⠀ NOTES ꜜ Piercer Dodge u will always be special to me :p

When you enter inside his shop, you can hear the loud welcome of the bell chiming on the door. You look around and nothing much has changed. It’s still the same clean and dark aesthetic that made you roll your eyes, but you think it’s one of the stereotypes of having a piercing and tattoo shop. The vibes are almost the same. You could feel the fabric of your cotton shorts brushing against your inner thighs as you walked inside, while your oversized shirt (which was only there to cover your bikini) hung loosely. It’s enough to show the outline of the strings of your bikini at the collar.

His head quickly lifted the moment he heard the sound, and he was in the middle of sketching a tattoo in his book. He puts his pencil to the back of his ear so he can stare at you like he’s trying to point out what you are planning before his eyes narrow at the bag in your hand. “Why do I feel like you’re about to drag me into something?” he stated before he started setting aside his drawing materials (which he always carries) back in his bag, settled on the side. He also sets the pencil down where it was placed before, then tilts back in his chair.

One thing you like about Dodge is that he never hides the way he looks at you. Like he won’t look away if he stares at you. Right now, he’s not hiding the way he gazes at your neck. Shamelessly staring at the strings pressing on your skin, and you just let him as you cross the floor towards him. “Because I am. Close early. We’re going to the beach.” You hold out the tote bag for him to see what’s inside it, which is a blanket and a glass bottle.“The beach?” He amusedly repeats it, and his eyebrows pull together, but his voice already has that tired sound that says he knows he’s not winning. You nudge the bag into his lap, and your lips twitch. “Yeah. Don’t act like you’re booked full. I saw the calendar. You’re done for the day. Come on.”

You packed this before even asking me?” He pulls the blanket out a little, and his eyes look up at you. “You always say yes.” You say it too easily, and you’re already tugging at your shirt hem like you’re seconds from stripping it off. “So why waste time pretending?” Dodge drags a hand down his face and breathes out hard through his nose, but the way his jaw locks when your shirt rides up a bit tells you all you need to know. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he mutters, but he’s already standing and grabbing his keys.

“Mmhm.” You hum as you lean against the counter and watch him pocket his lighter and phone. “And you like it.” His eyes drop to your chest again, and it’s just a look, but it’s obvious, and his mouth pulls like he’s trying not to let a smile show. “I should lock you in here instead.” You tip your head, and your grin turns playful. “With me already dressed for the beach?” The string at your collar moves when you shift, and his throat bobs. For a moment, he looks like he might actually argue, but then he just shakes his head and walks past you while the warmth of his arm brushes yours.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says while pulling the door open for you. “You’re coming through,” you point out as you step out into the sun. Dodge locks the door behind him, and a heavy sigh leaves his chest, but when he looks at you with your tote slung over one arm and your bare legs catching the light, it’s clear he was never going to tell you no. The drive feels easy, and the windows are down just enough to let the wind mess with your hair. Dodge’s hands are placed on the steering wheel, while the other is resting on his thigh as he taps his thigh along with the music playing on low volume on the radio.

His eyes occasionally look your way, though, and you’re settled comfortably against your seat with your tote bag placed on your lap. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted to swim,” he said, before faking a sigh, as if it hurt him, but you know better. You know he can swim his ass off if he wants to. He’s just fucking with your head because you didn’t message him before you went to his shop. His own lips, trying not to smile, are the ones that make him so obvious, even if he tries to act like he doesn’t swim (which you know he’s lying because you already saw him swim before) as he shifts gears.

“You don’t have to swim,” you sarcastically replied to him while you leaned your head back against the seat. “You can just sit there and brood on the blanket.” His laugh comes out short and rough in his throat. “So you already planned my role?” He asks with his eyebrow raised. “Obviously. I bought chips and beer for you, and a bikini for me. Fair trade.” You pull the hem of your shirt so the fabric rides higher on your thigh. “Besides, I didn’t hear you say no.” You are determined to make your point because you know Dodge is just amused (which is what you try to believe) at how you pulled this off. You can hear the vehicles as he turns onto the coastal road, and you start to feel excited the moment the smell of the air changes. It smells of the obvious scent of the ocean. His fingers grip the wheel tighter, but his voice stays steady.

“You always talk like I don’t have a choice.” You glance at him, and your smile grows when you catch the line in his brow. “Because you don’t. Admit it- you’d rather be here with me than stuck in that shop sketching all night.” He doesn’t answer right away and just grunts while pushing his hair back from his forehead as the wind tosses it forward. Finally, he mutters, “You’re not wrong,” and that makes your grin widen. The rest of the ride turns into a discussion about your week, and you tell him about a customer who gave you attitude, mimicking their voice until he snorts and shakes his head.

He tells you about someone who came into the shop asking for a tattoo of their ex’s name, and you both laugh until your stomachs hurt. The easy back and forth carries you through the last part of the drive, and by the time he pulls up near the sand, the sun is already dropping down, and gold spreads out across the water. You didn’t even try to wait for him to turn off the engine before you opened the passenger seat door and left the car. The cold wind hits your skin, and your feet hit the ground. You pull your shirt over your head and remove it in one smooth motion. It shows the bikini top you are wearing underneath when you remove it, and the thin straps leave subtle lines on your skin where they’ve been sitting all day.

Your denim shorts follow, and you shove them down your legs before kicking them free, then scoop them up and jog a few steps ahead with your bare feet sinking into the sand. Dodge slams the door behind him and locks the truck as he calls after you, “You couldn’t wait two seconds?” You turn back, your shirt and shorts bundled in your arms, and you grin while tossing them onto a clear patch of sand. “Nope. I told you- I came ready.” He shakes his head as he hauls the blanket from the truck, and his jaw stays tight, though his eyes keep dragging back to you.

You can tell by the way his stare sticks on your chest and how he looks a bit too long before he forces his gaze down at his feet. “Are you really going to make me set this up by myself?” You drop down onto the sand and spread your clothes out like a marker while looking up at him. “I’m carrying everything,” he shoots back as he drops the blanket near your pile of clothes. He crouches to shake it out, and the fabric snaps quickly in the breeze while he mutters without looking up, “You’re acting like a damn kid.”

“You like it,” you tease and pull your knees close to your chest while the straps of your bikini run across your back. His eyes lift, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just looks at you with that unreadable stare before finally sitting down beside you. The sand cools under you, and he starts digging through the tote bag you tossed down earlier. The cans bump together, and they’re still warm from the sun, though drinkable enough. He pops one open with his thumb, and foam gathers at the edge while he hands it over without glancing your way, and his other hand is already opening his own.

You take it from him, and the bitter taste hits your tongue as you sigh and lean back on your elbows. “Not exactly ice-cold,” you say while squinting at the water. “Since when do you complain about beer?” He smirks and lifts his can. “Since you keep stocking me with the cheap ones.” You nudge his ankle with your toes, and he lets out a quiet laugh. “You drink them anyway,” he says, and when you roll your eyes, he adds, “Exactly my point.”

You both talk for a while and trade lazy jokes and pieces of your week that you hadn’t shared in the car. You just told him random things that happened, like the nightmare (you exaggerated) about waiting in line, while he talked about the stray cat he started feeding in front of his shop because it kept showing up there every morning he opened for the day. The beer settles warm in your stomach, and the quiet that follows feels easy instead of heavy. A group of guys walks past across the sand heading for the water. Their voices carry for a bit before fading until only their shapes are left against the horizon. Most of them don’t look your way, though one slows down just enough for it to stand out.

His eyes stay on you longer than the rest and slide down your body before he finally looks away. Your grip tightens around the can, and the fizz presses softly against your palm. Before you can say anything, Dodge beats you to it, and his voice comes out rough but steady. “That one’s a creep.” You glance at him with your brow raised. “You don’t even know him.” His stare stays locked on the man’s back as the group keeps walking. “I don’t need to. Guys like that, it’s obvious. The way he looked at you wasn’t normal.”

“Normal?” you echo while tilting your head. “Normal’s a glance. He was checking you like he thought he had the right to.” His jaw works as he takes another long pull from his beer, and his throat moves hard when he swallows. “So what? You’re going to warn me about every guy who looks too long?” You lean closer until your knee brushes his. “If they look at you like that? Yeah.” His eyes meet yours again. They’re steady and unwavering. “Don’t laugh, I mean it.” You blink at him, then shake your head with a small smile, though your chest feels tighter than before.

“I’m not laughing. I just think it’s funny how you act like you can read people in two seconds.” His lip twitches, but he doesn’t deny it, and instead, he mutters, “Didn’t need two seconds with him.” Their voices fade with the wind until only the sound of waves stays, and the fizz from another can fills the quiet as he cracks it open. You stretch your legs out, and the hem of your bikini bottoms catches bits of sand while his hand passes you the fresh drink, and your fingers brush his.

“Still doesn’t change the fact this was a good idea,” you say softly as you watch the sun sink lower. He nods in agreement, though you can feel his stare again, and it’s heavier this time, like he still can’t let go of the way that guy looked at you. The can is almost empty in your hand when you realize you’re staring again. The man who slowed down earlier stands closer to the water with his friends, a cigarette tucked between his fingers. Every now and then, his eyes drift back to where you and Dodge sit on the blanket.

You take another sip and try not to smile, though Dodge notices anyway. His hand props on the sand behind him as he leans back, and his gaze slides to you before following where yours keeps going. “You’re still looking at him,” he mutters, and the corner of his mouth stays tight. “Just checking if your reading was right. About him being a creep.” You lift a brow and act like you don’t hear the edge in his voice. “It was,” he says quickly and sure before tipping his can to finish what’s left.

Something warm and reckless builds in you, maybe from the beer or maybe from the way Dodge watches without trying to hide it. You set the can down in the sand and push to your feet. “Where are you going?” His eyes narrow as you brush your palms over your thighs. “Nowhere,” you answer, even though you’re already walking toward the water and toward the group. His eyes never leave you the moment you walk away, and you can feel it. It feels and sits heavy between your back like you did something wrong, but your stubborn ass just ignores it because the guy from earlier noticed you before you even stopped in front of them. His body straightened while flicking the ash of his cigarette down the ground, and a grin formed on his face if you were a gift just landed on his lap.

“Hey,” he says when you step closer, and his voice sounds cocky but not too loud. “Was wondering if you were gonna come over.” You tilt your head while the breeze pushes strands of hair across your face. “Why’s that?” His eyes skim down your body like he doesn’t care that you notice before he says, “’Cause you’ve been watching.” His gaze stops at your bikini top, and the thin fabric leaves no mystery where the piercing in your nipples presses through. “Didn’t think I’d get a smile thrown my way unless you wanted to talk.”

You let out a quiet laugh more for yourself than for him, though you stay where you are. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, huh?” He shrugs and nods toward Dodge’s direction. “Is that your boyfriend?” The question lands hard, and it makes your lips twitch. You glance back at the blanket where Dodge still sits with one hand braced behind him and the other tight around his can. His stare doesn’t move even from a distance. You look back at the guy, and the corner of your mouth lifts. “Does it matter?”

“Depends,” he says as he leans his weight with a smirk. “Wouldn’t wanna step on anyone’s toes. Especially his. He looks like the type to swing first and ask later.” That pulls a laugh from you under your breath because he isn’t wrong. You glance down at your chest when his gaze stays again, and you lift your chin. “You keep looking,” you say plainly. He doesn’t flinch or pretend otherwise. “Can’t help it. Those piercings…” His eyes snap back up to yours like he suddenly remembers to at least meet them. “They hurt?”

“Not anymore,” you reply steadily, though you can feel Dodge’s presence behind you like a pull on your spine. “Why? You thinking about getting some yourself?” The guy chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah. Just looks hot. Guess I never thought I’d see that at the beach.” Your lips curve, and a quiet hum sits in your chest as you answer, “Guess you got lucky today then.” Even without turning, you know Dodge is watching every second. The guy lit up another cigarette, and you watched him do it; the flame, luckily, did not blow out due to the cold breeze. He let it settle between his two fingers while he occasionally replied to his friends, but his eyes quickly looked back at you when you moved closer to him.

Your hand brushes the inside of his arm just enough to make him glance down at the touch. He smirks and lifts the cigarette toward his mouth, but before he can take another drag, you lean in and nod toward it. “Can I?” He looks surprised at first, then amused. “Sure,” he says while holding it out, and smoke curls between you. You don’t hesitate. Your lips close around the filter where his had been a second ago, and the burn of smoke hits your lungs as you breathe in slowly. His eyes stay locked on your mouth while you do it, and when you pull away, you let the smoke roll out in a lazy stream.

Your tongue slips over your teeth as you hand it back. “Not bad.” His grin spreads wide. “Not bad yourself.” The comment makes one of his friends whistle, and the sound cuts across the sand. Another one mutters “Fuckin’ bold” under his breath, and it only makes the guy stand taller like he’s already won something. He flicks ash off the end and studies you again while his gaze dips where the outline of the piercing under your bikini is plain in the fading sun. “Bet that shit hurts more than this ever will,” he says while holding up the cigarette between two fingers.

Your smile quirks and heat rolls in your stomach at the way he keeps looking. “Maybe,” you answer with a shrug. “Worth it though.” His laugh comes out rough and low. “Yeah. Looks like it.” A new voice joins in as one of his buddies leans toward him with a grin. “Ask her if we can see-” The words cut off fast when a shadow falls over you. Dodge is there before the guy’s friend can finish, and he steps in close enough that his presence fills the space. The empty can he’d been holding is crushed in his fist, and his jaw stays tight while he looks right past the group and down at you.

“You done?” he asks, and his voice stays even, but there’s a hard rasp that makes your pulse kick. The guy straightens, and his grin falters while he flicks his eyes from you to Dodge. “She came over to talk,” he says, like that’s supposed to defend him. Dodge doesn’t even look at him, and his stare stays fixed on you, waiting for an answer. Dodge’s hand clamps around your wrist, and it isn’t rough enough to hurt, but it’s tight enough that you don’t have much choice except to follow. The group of guys falls behind fast, and their laughter trails across the sand while Dodge pushes ahead with long, quick steps.

Your feet stumble to keep up, and the heat of his grip makes your pulse pound. “Let go,” you snap while tugging against him, but he doesn’t slow down. His shoulders are tense while his jaw is clenched tightly. “The fuck are you doing over there?” he asks you, and it’s obvious that he’s not happy. You can feel his voice cut through you, and it’s obvious that he’s not trying to snap (at least make his voice louder) for everyone else to hear. You yank again and scowl. “I was talking. That’s all.” His laugh comes out short and bitter, and his eyes cut sideways at you before he faces forward again. “Talking? It looked like more than talking when you had your mouth on his cigarette.”

The words hit hot against your skin, nd you keep pace, refusing to trip in the sand while he drags you along. “You’re overreacting,” you throw back. “It was one drag. Relax.” He stops fast and spins toward you so quickly your body nearly collides with his. His hand finally drops from your wrist, but his stare holds you just as tight. “Relax? You had every single one of those guys staring at your tits, and you’re out here making it easier for them.” The air between you feels thick, and your chest rises quickly from the way he spits the words. “So what if they look? It’s not your problem.”

His mouth forms into a line, and no smirk or smile can be found on it. He takes a deep breath like he’s calming himself, while the muscle in his jaw feels tight and flexed like he’s trying to hold back something worse. “It sure as fuck is when you’re walking around with me.” Your laugh slips out. It sounds cutting and almost mocking. “Oh, so now it matters because you were standing there watching? Give me a break, Dodge.” He steps closer, and the space shrinks until his breath brushes your face. “Don’t play dumb. You knew exactly what you were doing.” Your spine stiffens, and stubbornness sparks hot in your chest. “Maybe I did. Maybe I liked watching you get worked up.”

He looks like he’s about to snap back a smart remark to what you just said, but nothing comes out of his throat. His glare doesn’t leave, though. It stays locked on you while his chest rises, while the sounds of the water are the only thing that is calmer compared to Dodge. He finally dropped your hand the moment the two of you reached the blanket, but you can still feel the tight grip he had over you moments ago. He crouches right away and snatches up the bottles, the empty chip bag, and even your denim shorts and top. Without a word, he stuffs everything into your bag like the night is over, and his movements are rough and fast without caring how things are folded.

You stand there still catching your breath and watch him shove your clothes down into the bag. “What the hell are you doing?” you ask, and your voice comes out hard. He doesn’t answer and just takes the blanket next before he messily folds it quickly and puts it under his arm. Then he takes the liberty to put the strap of your bag over his shoulder and carry it like it’s his. “Are you serious right now?” You take a step forward, and your eyes go wide. “We just got here, Dodge. You’re packing like some dad dragging his kid away from a playground.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you need it,” he mutters without looking up, and he’s already starting across the sand. His long strides make it clear he expects you to follow. You chase after him, and anger burns hotter the more he ignores you. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m not one of your projects, Dodge.” His back stays to you, and his shoulders are tense, but his pace doesn’t slow. “Could’ve fooled me.” The words hit hard, and you push faster until you’re at his side. “So now I’m stupid for having fun? That’s what you’re saying?”

His jaw tightens, but he keeps walking, and his eyes stay straight ahead. “I’m saying you don’t think so. Not when you’re drinking.” You let out a laugh, but it sounds more like disbelief than something funny. “Wow. That’s rich coming from you.” He glances at you quickly, but the look hits harder than it should. “You think this is a joke? You think I liked standing there while those guys kept looking at you?” You scoff before you move your hair away from your face while still walking beside him. “I didn’t ask what you think, okay. Next time, just don’t say anything if it’s like that.”

That makes him stop abruptly, and the sand crunches under his shoes as he turns to face you. His grip stays tight on your bag, and his chest moves roughly. He stops talking, and his jaw moves tight like he’s holding the rest of his words inside. You cross your arms on your chest to show him you’re not planning to lose this one. “While I what? While I smoked his cigarette? Touched his arm? Flirted? Go ahead, say it.” His eyes lock on yours, and they burn dark, but instead of answering, he just shakes his head once and starts walking again, faster this time.

You groan loudly, half in frustration and half to make sure he hears it. “You can’t just ignore me!” He doesn’t turn around, and his voice comes out quiet but heavy. “Watch me.” You close the space between the two of you when you hurry after him. The sound of the waves slowly fades as you walk away from it, and you can feel the air tight between the two of you. Dodge appears to have no intention of slowing down, even when the car comes into view. His shadow falls on the sand as he stands in front of the car, trying to open it with the key. He says nothing to you or even looks at you. He just unlocks it, then throws your bag inside the back seat and closes the door too forcefully, as if he is angry.

You stay in your place for some time, letting the sand stick to your feet, while you stand there wearing only your bikini, your arms wrapped around yourself because you feel cold. You also feel angry, and you cannot tell which one is worse. Maybe you made him mad on purpose, but now you don’t even feel good about it. You just hate that the day finished like this. He goes to the driver’s side and opens the door, then sits down before he turns his head a little, like he is waiting. He does not tell you to come or make a gesture, but it looks like he wants you to understand him without words. You let out a small sound from your throat before walking to the other side and getting inside the passenger seat. The seat feels cold against your skin, especially since you're only wearing a bikini. You move a little, trying to pull your top up so you can feel less cold, but it doesn’t help much. He turns the key, and the sound of the car starts loud and stays that way between the two of you. He drives out of the parking lot and doesn’t even look at you.

Your voice breaks first, and it comes out angry but quiet. “So this is it, you just drag me out like I’m some stupid person, then pretend like I’m not even there?” He’s holding the wheel tightly, and his eyes don’t move from the road. “It’s better like that than watching you do something dumb.” That answer makes your chest burn, and you lean forward in your seat, glaring at him. “Dumb? For talking? For laughing with some guy who wasn’t you?” His jaw locks hard, and the muscle jumps as he breathes out through his nose. “You think it’s about him?”

You laugh bitterly and turn toward the window, but your voice stays loud enough to cut through the deep sound of the car. “It sure looked like it when you yanked me away like that. God, you didn’t even give me a second.” He finally glances your way, and his voice comes out rougher now. “You were drunk. And he was staring at you like-” He stops himself again and his fingers tap once on the steering wheel before curling back tight. “Forget it.” Your head snaps back to him, and disbelief spills out before you can stop it. “No, say it. Staring at me like what?”

His eyes stay on the road, and his knuckles go white on the wheel. “Like he already had his hands on you.” Heat shoots up your neck at the way he says it, and not because you agree, but because it sounds so bare and unfiltered. You push against it, and anger stays stronger than anything else. “And what? That’s your excuse? You get to throw all my stuff in a bag and end the night because some stranger looked at me?” He doesn’t answer and just presses harder on the gas, so the engine grows louder, and the silence remains between you.

You move around in your seat and cross your arms, and your voice comes out tight, as if you cannot believe what he just did. “You’re unbelievable.” His hand leaves the wheel for a short moment, and he passes it through his hair while he says a quiet bad word that you almost don’t hear, but after that, he still stays silent, and only the sound of the tires is there. The car feels smaller and smaller as time goes by, and the air starts to feel heavy while both of you just sit there quietly and don’t say anything you really want to say. The ride going back feels too long, and the silence makes you notice everything, like the sound of the tires rolling on the road, and the way he only looks forward, and how you can’t even make yourself look at him.

Dodge doesn’t speak or even glance your way, and you don’t bother filling the quiet either. The streetlights keep passing on his face while he drives, and you can see how his jaw looks tight. His hands stay on the wheel the whole time, and he doesn’t even move them even a little. The engine still makes noise for a few seconds when the car stops in front of your place before he finally puts it in park. You move your hand to the door because you just want to get out already and go away from the heavy feeling in the air, but before you can do it, something suddenly falls on your lap first. His jacket. “Take it,” he mutters with his eyes still fixed ahead. “You’re not walking in there like that.”

The heat in your chest rises again, though your fingers tighten around the fabric anyway. “Didn’t realize you cared what I walk into my own place wearing,” you say as you tug the jacket on but refuse to look at him. “Yeah, well, I do,” he says, finally cutting his gaze to you. It’s stiff and tired, but it doesn’t waver. You scoff and push the door open. “Whatever.” The night air hits your skin, making you shiver as you slowly walk to your door. You don’t even see your bag at first, but then you hear his door close and his boots start hitting the gravel, and that’s when you realize you left it inside the car. He follows right behind you, and your bag is in his hand.

“You forgot this,” he says simply while holding it out when you reach the door. Snatching it from him gives you a short bitter laugh. “You couldn’t wait five seconds before following me, huh?” His brows knit, but he doesn’t rise to the jab. “I wasn’t about to leave it in the car. You’d just blame me for that, too.” The words land hard, and you glare at him as you unlock your door. “Blame you? You act like I’m crazy for being pissed off when you just- drag me away like some kid. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I hear you,” Dodge answers as he leans against the doorframe once you push the door open. He doesn’t step inside and just crosses his arms while the shadow fills up the entryway. “I hear every word. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna apologize for pulling you away from some asshole who couldn’t stop staring at your tits.” Your stomach tightens at how straight he says it, and heat rushes up your neck, but you try to ignore it and scoff again. “God, you’re impossible. Do you know that? Impossible.”

“Yeah,” he says with his voice rougher now. “But I’m not blind. And I’m not stupid.” Your hand stays on the doorknob, and your chest feels tight; the air feels heavy between you, as there is so much you both are not saying. His jacket is still over your shoulders, and it is warm and smells like him, and that only makes it harder to ignore. You turn away first and drop your bag inside the door. “You should go,” you mutter, though it doesn’t sound nearly as solid as you want it to.

But he doesn’t move. Not yet. Dodge doesn’t move when you tell him to go, and instead, he walks inside as if he also owns the place. He walks past you and sits on the couch; then the cushion gives a little under his weight. He puts his arm on the back of it like he will stay there for a long time. You just stand near the door and keep looking at him. You don’t know if you should tell him to leave or let him sit there because the fight already makes your chest feel too heavy. Kicking the door shut, you walk over and pull his jacket tighter around yourself.

The jacket is still warm on your skin, and his scent remains in the fabric, which helps ease the anger a little. “We don’t even fight about stupid shit like this,” you say while you move down to the floor in front of him. The carpet brushes your knees as you settle, and you rest your hands on his thighs like you are trying to calm yourself. You look up, and your voice comes out softer. “I don’t like it. Us being like this.” He looks down at you with his expression caught somewhere between frustration and something gentler.

“You think I do?” he says with his voice quiet and steady. “I don’t like seeing you put yourself in that spot. Makes me feel like I’m the asshole when all I’m doing is trying to keep shit from getting out of hand.”You rest your chin on his leg and look up at him while your words come out in a half-pout. “So what? You’re not even a little sorry for dragging me off?” Dodge exhales through his nose, and his gaze holds yours. “No. I’d do it again. Every time.” What he says is honest, and it stings a little, but the look in his eyes makes it easier to take.

You bite the inside of your lip and act like you are sulking while your hands move higher on his thighs like you are testing how far you can go before he stops you. “You’re supposed to say sorry,” you tease, though your voice is gentle now. “Not gonna lie, just to make you feel better.” He smirks a little, and one brow lifts. “Mm.” You let the sound slip, half amused and half annoyed, while you settle more comfortably between his knees. The jacket gapes open around you, showing bare skin and the bikini underneath, but you don’t bother fixing it.

His eyes drop with a spark of want in them now that he’s not pretending to ignore it. The room feels heavier with the quiet, and it’s a different kind than in the car. His thighs are solid beneath your palms, and his chest rises slowly while the air between you turns thick with something unsaid. You tilt your head just slightly, and your lips brush his jeans as you mumble, “Still mad at me?” His hand finally moves, and his thumb slides slowly along your jaw while he tips your face up. “Mad, yeah,” he says, though the edge in his voice is weaker now.

“But not enough to make you get off the floor.” Your mouth opens a bit, and your breath stays inside your throat when his eyes keep looking right at you. The jacket goes down more from your shoulders, and the room feels smaller, like only the strong feeling between you two is left there. Neither of you names it, but it sits heavy and charged, waiting to spill over into something you both already know is coming. Your fingers slide higher on his thighs, and your nails trace lazy lines against the denim while you keep your chin tilted toward him.

The silence stays for a long time, and then you let out a small huff while your lips push into a pout. “So you can pull me away when someone looks at me, but when girls throw themselves at you, I just need to sit there and do nothing?” you say while trying to make your voice sound normal, but there’s still a little sulking in it. His eyebrow goes up, and the side of his mouth moves a bit like he already thinks what you said is funny. “That’s what this is about now?” You nod slowly and exaggerate it with your lips still in a pout.

“Don’t act like it doesn’t happen. I’ve seen them. At the shop, at the bar, even when we’re just out. They get close. And you don’t exactly shove them away either.” He leans back against the couch with his eyes still on you, and his smirk grows small but steady. “You jealous?” Heat climbs into your cheeks, and you make a small noise that sits somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I’m not jealous. I just… remember things. Like when that girl leaned over the counter to ask you about tires and practically showed you her whole bra. You didn’t pull her away.”

Your lips press into a tighter pout, and your hands give a little squeeze against his thighs like you’re trying to make your point stronger. “But me? I can’t even laugh at someone’s joke without you dragging me out like a criminal.” His laugh is quiet and deep in his chest, but he shakes his head. “The difference is, I didn’t look at her. Didn’t even remember her until you just brought it up. You really think I was interested?” You bite your lip and let your gaze drop to his stomach before glancing up again. “Didn’t look like you minded. You were leaning back, letting her talk to you.”

Dodge leans forward, then, with his elbows resting on his knees, and it closes the space between you so his voice comes out rougher and closer. “You’re really gonna act like I wanted her when I got you sitting right here sulking in my jacket looking like that?” His eyes flick down the open lapels of his jacket and catch the bikini strap cutting against your skin. “You’re the one I dragged out because I couldn’t stand watching someone else stare at you like they were about to get lucky.” The words sink in slowly, and your pout weakens while your lips part just slightly as your stomach turns warm inside. You mutter, “Still doesn’t mean you get to act like it’s nothing when girls do it to you.”

“Then next time,” he says with his voice firmer and steadier now, “say something instead of pretending you’re fine with it. Don’t wait until you’re pouting on the floor to start throwing old shit at me.” Your face scrunches as guilt and annoyance mix together, but you keep your hands on his thighs and refuse to let go. “I wasn’t pretending. I just… don’t like looking stupid in front of people. Especially when it’s about you.” Something flashes in his eyes, but it turns soft right away and changes into something heavier that you can’t really understand.

He lets out a slow breath, and his thumb moves against your jaw again, and his touch makes your skin tingle all over. The air starts to feel heavy again, and the tension grows stronger until it pulls you closer, even when no one says what is really happening. The sulk stays on your mouth, but now it turns into something more dangerous, and it’s the kind of pout that doesn’t end with words. Your hands keep going up, and you can feel how your fingers move on his thighs, like you are not even thinking about it, and then your pinky hits the edge of his belt, and it feels cold on your skin.

His thumb stays near your mouth, and he touches the corner like he’s not sure what to do before he drags it slowly over your bottom lip, and it makes you forget to breathe for a second. The touch makes your lips part, and his gaze drops down dark and steady. “If I knew putting that in you meant every pair of eyes would find your tits first thing, I wouldn’t have let it happen,” he mutters with his jaw tight as his eyes flick lower. The way he looks at the small jewelry under your bikini makes your chest feel hotter than the whole room. A shy smile pulls your lips, and you bite his thumb softly, just enough to feel your teeth there. “I like it,” you whisper slowly, like you are telling something not easy to say.

“It makes them more sensitive. Even when the fabric brushes it’s… different.” Your voice goes softer at the end, but he catches every word, and his eyes get darker like you just gave him a secret that is not for anyone. His thumb moves off your lip and then goes to trace your chin before he pulls back to look at you completely. The smirk softens into something else, and it feels heavier. “Looks perfect on you,” he says, and his words come out rough but firm, like he doesn’t care if you believe him or not- he already does.

The praise makes you lose your breath for a second, and your hand stops where it’s on his waistband. The leather of his belt is warm under your palm, and your fingers move like you want to touch the edge, like you will unbuckle it, but you stop halfway, and your teeth pull at your lip again while you think about whether you are bold enough to do it. Dodge notices, of course, he does. His gaze dips to your hand, then back up. “What’s that look for?” he asks while his voice stays quiet and teasing. You clear your throat as nerves crawl under your skin.

“Just… thinking,” you mumble while your thumb brushes the metal of his buckle. Your eyes flick up fast, searching his face, before you finally ask, “You ever… You don’t have… like… piercings?” The question comes out rushed and tangled, as if you can’t decide whether you regret asking or not. His brow furrows, then lifts slowly as amusement spreads when he realizes what you’re hinting at. “Piercings?” he repeats, and the weight of the word alone makes you squirm. You nod fast while your eyes dart away from his and back to his waist. “Like… down there. A piercing on the tip or… something. You never told me if you did.”

Instead of answering, he lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a laugh as his hand rests heavily against your jaw to make you look at him again. “Why are you asking me that?” Heat climbs up your cheeks while you press your lips together, wishing you hadn’t opened your mouth, but you still manage to mutter, “I just… wondered. If you ever did it and just didn’t say anything.” His stare pins you down, and it’s dark and steady while his voice drops deeper. “Or is it you wanting to try it? You curious what it’s like to fuck someone with a piercing like that? Or to suck a cock that’s got metal in it?”

The way he says it makes your stomach twist tight and your hands stop being unsure. Your fingers press harder on his waistband like you can’t stop it now. The air between you feels heavy, and it pulls tighter like it’s going to break, while the question stays there without an answer, but it’s strong enough to make you move closer to doing what you were too shy to do before. Your hand stops on his belt as your fingers hover, but you don’t dare to pull. His eyes look down, then go back up to you, and a smirk pulls at his mouth like he’s thinking something funny while he leans closer to you. “If you wanna know if I got one,” he says, and his voice gets rough and slow, “then check it.”

Your face starts to feel hot as you shake your head slightly, because your brain feels empty and you cannot find the words to say or even begin. “You’re just playing with me,” you mumble, your hand still there, and it will not move away even if you tell it to. “Nah,” he drawls while pushing back against the sand with his legs spread just enough for the invitation to be clear. “Go on. Won’t bite.” Your breath comes unsteady as you finally press against the bulge of his briefs. The outline feels solid under your palm, but then your fingertips brush against something harder and cooler that isn’t skin, but metal. The shock makes you freeze, and your eyes snap up to his wide and unsure.

“Well?” He watches you, smug and patient, like he already knew the moment you’d find it. “Does that answer your question?” Dodge tilts his head slightly, and his grin curls. “Y-you… actually-” The words catch in your throat, and you swallow hard while your hand still rests against the proof of it. “You didn’t even tell me,” you said disappointedly, as if he needed to tell you that information. “Not the type of thing you bring up over beers,” he says, and shrugs, as if it’s nothing, though his eyes stay on you. “You wanted to know. Now you do.” His thumb grazes your lower lip as he adds, “What’s that look for? Curious?”

“I just… I didn’t think you’d have one. It looks- different,” you whisper as embarrassment burns hotter through your chest. “Different good,” he presses, or “different bad?” The back of your throat dries, and you manage to whisper, “Good,” quieter than you mean to, while your eyes drop again. “Mm.” His smirk deepens as he moves his hips forward so the bulge presses harder into your palm. “Then quit staring like you don’t wanna taste it. You wanna suck it, don’t you?” The way he says it makes you stop for a second, and your throat starts feeling tight, but you still nod before your brain can even think about it.

He lets out a small laugh that sounds low and rough, and it feels like he already knows what he’s doing while you don’t. Then he puts his finger under the waistband, and he pulls it down a little until he’s free, and the piercing shines under the weak light. The metal catches your eyes right away, and your stomach turns because you start to feel nervous, and you don’t even know where to look. Dodge guides you down with one hand as his palm stays steady on the back of your head. “C’mon,” he murmurs as he pushes you gently closer until your lips hover over the tip. “Don’t be shy now. Go ahead.” The first touch is tentative as your tongue brushes over the head while you feel the cool weight of the metal against the warmth of your mouth.

You gasp softly at the strange new sensation as you pull back just a fraction. “It feels… different,” you breathe, almost more to yourself than to him. His hand tightens in your hair, not forcing, but keeping you there. “That’s the point,” he says while his voice turns rougher and heavier. “Keep going. Wanna hear what you think when you really get it in your mouth.” You open wider and lick along the slit as the piercing clinks lightly against your teeth while your tongue circles it again.

The mix of heat and metal makes your head spin, and you press closer with your lips, sealing around the tip as you let out a muffled, “mmfhh.” Dodge exhales hard through his nose as his body tenses just enough to tell you how it feels for him. “Fuck… yeah. Just like that. You didn’t think you would like it this much, yeah?” Your tongue keeps touching the cold metal, and you can taste him little by little inside your mouth. It’s warm, but also feels kind of heavy on your tongue. His hand leaves your hair and goes down slowly. Then he puts his finger under the jacket that is just hanging on your shoulders and starts pulling it down until the cloth falls down your arms.

“Take this off,” Dodge murmurs as he watches the way you hesitate. “And the top too. I wanna see your tits when you are on your knees.” You feel the heat rush fast to your chest, so you try to pull the jacket down your arms, though your hands don’t move right because they feel shaky and nervous while you hold the strings of your bikini top. You pull it once, until it starts to loosen, allowing the cold air to touch your skin, and it makes you shiver, even when you try to stay still. You cover your chest with your arms for a second because you feel shy, yet his eyes already drop, and his smirk widens, as if he already knows what you are thinking inside your head. “That’s better,” he says while his voice turns rougher and heavier. “Fuck, look at you.”

Your hands stay on your sides, and you can feel them shake a little while his eyes feel heavy on your skin, and it makes you feel small and hot at the same time. “You don’t have to stare like that,” you mumble while you bite your lip. He says it fast because he already knows the answer, and it’s just there in his mouth, ready to come out. His hand moves up slowly, and his knuckles touch under your breast, then he keeps going up until he’s holding it fully, and his thumb starts rubbing in small, slow circles on your nipple. “They’re right there, so it’s like they’re asking me to touch them.” The bluntness makes your breath hitch, and when he pinches lightly, you gasp. The sound only makes him grin more, and with his free hand, he guides you back down.

“Now open up again,” Dodge says as his cock rests against your lips while he gives another squeeze to your breast. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.” This time you don’t hold back. Your lips part as you wrap them around the tip, and your tongue presses against the piercing with a slow drag. The metal clinks lightly against your teeth when you move your mouth lower and suck him deeper, inch by inch. Saliva coats your tongue, and you swallow around him, determined to take more.

His head tilts back slightly as a deep grunt leaves his throat while his thumb rubs over your nipple again. “Yeah… just like that,” he mutters while his chest moves up and down and it gets heavier with every breath he takes. “You’re trying to impress me, huh?” The words push you to go further, and you bob your head at a steady pace as your mouth tightens around him while your tongue moves along the underside of his cock. Your spit trails down your chin but you don’t stop as you hollow your cheeks while your chest presses into his hand.

He groans deeply when you swirl your tongue around the head again, and the metal piercing slides slickly against your mouth. “Fuck… you’re taking it so good,” Dodge growls while his hand presses against your tit harder and his fingers pinch and roll your nipple between them. “Messy little mouth, I like it.” Drool strings down your chin as you push deeper, and you gag lightly when he nudges the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his thighs to ground yourself, while your jaw strains, and when you pull back with a wet pop, a line of spit clings from your lips to his cock.

You catch your breath only for a second before diving back down as you lick and suck harder like you want to prove yourself. “Shit- yeah, that’s it,” he says through gritted teeth with his hips lifting just enough to meet your pace. His eyes stay locked on your tits that bounce with every move of your body, and his hand keeps twisting your nipple, pulling another muffled whine from your throat around his cock. Your mouth stays locked around him with spit slicking your chin, while his hand works your tit, but then he moves and his fingers slide to the back of your head again.

His grip tightens, not rough at first, just enough to hold you steady. “Open wider,” Dodge mutters while staring down at you with that half-smirk that makes your stomach twist. “Gonna fuck that throat now.” The words send a rush through your chest and you pull off just enough to breathe. Your lips glisten as you wipe your chin quickly with the back of your hand. “You’re really gonna-” The rest dies in your throat because he tilts his hips forward and rubs his cockhead against your spit-slick lips. “Yeah,” he cuts in with his voice deep and steady. “So quit stalling.”

Nervous heat crawls down your neck, but you open up again and part your jaw until the tip rests heavy on your tongue. “Don’t- don’t go too fast,” you manage muffled before he pushes forward. A deep grunt leaves his chest as his cock slides back in this time, deeper than before, and your eyes squeeze shut as the thick weight nudges the back of your throat. His hand steadies you and holds your head in place while his hips roll slowly. “Shit, look at that. Taking it better than I thought.” A muffled noise escapes you, and spit bubbles around the base as you try to swallow.

The pull burns, but the sound of his voice makes you push down the urge to pull away. His cock drags out again with a wet slurp, only for him to thrust back in quicker, and it makes your throat tighten around the piercing. Your nails dig into his thighs, and when he feels the light scrape through his jeans, his laugh comes rough and quick. I thought you wanted to impress me.” Your eyes start to water, and it hurts a bit when you blink because they already sting, and you try to breathe, but your throat feels too full, so it’s hard to do it right, and you end up gagging when your nose touches his stomach. He keeps you there for a few seconds, like he doesn’t want to let you move, so you just stay still.

You tap his thigh once in warning and pull back with a harsh cough as spit strings from your lips to his cock. “You didn’t even give me a second-” Your breathing ragged while you wipe your mouth and try speaking at the same time. “You’ll get a second when I give you one,” Dodge says, and his thumb swipes at the spit on your chin before pushing your lips apart again. “C’mon, back on it. Don’t tell me you’re done.” Your chest heaves as you lean in again, and your lips wrap around him slower this time.

He lets you set the pace for a moment while he watches you bob your head with messy determination. But then his patience ends, and his hand clamps tighter on your hair. “That’s enough. My turn now.” He thrusts forward harder, and it makes your throat seize as he drives himself in halfway. The sound of your gagging fills the space between you, and it mixes with his rough grunts. “Fuck- yeah, that’s it. Open up for it.” Your body jerks slightly each time his hips snap forward, but his grip keeps you steady.

Spit pours from your lips and slides down your chest while his other hand slips down to grope your tits again. His thumb pinches your nipple hard as he groans, “Mouth full of cock and still got these bouncing for me. Perfect fucking view.” The only answer you can give is a broken wet noise around him, and your throat stays tight and sore as his pace builds. Each thrust forces the piercing against your tongue, and it clicks against your teeth when he drags back. The sound alone makes him grunt louder, and he pushes deeper until your nose presses against his skin again.

Your lungs burn when he finally lets you pull back for air, and you’re gasping with spit hanging in strings from your chin. You wipe at your mouth with a shaky hand and croak out, “You’re- fuck- you’re actually crazy for that.” Dodge just laughs, and his breath stays heavy as he taps his cock against your swollen lips. “And you’re still opening up for more. Don’t lie like you don’t love it.” His hand clamps firmer at the back of your head as he leans over you, and his hips rock forward until the weight of his cock fills your throat again.

Spit coats your lips and dribbles down your chin in messy trails, but Dodge doesn’t let up. The piercing at his tip drags against the back of your tongue each time he pulls out, then bumps against the tight squeeze of your throat when he forces himself back in. “Yeah, that’s it,” he mutters through a rough grunt, and his stomach tightens as he watches your mouth stretch wide around him. “Fuckin’ knew you could take it.” His hips snap forward harder, and he shoves deeper until your nose is mashed against the warm skin of his lower belly.

A gag rattles in your throat and tears prick at your eyes, but he only growls, “Hold it- hold it right there for me.” Your chest heaves while he keeps you still, and his cockhead nudges against the tight ring inside your throat. The piercing catches each time he moves, and wet clicks echo from your mouth, making his jaw clench. A quick laugh slips out of him when your nails scratch at his thigh. “You feel that? That’s the metal hittin’ every fuckin’ spot in your throat.” His thumb presses against your cheek, and he feels the outline of himself bulging inside. “Shit, you’re wrapped around me so good.”

When he finally lets you pull back, spit stretches in thick strings from your swollen lips to his cock. You gasp wetly and drool slips from the corner of your mouth, but Dodge doesn’t give you long. His hand shoves you back down, and this time, he starts to thrust at a steady pace with his hips slapping against your face with each push. Your throat works around him with wet choking sounds, and every plunge makes spit spray across your chin and chest. His cock pierces deep, and the jewelry clinks softly against your teeth whenever he drags back.

He groans, and his voice comes out rough as his head falls back. “Fuck, that sound. You’re choking on it like you were made for this.” The couch creaks under his weight as he drives faster, and he doesn’t give you space to breathe except for quick gasps when he drags out. Each time you cough, he shoves back in and grins down at the sight of your throat bulging with his length. “Messy little thing, look at you,” he rasps with your spit running down to his balls and making them slick. “Drippin’ everywhere, takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ toy.”

His thrusts grow harder and more demanding until he’s using your mouth like a hole. The piercing catches deeper now and clicks against the tight walls of your throat with every rough push, and the sound alone has him snarling through his teeth. One hand tugs your hair tight to hold you in place while the other digs into the arm of the couch as his hips slam forward again and again. “Don’t run from it,” Dodge grunts, and his voice breaks as he grinds himself down your throat. “Stay right there, yeah? Gonna fuck your throat.”

His eyes narrow on your tear-streaked face and spit soaks your chest as you gag around him while his hips keep snapping forward like he can’t stop. Your knees wobble as he grips your hair tightly, forcing your head exactly where he wants it. Every ragged breath and each low growl that leaves him runs through you until your chest tightens and your stomach knots up. You’re trembling slick completely caught in the storm he’s creating as your hands brace on his hips to keep from tipping over.

“Don’t even think about pulling away,” he growls with his voice hoarse and desperate, while his teeth are gritted as he presses down harder. Your lips are wet, and the spit keeps going down to your chin while your throat gets tighter around him, so you gag a little as your body starts reacting because of it. There's a sound coming from your mouth every time he moves faster and every time he pushes harder, and your whole body trembles like you can’t stop it anymore. You hold on to his hips so tight because you really try to stay still, but he keeps doing it, and it’s really hard to stay like that. He stops for one second so you can breathe and swallow, but his eyes still have that fire.

“You feel that?” he says, and his voice sounds rough. “All of it… I’ve got you. Right here. Right now.” His hips drive down again, his cock pressing deep with no mercy, while a shiver rushes through you as your spine arches and your knees give out. Your hair stays wound tight in his hands while your mouth stays slick as your throat burns and shakes with every ragged, desperate breath. Each gasp or broken moan or trembling sound only pushes him further while he leans into you as he makes sounds through the messy tempo. You’re trembling and pinned by his hands as his weight is completely lost to him and leaving you breathless, slicked, and hanging right on the edge.

He makes a sound from his throat, and then he pushes down again, and it’s harder this time, so your knees start shaking so bad. You hold his hips so tight with your hands because if you don’t have him like that, you feel like you will really fall down. Your throat starts to burn, and it feels wet inside because it makes you choke a bit every time he goes deeper. The spit goes down your chin, and your chest keeps going up and down fast as you are trying to stay still, but your body just doesn’t listen. “Look at you,” he hisses while his teeth stay clenched and his voice sounds rough. “Shaking like this… can’t even think.” He tugs your hair as his hips snap faster while you choke and cough and shake, which only seems to make him go even harder.

One hand moves to your jaw and tilts your head slightly while the other keeps your hips in place as every hard push and every uneven breath and every shiver makes him growl. You’re shaking and gagging and trying to stay upright while completely caught in him. Even as your knees wobble and your throat stings, the tension keeps climbing while every motion and every gasp and every snap of him stays rough and electric. You’re pinned and shaking and completely at his mercy.

You try to lift a hand to tap his thigh and gasp for a second of air, but he grabs your wrist before you can move. “Stay still,” he growls while his voice stays rough. “Don’t even think about stopping. You’re not getting a break.” Your throat hurts every time he pushes in because it’s already too much, and your knees feel so weak, so you hold his hips tighter just to keep standing. Then he leans his body closer so you can’t move away, while his hips keep moving fast and hard, even if it already feels too much, but he still doesn’t stop. Quiet growls tear past his teeth while the motion drives you further into the mess.

“You’re doing so good,” he rasps while his voice catches. “Don’t move. Just like that.” His hand tightens in your hair again and keeps you exactly where he wants you while your throat stays slick and trembling, and every motion makes you gasp and shiver. You breathe heavily as you try to swallow around him while a violent shiver runs through you. Your knees threaten to give out as your chest rises and falls fast, but every ragged breath only seems to push him on, and you can tell he’s close. The way he moves grows harder and quicker, so your body trembles even more under his control.

You gag around him, and your throat keeps getting tight every time he pushes hard, and your body moves a little because you try to adjust, but his hands don’t let you move at all. Your eyes start to tear up, and it goes down your face while you try to breathe, though it’s really hard since your head feels like it’s turning, and everything already feels too much. His hips keep hitting you so hard, and it goes so deep each time he moves that it keeps pushing you further into the mess he’s making. You choke again while a ragged gasp slips out, and more tears slide down your face as your body shakes harder under him.

He doesn’t stop, and every motion drives you closer to the breaking point, even when your knees start to give and your throat burns. Another rough push makes you gag hard while your eyes water so much that everything in the room starts to fade away. His hips move with steady control as the force of him pressing down makes your body shake until you can’t stay balanced. You try to adjust and reach for a breath, but the pace never slows, so the tears keep falling as you fight the urge to gag.

His moves go a bit needy for a second when his hips jerk, and then he is done while he pushes everything inside your throat. You gag and choke around him one more time, and the tears just fall down your face while your throat hurts and keeps shaking. His hands finally let go of your hair, but his hold on your hips stays for a while to keep you from falling while you try to breathe. When he slows down, some of it comes out from his cock and goes down your throat and chin while you wheeze and your knees start shaking and your throat feels sore while you try to swallow and wipe your tears away.

His hips stay close as his breathing turns uneven while small growls slip out every few seconds. Even when the mess starts to ease, the heat and tension remain, leaving your body unsteady as your chest rises and falls rapidly. Finally, he pulls back slowly while slick trails from his cock slide out of your mouth, and the motion leaves your throat sore and tight as you cough weakly and try to clear it, but more tears still run down your cheeks. He leans back slightly to give you space to breathe, yet his eyes stay locked on yours, and they look dark and heavy while you realize you are still completely caught in him and everything that just happened.

You lean closer again while you try to ignore the soreness in your throat as his hips keep twitching and the tip of his cock glistens with what’s left of him, while your eyes catch the small piercing when it shines under the light. “So,” you start while you tilt your head a little. You run your tongue over it as you flick it gently. “This… this little thing,” you murmur while you lick again. “You weren’t planning on mentioning that?” You grin against him as you tease. Dodge looks down at you, and amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his chest rises slowly as his breathing steadies.

“Would’ve taken all the fun out of it,” he says as his hips jerk slightly at the contact. You hum and pretend to think while your eyes lift to meet him, though your tongue keeps tracing the piercing. “Guess you’re right,” you say softly as you swirl your tongue over it. “Just wish I’d known before you decided to-” You stop yourself with a small grin. “Actually… maybe not. The surprise kind of worked.” You take the tip between your lips while you tease the piercing, and he hisses as his grip tightens in his own hair while his body shudders under the touch.

You hum around him while your lips slide over it, and your lashes flutter as you press a little deeper. “Mm… think I could get used to this.” His grin deepens, and for a second, he looks proud of himself, though his voice comes out rough when he speaks. “Yeah?” He leans back as his eyes go dark while rough sounds slip from his throat, though you keep swirling and licking and teasing until his jaw flexes and his breath stutters. You grin again while your voice turns playful. “Yeah. Might even call it my new favorite part of you.”

⠀⠀

⠀⠀ twenty-twenty-five © addie / musingsofheaven.

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dodge never misses breakfast

art loves watching you ride

what art sends you when you’re away

except it's a hell of a lot more than eight seconds when you're riding a man determined to undo you. his hat's tipped off somewhere on the floor, sweat dripping down his temple while he fucks you like you're worth more than that prize buckle draped over his chair. cunt squeezing around him while your fingers dig into his back as he pounds up into you, breath stolen every time his tip nudges somewhere impossibly deep and blurs your vision. smacking your ass between world-shifting thrusts just to hear you squeal, watching the way your tits bounce in his face when you sink down onto him.

and he just laughs to himself when you falter, chest heaving, cupping your chin to keep the upper part of your body steady. the room fills with the sound of skin slapping obscenely. there's slick dripping down your thighs and your muscles burn with effort. but it's as he always says...

His thumbs press along your spine, just enough to stretch out the ache without pushing too far. Dodge’s hands are warm, rough in all the right ways. You can feel the calluses catch on your skin now and then, but they don’t hurt. They remind you of who he is—of how many times those same hands have steadied you, cupped your face, tugged you close like he didn’t trust the world to keep you safe.

“Can’t believe you’re still lettin’ me touch you,” he says softly, like the guilt’s still pressing into his chest. “I should’ve kept a better eye on you.”

You exhale a sleepy sound. “You weren’t the one who spooked the horse.”

“Still.”

His touch lingers at the small of your back. The room is dim—sunlight gone, leaving only the amber glow of the bedside lamp. You hear him open the oil bottle again, feel the warmth of it as he rubs it between his hands.

He starts again, slow and purposeful. First at your shoulders, then your back, kneading the soreness from your muscles in long, deliberate strokes. But this time, he doesn’t stop there. His hands slide lower—tracing the curves of your hips, then down, until his palms are resting over the swell of your ass. He does it in a way that you know is not sexual.

You shift slightly, breath hitching, still. Because it’s Dodge, and every little attention coming from him makes your body boil. Hot like summer, heat pooling inside your stomach without permission from your brain.

“Still okay?” he murmurs, low and close to your ear.

“Yes,” you whisper, and your body betrays you by arching into his touch just a little.

His thumbs move in careful circles across the soft flesh there, rubbing out the tension like he has every right to touch you this way—and he does. It’s tender. Reassuring. But there’s something else behind it too, simmering slow. The edge of want.

“You’ve got the prettiest ass I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs like it’s a confession. “Soft, even when you’re bruised.”

You let out a shaky laugh, still face-down in the pillow. “You’re not helping me rest, you know.”

“You want me to stop?”

You shake your head. Of course you don’t.

Dodge hums like he already knew the answer. His hands glide over your thighs, up again, then closer—until his thumbs brush along the crease where your thighs meet your core. The fabric of your panties is thin, barely separating his hands from the heat of you.

“You’re warm here,” he says quietly, almost reverently. “Real warm.”

You bury your face deeper into the pillows.

“You’re blushing,” he teases softly like he knows without needing to see your face, and he’s kissing the back of your thigh. “What, just from a little massage?”

“It’s not just the massage,” you mutter, and he laughs against your skin—low and fond.

He’s careful as he touches you, rubbing slow circles over your clothed pussy. One hand slips under your shirt again to rest warm on your lower back, grounding you. The other moves between your legs, teasing along your slit through the dampening cotton.

“You’re wet already,” he murmurs, voice dipping even lower. “All this just from me touchin’ you like this?”

You nod against the pillow, your breath shuddering.

“You’re so fuckin’ soft, baby. You always get like this when I take my time with you.”

A soft whimper escapes your throat, hips twitching as he touches you through your panties with maddening patience. He presses a little harder over your clit with his thumb, the pressure slow and steady, and you make a strangled sound into the sheets.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Let me take care of you.”

He slides the fabric to the side then, baring you to the warm air of the room. His fingers glide between your folds, wet and hot and already pulsing for more. When he dips a finger just against your entrance, you whimper.

“God, you’re so ready,” he groans. “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

His fingers stroke back up, teasing around your clit again before he leans down, breath hot over the curve of your ass. “You make the sweetest sounds, you know that? Every little cry just for me.”

You cry out again as he presses a finger inside—just one, slow and steady. It slides in easy, thanks to how wet you already are. You clench around him instinctively. “There we go,” he whispers. “That feel good?”

You nod, moaning into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, Dodge—”

He adds another finger, stretching you carefully, curling just enough to make your thighs tremble. The hand on your lower back strokes comfortingly, holding you in place as he fucks you slow with his fingers.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight,” he groans. “So fuckin’ needy tonight.”

“I c-can’t—” your voice cracks as you try to hold still. Your hips grind back into his hand on instinct. “You can,” he coaxes, voice going impossibly soft. “You always can for me, baby. Give me that first one. Let it out.”

It rises fast—so fast your breath can’t keep up. You come with a cry muffled in the pillow, your body shaking as you fall apart under his hand when his fingers hit your spongy spot multiple times. Tears slip down your cheeks and Dodge catches them with his thumb.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing the dip of your lower back. “That’s it. So fuckin’ good.”

He keeps going—slow, unrelenting—and the overstimulation hits like a wave. You whine, writhing against the bed as his fingers work your soaked cunt. “You’ve got more,” he whispers, low and certain. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I—it’s too much—Please—More…”

“It’s perfect,” he counters, and his voice is full of something warm and molten. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry.”

The second orgasm crashes over you, harder than the first. You sob into the mattress, trembling as he talks you through it, rubbing slow circles over your clit with his free fingers as your cunt pulses around his digits.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “That’s my girl.”

You lay there panting, body shaking. He slows, finally withdrawing his fingers, and you hear the wet sound of it, slick coating his hand. He presses a kiss to the small of your back, then one to your thigh, then higher. “You alright?” he asks quietly, hand smoothing over your back.

You nod, still breathless. “I’m so good.”

He kisses your shoulder. “That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You let out a laugh, exhausted and floaty. “You’re gonna kill me with compliments.”

He chuckles, laying down beside you and resting a hand on your lower back. “Only if it gets you to cry like that again.”

You’re still trembling beneath him, cheek pressed into the pillow, your body limp and warm with the afterglow of two back-to-back orgasms. Your skin feels tight and glowing, like you’ve been cracked open and poured full of honey. Dodge’s hand is now resting between your shoulder blades, gentle and grounding.

“You alright, baby?” he murmurs again, his voice a little hoarse with want.

You hum a breathless yes, too gone to say much else. But your hips twitch when his palm trails back down, between your thighs again, where you’re slick and aching. He groans softly at the sight.

“Goddamn,” he says low, reverent. “You’re even more soaked.”

You bury your face deeper in the pillow, embarrassed—but it only makes him smile. He leans over you, kissing the back of your neck, your shoulder, the warm patch of skin just behind your ear. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he teases softly. “Not when your pretty pussy’s beggin’ for more.”

You shiver, and your legs part instinctively as his fingers return. He strokes along your folds again—slow, lazy, just enjoying the feel of you. You let out a soft sound, half-whimper, half-plea.

“You want more?” he asks gently. “You gotta say it.”

“Please…” Your voice is rough, sweet with exhaustion. “More.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He pushes two fingers back inside you easily, curling them deep. You gasp, your hips rolling down into the bed, your thighs twitching. “Still so fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs. “And you just came twice.” You moan, the pressure of him filling you again like a balm and a brand. He adds a third finger slowly, easing you open with care, watching your body stretch around him.

You gasp, the stretch bordering on too much—but just barely. Your muscles clench, trying to adjust, and Dodge strokes your back soothingly, kissing your spine.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Just breathe through it, baby. You’re takin’ me so well.”

He works them slowly, twisting and curling until your thighs begin to tremble again. You feel full, stuffed, stretched in the most tender way—your hips pinned to the mattress, your whole body reduced to sensation.

“Feels good,” you whisper, voice cracking. “So full, Dodge—”

“I know,” he croons. “You’re doin’ perfect. Always so sweet for me.” You sob into the pillow, overwhelmed by the heat pooling in your belly again. You didn’t think you had anything left, but the pressure’s building fast, sharp and hot and electric.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispers, pressing kisses between your shoulder blades. “Give me another. Come for me again. Let me see you fall apart.”

You try to hold it, just for a second longer—but it slams into you without warning. You cry out, hands clutching the sheets as your whole body tenses, shudders, and breaks. Your thighs are soaked now, his fingers working you through it until you’re gasping for air.

Tears wet your face, hot and steady. Dodge strokes your hip, coos into your ear like he’s trying to settle a wild thing.

“There she is,” he whispers. “There’s my girl.”

You don’t know how long you lie there, panting and shaking, skin flushed and nerves blazing. Dodge is still behind you, still touching you—gentle now, tracing circles into your skin with the pads of his fingers. His lips ghost along your spine, your shoulder blades, your ass.

“You still with me?” he asks finally.

You nod, still face-down in the pillow. “I’m here.”

“Did so good,” he says, voice thick with awe. “Let me fuckin’ ruin you without even movin’ you.”

You laugh weakly. “I don’t think I can walk anyway.”

He laughs too, kissing your hip. “Good. You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh through his jeans, but he hasn’t taken his own pleasure—not yet. He’s too focused on you. Always has been. “Want me to stop?” he asks, even now. Always checking. Always careful.

You shake your head, arching weakly into his touch. “Don’t stop. Just… slower.” He hums, satisfied. “You wanna give me one more?”

You gasp, half-laughing, half-delirious. “I don’t even know if I can.”

“That’s alright, baby,” he whispers, settling back between your thighs, his hand already moving again—slow and purposeful, dragging your pleasure out like he has all the time in the world.

And Dodge?

He’s gonna make sure you remember it with every inch of your trembling body.

The room is quiet again, save for the sound of your breathing—still a little unsteady but settling, and the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you. Dodge stays close, his lips brushing your lower back, his hands warm where they rest on the swell of your hips.

You hum, soft and dazed, face still turned into the pillow. You’re boneless, stretched out and melted, your skin tingling everywhere he touched. You can feel your thighs still wet and sticky, your panties damp and clinging to the side, your body flushed with the aftershocks of everything he gave you.

But Dodge doesn’t rush. He never does.

"Alright, sweetheart," he murmurs into the small of your back. "Gonna get you cleaned up. Don't move, I’ve got it."

You feel the bed dip as he gets up, hear him padding across the room. The sound of a faucet running, a towel being wrung out. His care is quiet, reverent. Like he’s handling something precious.

When he comes back, he slides down beside you, and you flinch at the first contact—the towel is warm, wet, and soft as he eases your legs apart just enough to wipe gently between them. He murmurs something under his breath when he sees the mess, but it’s not dirty, not crude. It’s wonder. It’s pride.

“Look what you gave me,” he whispers, thumb brushing the inside of your thigh. “You were so good for me. So damn perfect.” You blink, eyes glassy from overstimulation and tears. Your lips twitch into a lazy smile.

He’s so careful as he cleans you, wiping you down with slow, tender strokes. He presses kisses to the backs of your knees, your thighs, the curve of your spine. And then, with the towel tossed aside, his fingers return—but not to tease, not to start anything new.

He starts massaging you again.

Same as before—like it’s still about your fall, still about the tight muscles and tension from the saddle and the ground. He starts at your ankles, kneading slow and steady. You sigh, letting yourself go limp all over again.

“You weren’t lyin’ earlier,” he says softly, voice full of affection. “Took a hell of a hit.”

“Mm,” you hum. “Was worth it.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Don’t say that. I’d rather you keep your pretty bones in one piece.”

His hands glide up your calves, thumbs pressing into the flesh, gentle but firm. You twitch a little when he hits a sore spot, but he kisses your ankle in apology, smoothing the tension with a few more careful passes. "You like me takin’ care of you like this?" he asks quietly.

“Mmhmm.”

“You deserve it,” he says simply, like it’s fact. “Deserve to be touched real nice. Spoken to sweet. Made to feel good.”

Your chest tightens at that. There’s so much love in his voice it makes you ache.

He continues the massage, now at your thighs, avoiding your sore hips but stroking the surrounding muscles with steady care. The sensation is grounding. His touch, worshipful. There’s no rush now—no teasing, no game. Just love.

He kneads the small of your back, gentle over the spot that took the brunt of the fall. When you flinch a little, he pauses, kisses the ache, and moves around it. “Gonna need to ice that tomorrow,” he murmurs. “But for now, I’ll be your heat pack.”

You let out a sleepy giggle into the pillow.

He eventually stops massaging and shifts up the bed beside you, slipping under the covers, arms sliding around your waist. You’re still on your stomach, too dazed to flip, but he just wraps himself around you from behind, chest to your back, one hand slipping beneath the hem of your oversized shirt to stroke your waist.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmurs.

You nod instantly. “Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

“Good,” he says, brushing a kiss to your cheek. “’Cause I do. More than I know what to do with, sometimes.” You press your hand to his forearm where it’s draped over your side, squeezing lightly.

His voice dips lower, soft and sure. “Next time you fall off a horse, don’t wait for me to come find you, alright? You come to me right away.”

You smile against the pillow. “You’d always take care of me like this?” He laughs, husky and low. “Girl, I’ll take care of you like this every night if you want.”

“You’d wear your fingers out.”

“You’re worth it,” he says without missing a beat. “Every damn second.”

You turn your head just enough to see his face—his messy hair, his sleep-heavy eyes, the soft curve of his smile. He kisses your forehead, your temple, your cheek, and finally the corner of your mouth. “Sleep now,” he whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”