𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐭 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞.
𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥! 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫/𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠?? 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧… !! </𝟑 𝐈’𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲 || | +𝟏𝟖
. . . ─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ─── 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Pairing:
Drover/Jack Clancy x Fem!Reader
@loganspet
. . .
⋆⋅ 𑣲 ⋅⋆
It started out as a teasing little dare. You’d never actually meant to provoke him into anything you couldn’t handle but the moment you picked up Drover’s battered, sun-bleached hat and settled it over your hair, you knew you’d made a mistake. Or maybe the best decision of your life. You’re standing outside the shed with the dying sun behind you, shirt sticking to your back, watching Drover haul the saddle down it weighs nothing to that strong Australian man. His shirt’s open halfway and rolled at the sleeves, chest soaked in sweat, forearms straining with each movement. He’s too pretty to look at directly sometimes.
He was working on tightening the saddle cinch by the tent, jaw dark with stubble, shirt already sticking to his back in the heat. He paused mid-motion. The slow lift of his head felt like a silent ripple through the whole camp. Those sharp eyes tracked up from your bare thighs to your mouth and then to the crown of his hat perched so innocently on your head.
You tried for a smile. “Just borrowing it—”
Drover didn’t answer right away. He simply unhooked the saddle strap, set it aside with much care, and straightened to his full, rangy height. You felt the bottom of your stomach drop out as he started toward you, the tilt of his mouth promising nothing gentle.
“Oi. You reckon that’s wise, darlin’?” He glances over his shoulder, a flicker of something sharp in his eyes when he sees it sitting crooked on your head. “That’s not a toy, y’know Takin’ a man’s hat? You got any idea what you’re askin’ for?”
Your throat bobbed. “What?”
“I know,” you say, swaying on your feet a little, grinning slow. “But Drover you weren’t wearin’ it.”
You swallowed, heart beating like a kicked-up mob of cattle. You didn’t take it off. You just stood there, letting him come to you, a little thrill pooling low in your belly at the way his gaze dropped to your chest, your parted lips.
When he finally stopped in front of you, the heat off him was as oppressive as the Outback sun. He reached up, hooked a thumb under the brim. Didn’t remove it only tilted it back enough that your eyes locked fully.
“That’s my hat,” he murmured, accent thick, voice scraping your skin raw. “You wear it, you ride the cowboy.”
Your pulse hammered. “Drover—”
You felt your pulse explode behind your ribs. Before you could say a word, Drover’s hands caught you around the hips, tight enough to leave bruises. and he hauled you flush against him, mouth crashing over yours in a rough, searing kiss. His tongue swept past your lips, tasting you, claiming you he’d been waiting for this moment.
You gasped, fingers curling helplessly in his shirt. He smelled like sweat and leather and iron-rich dust, a scent that made your knees buckle. Drover caught you easily, sliding one broad palm down to cup the curve of your backside, grinding you against the hard ridge behind his fly. His voice was rough against your mouth.
“You want it bad enough to steal my hat,” he rasped against your mouth, “Sweetheart better be ready to take all of me.”
You could only nod, breath hitching when he let his other hand drift between the inside of your jeans, testing how soft and wet you were already. His lashes dipped low. “Goddamn, you’re plump as a ripe peach.”
You backed up a little, nerves kicking in. “I- I’ve never…”
His face softened. Just a little. “I know, sweet thing.”
You’d felt his eyes on you all day, the way they kept snagging on the little pink gingham top knotted just under your bust, shoulders bare and sun-kissed. The matching tie-front shorts left your legs long and loose, dust clinging to your skin from the walk back to camp. It wasn’t exactly decent maybe that’s why his gaze had gone hot and heavy, mouth set like he was holding himself back all damn day.
“Been wantin’ you since the first time you set foot on my land, Girl” he muttered, thumb pressing more firmly against you through the thin cotton. “Knew I shouldn’t. Knew I’d ruin ya. But you go ‘n’ put on my bloody hat…” His head dipped, lips brushing your ear. “Darlin’, you just signed your fate.”
𑣲
The next thing you knew, he’d turned you bodily and walked you backward into the tent. His hands didn’t leave your body Drover guided you to the little cot, pressing you down onto it without ceremony. When he knelt over you, his hat still perched defiantly on your head, he looked like a man about to break a wild thing to his saddle. And you realized you wanted that. The tent was small but packed with the rugged essentials—faded canvas walls stretched taut over wooden poles, a battered lantern hanging low, its warm amber glow flickering over worn leather saddles, tangled ropes, and a scuffed wooden crate piled with oilskins. The dusty floor creaked underfoot as Drover pulled you inside, closing the flap behind with a snap that sounded final.
His hands never left your body as he guided you toward the cot—a rough, narrow frame with a coarse blanket thrown over it. The scent of leather, sweat, and campfire smoke wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating. The evening heat clung inside the tent, but the closeness between you and Drover burned hotter.
A groan rumbled in his chest, and suddenly his hand was between you, as he helped you push your jeans down, fumbling with his belt, the clink of metal sharp in the night air. Your top falling loose in his rough hands. You pulled at the hem of his shirt, shoving it upward until he peeled it off entirely. His zipper rasped down. You caught your breath as he freed himself, thick and flushed and so blatantly ready. Drover’s gaze fixed on the hat.
“Keep it on,” he ordered, voice hoarse. “I want you rememberin’ who’s makin’ you feel this way.” Then his hands locked on your hips and he sank into you in one long, unstoppable thrust. The startled cry tore from your throat before you could stop it half sob, half moan his name breaking on your lips.
“Jesus—Jack,” you yelp without meaning to, half a moan, half a sob, hands flying to his shoulders. Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears high, needy, desperate and the name slips out before you can stop it. His big hand slid up your bare side, fingers splaying across your ribcage, and then cupped your breast from underneath. He gave a slow, squeeze, thumb brushing over the peaked nipple until you gasped.
He groaned raggedly, burying himself to the hilt. “That’s it,” he murmured, the brim of the hat tipping forward to hide your wide, overwhelmed eyes. “That’s my good girl.”
Every inch of you stretched and filled, your walls clenching greedily around him as he started to move deep, rolling drives that made the cot creak under your bodies. You clung to his shoulders, the hat slipping sideways but refusing to fall, his mouth finding yours again in a hot, consuming kiss. Everything you’d wanted for too long.
“Y’know what sittin’ like that does to a man, don’t ya? Makes a man dangerous.” he muttered, You bit your lip, fingers splayed over his chest, feeling the tense pull of muscle. Drover’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you up to meet every stroke, he wanted you to feel the exact heaviness and thickness of his cock every single time.
Drover didn’t give you a moment to collect yourself. He rocked into you with a measured patience that somehow felt more intense than any frantic thrusting could have been. Each slow withdrawal let you feel the hot slide of his cock stroking deep along your walls, only to drive back in so solidly you couldn’t stop the breathy little moans tumbling out. Nothing existed except the cowboy above you, the rough rasp of his voice as he dropped his mouth to your ear.
“That’s it, love. Just like that.” His hands roam, rough palms catching every soft, trembling part of you.
“Feelin’ full, sweetheart?” His breath tickled the shell of your ear. “That what you wanted, stealin’ my hat gettin’ split wide on my cock?”
You whimpered, nodding helplessly.
“Yes—yes—” You couldn’t stop the words spilling out, voice going breathless and wrecked. “Feels so good—need it, Jack—oh God, I need you—”
“Yeah.” He drew back slow, savoring every inch, then slammed forward, making you cry out. “You love this. All wet and greedy for it.”
He shifted suddenly, sitting back on his heels without withdrawing. Your hands fluttered over his chest, clinging to the sweat-slick muscle as he reached for your hips. Strong fingers clamped around your waist. And then he lifted you bodily, pulling you upright to straddle him. He growled and shifted under you, bracing his boots on the floor so he could thrust up to meet every bounce. The sensation made you cry.
The new angle made you gasp he felt impossibly deep this way, the thick head of him pressing right up against a spot that made your vision go white at the edges.
“That’s it,” he growled, guiding you to rock forward. “Ride the cowboy.”
Your thighs trembled as you started to move, lifting yourself up just enough that his tip nearly slipped free, then sinking back down with a wet, obscene slap of flesh. You couldn’t bite back the desperate moan.
“Oh—God—Jack—feels…feels so good, I—” You broke off in a moan, your head tipping back as you sank all the way down again. “S’too much”
He watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, his hands flexing on your hips to steady you. “You’re doing well, love. takin’ me so deep.”
You rode him slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm, but he was too thick, the stretch too perfect you could feel yourself fluttering around him every time you dropped back down. You leaned forward, bracing your palms on his shoulders. The hat slipped forward over your eyes, but he didn’t let you fix it. He caught your chin in one big hand and tipped your face up instead. his thumb brushing over your swollen lips before he crushed his mouth onto yours.
The kiss was fierce, almost harsh—his beard scraping roughly against your skin, the scrape leaving a sting that bloomed into heat. His teeth nipped your lower lip just enough to make it swell, his tongue invading your mouth with a claim so fierce it left you breathless.
“Sweetest thing, Keep goin’,” he ordered, “Show me how bad you need it.”
You started moving faster, bouncing in his lap, the cot creaking madly beneath you. Your breath came in ragged little sobs as your pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, every wet slide of him hitting a spot inside you that made your thighs spasm. He rutted up into you hard.
“That’s my girl,” Drover rasped, watching the way you swallowed him over and over. “Such a pretty girl when you’re ridin’ me.” He reached between you without warning, pressing the rough pad of his thumb against your clit. Your whole body jolted. You cried out, voice breaking, and he did it again, circling, the combination making you clamp around him so tight he swore savagely under his breath.
“Tell me what you need.”
Your voice came out high. “Need you—need you to—oh God—need you to inside me always—”
He thrust up to meet you, so deep you felt your belly tighten almost painfully. “You’re gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes—yes, I’m—oh—fuck—” You buried your face against his neck, voice muffled and desperate.
Your eyes fluttered shut, head falling back as you moved faster, chasing the heat coiling low in your belly. “I’m—I’m so close—”
“That’s right?” His thumb circled your clit, making your whole body spasm. “Come on—come for me, darlin’. Let me feel you.”
“Jack—!” You clapped a hand over your mouth, suddenly shy. It was too much his thumb, the thick heat of him inside you, the raw want in his voice. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds. I wanna hear every little noise you make when you come on me.”
“Can’t—can’t—” you stammered, overwhelmed.
“Yeah, you can,” he murmured, kissing the underside of your jaw as you trembled. “Gonna take every inch of me, yeah?”
His breathing turned ragged, swearing low and sharp into your neck before yanking you up just enough to slide free. His hand wrapped around himself, pumping hard as he groaned your name, hot ropes spilling across your stomach and dripping down the insides of your shaking thighs. The mess was hot and heavy on your skin, his hand still gripping your hip as if he couldn’t stand to let you go.
You were gasping, chest heaving, legs trembling in his lap while he looked down at you—hair mussed, lips swollen, his release painting your skin.
“Reckon you understand the cowboy hat rule now?”
Your legs were still trembling where you straddled him, knees pressed into the rough cot, and Drover leaned back a little just to take you in. Hair mussed, lips swollen, skin flushed all the way down your chest and his seed dripping lazy trails down your thigh. His eyes darkened, jaw flexing.
“First time, and you took me so damn natural.” His other hand drifted down, rough palm grazing your stomach until it stopped right over your navel. His thumb traced a lazy circle there before dipping lower, dragging through the heat of your sex just to smear his seed across your skin.
You whimpered, thighs twitching under his touch, but he didn’t stop just rubbed the mess in, he wanted it to stay. “That’s mine,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Every drop. You feel it?”
When you nodded shyly, his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. “Good girl.” His hands slid down to grip your hips again, big thumbs pressing into the dimples of your lower back. “Bet I could get it in you again.”
⋆⋅ 𑣲 ⋅⋆
