Dodge took his time off of working at his bar to nurse the foam of a beer from another in a neighboring town. 

Was this really what his future was? He was dangerously nearing a seat in the same boat as the men surrounding him in the ambience of the dive bar: old (21) with a family at home (he was unattached with a sister and a single mother 5 minutes away from his apartment). 

Dodge might as well accept it; this was his destiny.

But the glimmer of fate came to him through a vision he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining from the wild dreams in his head or the material of a Playboy magazine. 

The mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the recreational space of the bar with a pretty girl attached to its saddle.

Dodge couldn’t tell if you were a saddle bronc rider (like himself) or just intensely familiar with your hips. You rode the mechanical bull like it was a kids bicycle with training wheels.

But with how you grinded against the fur of the mechanical bull with the rhythm it was bucking, he landed on the latter.

It was entrancing to look at, he admitted. The winks you sent into the collecting audience only strengthened his hopes of getting one shot at him. 

The mechanics continued to whir and spin you around, pathetic attempts to throw you off of the attraction you were obviously very skilled at riding. Have you been here before? Has he just never noticed you?

How could he never notice you.

Before he knew it, Dodge was leaning against the inflatable rim of the attraction, eyes wide in awe of your performance. One hand gripped the braided rope attached to the nape of the bull’s neck whilst the other waved in the air freely to your girlfriends, who had been screaming your name in the same way Dodge heard it yelled by paparazzi during award shows his sister watched on the weekends through the television.

The moderator of the attraction seemed just as impressed as anyone else watching you, even holding the twinge of suspicion some kept in the quirk of their brow. A crowd eventually formed around your performance, whistling and cheering you on as the meat of your calves squeezed the sides of the bull’s stomach.

Dodge thinks he heard a “yee haw!” come from the intoxicated group of guys (no younger than 30) stuffed in a booth attached to the wall facing your ass.

Bright digits flashed on the screen beside the control booth, announcing the new high score of Big Star Bar. 2 minutes and 36 seconds.

As you unmounted the artificial bull, Dodge didn’t pull his eyes away from you like the rest of the crowd did. You weren’t a one hit wonder, he had to know your secrets. What was a girl with hips like yours doing in a random dive bar in Texas?

Dodge wasn’t sure how to approach you, especially after losing you in the crowd of girls in identical cowboy hats and guys in flannel. He was lucky enough to skin his eyes over the bar and spot your sparkling red boots tapping and gliding against the dingy dance floor.

The boy filed through the crowd until the heat in the air turned from heavy to sweaty dance floor heavy. 

Dodge scanned the horseshoe— painted? —on the back of your jean jacket and how it paired with your cowboy boots. It felt like something out of a movie, seeing your outfit.

“This your first rodeo?” he greeted, though from his stance behind your back, he wasn’t surprised by the small jump in your shoulders. But when you turned around, you were just as beautiful up close than you were on that damn bull. Dodge noticed the thick pieces of glitter scattered across your collarbone and how it seemed to match with the other girls in your party.

“Sorry. I don’t talk to strangers,” you shrugged, offering Dodge a friendly smile in apology.

Your gaze didn’t even falter or scan him, just unwaveringly looking him in the eye before you turned around again to chat with your friends. 

“Aren’t those the most fun to talk to though?” Dodge tried, and god did it form a pit in his stomach to feel like one of those guys that pushed for a girl's attention— a bad guy.

This got you to turn back around again.

Truthfully, his looks were hard to deny; especially with that ivory colored cowboy hat on his head. Otherwise, he wore a navy tee with a pair of dark jeans and black boots; the simplest thing ever. 

One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the other tapping its digits against the sweaty glass of a bottle of beer. 

“Do you really wanna talk? Grandma taught me that boys like you never want to just talk.” 

Dodge couldn’t fight against that, not confidently at least. He knew he didn’t want to just talk, but he also didn’t know what else he’d want to do. Is this what being in limbo felt like?

You gave Dodge the grace of a second before pointing an eyebrow at him and turning again, only this time walking off with your friends to a different corner of the bar.

Dodge was too stubborn to talk growing up, and in this moment— and only this moment —did he curse himself for doing so.

In Cape, everyone was a regular. 

It didn’t matter where you went or with whom, you were known better than the alphabet.

When Dodge came into town, he became a regular. In most places, at least.

He knew you weren’t from Cape because you weren’t a regular here. Which is why he was surprised to see the same red heels he’s been dreaming about since the weekend stroll into the establishment he worked in.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You knew about Dodge Mason because Gina knew about Dodge Mason, and she knew about Dodge Mason from her boyfriend Daniel.

That’s how you got here, wasn’t it? But, Dodge didn’t need to know that.

He didn't need to know how your girlfriends teased you for playing hard to get or how you began sweating just from looking into his piercing eyes.

And when those piercing eyes caught the sight of the painted horseshoe on your back, he thought it must be my lucky day.

As you sat at the bar, Dodge couldn’t think of any other way to praise whatever god trailed you in here rather than repeating the same ‘thank you’s in his head.

“Evening, lucky,” he coined the nickname from the symbol. You fought a smile at his wit, instead rolling your tongue along the flesh of your lip. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you sir?”

Dodge chortled at your act, but your face stood unwavering. Your tits looked perfect while pressed against the bar, but Dodge managed to pull his eyes a little higher to see the small tick in your neck signaling your so-called ‘confusion’.

You must’ve not liked his silence, because you picked up the silence with a small sigh and your order.

“May I have a shirley temple with just a dash of lime juice, please?” you batted your eyelashes at the unconvinced boy, being met with the playful roll of his eyes. 

Despite himself, Dodge began to concoct your beverage. You were strange, he thought. Where did you come from? Were you visiting? Would he see you again if nothing came from this conversation? How would he be sure?

He had to make sure this one counted, not like that pathetic excuse of conversation at the bar. The clicking of your nails rippling against the waxed bar behind his back mimicked the ticking clock– he might as well shoot a shot. Perhaps it was an easy target, especially with his luck sprawled against your back. 

“Did your grandma also teach you these manners?” Dodge planted the highball in front of your impatient hands. You took a look at the glass, then him, then to the glass again, where your eyes stayed as you tasted the drink. The sugar spreads across your tongue, satisfying its parched state.

“I still don’t talk to strangers,” you said, but the smirk that played on your face told Dodge something different. Your game wouldn’t fool him, not when you drop it just as limp as that. Did you want him like he wanted you?

You two weren’t strangers, no, he knew you were meant for something more. 

“So you admit to it,” he turned his head from the focus on your drink, only to catch your face hot with guilt. He chuckled to himself at your game.

“We ain’t strangers. This is our second meeting, perhaps fate is sending a message?” God, when did Dodge Mason become so sappy? He was grasping at the ends of a rope he wasn’t sure you were on the other end of.

But then you smiled. You smiled and twirled the skinny black straw around the ice of your drink. “And what message would that be?” you challenged.

Dodge leaned his elbows on the dark oak of the bar. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before his proposal, or rather, ‘the message’. “You should come home with me tonight.” He kept it at that; simple and charming. 

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his confidence. By the looks of it, he had been a lustful young adult, admittedly like you, with maybe a studio apartment. Your mind could only think of one thing he planned to do if you accepted the invitation, and you knew it wasn’t puzzles and lemonade. 

Were you opposed? Not entirely. 

“And what would this night entail? What do I get from entering your home? You gon’ drive me home after?” You matched his stance, leaning forward on the folded elbows you stuck to the waxy countertop. Dodge felt a stream of intimidation flow through his veins at the way you pointed your eyebrow at him.

“Might have to come to find out,” he replied, swiping his tongue over the toothpick that hung from his mouth. You couldn’t restrain your eyes from flickering down to the pair of lips. 

You were sure the sharp metal of his handle left a burning mark when he pushed you against it in the barren hallway of his apartment building. But with the incessant kissing of his lips distracting your mouth– and eventually everything else –it didn’t matter much to you anymore.

Your frame had been stripped of all fabric, laying in addition to his in the ratty hamper dejected in the corner of his room. Soon enough, he was insisting on a third round to cure the burdens of his barren tongue.

“Wanna see how you ride up close, baby,” he reasoned through a hushed tone, kissing the clammy skin of your temple.

How could you refuse? Especially when his hands began to rub those soothing circles into your hips and the tip of his tongue licked the shell of your ear during the whisper.

When he was prodding his tongue into your entrance a few minutes later, you knew it was the right decision to follow him out of the door. With your tits bouncing underneath the warm light thrusting through the ceiling of the sauna he called his room, Dodge took it upon himself to bruise your skin of this (rather heated) interaction through two large grips of his hands on your ass whilst you fucked his face. 

Dodge’s curious tongue soon turned into a hungry one, accompanied by the brief scraping of his teeth against the puffy lips of your pussy. The small bumping of his skull against the wooden headboard spurred him on rather than slowed him down, and you hoped the string of moans and mewls coming from your mouth were enough gratitude to satisfy his desires.

Due to popular demand– a loose request that fell in pieces from Dodge’s dumbstruck position underneath you –you wore his cowboy hat, glaze sticking from your hairline onto the weaved material. Dodge didn’t mind, in fact, he reveled in the thought of that same sweat mixing with his own during a rodeo. Dripping down his face just like how the sudden flood of your sweet juices were coating the stubble on his chin and the point of his nose. 

Dodge lived up to his word the morning after, tapping the ends of his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel to the tune of Bruce Springsteen’s voice singing “Glory Days” from the beaten up radio of Dodge’s Cadillac. Summers' heat wavered through the air of Cape even when Dodge drove past the speed limit on a lonely road. 

When you arrived at the doorstep of your grandmother's house, Dodge didn’t worry about the possibility of seeing you again, only admiring the way you swayed your hips and clicked your heels against the pavement during your strut. The corners of his lips pulled up into something that was not quite a smirk. 

He liked how your game was turning out.

traumatrios, 2024

dodge mason threw a lasso around a bull’s neck and your thighs clenched instinctively. you couldn’t pinpoint when this fascination had begun, whether it was before or after you started dating him, but you’d never had the courage to actually tell him of your fantasy until tonight. 

country music blared from the speakers of his beat up truck and your hand hung out the passenger window, catching the wind as the sun set. dodge was humming along as he drove, in a good mood after putting in a good performance at the rodeo, and catching sight of you in the crowd. 

so, it was no surprise to either of you that the minute you made it back to his place, he was dragging you into his bedroom. 

‘i’m so proud of you.’ you murmur as you capture his lips in a feverish kiss, before pressing feather light kisses to his jawline.

‘how proud?’ he purrs back, as he pulls his shirt off with ease, dark hair tousled.  

‘this proud.’ you whisper back, hands deftly finding the zipper on his jeans and unzipping, feeling his semi against the thin fabric of his boxers. 

‘oh i see.’ dodge grins, palming your ass, ‘subtle baby, real subtle.’ 

you shoot him a taunting look, ‘speak for yourself.’ 

his grin widens, ‘oh you’ve done it now sweetheart.’ he teases and within seconds, his strong arms are lifting you and tossing you onto the bed, discarding his jeans. 

you’re in fits of giggles as dodge clambers on top of you, his perfect face just inches above your own. he leans in and playfully starts to gnash his teeth, pretending to bite at your neck and collarbone and you’re practically squealing with delight. meanwhile, one of his cold hands is sliding under your shirt, splaying across your stomach and you flush. 

‘dodge!’ you squeal as his fingers start to tickle you, causing you to kick out at him reflexively and he winces when you make contact. 

‘stop wriggling!’ he grunts teasingly, firm hand grasping one of your thighs. ‘or i’m gonna have to hold you down somehow.’ he continued jokingly.

‘tie me up.’ you breathe, trying to keep the comment casual but there's an honest edge to it that causes  dodge to freeze. 

‘what?’ comes his bewildered reply, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

‘i- not like that- it slipped out-’  you stutter. scrambling for an excuse but it's too late, you've said it now. 

‘you want me to tie you up?’ dodge's stern voice repeated your own words back to you and despite there being no sexuality in his tone, your stomach still flips. 

‘...yes.’ you say sheepishly, averting your eyes. 

the moment of silence that fills the room feels endless before dodge finally speaks, ‘how?’ he queries. and its almost laughable how blunt it is. 

‘with your lariat…’ you answer, voice barely above a whisper with how awkward you feel. 

he looks taken aback for a second, but obliges, reaching across to his dresser where the rope lies.

‘tell me if it's too tight, okay baby?’ he murmurs gently, as he deftly ties your wrists to his headboard.

‘i'm good.’ you reply reassuringly, straining at the knots just to test. 

satisfied, he leans back, the semi trapped in his boxers rubbing against your crotch. 

‘fuck…’ he mutters, looking you up and down ravenously, but always returning to your bound wrists. 

you bite your lip, ‘well?’ you squeak. 

‘you're an absolute picture sweetheart.’ he drawls and you stifle a stupid cheer. 

with absolute care, dodge pulls down your skirt, then your thong and tosses them across his room. he pushes your shirt up to reveal your stomach and starts to press reverential kisses there, trailing lower and lower till he reaches your mound. 

his eyes flit up to admire your wanton expression as his lips dip lower again, nose inches away from your clit. without breaking eye contact, dodge’s tongue licks a long stripe up your pussy and you gasp, bucking your hips in response. 

smirk widening, dodge continues, licking another slow stripe up your cunt lips before opting for short quick ones. you’re straining against the ropes for real this time, hardly able to catch your breath at his ministrations. 

‘so pretty…’ his voice vibrates against your pussy and you throw your head back in delight. 

he presses a kiss to your clit before his tongue penetrates your hole. ‘ohhh shit- shit-’ you moan, hands balling into fists. 

dodge can barely hold back a laugh as he continues to lick at your insides, calloused hands digging into your thighs as an anchor. his tongue starts to prod at that spongy spot inside of you and you almost levitate off the bed. 

‘nghhh- dodge!’ you shriek, panting. his dark eyes find your wild ones, expression clear, do you want me to stop?, more a teasing question than a serious one and you’re frantically shaking your head no. 

slowing, dodge’s eating becomes more obsessive, as if he’s savouring every taste he can get. everytime his nose brushes your clit, your eyes squeeze shut and you yelp with pleasure. his tongue is really tasting every inch of your pussy, face firmly buried between your thighs. 

it doesn’t take long for your thighs to start shaking, but dodge only digs his nails in deeper, keeping you there.

‘please-please dodge- i’m so- ah’ you whimper, flushed red and near thrashing at the bonds. 

if he heard your pleas, he didn’t answer them. he returned to his fast pace, repeatedly hitting your g-spot till you’re convulsing as you moan his name. dodge smirked as he pulled his face away and you nearly screamed, you were so close.

his eyes roved over you, clearly enjoying seeing you so worked up. deftly, he flicked his finger against your swollen bud and uttered, ‘cum.’ 

and cum you did, the only thing louder than your garbled moans was the creaking of the bed as your back arched, thighs shaking and every muscle in your arm screaming as you fought against the bondage. dodge’s eyes lit up as he watched you, the only thing grounding you was his hand softly stroking your knee. as you came down from your high, his smirk grew again. 

‘think you can give me another?’ he said calmly and you gawped at him. 

‘dodge- i-’ you protest, still trying to catch your breath. 

‘i know you can sweetheart.’ he continued, though his expression was nonchalant, you could see the begging in his eyes, he was still hungry. ‘and it’s not you like you can go anywhere hm?’ he teased, tapping the rope rhythmically. 

you shot him a warning look before sighing, ‘i can.’ 

‘that’s my girl.’ he grinned and he dove his face back into your cunt, lapping at your juices and sucking hard. 

still sensitive, you were writhing again in seconds as he sucked your swollen lips, making sure to get every last drop of your cum. 

‘stay…’ he’d purr between licks, every time you squirmed too much, overstimulated.

it didn’t take long for your second orgasm to start to crest and you started to buck your hips in a jerky manner. you’d long since lost sense of your constant moans, most of them incoherent. dodge pulled away again and your addled brain thought he was going to pull the same trick again. 

however, all he did was lick a final long stripe up your swollen pussy and then, he nipped your clit. you were so surprised and sensitive that you orgasmed on the spot, no warning. juices sprayed out of you, soaking the sheets. your eyes squeezed shut and you thought you were seeing the pearly gates of heaven for a moment. 

‘oh! oh- ah!- dodgemmph-’ your moans were jumbled and high pitched, whole body writhing with the intensity of the squirt. 

the orgasm seemed to last forever, you were so dazed as you came down from the high, still twitching with aftershocks as dodge collected what little wetness was still on your cunt, most coating his sheets, and licked his fingers clean. 

‘you’re incredible.’ he whispered, in pure awe, as he deftly untied your wrists, running his thumb over any soreness there. 

you smile, still a little delirious, ‘you’d do it again?...with the rope?’ you murmur, hope evident in your tone.