solarismoons

You told yourself you were okay with that because outside of sex—Ethan was everything you had ever wanted. He was smart, ambitious and he loved you, he offered you stability. But could he fuck you? Absolutely not.

“You know it's normal, right?” Your friend Nina tells you when you bought up your lacklustre sex life one Saturday night over drinks at your local bar. “A guy not making you come. Loads of women can’t come with a guy. You’re probably just too in your own head about it.”

You smile like it was good advice but the thing was—you knew you could come with a guy. Gator Tillman might have been emotionally unavailable but your ex boyfriend had known your body like the back of his hand. He knew exactly how to make you come with seemingly little effort. He knew you liked it when he said filthy words to you as two thick fingers pumped in and out of your needy hole, his thumb circling your clit just right.

“That good, huh mama?” He’d say in a husky voice, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips as you mewled beneath him, your fingers biting in the skin of his back as your hips chased his hand. “Look at ya—fuckin’ can’t get enough can ya? Soaking my hand like this—shit, baby. Yer making me so fuckin’ hard. Need to fill ya with my cock. Need to—”

The sound of your name pulls you from your thoughts. That memory of Gator making your pussy throb with the kind of excitement you hadn’t felt in well over a year. Don’t think about him, don’t think about him, don’t—

“Hmm?” You hum, looking over at your friends like you weren’t just thinking about getting finger fucked by your ex boyfriend.

“You okay?” Your other friend Soph asks you gently.

Were you okay? Probably not, considering you were thinking about Gator Tillman of all people. It wasn’t healthy, in fact it was incredibly unhealthy to be thinking about him at all. You broke up with Gator for a reason because not only had the two of you had been on and off for a long time, his emotionally unavailability had driven you insane, his refusal to say I love you—

“Yeah,” you say with a slightly forced smile. “I’m okay.”

You knew deep down, you were anything but. Guilt and shame were swirling in your gut like some sick cocktail when you realised that your thoughts about Gator had caused wetness to pool between your legs. You could feel the dampening of your panties. The realisation made heat burn in your lower stomach, made you have to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to ease the need for friction between your legs.

Your phone buzzed on the table in front of you. It was probably Ethan, likely checking up on you, checking that you had got to the bar okay and that you were drinking enough water alongside the alcohol you were consuming. Being the sweet, kind and caring boyfriend that he always was. But also the one who couldn’t fuck you better than Gator could.

You started to wonder if anybody could fuck you better than Gator Tillman.

“Is that Ethan?” Soph asks you, nodding towards your phone.

You hum, nodding as you quickly glance at your phone to see Ethan’s name in your notifications along with some sweet message about him looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. You feel guilty that you feel almost nothing in response to his message.

“Oh, Ethan’s such a sweetheart,” Nina gushes, smiling brightly at you. “He treats you so well.”

You smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Because yes—Ethan was a sweetheart. He did treat you well. But he didn’t make your heart race, he didn’t make your cunt throb at the thought of him or make you feel anything even close to what you had felt with Gator.

You wanted to be obsessed with Ethan, you wanted to be crazy about him and you wanted more than anything to not care that he couldn’t make you come. But you couldn’t. You weren’t obsessed with him, you weren’t crazy about him and you did care that you hadn’t made you come. You just knew he was stable, that on paper he was the right, sensible choice. But no matter how much you tried—and oh, you had tried—you couldn’t make yourself love him.

You knew that the right thing was to break up with Ethan. But with the words from your friends who insisted that Ethan was good for you—better for you than Gator had been—they had taken refuge in your chest and refused to leave. And so, you stayed with Ethan and you felt like a damn coward for doing so.

“Is that—” Soph begins, her eyes on a spot somewhere near the bar.

Nina shakes her head, her eyes a little wide as she shoots a not so subtle glance your way.

“How’s the new job going, Soph? Is your boss still—”

But you had caught the glance your way and more importantly, you had seen what had caught Soph’s eye.

Gator fucking Tillman.

Gator Tillman—who still looked as devastatingly handsome as he did that day you finally broke up with him for good. Gator Tillman—who was talking to some pretty brunette at the bar. Gator Tillman—who apparently still had some kind of hold over you as your traitorous heart did something funny in your chest. Something it had never done around Ethan. The guilt gurgles in your gut.

“We can leave,” Nina suggests as she notices your gaze on Gator and the brunette he was likely chatting up. “If you want to. I think they’re doing two or one cocktails across the—”

“—no,” you say quickly. Too quickly. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

You tell yourself that you were fine because you had moved on. Because you had Ethan.

But that green eyed monster roaring in your chest at the sight of Gator with another woman said otherwise. 

You barely listen to Soph ramble on about her new job as you watch Gator duck his head down to talk directly into the woman’s ear. Something twists in your gut when she smiles back at him, when she reaches out a hand to squeeze his arm. Your pussy clenches at you remember what those arms had felt like. Those arms that had once been wrapped around your waist as he had you almost folded in half, bent over the front of his truck. His chest pressed against your back as his thick cock fucked into you, hips snapping against your ass while he grunted about tightly you were squeezing his—

“Does anyone want another drink?” You ask your friends suddenly, stepping out of the booth with legs that felt unsteady, the ache between your legs now near impossible to ignore. “It’s on me.”

Nina and Soph both glance at your barely touched passionfruit martini before shaking their heads.

“Are you sure you’re o—”

You don’t hear the rest of the sentence. You were already walking towards the bar.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your blood thrumming as it was pumped around your body when you finally approached the bar, less than ten feet away from where Gator and the pretty brunette were standing.

You were just going to order another drink, you tell yourself. You were just going to—

“—being a deputy sheriff sounds so dangerous,” the brunette was saying to Gator, her hand still gently caressing his arm. 

Gator snorts with laughter and you make the mistake of looking over at him—to find that he was already looking right back at you.

“Danger don’t mean nothin’ t’me,” Gator replies, his hazel eyes on you as a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

God, you hated that your cunt pulses with need in response.

You roll your eyes despite wanting nothing more than for Gator to push up the skirt of your dress and fuck you until you were drooling over the bar.

“Miss? Can I get you anything?”

You blink, turning to the bartender who was looking at you expectantly. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, squeezing your thighs together beneath your dress as you take a moment to collect yourself. “Can I get a—”

“—passionfruit martini,” a voice that went straight to your already needy cunt drawls as a large hand plants itself on your lower back. “The fruitiest thing y’have for this sweet girl.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask Gator as soon as the bartender turns her back, attempting to keep the breathlessness out of your voice when you glance at him. You vaguely registered the brunette that he had been talking to walking away from the bar with a disgruntled expression and it was hard not to feel a little bit smug about it.

“Orderin’ ya a drink,” Gator retorts, his hand on your lower back dipping lower for a brief second to your ass before he withdraws it with a knowing look in his eyes as your breath hitches in your throat. “That alright with ya, mama? Or is yer little trust fund boyfriend gonna have a problem with that?”

Your face warms and your stomach turns at the old pet name before your head snaps in his direction. “How did you—”

“—know about ya new boyfriend? Baby, nothin’ goes on in this town that I don’t know ‘bout. Especially when it comes to ya.”

You swallow. A glass of passionfruit martini is placed down on the bar in front of you but you pay no mind to it as you watch Gator’s tongue glide across his lower lip because you can’t help yourself.

“I’m happy,” you tell him and the lie feels like poison on your lips.

Gator hums and you instantly know that he didn’t believe you. Of course he didn’t, because Gator Tillman still knew how to read you. 

“Sure ya are,” Gator smiles before he nods over to the bartender, signalling to add your cocktail to his tab. “That’s why ya keep lookin’ at me like that.”

The room suddenly felt too hot. Everything was buzzing around you. You have to take a long sip of your drink just to give yourself something to do but even the alcohol doesn’t offer you any comfort.

But you don’t deny it. Because you couldn’t deny it.

“I’m looking at you in disgust,” you tell him.

“Disgust?” Gator repeats with great amusement, his eyes seeming to sparkle as he looks at you. There was something else there too. Something that made your heart race in your chest. And when he leans in and his breath hits the skin of your neck, you do nothing to push him away despite knowing you should. “Baby, I can smell how much ya want me from here.”

You should have slapped him. You should have pushed him away and told him to fuck off, remind him that you had a boyfriend. You should have told him that Ethan was everything he wasn’t. That he was kind and considerate. But you did none of that. You didn’t even deny it because try as you might—you could not lie to Gator Tillman and you were so wet that your panties were sticking to your puffy lips.

“Not denyin’ it, huh?” Gator drawls in amusement, reaching out a large hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “That dumb boyfriend of yours doin’ a good job takin’ care of ya? Or is he leaving my girl all high and dry?”

Your face burns and your stomach feels as though your insides were suddenly made of molten lava at his words.

“I’m not your—”

“—yer always be my girl,” Gator tells you. “Ain’t that right?”

You say nothing because there was not a single part of you that wanted to deny it—that Gator Tillman still had a part of you that he refused to give back.

But then you remember that no matter how good the sex was with Gator, it didn’t make up for the way he always left you second guessing, how he had never wanted to talk about feelings and how he had said nothing when you finally found the courage to say the L word.

“Thank you for the drink,” you say tersely, picking up your glass and finding the strength to step away from Gator. “But I have a boyfriend who is waiting at home for me.”

“Is that right?” Gator asks in mild amusement but you knew him well enough to see the flash of jealousy in his eyes. The thought of making him jealous makes heat spread through your gut.

“Yeah,” you say, lifting your drink to your lips and taking a sip, Gator’s eyes carefully tracking your every move—at the way you lick the corner of your mouth. “And after he picks me up and takes me to his place, I’m going to let him fuck my brains out.”

You didn’t care that other people heard you, you didn’t care about the fact other people at the bar were looking at you. All you cared about was Gator’s reaction—the way his face fell slightly, the way his hands twitched like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself.

You take another sip of your drink, the fruity alcohol having no effect in comparison to the man standing in front of you.

“Have a nice life Gator,” you tell him, turning to leave with your heart hammering in your chest, a tight grip on your cocktail but Gator’s hand shoots out to stop you.

“What are you—”

Gator’s large, warm hand that was wrapped around your wrist tugs you closer. His touch—the one you had missed so much—causes heat to spread through your body.

“—y’know I still think about ya?” he husks, his other hand grazing your shoulder and causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. “Especially when I’m fucking my cock with my fist.”

It was crude, it was vulgar, it was everything Ethan wasn’t and that was exactly why it made you feel as though you were alive again. 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit, your throat uncomfortably dry, your cunt throbbing with need for the man in front of you.

“And yet ya love it,” Gator murmurs, leaning in so to breathe the words in your ear while his fingers dig into your skin as though attempting to leave a mark. “Can see ya squeezing yer thighs together, mama. She probably misses me, huh? Yer sweet pussy wants me that bad?”

You swallow, so turned on by his words, his touch, by him that it was a physical ache.

You had a boyfriend, you remind yourself—you had a boyfriend who loved you—who was better for you than Gator ever was.

But no matter how many times you told yourself that, you couldn’t pull yourself away from the man that stood in front of you and you certainly couldn’t deny Gator’s words. Because you were wet, you did still want him and you wanted him badly. And so, perhaps it was lucky that your friends had finally decided to step in.

“Hands off, Tillman,” Soph tells him as Nina pulls you away from Gator with an uncharacteristic stern expression. “She’s got a boyfriend and better off without you.”

Gator laughs at Soph’s words and you watch as his flicker back over to you. His gaze holds you captive for a brief moment and you don’t even register the cocktail glass being taken out of your hand as he looks back at your friend with an amused expression. “Sure. Keep believin’ that, sweetheart.”

With a scoff, Soph and Nina pull you out of the bar with a promise to never go back. 

But within the hour, you unblock Gator Tillman’s phone number.

It was around eleven o’clock when you finally decided to call it a night.

“Oh c’mon,” Nina pouts when you grab your purse. “Just one more hour, please?”

You shake your head, your phone tight in your grasp and screen purposefully shielded from your friends’ eyes. “No, I really gotta go. Ethan, um, Ethan’s picking me up.”

Both Nina and Soph ‘aw’ in unison and you smile, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Should we walk you to his car?” Soph suggests, already grabbing her jacket.

You were thankful for the dark lighting in the club, so that Soph and Nina could not see the warmth of your cheeks, the slight panic in your eyes.

“No,” you say quickly and with a reassuring smile. “No—I’m good. Thank you though.”

It took another five or so minutes to say goodbye to your friends. You felt your phone buzz in your hands repeatedly and you tried your best to ignore it as you gave both Soph and Nina a final hug goodbye. 

The cold night air hits you as soon as you walk out of the club, biting at your exposed skin as you walk towards the all too familiar truck parked a little way up the street.

Gator Tillman sits in the driver's seat of the pickup truck, legs spread and large hands resting on his thighs as he watches you walk towards him. It was hard for him not to smile. He leans over to open the passenger seat door for you.

“Hey, pretty mama,” he greets you as you climb into the truck with legs that feel almost like they were made of jelly. “Couldn’t resist me, could ya?”

You swallow thickly at his words, guilt gnawing at your insides like a viscous monster as he places a hand on your thigh. You hate the relief that his touch gives you. And so, you say nothing, just staring at the thick digits that rest over the skin of your thigh, at the goosebumps forming at his touch.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You had a boyfriend, one that adored you, one that had been checking in on you all night to make sure you were okay, one that loved you and loved you loudly. 

And yet, you knew what you felt for Ethan wasn’t love. It wasn’t even close to love. Because the only man you had ever loved was sitting right next to you.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper quietly, taking in a deep breath before you turn your head to look at Gator. “We broke up, I have a boyfriend and—”

“—and yet yer in my truck,” Gator smirks in smug satisfaction, his fingers moving an inch or so higher up your thigh, his eyes watching you carefully. “That means somethin’.”

“That I’m a bad person,” you say quietly, looking away from him to glance down at your phone, which you saw light up with a text from Ethan. “A horrible, horrible person who is going to—”

You stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you tuck your phone away and back into your purse. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Goin’ ta, what?” Gator asks and you almost gasp in surprise as he lifts your chin with his finger, an act surprisingly gentle for Gator even if it was to make you look at him. “Go on, pretty, finish that sentence.”

The air in Gator’s truck suddenly feels thick with want, with tension, with something that you couldn’t quite name. 

“Gator—” you begin, a million and one things that you wanted to say, your heart thumping loudly in your chest as your eyes lock with his. But the words die on your tongue as you finally allow yourself to give into his touch, your legs spreading apart just so.

Gator’s eyes flicker down to his hand on your thigh for a brief moment but otherwise, he doesn’t dare look away from you.

He murmurs your name in a gentle voice, one that you barely recognise coming from a man like Gator Tillman and that was perhaps your breaking point.

Your hands reach up to cup either side of Gator’s face and before you could really register what you were doing, before your conscience could creep back in and stop you from doing something that you may come to regret—you pull him towards you and your lips meet in kiss that sent heat searing through your entire body.

Gator reacted immediately, the hand that wasn’t on your thigh was cupping the back of your neck and tugging you closer, kissing you back with a kind of hunger that made your core ache. Warmth spreads through your gut as Gator wastes no time in pressing the wet heat of his tongue into your mouth, his hand on your thigh disappearing beneath your dress. You part your thighs further on instinct.

“There she is,” he murmurs against your lips, smirking as he thumbs over the damp patch that had formed in your panties which causes you to whimper against him. “There’s ma girl.”

And just like that—he pulls himself away from you. You whine, your hands clinging to him in desperation as he withdraws his hand from between your legs, chasing his lips as he pulls away from you. 

“Why did you—” You stop, completely breathlessly as he lifts the fingers he had pressed against your clothed cunt and sniffs them shamelessly.

“Ya still smell fuckin’ incredible, baby,” he drawls, making your mouth feel incredibly dry as he breathes in your scent. “But m’not takin’ ya here. Ain't no way. Want’ta spread ya out and take my time with ya. Okay?”

You nod, your body nearly trembling with want. Your cunt clenches around nothing and your lips part slowly as you watch him palm the large bulge that had formed in his jeans before he starts the engine.

The next fifteen minutes or so were nothing short of torture. You were beginning to wonder where on earth he was taking you. He certainly wasn’t taking you to the Tillman ranch nor was he taking you to your apartment. You didn’t ask him where exactly he was taking you because you couldn’t even look over at Gator as he drove because knowing he was already hard, already aching for you made the heat surging through your veins turn only hotter, made the space between the two of you feel small.

And when he finally pulls into some sort of fancy looking hotel parking lot, you turn to look at him in surprise.

“Gator, is this—”

“—only the best for ya,” he murmurs, not looking at you as he unbuckles his seatbelt, the tips of his ears turning red. “Wasn’t gonna fuck ya in a shitty motel.”

Despite how utterly unromantic those words sounded, you felt your heart double in size.

“Sweet,” you say with a small smile that Gator doesn’t return. But he does climb out the truck first to open your door even if he does plant a smack to your ass shortly after.

Gator whistles between his teeth, twirling the key to the hotel room around one of his thick fingers as you walk through the fancy lobby. You glance up at the twinkling chandelier above you, at the ceiling above that glittered in the light and you wonder just how much Gator had splashed out on the room for the two of you. 

Gator’s hand doesn’t leave your lower back the entire time as you walk towards the elevator. His presence doing nothing to help the ache between your legs, the simple touch making you feel more alive than you ever had with Ethan. The dull reminder of your boyfriend makes shame twist in your gut but you look at Gator to district yourself. You find him already looking at you.

You don’t break eye contact the entire elevator ride to the fifth floor.

And when Gator opens the hotel door for you, you can’t help the small gasp that leaves your lips. 

“Gator,” you say, completely breathless as you look around the room with wide eyes—at the expensive decorative golden carpet beneath your heels, at the plush royal blue loveseat, the floor to ceiling windows and finally the california king sized bed that sat in the middle of the room, white sheets that were so pristine that you were sure cost more than your monthly rent.

You were in such a state of awe that your body jolted when you felt Gator’s arms wrap your waist from behind.

“Where’d ya wanna go?” He asks against the skin of your neck, grinding himself against your ass, his cock thickening beneath his jeans. “The couch?” He whispers, pressing a kiss just over your pulse. “The floor?” He sucks gently at your skin, smiling when you arch back against him. “The bed?” He murmurs before his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up your neck while pressing himself more firmly against you.

Your eyelids flutter shut, heat coiling in your gut deliciously and making it impossible to resist him for even a second longer.

“Anywhere,” you breathe, turning around in his arms so you could face him. “I just want you.”

It was perhaps the most honest thing you had said in four months.

And it was those words that pull a rare, genuine smile from Gator Tillman before he finally leans in and crashes lips against yours.

His mouth was warm and insistent against yours, tongue licking into your mouth hungrily as though desperate to relearn every part of you he had missed. You melt into him, your fingers already tugging at his shirt as his hands roam over you to squeeze the globes of your ass.

“Missed ya, baby,” Gator groans against your mouth before pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking gently.

You whimper against him at the action, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you continue your attempts to tear it from his body. Gator doesn’t do a damn thing to help you, seemingly too focused on your lips, on the way you were whining against him as though you were desperate for him.

“Did’ya miss me too?” Gator asks you, pulling away just to look at your face, at your spit-slick lips, at your flustered expression.

“I did,” you breathe out, one of the buttons on his shirt popping out in your eagerness to tear it off his body. At the sight of his chest hair peaking through the half unbuttoned shirt, your pussy throbs in anticipation. Fuck. You had missed his chest hair. Ethan was almost silky smooth compared to Gator and the sight of the dark, coarse hair over Gator’s chest made you almost feral and you can’t help but lean in and lick along the coarse hair in one, languid swipe. “I missed you s’much.”

Gator groaned, genuinely groaned out loud and the sound went straight to your dripping core.

“C’here mama,” he grunts, his palms cupping your jaw and pulling your lips back to his.

Gator kisses you like he was starving and you kiss him back like he was the air you breathed. Desperation for each other was seared into each and every kiss, a complete lack of care for how messy and wet the kiss was. In fact, the messy glide of your tongue against each other only made you more desperate for each other.

You finally manage to peel off his shirt and you smile in victory before letting out a small shriek as Gator’s hands hoist you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your lips not leaving his as he walks you over to the luxurious bed waiting for the two of you.

You expect him to throw you onto the bed, expect him to manhandle you the way he always did.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t.

Instead, Gator Tillman lowers you gently down onto the bed as though you were something precious.

“Gator,” you gasp out, reaching for the buckle of his belt but he stops you with surprisingly gentle hands. “Please, Gator. I want—”

He shushes you, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you as his hazel eyes drag over your body, at the dress that was fluttering over the tops of your thighs, just exposing the slither of deep red lace hidden beneath your dress.

“—and I wanna take my time, baby,” he tells you, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he leans away from you and to gently grab one of your calves. “Ya deserve that shit.”

Your lips part as you watch him slowly—ever so slowly—take off the heels that you had been wearing. The entire time, he doesn’t break eye contact, not even as he kissed along the skin of your ankle.

Your entire body was thrumming with want. You were so turned on that the ache between your thighs was becoming almost painful and you could barely stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together.

The moment you do however, Gator’s eyes darken and his palms were quick to stop you, spreading your legs even further apart and causing a whine of utter desperation from leaving you. 

“Look at you,” he hums, licking his lips at the sight of the damp patch in your panties, the darkened fabric making his achingly hard cock stir beneath his clothes. “Fuck, I need’ta see her, baby.”

You nod feverishly, your body practically shaking with anticipation as Gator tries his very best to peel the dress off your body without tearing it. You, however, didn't care in the slightest if he ripped the dress to pieces.

The moment Gator finally saw what you were wearing beneath—the deep red, lacy set that he had once bought you for Valentines’ Day, Gator let out a noise that you prayed you’d never forget.

“Fuuck, baby,” he breathes out, leaning in to press a kiss to the swell of your breast and groaning at the feel of your skin against his lips. “Look at ya. Fuckin’ look at ya. Fuckin’ masterpiece and all f’me.”

It was the most poetic thing you had perhaps ever heard Gator say and it sent waves of something that felt like electricity through you. 

“Gator, please—” you whine, your back bowing off the bed as one of his hands brush down your back to unhook your bra. He seemed to lose his gentleness in his haste to get it off your body but you didn’t mind, not when his mouth quickly latched itself over one of your nipples. You let out a moan that the room next door was sure to hear. But you didn’t care, not when he was sucking hard on your pebbled peak, swirling around the sensitive bud with his tongue as his other hand came up to knead the breast his mouth wasn’t working on.

You weren’t holding back—after months of sex that left you feeling unwanted, unsexy and incredibly frustrated, you were finally allowing yourself to live in your pleasure. You allowed yourself to focus on Gator’s tongue, his hands and the groans that were muffled against your tit in his mouth.

Ethan was never enthusiastic the way Gator was about your pleasure, in fact, you often wondered if Ethan even really cared about your pleasure since he never touched you unless he got something in return and he certainly had never moaned shamelessly at the feeling of your breasts in his mouth like Gator was.

“S’good,” Gator groans against you before he switches to your other breast, his mouth giving it the same feverish attention as the other. “Fuckin’ missed these s’much. Most perfect fuckin’ pair of tits.”

Gator could have happily spent the entire evening lavishing your tits with his mouth, could have died there in all honestly. But you were writhing beneath him, hips bucking upwards and clearly desperate for more. 

“Stay still, baby,” he tells you before he blows air onto your nipple, tongue flicking the sensitive bud and causing a whimper to escape from your throat. “Stay still.”

You whine but the moment you feel his hands spread your thighs again, you know better than to listen to him. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, deft fingers now tracing over the skin of your thighs before they wrap around the last bit of lace that covered your most intimate part from him. “Good girl.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes you at those words.

“Gator—”

You were about to beg him, about to plead with him to stop teasing you but Gator Tillman seemed to get your message loud and clear.

He tugged your panties down your legs, almost ripping them off entirely in his eagerness to strip you bare. He stared down at the lace crumpled in his hand for a moment before lifting it to his nose and you watched—lips parted—as he breathed in your scent. He moans, loud and shameless as you fill his nostrils, the musky, heady smell making his hip buck against your thigh and you feel the thick, heavy outline of his cock. He was painfully hard but he was too busy smelling your soaked panties to really care.

“Fuuuuuck,” he moans into the material before letting it drop onto the sheets beside you so that he could let his eyes finally feast on the sight of you beneath him. You were sprawled out on the plush hotel bed, the expensive white sheets beginning to tangle from where you had been writhing against them in pleasure. He watches as your breasts heave, looking up at him, nipples still wet with his saliva before finally, finally his eyes drift down to your cunt and he marvels at the sight of it—glistening with your slick beneath the warm lights of the room.

“Jesus, baby,” he whispers, voice almost reverent as he leans in to kiss along your navel. Your body jolts slightly from the contact but Gator’s large hands hold your hips down, preventing you from moving too far. “Already s’fucking wet f’me. Drippin’ onto these expensive sheets. Fuck, mama.”

You feel his hot breath hit your inner thigh and the whimper that escaped you was borderline pathetic. You were so desperate, so ridiculously turned on that you were sure it wouldn’t take much for Gator to bring you to the edge. Just the way he was looking at your pussy was enough for more slick to dribble down between your folds.

You hear him tut gently and you look down just in time to watch one of his fingers brush gently through your curls before it glides easily between your folds, parting them gently. That first touch felt like something close to electricity surging through your body—you felt pleasure course through your entire being.

“Look at how neglected she’s been,” Gator murmurs as he leans in, breathing in your heady scent, his nose nudging lightly against your clit in a move that had you whimpering beneath him. “Can’t be havin’ that, can we, pretty?”

You have no time to respond, no time to even begin to think of a reply before Gator finally, finally dives right in.

And when it came to eating pussy, Gator Tillman did not hold back. Not in the slightest.

His mouth seals itself over your cunt with a sound that was so loud and so obscene that you momentarily began to wonder whether or not you were dreaming. But as he licked a long, broad stroke from your entrance right up to your swollen, puffy clit—you knew that this was far too good to be a dream.

“Gator!” You mewl out, your hands flying to grab onto his hair, needing something to hold onto as your hips are unable to jerk upwards as he holds you down against the mattress. Your fingers tug at his hair as he circles your sensitive bud with the very tip of his tongue and he groans at the feeling, causing a vibration that makes your toes curl.

“That’s it, mama,” Gator mutters against you, his eyes not leaving your face as it twists with pleasure. “Taste fuckin’ incredible. Like home.”

If you weren’t feeling such intense pleasure from his tongue playing with your clit, you may have thought more about those words.

“Fuuuuck, Gator,” you moan, throwing your head back against the sheets as he flattened his tongue, dipping back down to your dripping hole that he lapped at greedily, slurping up your slick messily like it was holy water before pushing his tongue inside and fucking you with it. Gator didn’t seem to care that the mix of your wetness and his saliva was now dripping from his lips and coating his chin and he certainly didn’t care about the moans he was letting out against your cunt.

“Missed this sweet fuckin’ pussy,” He murmurs, smirking against your heat before he pulls away just to listen to your needy whines. “She’s missed me too, ain’t that right, pretty?”

You nod, opening your mouth to reply but whatever words were about to leave your lips were cut off entirely by a high-pitched moan as he pressed a finger to your oversensitive clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, grinning lazily at the way you almost convulse with pleasure beneath him as he begins to press circles against your clit with familiar precision. “Let me hear ya. Let me hear those sweet fuckin’ sounds of yers.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a sentence or even a coherent thought, not as he traced two fingers down your folds, smearing your slick over you messily before he pushed both fingers deep inside of you. You felt him curl his fingers, your eyes rolling back into your head as they pressed firmly against that spongey spot inside of you. 

And when his mouth returned to your clit and sucked the sensitive bud between his lips?

It was nothing short of ecstasy.

The dual sensation of his mouth on your clit and his fingers fucking in and out of you, pressing against that spot that made you see stars with every pump of them had you making noises you didn’t know you were even capable of. The wet sounds of his mouth sucking at your clit, of his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt fill the room, along with his muffled groans and your high-pitched moans. You weren’t even really aware of how loud you were being, not when it felt so fucking good to be worshipped the way Gator Tillman worshipped you the altar between your thighs.

“Yer so fuckin’ perfect,” Gator murmurs against you, his words slurring slightly, seemingly drunk on your pussy before he doubles down, fingers curling inside of you at the same as he sucks at your clit.

“Gat—Gator,” you gasp, not knowing anything other than his name. “Gator, I’m going to—”

“Ya gonna cum, baby?” He asks, not letting up for even a second as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “C’mon then, pretty. Be a good girl f’me and cum.”

It was the way he was looking at you, it was the fact that it was Gator and that this—he—was everything you had been thinking about for the past few months that you finally found yourself tipping over the edge.

You let out a cry, one that was sure to wake the whole damn hotel as your orgasm crashed through your body with an intensity you didn’t know was possible. Your walls squeeze his fingers as he works you through it, your pussy gushing around the digits while his tongue greedily savours every last drop.

You were trembling, feeling pleasure coursing through every single nerve in your body, your blood singing from the intensity of your orgasm. You were absolutely positive that Gator Tillman had sent you to another planet, another universe with his fingers and mouth and you wanted to live there for a little bit longer.

But the sound of Gator whispering your name pulls you back.

You sit up on your elbows, his face glistening with your release and looking so handsome that you wondered why you ever fucking left.

“Gator,” you gasp, your hands that were still in his hair pulling him toward you. “Gator, I—”

“—I know,” Gator breathes out, eyes seeming to sparkle in the warm light. “I know, baby.”

You met in the middle in a kiss that was so soft and so gentle that it took your breath away. You could taste yourself on his tongue but you didn’t care, not when he was kissing you like you were more precious than gold, not when he was holding you so close to his body like he was never going to let you go again.

He whispers your name again and he says it so lovingly that you almost didn’t recognise it but it made you cling to him tighter, made your body shake with an emotion you couldn’t control.

Your hands shake as they run over his skin, down his neck, over his chest, over the soft stomach that your cunt throb again before finally you reach his belt buckle. Gator doesn’t tease you this time, instead he groans into your mouth before he helps you with his belt, which he throws unceremoniously to the other side of the hotel room. You’re pretty sure you hear something clatter to the floor but neither of you really care as his jeans are the next item of clothing to disappear.

The outline of his cock through his boxers was enough to make your mouth water. You had almost forgotten how big Gator’s cock was but the size of the bulge in front of you was a truly glorious reminder.

“I don’t have a—”

“—I don’t care,” you say quickly, your fingers already tugging at the waistband of his boxers as you look hungrily up at him. “Just fuck me, Gator.”

With one firm tug, his cock finally springs free. It slaps against his stomach and sound goes straight to your core. You watch greedily at the way the ruddy tip is already leaking, precum dribbling down and running along his veiny length, making your mouth feel impossibly dry.

“D’ya wanna—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, you’re already pulling him down onto the mattress and pushing him onto his back.

“Oh shit,” Gator smirks, his hands finding your hips as you move to straddle him, your wet heat pressing against his thigh. “You gonna ride me, pretty? Is it my birthday or somethin’?”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging on your lips as your cheeks warm slightly.

“Don’t be shy,” he tells you, thumb brushing over your skin before he presses his thigh against you, the hairs brushing against your still sensitive clit and causing you to jolt slightly. “Ride me. G’on, baby.”

Despite his slightly commanding tone, despite the smug smile on his face, you could see the desperation and utter devotion in his eyes. He needed this—needed you almost as much as you needed him.

And so, you wasted absolutely no time in wrapping your fingers around his cock and lining him up with your entrance. You watch as his lips part and eyes widen, Gator Tillman momentarily speechless at your touch, before you begin to sink down onto his thick cock.

The stretch burns at first. Ethan was nowhere as big or as thick as Gator was and so, it took you a moment or so before you sank yourself down onto him completely. The moment you do, the moment you were filled entirely with Gator—was the moment you realise you had never stopped loving him.

“Ya okay?” Gator asks you gently, feeling you tense briefly and his hands cup your face in a gesture so sweet and gentle that you nearly forget to breathe. “I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”

“No,” you shake your head quietly, smiling at him as you watch his expression soften slightly, the relief in his eyes that he hadn’t hurt you. “I just—I just really missed you.”

Because you did. You had missed him, not just the sex. You realise that now. You always knew, deep down, that Gator loved you despite not being able to say it back. Because Gator Tillman may not have screamed it from the rooftops, but he said it in every gentle caress, every smile and every laugh meant only just for you.

Gator looks back at you carefully, blinking slowly as he studies the look on your face before he swallows, fingers digging into the skin of your hips. “I missed ya too. Sap.”

You smile at him before you laugh, your fingers dancing over the skin of his shoulders as you watch his lips twitch as though he’s trying not to smile too.

You had so much more you wanted to say to him, so much more you needed to talk about—but there would be time for that. 

You held onto his shoulders as you began to roll your hips, the slow grind making Gator swallow as your gummy walls squeezed snugly around his cock.

“Yer so fuckin’ warm,” he groans, eyes flickering down to watch the way your pussy was stretched around him, the sight making his stomach tighten. “Squeezin’ me like that, fuck, mama. Keep goin’.”

But you keep the slow grind, watching the way his throat bobs, the way his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth like he was trying to stop himself from moaning. The sight alone made you clench around him.

“Pretty girl—”

“—you gonna say please?” You ask him with a teasing smile, sinking down and rolling your hips in a move that had Gator gripping onto your flesh tightly.

Gator looked for a moment as though he would rather die than say please but another roll of your hips, one that had him fully seated inside of you caused him to let out a sound you didn’t even know he was capable of.

“Please,” he grunts, his hands moving to squeeze the globes of your ass as though desperate to keep you close to him. “Please ride me, baby.”

Who were you to refuse him?

You started to ride him properly then, rolling your hips as Gator’s hands on your ass guided you into a faster rhythm, one that his head rolling back and your fingers biting into the skin of his shoulders.

“Oh, fuuuck, Gator!”

It was hard to think clearly after that. His hands squeeze your ass, kneading the flesh as he aided you in slamming back down onto his cock repeatedly. Wet sounds fill the room once again, this time from his thick cock slamming up into you, the fat head of it bullying your cervix with each and every thrust. 

You mewl, moan and whimper, your hips meeting his movements as you grab onto the headboard behind him for leverage. The moment that you do, there was really no stopping the noises that left both your mouths.

You slam your pussy down around his cock over and over and over again, your tits bouncing in his face while Gator babbles mindlessly beneath you.

“Fuck baby, that feels s’fucking good. Yer so good. Fuckin’ made f’me. Don’t know—fuck—don’t know why the fuck I ever let ya walk away. Never again, pretty.”

You nod frantically, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as his hips thrust up to meet you, burying himself so deep that you swear you felt him in your gut. The coil inside you was tightening again, so close to snapping that you felt tears well up in your eyes owing to the sheer amount of overwhelming pleasure you were feeling.

“Look at me,” Gator says suddenly and the desperation in his voice makes you look down at him. “Look at me, baby. Want ya to look at me when ya cum.”

You whimper, the eye contact somehow making everything even more intense. It wasn’t just the pleasure and the heat building steadily up in your gut, but the emotion you felt in your throat, in your very bones, as you looked back at him.

“Gator—”

“—I know baby,” Gator grunts, thrusting up into you and looking at you with such gentleness that you couldn't bring yourself to look away even if you wanted to. “I know—and I love you too.”

A sound tears from your throat—a sob, a moan—you weren’t entirely sure. All you knew was that your second orgasm tears throughout your body, waves of pleasure crashing over you, making everything around you feel fussy as you squeezed his thick cock like you never wanted him to leave.

“Fuck—that’s it, mama. S’fucking pretty. Fuckin’ beautiful. Ya gonna make me—”

Gator doesn’t finish his sentence, a needy whine leaving his lips as he tips over the edge right after you. His hips stutter, slamming your pussy down around him one final time before he floods your pussy with hot spurts of his cum. You whimper, bordering on overstimulation as he keeps thrusting up into you, fucking his cum up into you, as deep as it could go.

“S’fucking good for me. Takin’ all my cum like a good girl.”

You whimper before collapsing against his chest, completely and utterly spent. Gator’s arms wrap around you in an instant, his cock still pulsing inside of you as he presses kiss after kiss against the sweat-slick skin of your shoulder.

You were both breathing heavily, both clinging to each other as though neither of you wanted to leave the hotel bed.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to come back. The blurred image of Ethan creeping back into the back of your head.

As though being able to read your thoughts, Gator says your name quietly—almost tentatively.

“I really do miss ya,” he tells you, raising a cheek to brush his fingers gently across your cheek. “Not just—not just this, y’know but—all of ya.”

“Gator—”

“—I know, okay? I know ya think m’just saying shit because of what we just did but I—I really do love ya. A lot. So much that I spent fuckin’ way too much money on this fuckin’ hotel room so I could prove to ya that I can take care of ya too. Not just that trust fund baby ya been seein’.”

It takes a few moments to take in his words through your post orgasm haze but when you do, you finally understand just why Gator Tillman had splashed out on a fancy hotel to fuck you in.

“Gator,” you breathe out his name before you pull yourself away from his chest to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to spend money to prove that you love me,” you tell him quietly with a shake of your head. “You just have to say it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Gator expression shifts, as though quietly trying to understand your words before he swallows.

“Well, I do,” he says, looking away for a very brief moment before looking back at you. “I love ya, baby. I always have. Always will.”

You expect him to look away, for him to shy away from those words but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks back at you with a determined expression that makes the world around you almost cease to exist.

“I love you too,” you breathe out, your hands cupping his face before pulling him into a kiss that has his cock twitching inside of you.

“So, ya gonna break up with that prick now?” Gator asks, pulling away to pepper kisses along your neck, setting a fire along your skin. “Or can I fuck ya again first?”

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It was stupid really. Both you and Steve knew you shouldn't have left the safety of Hawkins. You knew that you shouldn't have left the small and tight knit community where there were people who loved you, running water and plenty of resources but Steve had wanted to get Dustin a new comic book for his birthday, for some semblance of normalcy for the kid and you hadn't wanted him to go alone. You had snuck out plenty of times before and you had both naively presumed that a walk to the town not even twenty minutes away wouldn’t be a problem.

But now—you'd never return home and the others would likely find your bodies when they would inevitably come looking for you in a few days' time. All because you had forgotten to check the basement. And now—you were both paying the ultimate price.

It was unspoken, what you both had to do in order to stop yourself from turning into an infected. The cyanide pills that were always tucked into your backpack just in case had been sitting on the floor in front of the both of you, taunting you.

“I’m—” you begin, your voice thick with tears.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve mutters, already anticipating what you were about to say. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I’m the one who wanted to come here.”

“But I didn’t check the—”

“—I don’t want you dying blaming yourself,” Steve interrupts, his voice breaking slightly when he looks back at you.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you quietly accept it—the fact you and Steve Harrington were going to die on the floor of a comic book store. The fact you were going to die beside the man you loved.

There was no saving grace here. Just you, Steve and the inevitability of death. Inevitable because there was no cure. Nothing that could save either of you from the infection that was already spreading through your body.

"Least we're together," Steve murmurs, looking at you with a soft expression. You notice the tears in his eyes but you don't comment on them. "We're not alone."

You watch then as Steve holds out one of his large hands, palm up, for you to take. You swallow before you place your hand over his. His touch brings a warmth to you that not even the deadly infection could take away.

"That makes things a little better." You say, blinking away tears as you look back at him with a faint smile. 

"You think so?" Steve asks, nudging his knee with yours as he manages a small smile. "Wouldn't you rather Robin be talking your ear off or talking to Nance about that book you both like?"

You shake your head before you wipe away some of your tears. "No. There's no one else I'd rather be with you than you. No one.”

It was the most honest yet terrifying thing you could have said. And yet—there was not a single part of you that was scared because the only thing more certain than the fact you were going to die was the fact that you loved him. Not even death would take that away.

Steve blinks, his hand in yours stills for a moment before he asks. “What—does that mean that you—”

“Yeah,” you whisper back quietly with a small squeeze of his hand. A shared understanding in that gentle squeeze, in the look in your eyes. “Not the best timing for…confessing my feelings but if we’re going to—you know—I just, I wanted you to know.”

Steve says your name and you’re quick to shake your head. Because you didn’t want pity or for him to be sorry that he didn’t feel the same—

“It’s fine, Steve. You don’t have to—”

“—no, look at me. Please.”

You do. Because it was Steve and you loved him and you would do almost anything he said.

When you look at him you can see the sorrow in his eyes. The devastation that his and your life would soon come to an end. But also the flicker of something softer, something you couldn’t quite decipher but made the weight in your chest feel a touch lighter.

“There’s no one else I’d rather spend my last moments with than you,” Steve tells you, his other hand cupping your cheek. His thumb gently strokes across your skin, touching you as though you were more precious than gold.

Your face feels warm and you try to stop the smile from spreading across your face as you look back at Steve, tears falling down your cheeks, everything beginning to feel a little hazy as the infection continues to spread but none of that seemed to matter as Steve Harrington smiled back at you.

“You mean that?” You ask quietly. “You really—”

“—’course I do,” Steve whispers. “It’s you. It’s only ever been you. It’ll always be you.”

You barely have time to breathe, to comprehend what he had just said before Steve’s lips are against yours. You let out a soft, startled sound of surprise before you melt into him. There was no gentleness, no hesitation, just years of build up and unspoken words that had been burning between the two of you for years. His mouth was almost desperate to taste every inch of yours before everything came to an end.

Your fingers found themselves carding through his hair as your lips molded against his and for a moment, you could almost convince yourself that you weren’t going to die. That you and Steve would make it out of this, that you’d have years together. Maybe you’d even have a family or you’d live long enough for there to be a cure for the damn infection that had swept across the globe.

But it was with a bone crushing realisation when Steve pulls away from you in order to catch his breath that you don’t have time. You don't have years, you don’t have days. You barely have an hour. You would not live to know what a lifetime would have looked like with Steve. All you had was half an hour before the infection took over your mind and you would have to take the pills before you lost yourselves completely.

You let out a sob before you could stop it. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t get more time,” Steve whispers, pressing his forehead against yours so his warm breath kisses your skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper back, something in your chest twisting when you see a tear slip down Steve’s cheek. “Half an hour will do.”

It was a lie, it was a damn lie because whether it was an hour you had, or a day, a year or even a lifetime, it wouldn’t have been enough. No matter what time you had with Steve, it would have never been enough. But in that moment, it was a lie you both chose to believe.

“I love you,” Steve tells you, the words building a warmth you couldn’t quite describe. “I love you and I need you to know that before we—”

Your eyes flickered back down to the small box on the floor in front of you before looking back at Steve.

“I love you too,” you breathe out. “So much.”

“We’ll see Eddie again,” Steve says hopefully, wiping away your tears gently as he sniffles. “And Chrissy. El. Bob.”

“Eddie’s gonna give you an earful when you tell him you broke his guitar,” you say with a wet laugh.

“What’s he gonna do?” Steve asks. “Kill me again?”

It wasn’t funny, not even a little bit but it makes you laugh anyway. And it doesn’t take long for Steve to laugh too.

“If the last thing I get to see is your smile then it’s a pretty good way to go out,” Steve smiles, eyes shining with tears. “All things considered.”

“Hope the last thing I hear is your laugh. Or one of your really bad jokes.”

“My jokes are great.”

“Debatable.”

Steve’s hands shake slightly before you pull you back in for another kiss. Then another and another and another until you weren’t sure where you ended and Steve began, until you were surely to run out of breath.

“I love you,” Steve murmurs against your lips. “I love you, I love you, I love—”

“I love you too,” you tell him before you shut him up by pulling him back in.

Tears were still falling down your cheeks and Steve was clinging to you like you were his only reason to keep breathing. You weren’t sure how long you had before you began to lose your mind but you knew that you weren’t going to be alone. That Steve would be right there with you as you journey from life to the new adventure of death.

And days later, when Hopper found both you and Steve on the floor of the comic book shop, he’d found the two of you still holding hands—finally at peace, together at last.

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