumbling for a condom he’d stuffed there this morning, hoping. He tore the foil with his teeth. “You do it,” he said, his voice thick, placing the rubber in her hand.

She smoothed it over his length, her touch sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core. He guided himself to her entrance, pausing, the head of his cock just pressing against her heat. He looked into her eyes, which were wide and dark with renewed desire. “You’re sure?” he asked, every muscle in his body coiled with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” she said, pulling him down for a searing kiss. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He sank into her in one slow, inexorable push, filling her completely. They both groaned, a shared sound of relief and consummation. He stilled, buried inside her, letting them both adjust to the profound, new rightness of it. He began to move then, a deep, rolling rhythm that had the old car seats creaking in protest. He braced one hand on the seatback above her head, the other gripping her hip, setting a pace that was relentless but deeply tender.

“You feel incredible,” he choked out, his forehead damp against hers. “So tight. So perfect.” He shifted his angle, and she gasped, her nails digging into his back. “There?” he asked, doing it again.

“God, yes,” she sobbed, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust.

He could feel his own control fraying, the pleasure coiling tight and low in his belly. He slid a hand between them, his thumb finding her clit again, rubbing in fast, tight circles. “Come for me again,” he commanded, his breath hot on her lips. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

The words, the sensation, the look in his eyes—it was too much. Her second climax ripped through her, a sharper, brighter wave than the first, clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. The sight of her, lost in ecstasy beneath him, shattered his last restraint. He drove into her twice more, hard and deep, and followed her over the edge with a ragged cry, his release pouring into her in hot, pulsing waves.

He collapsed on top of her, then quickly rolled to the side, gathering her against him in the narrow space. They lay tangled, slick with sweat, hearts pounding a frantic, slowing rhythm against each other. The windows had fogged over, sealing them in their private, humid world.

After a long while, she stirred, tracing idle patterns on his chest. “So,” she said, her voice husky and spent. “Welcome home.”

He kissed the top of her head, a feeling of profound peace settling over him. “Best welcome I’ve ever had.” He shifted, disposing of the condom and grabbing their discarded clothes. They dressed in a comfortable, sleepy silence, his touches lingering—a brush of his hand on her spine as he helped her with her bra clasp, a kiss on her shoulder as she pulled her shirt on.

She took the driver’s seat again, and he slid into the passenger side, reaching across to tuck a strand of her damp hair behind her ear. She started the car, the headlights cutting twin swaths through the darkness of the empty lot. As she pulled back onto the freeway, headed finally for home, he kept his hand on her thigh, a simple, steady point of contact.

The city lights spread out before them, a galaxy of home. The road hummed beneath the tires, a lulling, steady sound. He watched her drive, the confident set of her shoulders, and knew, with quiet relief, that he’d had his girl back.

Thank @escapedaudios for your birthing of Ashley Walker <3

Give me some tips/tricks to make my edits better (it’s my first time) also shout out to @mid-nightcrow for inspiring me to make this.

Jean- “that’s why ur short”

Bing- okay watch this:

You know what I have the power to draw and escape if you seen this uhh no u didn't