authors note β this shit has been in my drafts since april omds im sooo glad its finally fully written!!!!! starting to think i shouldve made this a jack abbot fic but oh well! grant needs more love anyway
i hope this is ok, i still get nervy when posting smut so any feedback is appreciated!
warnings β drinking (neither of them are drunk), swearing, petnames (a lot of 'baby'), grant eats reader out, unprotected sex, teasing, a bit of size kink??, aftercare
The bar was humming, neon signs scattered on bare-brick walls, a dimly-lit pool table in the corner, people stringing constantly between the bar and their booths. Grant sat alone, the sleeves of his worn brown leather jacket resting on the sticky edge of the bar. He'd arrived just five minutes ago, having closed up North & Vine for the night.
Service was smooth, the kitchen efficient, hindered only briefly by one or two hiccups, and everyone was happy by the time they were filtering out of the doors.
He wished he could feel the same, but something in him was thrumming with an unplacable energy, a certain untouched nerve that throbbed just beneath his flesh. He hadn't felt it in a while.
Staring down at the glass of beer sweating into his thick scarred palm, his meaty fingers slightly freckled and marred by small lingerings of old burns and cuts, a rough sigh escaped him.
Two stools down, you sat, silky hair flowing as you sipped on a straw, checking your phone once again.
"Excuse me," you leaned against the bar slightly as you spoke. Turning, the woman on the other side offered you an easy smile.
"You okay, hon?" her voice carried a smooth lilt as she chirped the words.
Giving a small nod, you hummed, "Do you have a phone charger?"
Grant's eyes lifted, moved to you as if summoned by the melody that was your voice. His periphery caught the bartender offering you a lead and he watched you plug the device in.
And then... he said nothing, God help him. Before he could think himself too pathetic or perverse, the jukebox in the corner skipped and started to play. Some song that he couldn't care to remember the name of as he gazed back down at the beer he clutched just a little tighter now, trying not to look your way again.
A few minutes later, he took a break from chastising himself internally to go for a piss. His first since the morning, having been all too busy at the restaurant ever since he'd first arrived there.
Legs apart, he fished his cock from his pants, head dropping back and a sigh falling from his lips as he let go. It felt good. The release. The relief.
But not enough. For some reason, as he held the thick side of his length in his palm, his thoughts jumped back to you. Your painted nails, that he'd noticed as you reached over the bar and plugged your phone in. Your necklace, the silver pendant on it that he didn't get enough of a look at to remember properly, that sat neatly above the scooping neckline of your top. Your lips, shimmering ever so slightly, plump and beautiful and just terribly kissable.
God, he felt like a lecher.
Still, his only thought as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his jeans was the hope that you weren't waiting on someone.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he descried you at the jukebox, pushing a button. He was already back on his stool by the time the song you'd chosen had started playing, an old thing he wouldn't expect you to listen to.
His leather jacket sat folded on the diving stool between his seat and your own, leaving him wearing only the plain black t-shirt to hug his biceps, freckles falling down the thick mass of forearm.
It was a mountainous effort to say the least, not to glue your eyes to his muscular form as you moved back to the bar.
"Good song," Grant mused, casting a look your way as you dropped onto the stool. When you turned and smiled at him, he thought he was being blessed by whatever higher power was looking down on him, if any. He smiled back, hazel eyes glued to yours.
You nodded softly, eyes dragging down the bulk of his frame, the spread of his legs. "Yeah. You've got.. good taste."
"You, too. I'm a little surprised, honestly-"
"Well, my dad's obsessed with Johnny Cash,"
"Ah," he breathes out a chuckle and tries not to feel like an utter creep as he shifts on his barstool. "He taught you well, then..."
That sounded weird, he thought instantly.
"Sorry," you offered into the slight buzz of silence before it threatened to settle fully. "It's probably not a good idea to mention my dad if I'm trying to flirt with you, is it?"
He could've choked on his drink at that, narrowly avoiding it as he pressed his lips together and gulped down the beer he'd tipped onto his tongue, coughing slightly as he set the half-empty glass on a coaster atop the bar. "Trying t-"
You blinked, "Shit. Um.. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be," he smiled, "I'm flattered... and maybe.." shifting on his stool, he chuckled, lightly scratching at his thick forearm, "well, not maybe, I'm.. really quite rusty, so you'll have to forgive me for that, but I'm.. uh, Grant."
Eyes dropping to the hand he suspended in the air between you, a quiet breath of relief escaped your lips as you slid your palm against his. "Grant... I'm Reader,"
"Pretty," the word fell off his tongue before he had even registered a thought towards it.
Your hands remained joined, his callouses grazing your gentle skin. He loosened his hold first, just slightly, but it was you that drew your hand back, dropping it into your lap as your eyes stayed fixed on his, as if speaking through them.
It took all of three minutes for the two of you to be on your feet, his jacket slung over his forearm, one palm resting at the small of your back.
He walked half a step behind you, slow, hot breaths falling onto your neck as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, Boston's air thick and warm in the evening. He settled the warm underside of his hand onto the fabric of your shirt, sliding it along to your hip and giving a small squeeze.
"My place?" he offered it low, voice rough.
Your lower lip trapped beneath your teeth, you turned your body toward his, hand finding his forearm as you moved into the electric warmth that flowed from him. "Is it close?"
Nodding softly, you shuffled closer to him. Grant raised his free hand, cupping your cheek as he smiled down at you. His fingers were spread, index following your cheekbone, middle tucked under your ear lobe, thumb dragging over your cheek, ever so close to the corner of your lips.
He asked if you'd be comfortable with him driving and when you nodded, led you to his car. His palm sat on your thigh as he drove, your eyes lingering on his bulky frame, how he filled the driver's seat, legs spread, fingers clutching the wheel loosely. Occasionally, he would glance at you, offer a small smile, rub his thumb over your knee.
You held his free hand as he unlocked the door to his condo, laughing softly as he gave a tug to pull you in. Your bodies flush as he kicked the door shut behind you, your breathed crashed against his chest, fingers rolling over his knuckles slowly.
"Can I kiss you?" his voice seemed heavier now in the quietude that lingered in his home. With your nod taken in, he stepped forward, a hand finding your waist to draw your close as he leaned down.
For a moment, he let his face exist just an inch away from yours, noses almost touching, eyes locked, breaths mingling. "Gra-" he cut you off with the press of his lips, the rest of his name dissolving into a moan.
Your hand moved up to the nape of his neck, the silverish curls there subjected to the whims of your fingers, as your lips were subjected to the whims of his. His tongue rolled out smoothly, flicking over your lips, guiding them to part as he walked you backwards with a few slow, thumping steps, until your back collided with the door.
Grunting against your lips, sliding his palm over the smooth curve of your waist, he kissed you like it had been years, like he was hungry for the taste of you.
"Mmm.." you pulled back slowly, and he huffed out a shaky breath.
"Too much?" his frown seemed to be one of genuine concern, rather than mockery or some other cruel thing, as he let you escape him, tilting his head slowly, eyes studying your feature for any note of discomfort.
Shaking your head quickly, your hand dropped out of his hair, the other remaining clasped in his palm. "Couch, maybe..?"
A gasp fell from your lips as he hooked his arm around your waist and pulled you up off your feet. "Fuck.." you breathed through a giggle, legs wrapping around his waist, careful not to dig your sharp heels into his back. "Very.. strong."
Through a low chuckle, the reply dragged its way out of his throat as Grant turned and began strutting over to the couch, one hand flat on your spine as the other held you at the waist. "You think so, baby?"
"Mm.." you smiled, hands finding his shoulders as you leaned up and brushed your lips over his. Grant returned the kiss intently, laying you down slowly on the couch cushions as his palms settled on either side of your waist. Shifting under him, you tipped your head back against a cushion, uttering, "Just... to check, you're not a serial killer, or anything, right?"
That made him laugh, eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. "No... I'm a chef."
"Yeah," it came out in a quiet breath as he dropped down onto the sofa, pulling your legs up into his lap and tilting his head back slightly to watch you over his nose, skimming his hand up to the hem of your skirt. Through a breath, you uttered, "Wait..."
His hands lifted from you immediately, a slight furrow to his brow as he fixed his gaze square on you now. "Are you okay?"
"What?" not even he expected the laugh that spurted from him at that, shaking his head quickly. "Fuck no."
"syphili- wait, no as in no you're not clean, or no you don't have-"
You let out a soft breath, giggling as you moved your feet over his thighs, hands drifting to find a thick wrist, his palm planted on your knee. "Me too. Sorry, I just.. wanted to be sure.."
Chuckling softly, he shrugged, "It's okay, I get it. Can I kiss you again?"
"One condition." One of his brows quirked up slightly at that as you hummed, "I think it's crucial that I sit in your lap."
His free hand slid along to your hip, thumb dragging over the side of your knee, hauling you swiftly up off the couch cushion and planting you on his lap, moving your legs to rest on either side of his thighs. Settling onto him with a smile, you wrapped your arms around his neck slowly. "You're so.. hot," the breath came out against his lips, marginally apart from your own.
"Says you, pretty girl," Grant smiled, eyes lingering on yours before they slowly dragged down to your lips.
Breathing out a giggle, you closed the gap between you, fingers buried in his salt and pepper curls as you hummed onto his tongue. His hands moved, sliding over your waist and hips as if he was too indecisive to settle them on one particular part of you.
They roamed slowly from your lower abdomen, gliding up under the soft silk of your blouse, until he was palming the fat mass of breast through your bra, groaning as he shifted under you, hard cock pushing into your thigh.
"Mmm.. mm, Grant..." you moaned against his mouth, reaching down between your bodies to pull your skirt up. He grunted in return, wrapping a thick arm around your waist and pulling you down onto him, his focus split between the taste of you and the aching rigidity of his cock, fingers tightening on your waist as you rolled your hips.
"Fuck," he gasped, eyes fixed on yours as he drew back. "Sure- sure you.. want this?"
"No," you agreed, smirking slightly as you bent to kiss his cheek. Shifting your hips again, you took one of his large hands in yours, guiding it to the inside of your thigh, watching as his palm followed yours all the way up to the soaked lace of your panties. "Go on," you whispered, finally dropping your hand away, letting it play with the hem of his shirt as he nudged your panties aside and set his eyes on your glistening cunt.
"So.. so pretty..." he groaned softly, shifting under you as he peeled his gaze away only to find your own. "Can I touch?"
Smiling, he pushed his forehead against yours, slowly pulling his thumb up between your slit, dragging it over your tender flesh slowly until your breath hitched as his knuckle nudged your clit. "O- oh.. Grant... please.."
"Shh.. shh-shhh, you're okay, baby."
"Mm... please, please," you whimpered, a hand dropping to wrap around his thick wrist. "J- fuuuck.." your mouth fell open as he shifted his hand and pinched your clit now between his thumb and forefinger.
Breathing a laugh against your cheek, Grant rumbled out, "Language."
That had him chuckling heartily, smoothing his rough thumb over your swollen, soaked bud. "Got a real dirty little mouth, huh?"
"Mmm.. mm, Grant.. b- bein' mean..."
"Alright," he huffed, drawing his hand away, up to his mouth. He slipped his wet thumb between his lips and smirked up at you as he sucked your juices from the digit. "Tell me what you want, baby."
Grant had hardly gotten the words out before you were pushing forward, pressing your lips against his. His easy smile returned as he took in the taste of you, lips parting to let you lead the kiss however you liked, tonguing your way eagerly into his mouth, hips moving again, rolling back and forth, back and forth.
"Shit.. gonna make me lose it already," he groaned against you, giving a quick tug to your hair to pull you away without hurting you.
"You hypocrite," you whined as he clamped his palms on your hips and held you steady.
"Mhm. You can swear but I can't? Not.. not fair..."
"You'll live," he smirked. "Now be a good girl and tell me what you want; I might just give it to you."
"Oh.. yeah? Think you can?"
Undeterred, you did your very best to prove you could, even when faced with the monster of a cock between his legs. Shaking hands grasping either side of his beautiful, thick throat, you sunk down onto him, mouth hanging open as the tip breached your tight hole. Leaning back, Grant smirked as he watched your face contort and twist, your cunt fluttering and gushing around him as you eased all the way down onto him.
Bending forward slightly, you squeezed your eyes shut and dropped your head onto his shoulder.
"Fuck.. Grant, I- I can't.. it's- s'too much.."
"Ohh, poor baby. But you wanted to ride me. Huh? What happened to that?"
"You ain't even tried yet. Go on, baby, just try for me."
Shuddering, you nodded slowly and wriggled atop him, lifting your hips up and dropping them down again with a whine. "Too- too big..."
Even with your complaints, Grant was more than happy to sit back and watch as you struggled, shaking legs bent around his, your hands roaming his shoulders and arms, anywhere to find better purchase, your cheek on his shoulder as you finally slumped in defeat. Chuckling, he drew his arm around you and rumbled out, "Want me to fuck you, baby?"
Nodding slowly, he kissed your temple and shifted the two of you, pushing you down into the couch and hovering above you, pulling his hips back before easing them through your tight channel. "Ohh, Jesus, you a virgin?"
"N- no," you mewled, tilting your head back and looking up at the ceiling, cheeks burning.
"Mm, just never had good dick, then?" the laugh that accompanied it was rough, low, and had you slickening and squeezing around him. Instinctively, Grant's hips responded with a quick thrust as he cursed into the crook of your neck, mouthing at the flesh there. "Does it hurt, baby?"
"Aww, I'm sorry, sugar. Want me to stop?"
"Alright," he laughed, stroking his palm through your hair as he watched you tremble and shiver. "Just.. try ease up, yeah?"
"Mmph... kay," he grunted, lifting his head up and pressing his lips agaisnt yours once more, licking at your lips but drawing back when they parted. Then, he pulled out, and a breath left you, falling like lead in the air.
You could scarcely think by now, your brain scrambled and not entirely your own, so you just lay back and watched as he pushed his shoulders between your legs, wrapped them around the back of his neck and got to work devouring your cunt like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten, groaning against your folds, kissing your thighs in between laps of his tongue, humping the couch beneath him as your eyes rolled back and your toes curled.
"Grant, Grant, gonna- shit, I'm gonna-"
"Do it, baby. Go on, you can do it."
Sucking eagerly at your release, Grant thought he might have ascended to heaven; a beautiful woman whining under him, her succulent scent smeared all over him, caught in the slight stubble of his chin, how couldn't he?
Forcing himself away, he lined his cock up again with your pussy, smiled upon finding a little less resistance this time. Once he'd gotten in, he didn't hesitate, couldn't bring himself to, offering a swift, deep thrust, watching how your eyes glossed over and filled with glistening tears. One hand holding your hips down to prevent your wriggling, the other pushing lightly against the bulge in your lower stomach, he smirked, and kept pounding.
Three thrusts had your tears rolling down your cheeks, seven had you crying out his name so loud that he was a little worried the neighbours would complain, and twelve had you completely blissed out as you came for the second time.
Your cunt quivered around him, soaking the girthy cock that still invaded and showed no remorse for continuing to slam against your cervix.
"Aghh, pussy's fucking- nngh, squeezing me so tight, baby.. still so tight..." he was groaning, but the words were lost on you, in another dimension entirely. You were gripping his forearms, nails digging in, scraping at the flesh, whimpers tumbling from your lips as he delivered a series of quick, short thrusts, his hips spasming as his spend shot into you.
When he pulled out, all you could do was mewl out an attempt at protesting, though the words failed to form and you just gazed up at him, eyes wide and ever so tender.
"You're on the pill, right?" Grant blinked down at you, hands now on the armrest behind your head as his chest heaved with thick breaths, your quick nod of reply making him smile. "Good girl. Know I should've asked before, I'm sorry.."
Lips curling up, you found his eyes again and nodded quickly. "S- so.. good.."
"Glad you think so," he smirked, moving back onto his knees after delivering a gentle kiss onto your cheek. "C'mon, sugar, you want a shower?"
The water was perfect, not too hot, not too warm. Grant's thick chest against your back would have made a perfect pillow, and you almost drifted off what must have been some fifty times before the two of you left the bath. He'd smothered your body with his heavy hands, gently swiping them over your flesh to clean you, to feel you. He'd kissed being your ear, pulled your hair back into a loose bun, said the soft things you always thought only could be found between the pages of a romance novel.
Once the two of you stepped out, he left you in his bedroom in his bathrobe as he scurried about the kitchen and made up a bowl of fresh fruit. Returning to find you sat hesitantly on the corner of his bed, still bundled in that soft robe, he smiled and moved slowly towards you, kneeling down and planting the bowl in your lap.
"You don't have to stay, sweetheart, but I'd very much like you to."
"Mm.. yes please," you uttered, voice a little hoarse as you looked down at the fruit, plucking out a chunk of pineapple, biting into it. The juice dripped down your lips, slid over your chin, and Grant watched it, cutting it off with his thumb before it could threaten the line of your throat.
He picked a blueberry from the bowl, popped it between his lips and stood slowly, towering over you again, his palm catching your cheek. "Let me get you some clothes," he murmured, stepping back and opening a drawer. "Boxers okay?" he called behind him, glanced over his shoulder to see you smiling, a strawberry between your lips. He chuckled softly, nodded. After a little more rummaging, he found the old t-shirt that had been his uniform at a pastry boutique.
He pulled the bowl from your lap and guided you to your feet, holding you steady as he peeled away the bath robe and helped you into the t-shirt, then his boxers. "Comfy?" he smiled, and your little nod assured him enough to ease you back onto the back, tucking you in and placing the bowl on the bedside next to you.
He climbed in on the other side and drew you close with his left arm, breathing in as he pushed his face into your scalp, smiling lazily.
For a while, the two of you lay there. He fed you pieces of the fruit, told you about the old pastry shop he'd worked in as a teenager, how he'd spent hours and hours on every order that came his way, wanting them to be as perfect as possible.
"They were all awful, anyway, but.. never got any complaints, so.."
When you gave no reply, not even a little hum, he frowned and bent his neck, a breath of a laugh leaving him when he saw your open mouth and your closed eyes, half of your face smushed into his bare chest. "Goodnight, sugar."
