knight time

his blue eyes are wide and watery and he stares up at you like he wants to give you the world. his hands are tight on your hips as you buck, another high-pitched whine falling from between your parted lips as you fall forward, bracketing his head with your arms. your tits swing low above his face as you arch down, dragging your clit against his chest until you’re breathless.

“dunk,” you call to him again, rutting your hips against the curve of his pectoral muscles. it’s soft but firm, splitting the folds of your pussy apart, slick drooling from you as you slide. you’re warm, and dunk groans low in his throat at the sensation of your ichor dripping from you, down the slant of his chest. you pant as you grind yourself down onto him. “feels so good, dunk.”

dunk blinks up at you, his cock twitching against his thigh, tip wet as you rock yourself against him. he kneads the fat at your hip between calloused fingers, and it takes the power of the gods for him not to force you down against him himself.

“you’re so warm,” is all dunk can think to say, eyes darting from your face to your pussy. you slide perfectly against his chest, slick glistening through the tawny hairs that grow from his pale skin. he groans deeply when you grind yourself even deeper, clit pushing along muscle. “an’ she’s so wet… so wet, sweetheart.”

you mewl, a desperate keen as you shift your hips. the sound of your cunt, slick and warm against his chest, is nearly louder than the running river nearby. that makes dunk’s ears burn bright red, a blush high on his cheeks as he takes one hand from your hip and cups one of your tits. you hum, pleased, as he palms the flesh while you ride him.

“needed this so bad,” you tell him, panting as heat winds down your spine, seeping in between your vertebrae. it leaks into your belly when you angle yourself deeper against him. “needed you so bad, dunk.”

his cock is hard now, hanging thick between the mass of his thighs. your words make him groan, cock jerking untouched behind you, as he continues to massage the mounds of your tits with one hand, the other on your hip.

“love your chest,” you continue, lips parted as your thighs begin to ache, a warm pressure pushing at the front of your pelvis. “love how strong you are. love your arms, an’ your legs, and your tummy…”

you sit up a little and dunk drops his hand from your breasts. still grinding yourself against the curve of his pectoral, you angle an arm back to palm at the soft muscle at his navel. dunk chokes on a groan at the fleeting touch, before you’re leaning back over him again and rubbing your puffy clit against the swell of his muscle. you’re practically gliding now, slick wet across his skin and hair.

“love your cock too,” you add as you chase your high. it lingers in front of you as the pressure builds, your legs trembling as your rocking increases. “y’so big, dunk. so big but always so—fuck, s—ah—so g-gentle.”

dunk moans, the hand that had been at your chest wrapping behind you now. he takes his cock, velvet skin burning hot, between his fingers and holds himself firm. he hisses, other hand forcing you tighter against his chest. you let out a breathy, whiny sound as your clit catches something just right, angles against him so perfectly, that you forget about the ache building in your thighs.

“wanna come on you,” you whine, lifting yourself so you can place your hands on the thickly corded muscle of his shoulders as you rut yourself along his chest. the pressure in your pelvis, the heat in the base of your spine, is nearly unbearable and you call for him as you start to tremble. “dunk, wanna come.”

dunk nods, whining with his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watches, eyes shining, as you begin to come apart above him. he manages out a quiet, “please, sweetheart, please,” as you grind a last few circles against him, before the pressure snaps and the heat overwhelms you.

you cry out, arms shaking as you hold yourself up, hips stuttering as your orgasm crests in your nerves. dunk’s hand guides you through it, dragging you along the muscle, his chest heaving as he listens to you come undone above him. he moans, cock jerking in his hand, balls drawing tight as he spills across his knuckles while your rocking slows.

your pussy, slick and warm, buzzes with the friction as you lift your hips. strings of slick connect your folds with the curve of his muscles, and he watches with glossy eyes and pink cheeks as the strings snap. he groans, throaty and broken around a whimper of your name, as his cock gives one last wet twitch before he lets it soften back against his thigh.

“so good, dunk,” you murmur, lifting yourself until you were straddling his head, thighs bracketing all plush and warm. dunk sucks in a deep breath, groaning as you lower your wet cunt to his face. “but… s’just so messy.”

“i’ll help you,” he whispers, and you almost don’t hear him as you lower yourself to his mouth, the line of his nose finding the swollen bead of your clit, his tongue splitting your folds as one of your hands shoots down to thread through his hair. he groans when you tug.

the sun beat down on the scrap yard, turning the air hazy and thick with the smell of hot metal and gasoline. you were laid out on the worn bed of daeron's pickup truck, a faded beach towel the only barrier between your bare skin and the sun-baked metal. the heat was a physical weight, pressing down on you, making your skin slick with sweat.

underneath you, daeron was a symphony of clanking tools and muttered curses. he was trying to fix the goddamn transmission again, his lower half disappearing into the greasy guts of the truck. all you could see were his worn-out jeans and the worn-out soles of his boots. you could hear him, though. the grunt of exertion as he wrestled with a rusted bolt, the long swallow of beer you knew he was taking, the way he'd occasionally smack the underside of the truck with a wrench in frustration.

"fuckin' piece of shit," he grumbled from below. there was another loud clang followed by a hissed, "motherfucker."

you heard another crack of metal before daeron slid himself out from beneath the truck, grease smeared across his cheek and sweat dampening the collar of his white shirt.

"you got any more beer up there?"

you reached blindly into the cooler beside you. "depends."

"depends on what?"

"how nice you ask."

he stared at you flatly for a second. "give me the fuckin' beer please."

you pretended to think about it before tossing one toward him and daeron caught it one-handed. he quickly popped the cap open and took a long drink before sniffing and nodding his head toward you. “y’wanna help me down here for a second?”

you sighed, shifting on the towel. "it's too hot, daeron."

he squinted at you, a familiar, soft look in his eyes. he was always looking at you like that, like a stray dog that'd just been invited inside for the first time.

"want me to get you somethin' to cool down, honey?" he asked, his voice a low, rough drawl. "there's a gas station right across the street."

"sure okay," you said, closing your eyes. "something cold please…"

you heard him wipe his hands on his jeans, the heavy thud of his shoes hitting the gravel, and then the sound of his footsteps crunching away. a moment of blissful silence settled over the scrap yard, broken only by the buzz of flies and the distant rumble of traffic on the highway. it was almost peaceful.

he was back a few minutes later, the crunch of his boots announcing his return. you opened your eyes to see him standing over you, holding out a drippy, rapidly melting soft-serve ice cream cone. it was a sad-looking thing, already drooping over the side of the cone.

"here you go," he said, "vanilla. they didn’ have anythin’ else."

you sat up, taking the cone from him. the ice cream was already starting to run down your fingers, sticky and sweet. you looked at his expectant face, at the grease smudge on his cheek, at the way his t-shirt clung to his chest. he was trying so hard.

"thanks," you said, and then, a few drops melted right from your lips to your exposed chest. a shiver went through you as the cold hit your hot skin, a trail of sticky white cream tracing a path between your breasts.

daeron stared, his gaze fixed on the melting ice cream on your tits.

"can i have some?" he asked, his voice thick.

you held the cone out to him. "here."

he didn't take it. instead, he leaned down, his breath hot on your skin, and then his tongue was on you. he licked the melting ice cream off your chest, his tongue rough and wet against your skin. he made obscene, sloppy sounds, like he was a starving man and you were his last meal. it was gross. it was pathetic. it was so incredibly daeron.

"ewww!" you shrieked, pushing him away. "that's disgusting!"

he just laughed, a low, rumbling sound, his eyes still glued to your chest, a smear of white on his lips. "it's good ice cream."

you wiped at the sticky trail on your chest with the back of your hand, but it only smeared the melted vanilla around, making you feel even dirtier. "you're a animal," you said, but there was no real heat in it. it was just a statement of fact, like saying the sky was blue or his truck was a piece of shit.

daeron just grinned, that same dopey, hopeful grin. he wiped his mouth with the back of his own greasy hand. "y’always say you love animals," he said grinning.

before you could form a comeback, he straightened up and turned his attention back to his project. "alright, let's see if this bitch'll turn over now."

he disappeared back under the truck, and the symphony of clanging and grunting began again as you finished up your ice cream. you sighed, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the truck bed, your bare feet dangling just above the gravel.

"is it fixed yet?" you called down to him.

"almost!" came the muffled reply.

there was a final, deafening clang, followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. then, silence. you held your breath, waiting. a moment later, you heard the click of him getting into the driver's seat.

he turned the key.

the engine sputtered, coughed, and then, with a roar that shook the entire truck, it roared to life.

daeron's head appeared over the side of the truck bed, his face split in a wide, triumphant grin. he was sweating and covered in grease, but his eyes were shining. "told you i could fix it," he said.

he slammed the driver's side door shut and strode around to the back of the truck, his boots crunching on the gravel with a new confidence. before you could even slide off the tailgate, his hands were on you, one wrapping around your waist and the other hooking behind your knees. he lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs automatically wrapping around his grease-stained waist. the worn denim of his jeans was rough against the backs of your thighs.

"ready to go home?" he asked, his voice low and rumbling against your chest.

"mmhmm," you hummed, your arms draping over his shoulders. the victory radiating off him was intoxicating, a potent mix of sweat, gasoline, and pure, unadulterated pride.

he carried you the few steps to the back door, yanking it open. he maneuvered you inside, laying you down on the cracked vinyl seat.

the heat, the frustration, the sight of him so proud and capable- it all coalesced into a sudden, sharp ache low in your belly. you grabbed the front of his t-shirt, pulling him back down to you.

"its so hot daeron…" you muttered, and crashed your mouth against his.

he met your kiss with a desperate hunger, his lips tasting of cheap beer and lingering vanilla. it was a sloppy, messy kiss, all teeth and tongue, exactly the kind you needed. his hands were everywhere, one tangling in your hair, the other sliding down your side to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him.

he broke the kiss, panting, his eyes dark. he didn't ask, he just took, dipping his head down to mouth at your chest through the thin fabric of your tank top. he found your nipple, biting down gently through the material before pulling it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the peak until it was a hard, sensitive nub.

"daeron," you breathed, arching into him.

he growled in response, his hand sliding up under your tank top to palm your other breast, his calloused thumb rubbing rough circles over your nipple. he gave your ass a sharp smack, the sound loud in the close confines of the cab. you gasped, bucking your hips against the hard ridge in his jeans.

"fuck, you're so pretty," he grunted, lifting his head to look at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. he yanked your bikini top up, exposing your breasts to the warm air. he stared for a moment, his gaze hungry, before diving back down, his mouth closing over one peaked nipple while his hand continued its rough assault on the other. he sucked hard, his tongue flicking and teasing, his other hand fumbling with the button of your shorts.

you helped him, shoving your bikini bottoms down your hips. he wasted no time, his fingers finding you instantly, sliding through your slick folds. you were so wet, so ready for him, and he groaned against your breast when he felt it.

you sat up enough to switch positions with him. straddling him, your knees sinking into the cracked seat on either side of his hips. "all that grunting and groaning like a fucking pig? you can do better than that, can't you, daeron?"

his eyes widened, a flicker of his uncertainty returning. "i…i don't know…"

"oh, you know," you cut him off, grinding your hips down against him. "you think about it, don't you? when you're all alone, jacking off in the shower. you think about me? tell me what you think?"

his breath hitched, his hands coming up to grip your hips. "i think about… fuck," he breathed, his eyes rolling back as you rolled your hips again. "i think about how tight you are. how you squeeze my cock when you come."

"yeah?" you purred, leaning down to bite his lower lip.

"i wanna taste you everywhere. wanna put my mouth on you 'til you're screaming my name. wanna lick this fuckin' mess i made out of you."

you smiled sweetly, you shifted up his body, positioning your knees on either side of his head, looking down at his flushed, eager face. "yhen do it," you commanded. "you got me all wet, clean up your mess."

he didn't hesitate. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you down onto his waiting mouth. his tongue was hot and demanding, lapping at you with a desperate hunger. he ate you like he was starving, like your taste was the only thing that could save him. he was sloppy and loud and utterly shameless, his moans vibrating against your most sensitive skin.

his movements becoming more frantic. "tastes so fuckin' good. best thing i ever tasted." he slurred against you.

you rode his face, using him, chasing your own release. he was a mess beneath you, his face slick, his hair damp with sweat, but he was exactly what you needed in that moment.

you gasped, your orgasm building fast and hard. he redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking against your clit with a precision that surprised you. and then you were coming, your body shaking, a cry tearing from your throat as you ground down against his mouth.

you stayed there for a moment, catching your breath, before sliding back down his body. his cock was rock hard, straining against his jeans. you unzipped him as quickly as you could and helped him pull his leaking throbbing length out and before he could say a word you sank down onto him, taking him in to the hilt in one smooth motion.

he hissed, his hands flying to your waist. "fuck, honey, you're gonna kill me."

"you're gonna fuck me," you corrected him, leaning forward to brace your hands on his chest. "and you're gonna tell me every dirty thing you've ever thought about doing to me while you do it."

he didn't need any more encouragement. he started to move, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. "wanna fuck you in my bed," he panted, his eyes locked on yours. "wanna wake up with you. wanna bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you from behind while you're makin' coffee."

"keep talking daeron," you demanded, riding him hard.

"wanna tie you up," he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper, harder. "wanna spank your ass 'til it's red. wanna come all over your tits and then lick it off."

"you're such a pervert" you moaned, your head falling back.

"only for you," he choked out. "a nasty fuckin' whore for you, honey. gonna fill you up now. you want that? you want my fuckin' cum?"

"yes!" you cried, your second orgasm already building.

he leaned up, his mouth finding yours again in another sloppy, desperate kiss. his hand slid down your body, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, messy circles that sent you flying over the edge. you cried out against his mouth, your body convulsing around him as your orgasm washed over you.

"please, please give me your cum. fill me up…”

he came with a guttural shout, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside you.

you collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting and spent. the cab of the truck was thick with the smell of sex and sweat, the windows completely fogged over. after a moment, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

"youre right its really fuckin’ hot in here" he murmured into your hair.

dunk is perplexed

you love the way the sweat rolls down the back of his neck, his golden hair turning a darker brown as it sticks together from the wetness and lays flat on his head. in the front, sometimes it drips from his brow and he has to push the hair out of his eyes to stop his sight from blurring. he looks so cute like that. hair messy and soaked from the sun.

in the heat—where he has been woking for hours, it gets so balmy that the stains of his shirt turn 2 or 3 shades darker and it no longer makes sense to wear the garment at all. so he peels it off his skin. you hold back a gasp and watch him shake his hair, askew from the disruption of the ruined cloth. he sighs with relief at the contact of fresh air and uses the fabric to pat away some of the sweat. behind his neck, under his arms, his back, then riiiiiiiight below his belly button, on the curly patch of hair that trails low into where his pants hide the rest. his v line framing the patch ever so slightly from what you can see. he knows its indecent, to expose himself like this, but he also knows you love to stare. how can you not? the sweat he doesn’t manage to wipe away, falls down his body like sap pouring from a tree. its a slow crawl down his incredibly tall frame. its takes your breath away that the act of sweating could make someone look like one of the gods.

at night, when its cold and the campfire settles down to shy embers that can no longer provide enough heat to keep you warm. you find you way to him. like a moth, you seek out his fire. even in the dead of winter he is like a furnace. duncan is happy to help of course, but what he hates is the never ending slick that pours out of him. hes always hot and sweaty yes, but when hes nervous its worse. and you make him more nervous than anything.

it starts in different ways, when you snuggle up to him in the night. but it always ends the same. once you are bold enough to roll over and face him you almost always find yourself close to the pit of his arm, your head supported by his bicep or his shoulder. either way its entirely too close to the source of the impending stink and duncan never fails to apologize for it. you shake him off, ensure that you dont smell a thing and thank him once more for keeping you warm. until finally you are both relaxed and reassured enough that you can both sleep comfortably.

what duncan doesn’t know, is that you welcome the stench.

you remember the first time you caught a whiff of him, sweaty and slightly pink in the cheeks from a days hard work. the smell of him practically floated into your nostrils. he smelled of body odor yes, but also of salt, and dirt, and pine, and herbs and it was incredibly dizzying and lit something so primal in you that it would not be snuffed out anytime soon.

when he was close you did all that you could to relish in the smell of him as discreetly as possible. touching him ever so slightly, so you could smell your hand when his back was turned. offering to wash his clothes so you could tuck one particularly flithy garment away for your own pleasure. dunk saw his stink as a flaw, but was painfully oblivious to the fact that you would sneak off into the woods with your chosen garment and use it to bring yourself to climax. sometimes you held the sweaty cloth to your face and rubbed one out to smell alone, but other times—when you found yourself particularly desperate for your hedge knight, the fabric found itself between your legs and you used that delicious friction over and over until you were seeing stars. those garments always came back particularly clean, and sometimes duncan swore he could smell himself on you, but he chucked that up to his own imagination.

until one particularly sweaty morning, where you are in duncans tight grasp and he knows his sweat has made its way to your skin, he can feel it. the wetness between you both and he is incredibly embarrassed but also extremely aroused. your own sweat from the cold night gone warm morning has mixed with his and he cant help but nuzzle into your neck at the proximity of the aroma. he allows himself to indulge in your scent far too long and it makes him so hard. you can feel it against you as he takes in another whiff, you dont think he realizes but dunk is petting you softly and rubbing himself ever so slightly on the plush meat of your thigh. its all involuntary and fueled by his own primal need for you.

finally. you think, and crane your neck to make room for his nose that presses into your pulse. the rest is unspoken but built up by time. one of your hands finds his and you let him grasp you harder, he whines in thanks and suddenly kisses where hes been inhaling to intently. when courage steps in his large hands undress you with skill, likes hes done it 1000 times before and unbeknownst to you hes probably done it even more in his dreams. then finally its his turn, and your breathless again stunned by his naked size and his sweat, both about to engulf you completely.

when it all settles to, and his tip finds his way to your folds he apologizes again for the sweltering that never seems to stop. you pull him close and kiss him deep.

“dont be.” you say between kisses “i love it.”

after that duncan never apologizes for the sweat again.

🪾