“In a van? I’m aware, it's all this town could talk about when you first got here.” Gossip ran rampant in Sowell Bay. Folks loved to act as if a newcomer was a rarity and Cameron Cassmore had given them plenty to talk about. He’s single handedly kept this town entertained for nearly a month now. You had heard things, about someone owing him a lot of money, how he seemed to argue with nearly everyone he met.

At open mic night, his demeanor was different. Less guarded. Probably helped that Tova was there, proving to everyone that this guy wasn't some dangerous drug dealer or whatever the rumor mill came up with this week.

Yeah, he was still awkward and needed a woman old enough to be his grandmother to strike up a conversation. After a beer or two, he had relaxed enough that Tova made an excuse about needing to leave (not before sending you a very obvious wink).

At the very least, Cameron would be a good time. If he could stop tripping over his own words.

“Oh, yeah.” He was clearly uncomfortable with the gossip surrounding him. Granted, it's not like he tried to fly under the radar, "It's not bad or anything. I mean, the heater doesn’t work but I have a ton of blankets. If you're cool with that, that is.”

He doesn't want to take you back there, it's clear as day. So you offer him an alternative.

“We could go back to my place if you want.”

He nods, “Yeah. We could do that.”

Cameron is silent in your car though his body can't seem to stay still. He alternates. First, fidgeting in the passenger seat, shifting his hips like he's trying to get comfortable. Knees bending despite there being plenty of room to accommodate his long legs. Then he’ll run a hand through his hair, once, twice before moving on to fingers. Tracing over his many tattoos, finding something on his nails to pick at.

“Been awhile?” Your tone is light, well meaning. And yet, one would think you had just accused him of murder.

“No. Actually. Uh, before I came here I had a girlfriend. Not that she's still my girlfriend, we broke up before I left. But we did…it pretty regularly. So no, it hasn't been a while. I mean, it's been a while since I hooked up with someone but that's just more of a situational thing. Totally doesn't impact my ability at all, if that's what you're wondering.”

Alright, that was kinda a lie. The last two months of his relationship with Katie, things had cooled off in the bedroom. She was always tired or something. And it had been almost two months since he arrived in Sowell Bay so…four months and some change. But the last thing Cameron needed was for you to think he couldn't deliver. You were cute, you actually approached him at the bar. When was the last time something so serendipitous happened to him? He couldn't remember. So he had to play it cool and he'd like to think he was doing an alright job at it.

“Hooking up with someone you barely know is really different than having sex with your girlfriend. For all you know, I could be a serial killer,” you were joking but the way his eyes widened again, it was clear he was in over his head and your comment did not help.

“I'm not. Besides, too many people have seen us together. You also have a job that requires you to be punctual. So if you go missing, it'll be noticeable immediately.” Oh God, you were scaring the poor kid, “Sorry, I listen to a lot of true crime podcasts.”

He laughs and for the first time since he sang on stage, the facade breaks. His shoulders relax, a crooked smile forms on his face. The corners of his blue eyes slightly crease. Its really fucking cute.

It lasts until you pull into your driveway.

“You live here?” Cameron asks, incredulous at the sight of your townhouse.

“I mean, I rent it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It makes Cameron feel slightly better, feel less like a loser who lives in a van. But once his feet hit the gravel, his body tenses up. He’s going into your house. You live in a house and you’re his age. A nice house, all by yourself. And what does he have?

He just needs a little more time. That’s all he ever needed. A little more time, and he’ll meet Simon Briggs, get eighteen years worth of child support, buy an actual car, pay back Aunt Jean, and then rent out a nice place. Maybe he’ll even have enough for a down payment for a house or maybe a condo. Yeah, a condo with a patio. Nothing like the shitty one bedroom apartment he lived in with his mom until she-

“Cameron?” Your voice breaks him out of his racing thoughts. Somehow, he got to your porch, feet just steps away from the door like he’s a fucking vampire waiting to be given permission to enter. You’re in the doorway, not quite inside your home but not outside either.

Anxiety is practically pouring out of him. It was endearing though. So you take a step forward, grasping his large hand into yours.

“It’s been a while for me too,” You confess.

“What? No, I just told you-” You don’t let him finish the blatant lie. No amount of eye rolls would do the trick, so you let your lips shut up his. There’s the distinct remnants of whiskey on his lips. They’re surprisingly soft. He doesn’t exactly scream ‘guy who applies chapstick regularly’. He’s rusty at first, body stiff. His nose smashes into yours, as though he doesn’t know where else it could go. Cameron’s fingers twitch, as though he wants to move them but just doesn't know where.

The last month before the breakup, all they had done was exchange quick, tight lipped kisses. Looking back, it was clear Katie was looking for any excuse to break up with him. It was even clearer that Cameron hadn't passionately kissed someone in a fucking while.

Just when he remembers what to do with his damn hands, you pull away. That was a total shit kiss, like did he even do anything besides stand there? Cameron should just go home before you ask him to-

“Let's go inside,” you give his hand a gentle squeeze before leading him into your living room.

“You have a fireplace in your house?” he stares in amazement and if he hadn't dropped the fact his mom was a drug addict who abandoned him, you would be confused by his reaction.

“It's really common in the houses up here. Gets cold in the winter and there's plenty of trees.” He continues to stare at it, like it’s hypnotized him. Reminding him of all the possibilities he could have had in his past. In the present.

“Why don’t we go to the couch?” That’s when it hits him. Why he’s here.

He doesn’t want it to be a one night stand. Yes, that would be much easier. But talking to you is nice. You don’t treat him like an idiot. You don’t listen to the gossip that swarms this town. You’re cute, but also sincere. There’s a calmness to you that he yearns for. Always had, if he really thought about it.

So he lets you lead him over to the couch and sits down first. It gives him more time to gather his thoughts, more time to plan how he’s going to convince you that he should be more than a one night stand. He doesn’t have the money to take you out to a nice restaurant-do those even exist in Sowell Bay or is it all family style restaurants where everyone knows everyone? And he could, if he dipped into his paycheck. Or maybe he could take you out on a picnic. Tova probably had a picnic basket he could borrow, she seemed like that type. He could get sandwiches from Ethan at a discount and it wouldn’t give you food poisoning as long as you ate it the day of.

“You think really loudly,” you giggle, running a hand through his soft hair. It’s mused from his earlier fussing with it and the ends are beginning to curl, “It’s really cute.”

“It is?” His eyes are wide and bluer than the ocean. It's the fact he's genuinely surprised by the comment that gets you.

Aw.

“Also if you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay, like really. We could just watch a-”

“No! I mean,” he clears his throat, clearly a nervous habit, “I’m fine. I’m not nervous. It’s not like I’m a fucking teenager and it’s my first time.”

You straddle his waist, much to Cameron’s surprise, “It’s just your first time in a while with a stranger, right?”

“I mean, there was one time me and my ex were on a break-”

Nope. You weren’t listening to this. You tugged on his hair, forcing him to look up at you. Before another excuse could fall from his lips, you pressed yours against his. This time, Cameron remembered what to do with his fucking hands. They reached for your shoulders, helping you push off your jacket. It landed on the floor, somewhere. He could pick it up for you later, if he remembered.

His hands skimmed across your back, landing at your hips. He really wanted to grab your breasts, he had been trying not to stare at them all night. But that would be too much too soon.

At least he's a better kisser this time. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and a low sigh escapes your mouth. Cameron wants to hear it again. Like now. He's never felt this need so badly, to know you're enjoying it as much as he is. He wouldn't call himself a selfish lover, it was just never a driving force behind his actions.

He gives your hips a tentative squeeze and you shift in his lap, aligning your core with his crotch. You don't notice it at first, but then his mouth is exploring your neck and it feels really good. But this time when you shift, you can feel his erection pressing against your clothed core and fuck he’s already this hard from kissing?

Cameron is painfully aware how pathetic it looks to be this hard from a make out session. But you keep letting out these soft moans every time his teeth find your pulse point below your jawline and it's the hottest sound he's ever heard. He wants to hear it again, more than he wants to thrust his hips upwards to get some relief.

You grab his hair again, giving the ends a tug so he's forced to look up. He's pretty like this. Hair curly, pink lips slightly swollen. Adam's apple bobbing hard in his throat. Curious, you rolled your hips against his and his head tips back. His teeth are biting down on his bottom lip hard.

You could make a comment about it. But then he'd probably try to make an excuse, try to explain it away. And you don't want that. So instead, your mouth attaches itself to his neck and you continue to grind against his erection, having never been more grateful to be wearing a dress. Even though there's still two layers of fabric separating your bodies, you can feel how hard he is. His cock twitches against your covered core and it makes you want to swallow him whole.

You continue to rock your hips, delighting in the strained, breathy groans that fall from his mouth. Cameron can't help but jerk his hips upwards when your teeth sink into his neck. Fuck, you're marking him. He hasn't been this excited about a hickey since ninth grade. He can hide it with his hoodie, or maybe you want others to see?

Maybe you wouldn't mind if he gave you one? The thought thrills him. He's certain by tomorrow morning the whole town will be talking about how the two of you were seen going home together. But you didn't seem to care about that or the fact he lived in a van. So maybe you wouldn't mind if he marked you?

“Should we um…go to your bedroom?” His voice is strained, broad chest practically heaving. His hands are gripping your ass and unfortunately it's not because he wants to cop a feel. The reality is Cameron needs you to stop grinding against his cock because otherwise he will one hundred percent come in his pants.

You nod, leading him up the stairs. Cameron has to bite his tongue so he doesn't comment on the fact your place has three levels. Of course it does. You have your shit together, for a while now. And it's obvious he doesn't. He was also close to coming in his pants like a damn teenager.

He wants to see you again. But that won't happen if he's gawking over the fact you have an office and coming in his pants. You didn't seem to pay any mind to the gossip surrounding him but you've still heard it. He needs you to see that he's not some loser who lives in a van down by the river. He has potential, always had, the circumstances have just never been right and they're so close to being that.

He just needs a little more time.

Right now, he can't do much over the fact that locating Simon Briggs is harder than finding a needle in a haystack. But he can give you an unforgettable night. He can prove that he's worth keeping around, even if it's just for a tousle in the sheets.

So instead of ogling at your breasts, which look amazing in your lacy bra, he's studying your face as his fingers curve inside of you. He's listening for your breath to hitch, for you to let out one of those sweet moans so he knows what he's doing is actually bringing you pleasure.

Cameron has never thought so hard about this. Usually he considers fingering just part of the ‘warm up’, nothing too special. But what if he's bad and that makes you reconsider? If he can't use his fingers right, how could you expect him to pleasurably use…other parts of him?

His thumb draws a circle on your clit and he notices how your back arches off the mattress. Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Yeah? You… you like that?” He winces. It sounded sexy in his head. But it comes out unsure and clunky. Usually he's the quiet type. But he's heard that erotic audio has become a big thing lately, so women must like guys who talk during it.

“I think you should get a condom.” Your voice is even and that worries Cameron. Shouldn't you sound a little more out of breath? Oh God, does he suck at this? Was Katie just faking it this whole time?

“You, you sure? I can keep going if you want.”

“I'm ready and it seems like you are too.” You're referring to the fact he's painfully hard in his boxers. At least he remembered to do laundry yesterday, the last thing he needed was for you to see him in a ratty pair of boxers that had more than an acceptable number of holes in it.

“Do you need one?” You run a hand through his curls to get his attention.

“No, I'm good. Absolutely have one. Cause why wouldn't I?” He nearly trips over his shoes to get to his pants and he hopes that maybe, just maybe, he has a condom that hasn't expired in his wallet.

Fuck, he doesn't. Because why would he? Katie was on the pill and despite everyone assuming he's a fuck up, she was the only one he was with for the past year.

“If you need one, second draw from the right.” Cameron looked to find you sitting up, legs to your chest.

“I usually have one. It's just been a while since I needed one. My ex was on the pill and I'm totally clean. I don't just walk around, putting my dick in everyone,” Jesus Christ, why did he say that? “What I'm trying to say is I don't want to get someone pregnant. I’d make a terrible parent.”

“I don't know you well enough to agree or disagree,” you chuckle, “But it's okay. You're fine, I promise.”

Cameron can't help but feel a pang of disappointment run through his body when he finds an opened box of condoms. Obviously you two aren't dating, you were free to fuck whoever you'd like. But that meant….you were free to fuck whoever you'd like.

He could be impressive, leave you wanting more. He'd like to think he’s decent at the whole sex thing.

Just needed to get this stupid condom on.

“I got you,” your voice is soothing. Cameron watches as your fingers roll the condom down his hardened length.

He has to make this good. Hell, unforgettable. You have a real, adult job (what it was exactly, he couldn't say at this current moment), and live in an actual house. Cameron knew he had a lot to offer, probably. But in this moment, he needed to wow you, make you want him back. Then he could prove he can be more than just a one night stand.

“You okay? Breathing kinda heavy.”

He doesn't respond back. If he does, he’ll just make up some excuse and that's the last thing he needs. Cameron surges forward, mouth crashing against yours. You're taken aback by the sheer force of his kiss.

One of his hands cups the nape of your neck, the other lays against the small of your back. He uses his hands to gently press you down against the mattress. You look like an angel among the pillows. A really sexy angel.

Focus.

His nose nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your sweet perfume. You smelled really, really good but he knew admitting that would make him look like a fucking weirdo. He wouldn't mind this, his body on top of yours, face buried in your neck.

Maybe afterwards.

For now, he grabs the base of his cock and guides it to your soaked core. The gasp you let you when his cock drags against your folds is music to Cameron’s ears. He still has it. One bad breakup didn't ruin his game.

You can feel every inch of him like this. The fat head of his cock rubs against your clit and you can't help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Sound really pretty when you do that,” Cameron says against your neck, “Gonna make you do it a lot tonight.”

“Y-yeah?” You try to chuckle but it's really hard when he’s rutting his cock against you. So instead you rake your nails across his inked biceps.

Usually Cameron doesn't talk. He’ll grunt occasionally, particularly when he's close to coming. But you don't need to know that.

“Yeah. Gonna make you feel good.” Every gasp and moan that fell from your lips motivated him.

“If you k-keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” you grit between your teeth.

“Want to come with me inside you?” You nod and Cameron has to fight the urge to raise a fist. He's doing this, things are actually going well.

He stills his hips and guides his cock down to your entrance. He sinks the tip in and holy shit, it feels like you're pulling him in, you're so tight.

“F-fuck. Bigger than I expected.” He should be walking on cloud nine with that compliment. Yeah, he always knew he was above average in that department. It's still nice to hear, puts some pep in your step. But Cameron can't because he's too busy trying not to come immediately. You're just so warm and feel incredible and yeah, it has been a long time.

So he stills his hips again, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on your bare chest. Fuck, your tits. They somehow looked even better without the lacy bra. He couldn't stop himself, bringing one of your breasts to his mouth.

The action causes his hips to move forward, his cock to sink another inch deeper. Your fingernails have become well acquainted with his back, leaving half crescent marks scattered across his shoulders.

You feel incredible. Actually, incredible was an understatement. It's taking everything in him not to fill you to the brim, to not come immediately.

He slowly pulls out, just a little. Then he thrusts back in and shit. Shit shit shit. This is fucking amazing. You were so tight and warm. His hands find the backs of your thighs and he pushes your legs closer to your chest. He doesn't think he can do that whole “your legs over his shoulders” thing because who the hell is that flexible besides gymnasts? So this seems like a good compromise. Plus it makes him look like he can take charge.

So he does and fuck, this is a terrible idea. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, something he didn't know was possible. With every kiss you press against his lips, Cameron finds his brain becoming more and more cloudy. The only thing he can focus on is this need to fuck you, to make you moan, make you come. He needs it desperately.

“F-feel s’good,” his words are slurred, which is odd considering he only had two beers, “Gonna make you feel better.”

But also you feel so fucking incredible. He can't deny that either. You're warm and tight, so fucking tight. Your walls grip his cock and has he ever had sex this good? He needs to focus, you have to come first, but you feel fucking fantastic and oh God, you just clenched around him and fuck. No, no, this was not happening, this could not be happening.

“F-fuck, wait!” He tries to warn you, tries to pull out. But your legs are wrapped around his waist and it's too late. His hips are jerking forward uncontrollably and he can feel himself coming coming into the condom.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck!

He's pulling out before you can process what just happened. It's not until you see him taking off a now very full condom that it hits you.

Oh.

Honestly? It was hot. You never had that kind of effect on a guy before.

“Sorry, I um,” his face is bright red, “I-I’ll leave.”

“Why?” He paused, boxers barely on, “B-because I just came after two minutes of sex like a fucking teenager?”

You shrug, “I thought it was hot.”

His blue eyes widened, “You did?”

Nodding, you prop yourself up against your pillows, “Yeah. You were really into it, which was honestly refreshing. Most guys try to act like they're above it. I liked that you’re enthusiastic. I like that I made you feel that good."

He's staring at you like you just told him a mind blowing secret. A million thoughts are running through his head.

“Really?” Is all Cameron can get out. He's standing in the middle of your bedroom, clad only in a pair of worn boxers. His chest is rising up and down rapidly, like he just ran a marathon" "You don't think it's like, beyond pathetic?"

“Really,” you assure him, “I’d hate to see you leave so soon. We could still hang out or-”

“You want me to stay?” he sounds incredulous. Is such a concept that foreign to him? You knew there was more behind the sarcastic comments and eye rolls. Just weren't expecting it to be such….lonelieness.

“I would love for you to stay, Cameron.”

He nods his head, like that four letter word didn't just knock him off his feet. Silently, he moves back to your bed, his lips pressing against yours. This kiss is different. More urgent. Fervent almost. As though he thinks you slip through his fingers if he doesn't.

“You didn't come,” he whispers against your neck, lips trailing down your body.

“It's fine-” Cameron's shaking his head before you can even finish your sentence. His mouth skims over your chest, his breath against your nipples creating goosebumps across your body.

“No. Need-wanna make you feel good,” is all he says before settling himself between your thighs.

Before you could respond, he dived into your heat, eagerly. His tongue circled your clit in deliberate strokes, his eyes glued to your face, watching for every little reaction.

Somehow you tasted sweet and tangy and all too addicting. Cameron saw how your back arched when his tongue found your entrance. He shifted, moving your thighs so they hugged the sides of his face. His cock was throbbing (how, he didn't know) but Cameron didn't care. Every brain cell was focusing on you, making you feel good.

It's how he noticed that while his tongue was making you moan, it wasn't the same as when he sank his cock into you. Not as breathy, not as needy. Fingers. He had long fingers. It's how he was able to learn the guitar and actually be quite good at it.

His mouth moved back up to your clit, allowing his index and middle finger to circle your entrance.

“C-Cameron, please.” Good. Yes. He sank his fingers into your wet entrance. Fuck you were tight. Had he actually obtained any will power, he could have felt that tightness with his cock for longer. But he couldn't harp on that.

He crooked his fingers upwards, trying to find that spot. Normally this wasn't a mission, his fingers and Dick were long enough that they usually ended up finding it without any extra effort.

Cameron couldn't just hope now. He already left a less than desirable impression with how he came after maybe five minutes of sex. He had to prove he was good at this, that he wasn't some jackass who lived in a van and didn't care if his partner came or not. He was good at something damn it and you were going to see that.

All while having this internal battle, you were fighting the urge to claw at his shoulders. No guy had ever eaten you out with this much vigor. His broad tongue drags a flat, wet stripe across your clit and oh fuck.

Your back arches off the mattress, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. He's a quick learner, you'll give him that. He repeats the motion and God, he’s looking at you with such intensity, studying every little reaction.

“F-fuck, don't stop,” and he's a much better listener than he appears because he doesn't. He keeps going, keeps moving his fingers in a come hither motion that feels so good it's making your hips roll upwards. Cameron doesn't seem to mind that you're practically humping his face. In fact, he seems to enjoy it given how his own hips are jerking against your mattress.

“Don't stop. M’gonna cum,” you can barely get out more than several words, much less a full sentence. You expect him to pull away, like most guys do.

Instead, his mouth continues. Your body feels light. There's a warmth that's spreading, seeping into your veins. A band is tightening in the pit of your stomach, tightening with every stroke of his tongue.

His fingers brush against that one spot and you feel the band snap. You start to have a vague idea of what's going on, though it's hazy. Like the fact you can now feel his tongue lapping up your essence, nose bumping against your clit. The mattress is moving, ever so slightly, against the headboard with the way his hips are basically jumping your mattress. There's a wet spot quickly spreading from the crotch of his boxers, but Cameron hopes you have a washer dryer (why wouldn't you, you have a fucking fireplace) he can use. Right now, all he can focus on is the taste of you on his tongue, how addictive it is.

He's chasing after it, desperate. You have to pull his mouth off of your cunt for it to register to Cameron what you were saying.

“S-slow down. It's o-okay,” your breathing is uneven, tits nearly spilling out of your bra and all he can think is,

“Can I..go again? Like keep going? If you want…me to.”