•°Riley !

Peter didn’t want his best pal thinking he’s a total horndog or anything. Contrary to popular belief, he was capable of restraint. Sometimes. But this raging hard-on couldn’t wait. 

And he promised he’d keep you warm, didn’t he? Like you said over the phone…it was cold out today. For all Peter knew, you were freezing your nips off. Alone in bed without a buddy. What kinda selfless superhero would he be - if he didn’t come to your aid when you obviously needed him most?

On the other end of the phone line, emptiness droned for seconds too long. You didn’t get a moment to marvel in the afterglow of orgasmic delight. Instead, anxiety boiled fiercely in the pit of your belly. Between your quivering legs, your own heat left you aching for something more. You sat up quickly in bed. Under the familiar weight of Peter’s jacket, your body burned like hellfire.

Carding your fingers through your bedhead, catching soft hairs under your nails; you spoke into the receiver.

“Peter?” Your voice wavered. More seconds passed in buzzing silence. You waited a moment longer. But only empty static answered your pleas, “Listen, dude, I’m really sorry if I made things awkwa-”

Dammit all. Peter meant to show up a lot sooner.

But he needed to dress himself first, of course. Since he couldn’t exactly go for a quick run across the sea in his boxers. Peter then found the Sokovian pop-up shop that sold your favorite Turkish delights - unfortunately - moved somewhere else. Bummer. Just his luck. Searching for the shop added an extra half-second to Peter’s spontaneous trip.

Which wouldn’t be all that bad. If not for the embarrassing fact that he tripped on his way back.

Into the ocean.

Yeah. By some impossible feat - a record breaking level of stupidity, Peter wiped out. He fell below water and made friends with a colossal tuna fish in the process. Somehow, he spared the Turkish delights any damage. And bidding his newfound, fishy pal farewell, Peter rushed home. Reeking of the ocean, he showered and threw on some fresh clothes.

After a century and a half, he arrived at your window. Realistically, the trip took only twenty seconds tops. And sure - maybe speeding around the globe in only twenty ticks might seem fast to…well…literally anyone else. But to Peter? Quicksilver himself?

C'mon…that's slow on a slow day.

A strong whoosh of wind swept your window, followed by a loud rattle. As if a ginormous bird flew head first into the glass. You parted your lips to scream. But if this were a race - your shriek vs Quicksilver speed - Peter had you beat by a thousand microseconds.

Time moved at a crawl all around him. Slipping in through the window, he stopped at the foot of your bed with a small box tucked under his arm. Whistling along to the tune in his earphones, he tilted his head to the side. Peter's lethargic gaze took a venturous journey across the length of your body. Up and down. Shamelessly. Several times over.

Okay, maybe about thirty four times. But who's counting?

Whoa, baby. Talk about a sight to behold. Curvaceous. So smooth. Nestled in your birthday suit post orgasm. Never before seen by the likes of a certain, silver comrade.

Peter's whistling veered off into stunned silence.

You. Buck naked. In his jacket. After a naughty jam session over the phone. He might need to go a few rounds in the madhouse.

Your pretty legs were stretched out, as you laid all cozy-like in bed. His heavy jacket draped your frame. Swallowing you in its heat, the silver garment kept your tits hidden from view. Even now, those beauties remained a mystery. The suspense made his crotch feel hot. Dragging his eyes down your tummy, Peter stopped at the dip between your legs.

Au naturel.

Sometime during his ocean getaway; he lost the boner that led him to you in the first place. But now, naturally, his dick twitched to hardness. Peter's coffee bean eyes widened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Jeez…c'mon, guy! Just cool your jets. Take it easy.

He drew in a slow breath. Peter climbed over top of you as time finally caught up with him. With a knee resting between your legs, he loomed from above and clamped a hand over your mouth. Your scream ate his dust in a race against time, muffled under his palm.

His sudden appearance brought along a cool breeze. Chilly air welcomed its bite into your room. With only his jacket to keep you warm, you shivered. Aha! Just as he thought. You were freezing your nips off. Good thing Peter had the foresight to come by and help you out. Lest you freeze to death.

And wouldn't that put a damper on this unexpectedly great day? Your safety was of uber importance. Most definitely the primo reason for his visit. Even if the stiff tent in his jeans told a different story.

Peter's familiar eyes glistened, pupils blown with lustful anticipation. Silver strands of his hair fell over his brows. He kept his hand sealed over your mouth. Bringing his other hand up, he made a frantic shushing gesture. You furrowed your brows, yelping a muffled - Peebur??

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Shhhhh! It's cool, babe! It's…look, it's just me.” He whispered.

Pulling his hand from your mouth, Peter sat upright over your legs. His denim-clad knee nudged the drapery of your sex. Its heat was impossible to miss. But he forced himself to focus on your cute face instead.

“S'up. Uh, how's it goin’? Wow. Phew. Some wicked hot phone call that was, amiright?” Peter sheepishly chuckled.

“You little-” You playfully swatted him, smacking Peter on the arm.

Feelin’ feisty today, are we? The shock of his BNE must've unlocked some hidden strength inside you. After a few weak blows, one of your hits landed with accidental force. Peter winced, rubbing his arm as he hissed through his teeth.

“Ow!? Jeez! Touchy touchy!” He complained, holding his whisper, “Расслабься (relax)! Take it easy, babe!”

“Sorry! I'm sorry! But you scared the shit out of me! I almost peed myself!”

You leered your pretty eyes up at him. He cheesed a grin, leaning over you on all fours. Peter teased your pussy with his knee, barely inching forward. Your lingering arousal stained the denim there. A husky laugh bubbled low in his throat.

“Ohhhhh…is that why you're so wet?”

You squealed and smacked him on the arm again. Okay. He deserved that one, for sure. Peter almost felt bad for making you shit bricks. Still, he couldn't help but laugh. The scrunchy look of frustration on your face made him snort. He covered his mouth to conceal it, but his dimples ultimately gave him away.

“Don't laugh at me! I thought some creep broke in or something!” You huffed.

“I'm sorry! I just can't take you seriously when you're lookin’ pissed off like that. It's…it's cute, okay?"

“You're such a jackass.”

Peter hummed, lips pursed and contemplative.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

He shrugged, pulling a pink box from behind his back. A silver string decorated the box, tied in a sloppy bow. Grinning, Peter let his eyes fall half lidded. He slowly blinked. Even with his libido cranked up to eleven, he appeared unfazed as ever. Characteristically aloof.

“But this jackass brought you Turkish delights…so…”

For a fraction of a second, an electrifying flash sparkled in your gaze.

You rolled your eyes promptly after, “You’re sweet. But my family’s home.” You warned. Peter frowned, tipping his head back with an indignant groan, “Peter, I’m serious! We really can’t-”

He tore open the box, pushing a powdery candy past your lips. The sweet treat melted over your tongue and coated your taste buds in its fragrance. A joyous smile reclaimed your lips. Totally worth Peter’s accidental, oceanic wipe out. He chuckled again, popping a candy into his mouth before tossing the box away somewhere.

“Fiiiinnnnnne. I guess you found my only weakness. That’s heavenly.” Your voice stayed hushed as you spoke. Peter’s eyes flicked down to your lips, drawn to the pinch of powdered sugar left there, “But I’m not kidding, dude. If anyone catches you like this-”

Burdened with speedster impatience, Peter cut you off again. This time, not with a heavenly treat - but with an unexpected kiss. It happened on impulse, so careless and without a lick of hesitation. You squeaked into his lips, your eyes widening and quickly fluttering shut. Peter’s lips curved against yours in a victory smirk, the moment he realized you gave in.

The natural chemistry between you both flickered, igniting like a hot spark. That is, if the spark were an awkward display of experimental nuzzling. Magnetized to your soft lips, he almost fought the urge to part. His nose brushed your skin as he went for your neck. Peter covered your flesh in mouthy smooches. And when he got a little too greedy, he nibbled instead.

“Mmmmm…d’ywanna…y’know…” Peter rolled his hips into yours, nudging you with his bulge. Raising his head from your neck with a sloppy sound, his silver brows darted up and down - up and down. Playfully allusive. The tips of his fingers drew light lines down your belly, “‘Cuz I was really into the way you were talkin’ back there. All that freaky stuff you said about my fingers. And my speed. And my, uh…”

What a supreme understatement. Apparently, you were capable of spouting some outrageously juicy stuff. Even Peter didn't have the nutsack to repeat those words out loud.

“Peter…”

“Please? C'mon, I can be sooo quick about it, babe. You know me! Speed's the name of the game.”

Whatever happened to that frisky courage you had before? You weren't getting cold feet on him already, were you?

Your tiny hands rested on his broad shoulders, fingers curling into his grey flannel. Shifting your gaze bashfully, you chewed your lip. In reality, you didn't expect Peter to show up like this unprompted. Especially not with your family at home. There was a strong chance they'd catch you two in the act any moment. And the prospect of that freaked you out way more than banging your bestie.

Best case scenario; he would've been patient enough to wait for you. You'd drive to his place and meet him in his (mom's) basement. Where he'd quickly fuck your brains out to the tune of whatever song he left playing. You'd play some Mario Kart afterwards. And thanks to his ravenous libido, he'd drill you dumb again. And later, maybe even a third time.

Of course, the fact that you expected Peter Maximoff to be patient at all was entirely your fault. Right after you got him horny on the promise of pussy? Nah. Hindsight's twenty/twenty when your best friend's a hot-blooded speedster.

Since you took too long to give him an answer, Peter’s attention fixed elsewhere. He let his eyes dance all across your body again. Scanning every inch of smooth, visible skin and following silver creases in the jacket you wore. Until something lying by your side caught his eye. A small, bundled up wad of baby pink cloth.

Oh, helllllooooooooo. What’s this?

You were struck with a beat of realization, but had no time to react. Peter plucked your panties into his grasp. And judging by the mortified look on your face, followed by a petrified peep - yeah, he totally scored. Big time. What a steal! Your damp panties dangled from his fingers, and Peter’s brows rose under his bangs.

“Dude, wait! I can explain-”

“Ah. Black lace, huh?” He smirked.

Ты маленькая грязная лгунья (You dirty little liar)! Your panties looked nothing like you described over the phone. Baby pink. Lined with girly frills. Peppered in a pattern of cutesy, rubber duckies. Kind of adorable, in truth. But majorly humiliating for you. Peter’s grin turned even more impish, highlighting his dimples yet again. He snickered, waving the evidence of your naughty deception in front of you. Teasingly, he nudged his knee closer into your sex, making your breath hitch.

“L-Listen, in my defense, I didn’t think you’d find rubber duckies all that sexy.” You clarified, like a total lame-O.

Without thinking, he brought your panties to his nose. Peter’s hooded eyes fluttered and rolled back. He hummed something like a low growl. All devilish and, as per usual, carrying zero shame.

The apples of your cheeks burned exceptionally hotter, “Seriously?” You mumbled through a barely audible exhale of breath.

Nope. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

“And to think, I was totally honest with you about my Star Wars socks.” Peter clicked his tongue, shaking his head, “Were you pullin’ my leg when you said they were hot? You deceiver. You’re really breakin’ my heart, y’know?”

Adorable, the way you crossed your arms and puffed your cheeks. You blinked, and your panties vanished out of thin air. Almost like a magic trick. And if you thought Peter tossed them away, you were naive for assuming so. But, hey…would you mind at all? If you knew he stuffed them into his back pocket for safe keeping?

No? Cool. Finders keepers.

“Noooo! I wasn’t lying. They were totally hot. Actually…I couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you’d look in them.” You teased, obviously full of shit. Peter rolled his eyes. But as you giggled and tilted your head down; you flitted your lashes and gave him a babydoll look. With the addition of a tempting lip bite, no less, “Wanna take those pants off and show me? You said you’d be quick, right?”

There it was. Your freaky confidence made a brief, cameo appearance. Peter's blood took a downward jump at light speed. His dick pulsed eagerly in his boxers. Flirty passes coming from you seemed to rewire his brain chemistry in a big way. He knitted his lips to the side, scratching the back of his neck.

“Can’t.”

“Awww…why not, huh? Are you embarrassed? You know you don't have to be. Not around me.” You cooed, and the sweet, caring nature of your voice made him blush.

“Nah. I know. It’s not that. It's just…they kinda got soaked?”

“They got…what? How does that even happen?”

Cradling his face in your palm, you urged him to meet your eyes. To tell you the ridiculous story he hadn't planned on telling you until, well…after you both boned. The sweet scent of your pussy on your fingers kept him distracted. An instinctive shudder raced through his body. Peter pressed a kiss to your palm once, twice, thrice. Just for good measure. 

His cheeks pinkened further, “Eh, I might've wiped out on the way here. Took a quick swim in the Atlantic. I met a super sized tuna fish and everything. Called him Quint. You've seen Jaws, right?”

What the hell was he on about now?? Peter caught himself before he got any further off track.

“Uh, anyways, whatevs. No biggie. At least it wasn't a jumbo sized shark ‘er anything. Pffbbttt.” 

“So, you're telling me…you were so eager to get laid; you tripped on water? You big doofus.”

You snickered so hard, you snorted. Cute. Peter sighed. Grinning crookedly, he brought his hand to yours over his cheek. He guided your hand lower and took you on a short journey. The destination? Boner city. You felt his thick bulge in your tiny palm. Trailing a few teasing nibbles up your neck, Peter's heated chuckles turned your skin to gooseflesh.

“Har. Har. Har. Laugh it up, why don't you? Lil miss rubber duckies.”

Peter rolled his hips down into your hand, once more alluding to his pent-up frustration. You’d taken so long to give him the green light; Peter could’ve raced overseas again, nearly drowned, and returned - ten times over. Again, you parted your lips to (probably) protest. And again, Peter cut you off with another feverish kiss. His sizable hands pulled your legs further apart. You mewled softly against his lips, as his knee kept teasing your cunt.

“Доверься мне (Trust me). D’you trust me?” He mumbled.

You answered with even sloppier tongue action, catching him off guard. Peter never thought he’d kiss your velvet lips like this. Relishing every second. Your nails scraped the back of his neck, triggering something primal inside him. With your other hand, you felt his dick twitch in his jeans. He trembled, whining into your mouth and pushing himself closer. His kisses delved deeper, his tongue catching the flavor of that Turkish delight.

“Ты такой сладкий (You’re so sweet)...”

“Ohmygod.” You whined. Whispers of breathy moans laced through your kisses like threads, “I’m sorry, but that’s so hot. Keep talking like that? Please?”

As you giggled, looking a little shy; Peter laughed. While your kisses were more of a soft and delicate variety; his were firm, but quick. Anticipating the next several, before they even happened.

“Is it? You really think so? Mmm…dunno if I believe you. Обманщик (Deceiver). You lyin’ again? ‘Cuz if you are...I have ways of findin' out…”

His big hands wandered, moving in a rush. As much as he wanted to spend the next eternity blowing your mind with righteous foreplay; Peter needed to speed things along. He kissed your neck, teeth nipping your skin - because for some reason, with you, he was just so...bitey. Further down, he parted the jacket you wore, revealing your tits in full. Perfect and supple. Outrageously bitchin’. Even prettier than whatever he imagined over the phone.

“Наконец (Finally)...” He mumbled, mostly to himself.

Peter squeezed the fullness of your breasts in his hands, thumbs rolling your nipples. His swollen lips enveloped one of your tits like a hungry man starved. Carelessly swirling his tongue, he sucked your stiff nub hard. A boob-induced haze clouded his prior sense of urgency. You ran a hand through his hair and tugged him back with a gentle jerk. Peter’s voice broke in a low whine. His tongue chased your poor, sore nipple again.

“Подожди (Wait)! Waiiit…’m not done…” He buried his face lazily between your breasts and took a moment to inhale. Before motorboating your rockin’ titties. Peter groaned like he’d never get enough. As he pulled back, he giggled like a dork, “Hohhh…I seriously think I might be in love with these things.”

Exchanging hot breaths and hushed chuckles, you both explored each other's bodies with your hands. Peter’s sneakers scraped the sheets of your bed, knocking your blankets to the floor. While you took initiative with his zipper, his fingers trailed under your navel. The tips of his digits teased your pretty slit. At last. Peter felt for himself, how much of a soaked mess you were over his two-tongued dirty talk.

“Fuuuck, you weren't messin’ with me, were you, принцесса (princess)?”

Parting your slick lips, he sank two digits into your quivering heat. Your plush pussy welcomed his fingers with sweltering tears of gratitude. Wet as fuuuuuuck. His fat thumb teased your clit. Expertly fondling your helpless, little bud. You froze just as you pulled his jeans apart. A dangerous squeal threatened to echo through your room. But you swallowed it, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Черт возьми (Damn it)...sucks I gotta rush this…” Peter huffed, plunging his digits deeper, “Really wanna take my time for once…”

You blindly felt for his bulge with clumsy hands. After giving his hard-on a loving squeeze, you tugged the front of his boxers down. As soon as his leaky cock bobbed in the open, you grabbed and held on tight. A quick glance downward, and you admired the shape and size of him. Girthy in your palm. Smooth, veiny, and pulsing as you tugged him. 

And while you may have told a few little, white lies over the phone. Peter most definitely didn't. His thick cock turned an almost lilac hue at the head, the more you teased him. Peter shivered, bunching his shoulders and arching his back. You stroked him for a beat more. Until he guided you elsewhere, lining his dick where you both urgently wanted him to be. Barely nudging his tip into your weepy slit, he flitted his hooded gaze up to meet yours.

“You good? ‘M not gonna hold back, if you-”

The carefree banter between the two of you never ceased. Despite any nervousness, you gave him a coy smile. Lips pouty and eyes lookin' lusty. You ghosted his lips with a teasing whisper.

"Peter, babe, Please. You are soooooo slow. Just go for it, yeah? You need me to beg?"

His eyes widened, and he cheesed another goofy grin, "Actually, yeah, that'd be awesome."

Giggling sweetly, you swallowed your nerves, finding that courage buried deep within.

"Come on, Quickie. Fuck me, please?"

Peter felt his dick spasm, leaking from the tip, spilling over your pearly clit.

“Shhhhh. Relaaax. I got this, babe. I got it. Just…”

His eyes dropped to your cunt, watching as he sheathed his needy cock in your fluttery slit. Peter's mouth fell open, brows curling inward. He bottomed out with a generous swing of his hips, and your snug, sticky heat made way for his visit. But not without the tiniest hint of resistance.

Breathlessly, he mumbled, “...just…oh…oh, you're tighter than I…thought…fuck. That's...”

Steamy gasps filtered your room, replacing erotic moans that didn’t dare slip. Sharing endless kisses, the two of you bumped noses and whirled your tongues. Making the most fun you could out of so little time. And as teasing playfulness intensified, consuming you both in awesome exhilaration; neither one of you could resist getting handsy. Touching all over. Squeezing. Feeling everything that was way out of bounds just a few hours prior. Peter rocked in and out of you fast enough to make your bed knock against the wall.

“Not too fast! Not too-” You mewled, your hands rubbing his shoulders, nails clawing down his chest over his shirt, "Fuck, the bed. Don't-"

“Shhh. Shhhh. Okay, baby. I gotcha. I-” Peter snickered, his troublemaker giggles quickly obscured by winded moans, “Ебать (Fuck)…” He whined, slowing the motion of his thrusts. Soaking in the fuzzy sensation of your spongy, wet heat cuddling his cock, “Ощущается так хорошо (Feels so good).”

Burying his reddened face in your titties, he squeezed one of those beauties in his hand. Watching in a trance, as they bounced in time with every push and drag of his cock. A lil too enthralled, Peter got ahead of even himself. He recklessly rolled you over. Hoping to see your tits go jiggle jiggle jiggle from another perspective. Until…

Peter brought you down to the floor with him by accident. Oof, he was all kinds of clumsy today, huh? Landing flat on his back with a thunderous thud, he sat up on his elbows. He gaped up at you with a dazed look, ogling the way your tits bunched and squished over his chest. Nipples so perky and brushing his shirt fabric. Oh, yeah. He was hella smitten with those puppies.

“Shit!” You cursed under your breath.

Peter blinked himself out of his second booby haze of the evening. On quivering knees, you tried to find your balance. After you both took a rough tumble to the floor, his cock unsheathed itself from your cozy heat. Throbbing and slick, Peter’s dick bounced. Eager to fuck you senseless again.

“Простите (sorry)! Sorry! You okay, babe?” Peter whispered, settling his warm palms over your ass.

An ass which he hadn’t taken the time to really feel yet. And no surprise, your plump cheeks were just as bodacious as the rest of you. He palmed and squeezed them, getting his fill while he still had the chance.

“I’m okay! Are you?” You chewed your lip again, tilting your head to the side. Giving Peter that same kittenish, doe-like look, ‘M gonna get in sooooo much trouble because of you, Pietro.”

Well…when you said it like that; slurred and giggly, drunk on the filthy thrill of everything so him. Peter chose to ignore whatever risks seemed to weigh on the back of your mind. Rolling the two of you over once more, he held his dick by the shaft and slipped inside your cunt. That familiar, comfy warmth welcomed him in again. He whispered your name, embellished with his natural accent.

And just as Peter set course to give you a good drilling; at your door, the knob jiggled. Pulling you out of euphoric stasis instantaneously. The two of you stilled, eyes wide, glancing between each other and to the door. Back and forth. Back and forth. Upon finding your door locked, mystery whoever on the other side knocked instead.

“Hey, are you alright? What was that noise I heard? Did you fall?” Mystery voice called from the void.

And what a golden - or silver, rather - opportunity they presented. Peter blinked, leering intensely down at your stunned face. His eyes gleamed mischievous lust. Within the embrace of your luscious walls, his cock twitched with interest. The length pulsed upward into pillowy heat.

A subtle nod to a fun, little scheme he quickly cooked up.

But he needed something to drown out the soon-to-be sound of speedy hanky panky. With a careful movement, Peter brought a hand to the Walkman clipped loosely on his jeans. Having memorized the buttons, he knew how to work it by muscle memory.

Loosening the earphone jack, his thick fingers clicked - a button here, a button there. And voilà. Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero began to play. Ah, yeah. The good ol' Footloose soundtrack. He'd now dub it the soundtrack to your first, shared romp together. Which was kinda fitting. Before he showed up, you were technically holdin' out for a hero. Your eyes flicked to the source of the music, then back up to him. You gave him a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ kinda look.

Peter bit his lip, the corners of his grin curling into a diabolical smirk. As your brows knitted in suspicion; he rolled his hips sloooooowly back. You shook your head silently. Retracting his cock halfway, he took less than a millisecond to launch his hardness into your cervix. The motion knocked the wind from your chest. Covering your mouth, head thrown back; you scratched your nails into the carpet.

He arched a brow. One of his hands darted to your wrist, tugging in an attempt to unseal your mouth. Even with his dick buried deep in your insides, weakening your defenses; you fought back. You jerked away, which only encouraged him more. Peter bit his tongue to hold back a snicker. A few feisty slaps on your end, and you both fell into a play fighting frenzy. Your overstimulated cunt rippled around his dick, as he pinned your wrists to the floor.

Mystery voice called your name again. Their tone reflected growing concern for you. But you couldn't make out what they said over Bonnie Tyler amped up to high volume. Peter’s gaze stayed hard locked on yours. Picking up speed, pounding into you raw and rolling his cock so deep; he knitted his brows and nodded towards the door. As if to say - go on, say something already.

“I-I’m fine! I just…yeah, I, uh…I fell out of bed!” You yelled over the music. Your voice hitched, squeaking at the tailend. A scorching surge of ecstasy burst through your core. Continuously building, as Quicksilver focused entirely on rearranging your insides. It seemed impossible, but you managed to choke out,  “I’m oh-...okay now!”

“You fell? Are you sure you’re alright?” Ебена мать (Holy shit). Mystery voice refused to step down. They raised their tone to a high enough octave, you finally heard. The doorknob jiggled again, “I thought you said you were going somewhere tonight?”

“I-I am! I was!” You swallowed your whimpers, steadily losing your composure.

Growing hazier with every bold, speedy thrust; you raised your legs and locked them in a vice grip around him. Now, Peter had free reign to pound your tight channel at whatever speed struck his fancy. He knew after this - no man you slept with would ever dream of matching his god-given talent.

Hot white pulses of mind-altering pleasure rattled through your bones. Blocking out the sensation of rug burn itching your lower back. Your wrists tingled like pins and needles under Peter’s hold. At the corners of your glossy eyes, excessive pleasure made your tears drip in clots. Peter leaned in, muttering soft praises in your ear, broken only by his own whimpers.

“Хорошая девочка. Это моя хорошая девочка (Good girl. That’s my good girl). Это слишком быстро? Слишком быстро для тебя? Хочешь, чтобы я замедлился (Is this too fast? Too fast for you? Do you want me to slow down)?”

You responded with a tightly wound, whispery little “Fuuuuuuuck!”

And mystery voice. Bless their innocent soul. They still hadn't left you to your business. It took all the willpower left simmering inside you, to finally muster the brain cell to respond.

“I have to-” A high-pitched hiccup in your breath cut you off. Another, more kittenish squeal threatened to tumble from your lips unprompted, “Hold on! I have to get dressed! I’ll be out in a sec!”

By now, you couldn’t fathom where your pleasure was even coming from. Peter made quite the first impression in the bedroom, drilling your poor pussy to numbness. A powerful wave of blissful vibrations erupted from…somewhere. It ripped through your insides like the speediest of shockwaves. Freeing your tired wrists, Peter lifted your hips. His desperate, horny instincts then took over.

The last wave of your orgasm compressed your walls, locking his dick in a slippery death grip. As you shuddered around him, making a beautiful, sticky mess of his spent hardness; he pulled out.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, his dumb sex brain told him: Dude, cum on those titties. Which he did. Acting fast, he grabbed the thick base of his cock and stroked 'til he burst.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh sh-" He moaned.

With a look of lazy, fucked out awe on your face; you watched your bestie's ruddy dick pulsate. Generously decorating your soft tits in heated, white jets - along with the jacket you wore.

His jacket. And not just any old jacket. But one of his favorite jackets.

“Ебать! Ебать (Fuck! Fuck)!” He panted, swiping fresh cum - Eugh...yuck - from the jacket. His face scrunched in a grimace, “Awwww, man! Goddammit. Figures.”

Sometime later (only three minutes), you laid lazily on your back next to your bestest pal in the whole world; staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars decorating your ceiling. Outside, the evening already drove the sun into darkness. With only a sliver of orange light left in the distance, beyond your open window.

Peter already did the work, taking care of himself and speedily cleaning you up. An overall, blissful numbness pooled in your veins. You sleepily blinked, watching the stars on the ceiling quickly morph into...Peter's face? The confused expression overtaking your features seemed to put things into perspective for him. Like...shit...he really did a number on you, huh?

"You're still comin' over tonight, right?" He asked, prodding your cheek with his pointer finger, "Riiiight? I got a Gameboy waitin' for us and everything, dude."

Your lips slowly parted. But before you could mutter a single, breathless word; Peter delicately patted your cheek. In a blink, he stood to his feet and straightened himself out. Bringing his goggles down over his eyes, shimmying them into place; he threw you a casual salute.

"Awesome possum. Meetcha there."

He vanished out the window, leaving you to lie there on the floor. Naked as the day you were born, albeit bundled up in his jacket. Another thirty seconds passed in post sex-with-a-speedster bliss. 

And then, a shrill ringing dragged you back down to reality. You winced, narrowing your eyes and steadily pushing yourself to your knees. Loose, noodly limbs fumbled for the handset to your phone. It took you a few tries, scrambling to get a hold of it. Clearing your throat, you pressed the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"You ready yet?" Peter asked.

He lazed on the sofa in his (mom's) basement, his Garfield phone resting in his lap like a kitten having a catnap. The vibrant, orange cord curled around his finger as he absentmindedly toyed with it. Dawning a cheeky, dimple grin, Peter popped a candy into his mouth. He bounced a leg in rapid beats.

"You're kidding, right?" You chuckled, mussing your hair, completely overspent.

"Uh, no? Hurry up, will you? Don't forget my jacket. I gotta toss it in the wash. And, oh!" Peter chewed just a touch louder, smacking his lips, "Took your Turkish delights, by the by. So, if you want 'em...eh? Ehhh?" He wiggled his brows.

As you listened to Peter ramble about...whatever the hell; you searched for your panties. Checking the bed, then the floor. They were nowhere to be found. As if they seemingly disappeared, never to be seen again. You sighed, cradling the base of your phone in an arm, the handset nestled between your cheek and shoulder. 

"Hey, Peter?"

"Yeah? What's up, cutie? You headin' out?"

"Dude, where the hell are my panties?"

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You walked steadily, the only sound you could perceive was the grass being crushed by your low heel pumps. The birds’ faint chirp rang in your ears, accompanied by your anxious breathing. You were walking in the dark both because your sunnies made everything cloudy and because you had no idea where your destination was.

“Where you goin’, beautiful?” was what all drivers asked while slowing their cars as they saw an objectively young woman alone in the middle of a desert land. They also all drove off after hearing your response. Why would such an adorable creature be led in a freakshow?

If only they knew. You kept wandering around, your hands clutching tightly to the handle of your bag, and your heart clinging onto the hope. And then, you felt like your prayers had been listened to once a car stopped and actually offered you a ride. You had nothing to lose, especially because they said they were going to the freakshow too. You hopped in the backseat of their car, adjusting your glasses in the awkward silence.

“So uhm…what brings you to the freakshow?” You cleared your throat after asking.

The couple chuckled and turned to you. Only then you realized that the woman had three breasts, and the man had, well…one heck of a bicep. A toothy smile made its way on your face, you had already made some friends.

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Time passed while your eyes scanned the view from the window, and before you knew it, you had arrived. You were greeted by a giant entrance shaped as a wicked…devil? Whatever that thing was, it made you shiver. You wished good luck to the couple as they walked towards Elsa’s tent, you decided to prepare yourself before ‘auditioning’. You settled your bag onto the grass, and began searching for your cards, when suddenly a misshapen geek ran towards you with…a little flower?

“Flower!” She babbled with a crooked grin.

You, who had fallen onto the ground after that thing scared the hell out of you, quickly got up taking a few steps back.

“Pepper, c’mere.” A young man walked towards who you assumed was pepper.

He had brown locks falling onto his face, deep brown eyes gazing at you and your figure, and a boyish smile plastered on his face. He was wearing a simple white tank, and as your gaze traveled down, you noticed that his hands were…deformed.

“Excuse her, she’s just got a lil’ excited. S’not everyday a beautiful lady like ya comes around.” He winked.

“Oh…that’s okay. Thank you for the flower.” You smiled at Pepper, who got all giddy as you took her flower.

“A ride on the carousel’s one nickel, doll. Want me to show ya the way?” He kept checking you out.

“Oh uh…I’m not here for that.” You chuckled apologetically.

“Oh. Looking for another typa ride?” He flexed his arms and hands.

“What? N-no.” You felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I’m here to…join.” You added, almost bashfully.

“Join what? The carnival?” He raised an eyebrow as he peeked at your bag.

You nodded, which earned a scoff from him.

“Ya know ya actually have to be a freak to join? Or ya got a surprise under yer dress?” He chuckled.

“Uh no…I am a freak too, though.” You slid your sunglasses over your head, revealing your heterochromia. One of your eyes was light, the other was dark. His eyes widened a little at the sight, then he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” You frowned, a wave of insecurity washing over you.

“Ya think yer a freak jus’ because ya got different colored eyes? That’s an insult to us, real freaks.” He spat.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” You narrowed your eyes as your annoyance grew.

“I don’t think ya got the right to call yerself a freak. Look at me, look at my hands, I could never be considered normal with these. But you? Ya could be a heck of a model. Yer quirk doesn’t make ya disgusting to look at. So you better leave, little girl, before you actually see what the real freaks are like.” He replied bitterly.

Suddenly you were a kid again, all the other normal children playing around you while you were sitting in the corner of the class eating your jam sandwich.

“My mom said she came from the devil’s womb…” Little Kimberly whispered.

“Really? My dad says she’s a witch…” Young Sebastian muttered.

And now, this lobster boy came up to you to tell you that you didn’t suffer enough to consider yourself an actual freak? How rude.

“You don’t know a single thing about me, I’ve been an outcast my whole life, I know for sure what I can call myself and I know even better that I belong here. I thought I wouldn’t get judged if I was among people like me. But apparently, I was wrong.” You raised your voice.

“You’ll never be like us. And what can ya even do? Sing? Dance?” He chuckled, smirking.

“I read tarots.” You crossed your arms.

“Oh well, good luck with that. Elsa doesn’t believe in that crap.” He spoke harshly before walking away.

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You ended up joining the circus. Something that you said brought up memories in Elsa's mind, convincing her. You even had your own little stand where sometimes people would stop by. Some were suspicious, some were faithful. In the end, they all left your stand with a new set of hopes. The other freaks weren’t so bad, in fact, they welcomed you with open arms. Ethel, the bearded woman, was one of your favorites. She was always sweet with you, and you felt so…safe with her. You couldn’t quite understand how such a wonderful woman gave birth to such a rude creature. Jimmy, her son, was in fact her complete opposite. Always making fun of your profession, with that stupid grin that he loved to flash, especially to the ladies. This is why at her funeral you were sobbing your eyes out. She was like a mother to you, the accepting one that you never had. And if her weird death managed to hit you that badly, it was even worse for Jimmy. He was really close to his mother, so her death completely destroyed him, making him a drunk mess and an even more annoying bastard.

After the burial, you walked to your stand, organizing it for the next day. You were putting the cards away, when suddenly a voice behind you made you jump.

“Ya got a minute?” Jimmy spoke with a broken voice, leaning against the entrance.

He was soaking wet, so you assumed he stayed next to his mother’s grave in the rain. You had to admit, the sight made your heart ache. He looked so heartbroken, a miserable expression on his face, his deep brown eyes dull, visibly lost.

“O-of course…What do you need?” You frowned as he sat down in front of you, dismissing your help with a wave of his claws. He sniffled, pointing to your cards.

“Do these actually work?” He looked up at you, brows creased.

“Uh…I mean…technically it’s all based on universe belief-” You were interrupted by him.

“Do these fucking work?” He repeated, his voice rough and angry, although you could see a hint of desperation in his eyes. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you simply nodded, hoping that was what he wanted to hear. You sat down and shuffled the cards.

“Pull three cards.” You spread the cards over the table.

He pulled three, then turned them to face the surface.

DEATH, THE DEVIL, JUDGEMENT.

His gaze hardened and he quickly stood up.

“Are ya messing with me?!” He slammed his claws on the table, some cards falling down.

“What? No! Why would I?” You raised your voice in defense.

“Yer doing this on purpose!” He growled, then turned around and punched the tent out of anger. He buried his face in his hands, and to your surprise, he started crying. You immediately hurried to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles.

“I-I swear…it’s all casual…I didn’t mean to-” You spoke, almost ashamed, before being cut off. He grabbed your shoulders, lifting you up and slamming your body against the tend. He held you up like that, his face a few inches away from yours, you could actually feel his breath on his face. He smelled like alcohol.

“Casual, huh? I come up to ya out of pure desperation, hoping that those little fairytales you tell to yer customers will at least distract me, to let there be light…and what do ya fucking show me? Death, judgement and the fucking devil?” He spoke cruelly, his grip on your shoulders tightening.

“Y-you’re drunk, Jimmy…please…” You breathed out, scared of what his next possible move could be.

“Yer so fucking annoying!” He grunted to your face, his gaze severe as it traveled down to your lips, where a sudden change of expression crept on his face. He took a deep breath.

“but so damn addicting...” He muttered under his breath, hurriedly smashing his lips against yours. His kiss was harsh, crude, driven by a primal instinct. You were confused, yes, and you were pretty sure he wasn’t completely lucid. Yet, you leaned into the kiss, your lips moving in sync against his. He hummed as he felt you reciprocate, and roughly grabbed the back of your thighs, pulling them up and sliding between them, so that your legs were wrapped around his torso, and his hips were pressing against yours. You yelped at the sudden change of position, your arms reaching to drape around his neck. Now that you were securely clinging onto him, he grabbed your waist, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck.

“Fucking angel…whatcha do to me…” He mumbled while sliding his lips on your neck, making you shiver. He started kissing and sucking your skin until he left a red mark. You tried to bite back a groan.

“Lemme hear ya…” He sunk his teeth onto the skin of your neck, being careful not to draw blood. That caused an almost instant moan from you and you felt him smile while he trailed kisses down your chest, against the fabric of your dress. He groaned in frustration as the thin fabric represented a barrier between you two that he had to get rid of as soon as possible. He reached to the zipper on your back, brutally pulling it down along with your dress. His eyes traveled on your almost naked figure, causing a subtle blush on your cheeks. He buried his face between your breasts, one of his big hands unclasping your bra and groping your tits. His mouth worked wonders on your nipples, and pretty much all of the skin around. You couldn’t help but groan, especially when his claws made their way on your heat, sliding your panties aside. His fused fingers brushed a few times against your clit before immediately dipping in your slick entrance.

“Ohh…! f-fuck Jimmy…” You moaned, your hands reaching to grip his curls. He grinned and pumped his fingers steadily, increasing progressively the pace. Your moans kept growing louder and louder, as you felt that knot in your tummy tighten.

“Jus’ like that, doll…takin’ it so well…” He murmured in your ears, occasionally biting your earlobe. You felt your back slide against the tent wall, in sync with the rhythm of his fingers.

“S-shit…I’m gonna- ah!- cum…” You whined.

“Let go…let go f’me, sunshine…” He groaned, his tongue sliding down to tease your collarbone. With a few more pumps, you reached the edge, coming on his fingers. Your moans were so loud you were sure that everyone outside heard you.

“There ya go, doll…so good…” He smirked, letting you catch your breath. He looked at his fingers, wet with your release. He brought them to his mouth, sucking your cum off of them. The sight drove you crazy, so in return, you sank to your knees, your hands urgently working on the buttons of his pants. He let out a small gasp of surprise.

“Uh…whatcha doin’, angel?” He breathed out, almost shyly, as you pulled his pants along with his boxers down.

“Returning the favor..” You batted your lashes at him, innocently and naughtily at the same time.

“O-oh…alright…I’m not used to uh…usually girls are all over my fingers, they don’t really pay attention to my-” He cut himself off with a moan, caused by your lips suddenly wrapping around his tip. You were surprised by his size, he was average in length, although he was…girthy. You started sucking gently, slowly and teasingly.

“Ah…like that…” He groaned and tried to fight the urge of grabbing your head and fucking your face. You smiled as you tasted his pre-cum, finally deciding to take more of him in your mouth. Once you adjusted to his bigness, you started bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh! f-fuck…so fucking good…like that…atta girl…” His eyes shut down in pleasure, his mouth opening in an “o” form. He couldn’t resist anymore, he grasped the back of your head and started fucking your face at a faster pace. The impact was harsh, and it caused you to gag a little, your eyes watering.

“Sorry doll…ya jus’...feel so fucking good…” He moaned, bobbing your head up and down even faster, catching his orgasm. He groaned, releasing hot strings of cum in your mouth. He quickly pulled out, helping you up on your feet and watching you swallow with a proud grin. He helped you put on your clothes again, and picked you up like a princess, as if you weighed nothing. He pressed some kisses to the side of your face.

“Yer my light, dollface.” He smiled, all mushy.

“Let’s go get some rest in my caravan…I’ll get ya ice cream later, yea?” He chuckled.

You had never seen him happier.

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a/n: hiiii!!! ughhhh this took sooo long, I'm so full of exams!!! BTW, I tried to write a more interesting plot, bcs I know that Jimmy is very underrated and not many people read fics of him!! poor little lobster boy. Anyways, hope you like it!!❤️❤️

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @doll3tt33 @angeldollw @newwavesylviaplath @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind @brightanshiny

It's not like you owned him or anything. It's not even like he really even cared about you outside of the scope of the general, amiable 'member of the troupe' kind of relationship. Now, of age, he flirted with you casually, like he did all the girls, but you, as delusional as it may have been, thought you had something special – because boy, oh boy, did you care about him. You were obsessed with Jimmy Darling, in all ways possible. 

You'd grown up alongside him, from the age of sixteen when you got kicked out for a plethora of reasons, and ran away to the traveling freak show that was opportunely in town. It had taken the owner, Elsa Mars, almost all day to be convinced, but when you bent over backwards, putting your head through your legs and pleaded with her upside down, a sly smile spread across her thin, aging lips.

You thought that Jimmy might’ve fancied you – that was until Maggie came along. The liar. The fraud. The insolent little brat that she was. She’d taken a liking to Jimmy, and seemed to snatch up every second he was alone – something that you used to do. He had fallen for her fortune teller act, but you certainly hadn’t. Your aunt had been a fortune teller and had possessed a true and genuine gift. This broad did nothing but spin silly little tales about misfortune and good luck, generic things that any person could identify with. 

You’d decided to test the waters one hot summer afternoon. It was before the show, and Jimmy was preoccupied setting up the cash box. With your skirt in your hand, swishing it back and forth, you strolled up to him feeling as giddy as ever. It was rare that you didn’t feel bubbly when you were around him – he had that effect on you. Before you spoke, you took in his appearance; a sheen of glistening sweat covered his bare, tanned shoulders, his caramel-coloured locks hung in a cluster on his forehead, and his dark, brown eyes swept over the cash as he counted it, arranging the tickets neatly next to the box. 

“Hey Jimmy,” you cooed. “Need any help?”

Without looking up, he replied: “Nah, doll. I’m just about finished.” 

“Well, maybe I could help you with whatever you’re doing next…” 

“If I need ya’, I’ll find ya, sweetheart.” 

“Or you could find Maggie.” 

“She’s in her trailer.” 

Your heart quivered and sunk, cracking like a delicate porcelain vase. He already knew; he’d already found her. 

“Of course she is, and of course you’d know that.” 

He grinned crookedly, exhaled out of his nose and shut the cash box, turning the key. He looked at you then, with a pointed gaze. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean? Huh?” 

Your brows rose high on your head, feigning innocence. He, of course, with all his charm and wit, saw right through it. You didn’t care. “Oh, nothing , Jimmy. Nothing at all.” 

“Sure, dollface, sure. You wouldn’t be jealous, now would ya?” 

“Of her? I’d be more jealous of a drowned rat in a sewer than I would be of Maggie.”

With that, you stomped off, your steps crunching the tall grasses that covered the field you called home for this month. Your heart was pounding, your cheeks had flushed. Feeling like a fool, you marched right to your trailer, taking great care to slam the door as hard as you could. 

You spun around, facing the door as thought he was behind it. “How dare he think I’m jealous of her ! That horrible woman, and he thinks – oooooh! ” You clenched your fists, shaking them at the door. 

It had taken you two hours to calm down. Two hours of pacing your small bedroom, fussing with your appearance and reading a magazine you’d picked up in town last week. It also took you two hours to come up with what you thought was the revenge plan of the century. 

An hour later, you found yourself at the local diner, schmoozing with a cute young man in his early twenties. You’d batted your fluffy lashes and pouted your lips and with hardly a few words, you had him wrapped around your manicured finger. He’d bought you a milkshake, which you were nursing, taking small sips in between answers.

“You’re sure you won’t run out of this diner screaming?” 

“No - no. I promise I won’t.” 

“I’m a travelling performer… I’m only here for a few more weeks. I work at the Freak Show in the field down the road.”

“What do you do?” He asked, cautiously, looking you over your body with a suddenly very critical eye. To most, you looked normal . Sure, you were a little longer and lithe than some girls your age, but you didn’t fit the bill of a freak. That was until you bent and contorted your body into the most mystifying, inappropriate positions that they had ever seen a woman in. 

“I’m a…” you leaned in, dipping your chin to your chest, keeping your gaze sternly locked on his. “A… contortionist.” 

“A what?” 

Oh, what a dumb bunny . He was cute, you’d give him that; his pretty, sea-blue eyes, pink lips and dirty blonde hair that had been perfectly styled. The clincher was that he had two very nice hands – strong, and veiny. The truth of the matter was that you preferred Jimmy Darling’s hands – but he didn’t need to know that. To him, this would be a threat, and if everything went according to plan, Jimmy would be red with anger, furiously jealous and looking as though he must bust a vein. 

“I’m flexible. Very flexible.” 

His eyes lit up. It was a predictable response, and one you’d seen before. Men were grotesque, they liked the idea of bending a woman into unique positions like a jointed doll, just to see her body in a fresh, new way. They liked the thought of fucking you while you were bent over backwards, folded up neatly. 

The waitress brought your food; you’d only ordered a side of fries, which you dipped into the remainder of your shake. A habit that you’d learned from Amazon Eve – it was easily the most delicious combo you’d ever tasted. As you two ate, the conversation drifted naturally. You laid on the charm heavy. Every other response contained a compliment, telling him how handsome he was, how you’d never seen a boy as cute, so on and so forth. He fell for it hook, line and sinker. And you. 

Afterwards, he paid and held the door open for you. As any gentleman should, he wasn’t earning any points with you. Only one man could… 

“Can I come see your show?” He asked, playing idly with your fingers.

You reached over and yanked one of the flyers from the nearby telephone pole, folded it in fours, and pressed your lips to the paper, leaving a crimson mark. You tucked it in the man’s shirt pocket. 

“See you tonight. Tell ‘em that I sent you. Front row seats.” 

He stammered out an agreement, looking flustered. With a wink, you were sauntering back down the sidewalk. The great big sun, orange and warm, was making its heavy, tired descent back into the horizon, and you quickened your pace. The last thing you needed was Elsa being upset at your disappearance.

As you made your way back to the field, you hummed the song that was playing in the diner and skipped. There was something to be said about the butterflies in your stomach, though you couldn’t discern whether or not they were for the fact that you were going to see that man in the audience. You suspected not. Jimmy Darling would be jealous and that was the thought that sent you. 

Later that night, as the calliope played, your hands glided up over the curves of your thighs, and over your sides, gracefully, like a burlesque performer teasing a reveal. With one movement, you brought your leg up to your head, pulling it tight. A few oooh’s and chortling chuckles from men in the audience dotted the room. With floaty, delicate movements, you slid down into the splits, never losing your bright smile in the process. More pleased reactions and some applause. You crossed the stage in backbends, working the crowd as they cheered for you. 

At the final backbend, you sunk to your stomach, laying on the floor. You were just nearly at the edge of the stage, and directly in front of you was your diner boy. His eyes were locked on you, enchanted, enrapt and obsessed like a dog staring at a fresh cut of sirloin. With a come-hither smile, you reached out and swept your hand along his jawline before tapping his chin with a single finger. You sucked in a deep breath and brought your legs forward, curving your spine around until your feet were planted on either side of your face. 

The crowd gasped in horror, and little girls shielded their eyes, expecting to hear the dull crack of your spine as it snapped in two. But Diner Boy was fascinated, and still staring at you. He was looking at your body, the unnatural curve of it, and the way that you’d brought your cunt somehow closer to his face. As the seconds passed, he looked more and more like a dog to you, hungry and slobbering. 

You smiled, scanning the crowd again. Your eyes drifted to the corner of the stage, where Jimmy stood against one of the support poles, arms crossed. At least, despite Maggie, he’d retained his habit of watching every performance you did – though this one, he didn’t look as delighted with. You could tell by the way the corners of his mouth were pointed down in an angry frown, his eyes narrowing at the little things you did to entice Diner Boy. You grinned at Jimmy, acknowledging him and tapped the toes of your shoes childishly against the stage before unfolding your body again. 

The rest of your show finished without a hitch, and Diner Boy played his part very well. He took in every moment, and at one point, when you reached your hand out to him, he interlaced his fingers with yours. A nice touch. When you looked back to where Jimmy was, he was gone. You smiled inwardly, prideful and gratified by the way your devious little plan had gone.

As soon as you went off-stage, Jimmy grabbed you by your arm, gripping your bicep hard. Almost too hard. You winced. “What was that about?” 

“What? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Casually, you yanked your arm from his grip and began to polish your nails on the fabric of your shirt. 

“Cut it out! You know what. Who was the guy in the audience? You sure were payin’ him a lot of attention.” 

His words, though loud, were a little slurred, his breath smelled of alcohol; you could tell that he'd taken a few gulps of liquid confidence before approaching you. You didn't mind; your father used to say that the truth came out with booze. You hoped that would remain true with Jimmy and he'd spill his guts to you.

“Just someone I met at the diner, Jimmy. Why are you getting so heated over him? You flirt with girls in the audience all the time.” 

“It’s part of the act, doll! You know I have to act a certain way, I can’t –” 

“Can’t what? Stand to love me?” 

Jimmy stopped abruptly, his mouth hanging slack. His chest rose and fell with hot, angry breaths.

"Just because I can bend without breaking doesn't mean my heart can, Jimmy."

“Dollface, wait.” 

“No.” 

You pushed yourself through the flaps of the tent, storming off towards your trailer. Jimmy followed close behind, calling your name.

“Doll, c’mon, hang on a minute!” 

“No, Jimmy. Maybe Maggie can hang on a minute .” 

“Hey!” He bellowed, catching your arm again. You pressed your back against your trailer’s door, again, yanking it away from him and crossing them tightly across your chest. Your heart thudded against your ribs, deeply delighted at the fact that he was chasing you, pursuing you with an overbearing jealousy. 

“What.” 

“Can we just…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “...talk about this a second?” 

“Sure.” You snapped. 

Jimmy’s black coffee eyes scanned over you, searching your face for some semblance of softness. He found nothing but a tightly pressed line of lips and a cold gaze.  

“What’s your problem, huh? I can’t flirt with other guys?” you finally asked, your stern voice shattering the awkward silence. 

He shook his head, almost sheepishly. “I don’t like seein’ it. I know they don’t care about you.”

“And you do?” 

Jimmy swallowed again, forcing the lump in his throat down. For the past several years, you’d been a constant in his life, by his side, and taking all his showman flirtations in stride. You’d never once fired back at him, and he thought that it was because you could care less about what he did or who he flirted with. Against the voices in his head, Jimmy pacified the anger in his gut by leaning forward to crush his lips against your red ones, tasting the sweetness of whatever gum you’d been chewing before the show. 

He lingered there a moment before his conjoined digits made their way up your waist, gripping it softly. He waited for you to soften, to ease into his kiss, but you didn’t. You stood your ground, arms still pressed against your breasts. You intentionally filled your mind with thoughts of Maggie Esmeralda and how close he’d gotten with her. You thought of all the times that he flirted with girls in the audience, damn near kissing them with how far he’d lean off stage during his song. 

“Baby, please…” You blinked. His low, smooth voice pulled you out of your hateful thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, you murmured, “I want to hear you say it, Jimmy.” 

“Say what?” 

“You know what.” 

The muscles in his jaw fluttered as he clenched them, grinding his teeth hard. Jimmy spent his whole life being put on the spot, but it never got any easier. Especially not in front of you – the girl he’d fallen hardest for. He inhaled, puffing his chest out and mustering up all the confidence he had. 

“I don’t like seein’ you flirt with other guys… ‘cause… I wish it was me.” 

“Who’s jealous now, huh?”

“I am.” He looked at your lips, then back up to your eyes. A cricket started off somewhere in the field, and your attention flitted off towards it, only to have Jimmy’s large, warm hand bring you back. “Hey.” 

He kissed you again, his strong tongue darting out to taste you again, his plush lips closing around your bottom lip to suck it gently. This time, an undulating warmth erupted deep in your core. You couldn’t help but melt into him and your arms relinquished their position, dropping heavily to your sides. Your fingers reach forward to claw at his shirt, just above the waistline of his jeans and instead latch onto his belt loops, pulling him closer at the hips.

You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, swirling your tongue with his. Mingled with his personal taste, he tasted like warm honey and the liquor you smelled on his breath earlier. Not always admirable, it was something that you knew him to dabble in when his mother wasn’t looking. More often than not, he’d sneak some booze, saying it calmed his nerves before and after shows. You didn’t mind; in fact, you wondered what it would be like to have a drunk Jimmy, sloppy and unable to control himself around you. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this…” you broke the kiss, breathlessly whispering over his lips.

“Me too, honey. Me too.”  

Keeping your eyes on him, you blindly felt behind your back, where the handle of your trailer was digging into your soft flesh. You yanked it open, and took a fistful of Jimmy Darling’s shirt, tugging him inside. 

It was like someone had fired a gun and Jimmy was a racehorse. He charged at you, his big, conjoined fingers wrapping tightly around your hips on either side, kneading the flesh like dough. He kissed you again, hot and in a hurry, like you only had a few minutes to do whatever it was you were going to do. With your hands on his pectoral muscles, you pushed him off gently, just enough to get a look at his face. 

He, being mere centimeters from your breasts, wasn’t looking at your face. His attention was clearly elsewhere. A low, rumbling groan vibrated through his throat as he craned forward to kiss your skin. 

“Jimmy, baby, slow down…” 

Between feverish kisses to your neck and chest, he muttered: “I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

He had you where he wanted you, after so long, and he wasn’t going to let that slip through his fingers this time. Jimmy muscled you backwards, urging you towards the small hallway where your bedroom was. He was all hard-working muscle. Having done set-up for so many years  had lined his body in bulky strength, the kind of strength that you only get from hard labour. So, when he started guiding you backwards, you could do little to protest. 

“Jimmy, my god, what’s the rush?” 

“I want you bad, baby… bad.” As proof, he urged his hips against yours; the hot rigidness of his erection pressing into your hip bone. You let out a surprised mewl, and wrapped your arms around his warm neck, fingers slipping into his short-cut hair. His lips found yours again as the backs of your thighs hit the mattress. He kissed once and playfully, shoved you down. You bounced twice on the bed, looking up at him with a heavy, wanton gaze. 

“I’m all yours, Jimmy Darling. All yours.” 

Jimmy didn’t say anything, just sunk to his knees, his hands finding the stretchy hem of your sequined shorts. He pulled them down in a swift jerk, before moving right back up to your waist. Those striped tights were next. He rolled them down off your thighs and over your knees; which fell apart, exposing the already-damp satin of your underwear. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he worked.

He was in too much of a hurry to bother taking off your shirt, instead just gathering the fabric and pushing it up over your breasts, letting them bounce free. He may have been raised a gentleman, but he wasn't immune to the tantalizing sight of some tits -- especially when they belonged to a girl he'd been lusting over for months now. 

"God damn, baby. Look at those." 

You couldn't help but blush, feeling your cheeks grow hot at his compliments. You bowed your head, casting your eyes to the floor. You were so stern before -- what had happened? Silly question. You knew; he was undressing you in your trailer, all that confidence had melted away underneath his strong, fused fingers.

“Jimmy, promise you won’t flirt with Maggie anymore…” 

He scoffed. “She’s nothin’ to me, honey. Gals like her are a dime a dozen.” He pressed his lips to your kneecaps before kissing his way up your thighs.  You whimpered, your head lolling heavily back between your shoulders. You thought about revealing that she wasn’t a real fortune teller, but Jimmy’s mouth neared your cunt, and the thought disintegrated. 

“...my god…” you breathed, your lids drifting shut. Jimmy nuzzled his face and lips against your soft mound, the hard bridge of his nose teasing at your soaked slit.

“You like that, baby?” 

You nodded, again, whimpering. He pressed his fingers slowly against your soft mound, over the fabric. Feeling the puddle that had settled into your underwear made Jimmy clench his teeth, hissing loud through them. With one hand, Jimmy maneuvered your underwear down your thighs. Once they were off, he tossed them carelessly behind him – you’d find them a day later in your kitchen sink. Now exposed, you gazed at him sheepishly, for the first time since he'd started kissing you. His eyes fixated on the wetness that glistened in the low-light of the trailer.

"I had no idea..." he said, the pad of his thumb sweeping over your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe in lustful agony, aching desperately. 

"No idea what?" You breathed.

"To be honest with you, that you liked me that much..." 

You leaned forward, taking his chin into the palm of your hand. You stroked it gently, falling deep into his eyes. "Jimmy... I've wanted you since before I could have you." 

You looked on at his face in admiration as the thoughts played out, the realization of what you meant dawning on him. He grinned his bright, lopsided grin and his large hands slid up your legs, caressing the outside of your thighs thoughtfully.

"Baaaby," he hummed before dipping his head down. You gasped, your lids drifting shut in ecstasy as you felt his breath rush over you -- you knew what was coming; one deep sweep of his tongue along the length of your cunt, between your folds to taste you, to savour your silken wetness. Burying his nose in your pussy, Jimmy alternated between using the strong tip of his tongue to flick at your sensitive spots and lapping at your clit with a flattened, thick tongue. Adventurous and hungry, he'd venture further down to get a mouthful of your sweet, heady wetness and would murmur how good you tasted into your cunt -- the vibrations of his voice made you shiver every time. 

After a few minutes of this, you felt the inner core of your legs begin to shake every time he made contact with your clit, your tummy tightening in a warning clench. You reached forward, gripping his head on either side, yanking him softly off your cunt.

To your relief, he straightened up, chin glistening with your fluids. He swallowed you down, growling in satisfaction; the intimacy of tasting your lover's ejaculate was unparalleled, and when your eyes finally opened, they met Jimmy's lust blown ones. He was ready, and so were you. 

"Fuck me," you said, nodding. 

Jimmy made quick work of undressing, pulling his briefs down over his ass cheeks before he lined his red-tipped cock up with your leaking slit, bumping into the sensitive bundle of nerves a few times before he stuck you. He didn't ease in, just bottomed out and you let out a pleasurable yowl, tossing your head back at the sensation of being so full as his thick cock violated you, slipping against your slick walls. He found a rhythm, thrusting his cock up into you as deep as he could. You clenched hard around him, pulling a groan from deep within his chest. He pulled out, looking down at your sopping wet and now reddened cunt.

"'Hoh' my god, baby... do that again." 

He gripped your hips hard, pulling you roughly onto his cock. You clenched again, swallowing him into you. The tip disappeared inside you, hot and leaking, and he held himself there, completely engrossed in the sensations. You clenched again, pulling him further in and Jimmy's head fell back, his hips bucking hard out of instinct. You both found a hurried rhythm, grinding and rolling against each other with voracious desire. 

As he thrust into you, Jimmy watched you intently, holding onto you tight, his thumbs working your hips, kneading them in small circles. He looked starved for your image, the way that his eyes climbed from your hips to your breasts to your face and back down again. You let out a particularly ecstasy-ridden moan, and Jimmy dug his fingers into your hips. 

Rocked back and forth with the strength of his thrusts, you look down, watching as his thick cock pumped in and out of you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, and Jimmy's dark eyes followed them as they moved.   

"Huuuh... I'm gonna' lose it, baby... you feel so god damned good..."

"Give it to me," you coax, moaning deeply. His thrusts get faster, more feverish and uneven, and before you can say another word, his expression contorted, brows pulling together in pleasured agony. You felt the warmth of his cum as he filled you up with a few spurts, but kept pumping until it leaked out the sides, groaning deeply. Your orgasm raced towards you quickly after that, pulsing around him in a hungry grip. 

With a heavy sigh, Jimmy pulled his softening cock from your cunt and flopped heavily onto the bed onto his back. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath, sweat streaming from every pore. Both of you, collapsed in lust, saying nothing, just enjoying the warm scent of sex that lingered in the air. Soon, your sappy gaze drifted from the ceiling to Jimmy. His fawn coloured hair clung to his forehead in sweaty clumps, his cheeks flushed. You'd done that. Made him jealous until he fucked you silly. You smiled inwardly, and adjusted your head on the small mattress. 

"Turn the fan on, Jimmy, it's hot." 

Jimmy leaned over, flipping the small metal switch. The fan rattled to life, blades spinning and washing your sweaty skin with a soft breeze of cooler air. He leaned back, enjoying the change in temperature. 

"I meant what I said, dollface. Maggie's nothin' to me now that we're uh..." 

You pressed your lips against his softly, smiling into the kiss. "We're what?" 

"Y'know..." 

"Fucking each other like teenagers?" 

"More than that, baby. More than that."

You weren't sure what that meant yet, but you weren't about to question a bit of it. You paused, furrowing your brows. You realized that Diner Boy had probably expected to see you after the show, but you hadn't shown. You hadn't even thought about him, far too busy with Jimmy's lips to even remember he was there.

"What?" Jimmy asked, concerned.

"I wonder if he was waiting for me..."

"I hope he was, and I hope he figured out real quick that you weren't comin'."

You kissed him again, inhaling his scent. Jimmy hummed into your lips, pulling you atop of him, his face bright with adoration.

"you're the prettiest girl."

Gentle touches on faces, and back against the wall. Both of them outside, away from whatever party was happening. A small blush, and both give a little giggle.

"It's true! And this time it's not the alcohol."

Another childish giggle and a silly kiss on the cheek.

"you can't say I love youuu...what if you regret it in the morning?"

A shake of the head.

"Wait really?"

A quick nod and a shy smile. Then kisses. One after the other as they both smiled. God what was happening? Drunken rambles that's all. It couldn't be anything else.

"wow.. damn. Okay. Cool. Cool!"

Blurred thoughts as the music was muted through the walls. Red and warm faces, pressed against eachother to hold one another up. His hands never staying in one place. Waist, hips, one petting their hair, the other gently holding the small of their back.

"I'm pretty? Nope. You're the pretty one."

Starting to get needy. He could feel it. God. Not right now. Absolutely not. But with them? It felt so right. Mushed up thoughts from the alcohol, unable to process all his thoughts. Another set of little quiet giggles, would he fall asleep before anything happens?? They're not all the others, who wouldn't care that he's tired. Letting him fall asleep, caring for him. Sleeping right by his side.

"mmm...I love you...'m so glad nothing bad happened tonight."

Both of them laying on a bed, maybe his. Maybe a friends bed. Didn't matter. The music didn't stop him from falling asleep instantly when his head hit the pillow. Sleepy stares, and moving his arm over their own torso. How on earth could this man sleep with music practically blasting the walls down?