Johnny Storm being the type of guy to do this:
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Johnny Storm being the type of guy to do this:

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heâs such a brat i need him
The way this scene made me feel is just not normal. I am losing my mind. I need help.
Diet Pepsi (NSFW///MDNI)
A/N: as promised for 150 followers â MAMA IâM DRAGGING YâALL TO HELL đĽ SKRT SKRT WE GOIN STRAIGHT TO HELL TOGETHER no brakes. no regrets. Warnings: STRAIGHT. SIN - bonus points if you catch the references Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated âď¸
The movie was over, but neither of you moved.
Old western credits rolled on the screen in black and white, flickering like ghosts. Static buzzed low from the truck radio, half-tuned to a country station. The night air was thick with July heat and leftover popcorn grease. You sat cross-legged in the truck bed, your back resting against the cab, eyes on the stars. Rhett sat beside you, arms resting on his knees, hat pulled low, profile carved by moonlight.
You tossed a popcorn kernel at his boot. Missed.
âDonât go broody on me now,â you murmured. âThat movie wasnât that sad.â
Rhett didnât answer at first. Just exhaled slow through his nose, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the horizon like something out there owed him an apology.
âYou always get like this after a long week,â you said softer. He didnât look at you. Just grunted. âAnd howâs that?â âQuiet. Feral. Like a wolf tryna behave.â
That earned the tiniest smirk. He didnât argue. Which meant you were right.
You shifted a little closer, knees brushing. âWhat happened?â He was silent for a second. Then: âBull bucked harder than expected. Tractor fan belt snapped. Amyâs teacher called. And Royalâs been ridinâ my ass âcause Perry wonât show up on time.â You blinked. âDamn. Want me to fight someone for you?â Another smirk. âNo need. I can handle it.â âSure you can.â You leaned in, bumped your shoulder into his. âBut still. Thatâs a hell of a week.â âHell of a life.â
That made you pause.
The cicadas buzzed louder for a moment. The distant sounds of other cars pulling away from the lot faded into the background, like the whole world was slowing down around just the two of you.
âYou ever think about leaving?â you asked quietly. His hat tipped back a little, just enough for moonlight to catch the edge of his jaw. âEvery damn day.â And then, after a breath: âBut I never do.â
That settled heavy in your chest. Like youâd both admitted something neither of you had the guts to say out loud until now.
You dropped your head to his shoulder for a second. Just a beat.
He didnât flinch. Just let you rest there, warm and still, the silence between you saying more than anything else.
Eventually, when the screen went black and the static started to sputter, you yawned and stretched. âCome on, cowboy. Letâs get outta here.â
He followed wordlessly, helping you down from the truck bed like you might break. His hand lingered at your waist a little longer than it needed to.
When you finally climbed back into the cab, the bench seat groaned beneath you. You grabbed your half-melted Pepsi from the cupholder, straw bent from chewing. Rhett stayed outside a moment longer, tossing the empty snack tray into a rusted barrel. Then the driverâs door creaked open and he slid in beside you, the cab immediately shrinking with his presence.
He looked tired. More than tired. Like the whole week had sat on his shoulders and wouldnât get off.
âLong day?â you asked, sipping the soda. He grunted. âLong year.â
The soda hissed as you sucked at the bottom. Loud. Obnoxious. You didnât mean it to be.
But then Rhett looked at you â and there it was.
That flash of something behind his eyes. Hunger. Regret. Need. Your thighs pressed together instinctively.
âYou keep suckinâ on that straw like thatâŚâ
His voice was low, scratchy, like gravel and smoke.
ââŚIâm not gonna make it to touchinâ you proper.â
You blinked. Feigned innocence. Sipped again, lips wrapping slow around the plastic.
âItâs just soda, cowboy.â
His jaw flexed. His knuckles turned white on the wheel.
You kept sipping.
And he kept watching.
That silence stretched â not awkward, not stiff, just charged. Like a wire pulled too tight. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, eyes dropping to where your fingers toyed with the straw.
âYou know what youâre doinâ?â he asked. âWhat am I doinâ, Rhett?â âPushinâ your luck.â
You leaned back against the door, the leather hot against your skin. One leg tucked under you, the other pressed close to the gearshift, brushing his knee every now and then. A slow smile curled your lips as you popped the lid off the cup and tipped it toward your mouth, catching a few melting cubes with your tongue.
Rhettâs breath caught.
âJesus,â he muttered, low. âDonât do that unless youâre ready to follow through.â
You tilted your head. Set the cup back in the holder, real slow.
âMaybe Iâm not the one who needs convincing.â
That was it. The crack in his control.
He turned to face you fully â knees wide, hand braced on the back of your seat, jaw tight.
âDarlinâ, Iâve had a week from hell. Every time I close my eyes, itâs your voice in my head. You walk around that ranch like you donât know what you do to me.â
Your breath caught.
âSo tell me,â you whispered. âWhat do I do to you?â
â
He stared. Long and hard. Then reached between you, took the Pepsi cup â and dropped it to the floorboard with a sharp thud.
âMake me forget how to be decent,â he said.
Then he kissed you.
Not soft. Not hesitant. It was teeth and tongue and a weekâs worth of frustration poured into your mouth. You gasped, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as he gripped your hip like it anchored him to earth.
âBeen thinkinâ about you like this all week,â he rasped against your lips. âYour voice. Your hands. That pretty mouth wrapped around a straw and me wonderinâ what else itâd feel good on.â
Your hips rolled without thinking. His belt buckle scraped your thigh. His hand slid under your shirt.
âYou wanna help me?â he asked, already breathless. âWith what?â âRelievinâ the kind of tension only you ever seem to cause.â
His hands were everywhere â not rushing, but searching, like heâd been dreaming about this moment and wanted to map every inch to memory.
Your shirt rode up. His palm found bare skin. Rough fingertips skated your waist like he was afraid youâd disappear.
âYouâre real,â he murmured, lips brushing your jaw. âYouâre really here.â âIâm here, Rhett,â you whispered. âTouch me.â
He groaned â low and deep in his throat, like it physically pained him to want you this bad.
His fingers dipped beneath your waistband, thumb sweeping dangerously low, but he didnât dive in. No â he paused, dragging his mouth across your neck instead, slow and heavy and frustrating as hell.
âYou know what I thought about all week?â âMmm?â âYou. On this seat. Lookinâ at me like that. Legs open. Begginâ.â
You tugged at his belt. Impatient. Breathing shallow.
âSo do something about it.â
But he didnât move. Not yet.
âYou got me strung up, girl,â he said, voice hoarse. âLike a horse with no reins. You show up in my head when Iâm fixinâ fences. When Iâm shovelinâ shit. I swear to God I even got hard in the tractor last Thursday just thinkinâ about your laugh.â
You bit your lip. A shaky laugh tumbled out.
âDidnât know I had that effect on you.â âYou donât even try,â he hissed. âThatâs the worst part.â
Your hand finally got his buckle open, jeans shoved low enough to expose what heâd been aching to give you. He hissed when your palm wrapped around him â hot, thick, needy. His head thudded back against the headrest.
âFuck, thatâs goodâdonât stop.â
You didnât. But your eyes flicked to the floor.
To the Pepsi cup.
You grinned, wicked and slow.
âStill want that release, cowboy?â
He opened his eyes â wild and wrecked â and followed your gaze.
âYou wouldnât.â âOh, I would.â
Rhett stared at you like he wasnât sure if he wanted to kiss you harder or crawl out the window and repent.
âYou gonna finish what you started,â you said, eyes glinting, âor you want me to get creative?â
He looked like he wanted to say something smart â something about how âyouâre trouble,â how âthis ainât how good girls act,â â but all that came out was a rough gasp when you tightened your grip around him again.
The cab was steaming. His shirt was half-off, clinging to his back, skin flushed red all the way down to his collarbones.
And you?
You reached down to the floorboard, plucked the forgotten Pepsi cup, and turned to face him again â bold. Unbothered.
Dead serious.
âThink you can fill it?â you asked, just above a whisper. âDarlinâ,â he breathed, âyou keep talkinâ like that, and Iâll do it in ten seconds.â
He twitched in your palm, already close, already falling apart.
You kissed his neck. Then slid down between the seats, nestled in the tight space â eyes locked with his the whole damn time. The cup in your hand. His thighs tense on either side of you.
âJust relax,â you said sweetly. âLet me take care of it.â
And then you did.
Your hand moved in tight strokes, wrist flicking with every rise. He was already panting, head back, whispering your name like a prayer he didnât know he believed in.
âThatâs it, baby,â you coaxed. âGive it to me.â
His jaw clenched. He looked down at you, eyes glazed and desperate.
âGodâfuck, youâre evil,â he choked out.
You brought the cup up just as his body seized, hips bucking forward, teeth gritted, and he came hard â into the goddamn Pepsi cup.
You held it steady. Like it was sacred.
The silence afterward was broken only by his ragged breathing and the faint slosh of melted ice.
You pulled back, glanced at the cup.
âGuess itâs not diet anymore,â you said, smirking.
He groaned. Covered his face with both hands.
âYou are going to hell.â âSo are you,â you said, crawling back into his lap. âMight as well ride there together.â âJesus Christ.â âHeâs not in this truck tonight, sweetheart.â
â
You were still straddling him in the driverâs seat, your thighs resting over his jeans, your cheek pressed to his damp collarbone. The air inside the truck had gone still â quiet but charged. Your breath synced up with his, shallow at first, then slow.
The Pepsi cup sat abandoned in the holder again, this time full of sins no amount of holy water could rinse away.
Rhettâs hands were on your lower back. Barely moving. Just holding. As if now that he had you close, he wasnât entirely sure how to let go.
You brushed sweaty strands of hair off his forehead, your touch featherlight. âYou okay?â
He didnât answer right away. Just let out a breath â not sharp, not amused, just tired. Bone-deep.
âIâm gonna need a minute,â he rasped, voice gravel-thick. âThat wasâŚâ
He didnât finish the sentence.
Didnât need to.
His arms tightened around your waist instead, pulling you impossibly closer, like he could hide you in his chest if he just held you hard enough.
You rested your temple against his and let the silence stretch. He didnât pull away. Didnât shift.
âRhettâŚâ you began gently. âLet me talk, darlinâ,â he cut in. Not harsh. Just⌠raw. âLet me just say it.â
You nodded.
He looked at you like he wasnât sure if he was still dreaming.
âI donât want this to be just a thing that happened once. Not just âcause I had a bad week. Not just some dirty secret we laugh about later.â
You blinked. Sat up slightly. Watched him.
His eyes were red around the edges. Not from tears â from being exhausted and too tightly wound for too damn long.
âI know Iâm not the easiest man to be around,â he said. âI keep shit bottled up. I act like I donât care. But I do. About you. More than I shouldâve let happen.â
You reached up, cupped his jaw, thumb grazing the soft stubble along his cheek.
âI care too,â you said. Quiet. No pressure, just truth. âI wasnât kiddinâ. I was already planninâ on doinâ this again next Friday.â
That cracked something loose in him.
A laugh. Small. Disbelieving. He leaned back slightly, enough to see your face properly, then shook his head with a lopsided smile.
âYou drive me crazy, you know that?â âYeah. You love it.â âI really fuckinâ do.â
You kissed him again â slow this time, like you werenât trying to devour him, just savour him. His lips were warm. Gentle. Less like a wildfire, more like a hearth.
âI meant it,â you murmured against his mouth. âI donât wanna pretend this didnât happen.â âNeither do I.â
You shifted in his lap, stretching your legs a little, but didnât move away. His arms didnât loosen either. His thumb moved in slow circles against your hip, grounding himself.
He exhaled again, then said, almost too softly:
âSometimes I think⌠maybe I wasnât meant for all this ranch bullshit. Maybe Iâm not like Perry, or Royal. I break too easy. I feel too much.â
You stilled.
Because you knew how hard that was for him to admit.
âI like that you feel too much,â you whispered. He glanced at you, brows pinched. âYou do?â âYeah,â you nodded. âIt means you care. It means you love hard. It means when you say shit like thisâŚâ â your hand ghosted over his chest â ââŚI believe it.â
Rhettâs throat worked around something thick. You could see it. Feel it.
âGoddamn,â he muttered. âYou always talk like that? Or just when Iâve got no blood left in my brain?â
You smiled. Soft and full.
âOnly when itâs the truth.â
He leaned back, head resting against the seat, looking at you like you were the only damn thing keeping him tethered.
The radio buzzed softly. A half-song played â something slow and crooning, too low to name, but warm all the same.
âYou want me to drop you home?â he asked eventually, voice a little steadier now. âItâs late.â You smirked, teasing again. âWhy? You got church in the morning?â âAfter what we did with a Pepsi cup?â
He snorted. Full-out, shoulders-shaking laughter this time.
You pressed your lips to his jaw. âYouâre not drivinâ anywhere yet, cowboy. You need a minute. And maybe a damn shower.â âOh, Iâm aware,â he groaned. âI feel like I just ran twenty laps.â
You chuckled and curled back into him, letting the summer heat cling to your skin like honey.
Outside, the drive-in screen had gone black. The other cars had cleared out. But inside the truck â it still felt full.
Of tension. Of release. Of something new blooming soft between you.
Not just lust.
Something warmer. Messier.
Real.
â
Eventually, you slid back into the passenger seat.
Rhett took his time â redoing his jeans, wiping sweat from his brow, straightening the mess of his hair as best he could. He muttered something under his breath about ânever lookinâ at Pepsi the same way again,â and you snorted loud enough to fog the window.
The drive home was quiet.
Not awkward. Not heavy.
Just⌠settled.
Like the storm had passed and left the air sweeter somehow.
The windows were down. The heat hadnât lifted much, but the breeze was kind. You reached over once, thumb brushing the back of Rhettâs hand where it rested on the gearshift. He turned his palm over without a word, let your fingers slip between his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When he pulled up in front of your place, he didnât kill the engine right away.
The porch light buzzed faintly. Moths hovered near the screen door. Crickets chirped loud in the stillness.
You unbuckled, but neither of you moved to say goodbye.
Not yet.
You looked at him. Really looked at him.
The flush had faded from his chest, but his hair still curled damp at the ends. His mouth was a little red. His shirt was wrinkled beyond saving.
But his eyes?
His eyes were calm.
That wild, bottled-up tension was gone. Replaced with something steadier. Something⌠soft.
âI meant what I said,â you told him. âThis ainât just a one-time thing.â He nodded once. âI know.â
You hesitated.
Then asked, real quiet: âYou gonna kiss me goodnight, or you just gonna sit there lookinâ like a man whoâs seen God?â
That got a crooked grin out of him.
âI donât think I saw Him,â he murmured. âBut I sure as hell felt forgiven.â
You leaned over the console and kissed him â slow, sure, nothing hurried. Just lips and breath and the silent promise that whatever this was? It wasnât over.
Not even close.
When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.
âI donât know what this is yet,â he whispered, âbut I wanna find out.â âYou will.â
You squeezed his hand once more, then reached for the handle.
As your door creaked open, he caught your wrist.
âWait.â
You turned.
He nodded toward the cupholder.
âPlease throw that out before you go,â he said, deadpan.
You burst out laughing â full belly, head-thrown-back laughing â and grabbed the cup with dramatic flair.
âPepsi regrets this collaboration,â you said, bowing. âI regret not wearinâ my goddamn seatbelt,â Rhett muttered. âYou nearly killed me.â
You stepped out into the night, walked to the porch with the cup in hand, and flung it into the trash bin by the side gate â sins and all.
When you turned around, Rhett was still watching.
His hand rested on the wheel.
But his smile?
That thing could've lit up the whole county.
You lifted two fingers in a lazy salute.
âNext Friday,â you said.
He nodded.
âYou bring the soda,â he replied.

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The Disappointment Club
Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Fem!Reader! Summary: After a rough couple of years in California, you move to the quiet pastures of Wabang to work in your sister's bakery, finding solace in the life she's built for herself there. A fresh start would've been a lot easier if a certain six-foot, blue-eyed cowboy hadn't waltzed into the shop with his Stetson pulled low. Wordcount: 13.239k (sorry) Warnings: SMUT! (it gets filthy pls don't look at me - oral sex f!receiving, fingering, handjob, spit play??, corny dirty talk), Soft Dom!Rhett Abbott, Possessive!RhettAbbott, Sub!Reader, Sub Space (adjacent? Sub-space-ish?), Mentions of Daddy Kink, Massive Praise Kink, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Porn with a lot of Plot, Angst (can't write anything without it lmao), Fluff, Humor, Slow Burn, Mentions of Drug/Alcohol Use, Implied Bar Fights, Reader has a troubled past, CORNY THIS GETS SO CORNY. A/N: (this is my belated unsolicited two cents on the Sabrina Carpenter album cover discourse, like let a woman SUB BRO let a gal be a whiny bottom!) Yes, I've been temporarily Rhett-Abbott-pilled...Yes, I've been yee-haw-ed so hard...this was a one-time thing to exorcise my demons
The Disappointment Club
The first time you saw Rhett Abbott, you were behind the counter of your sisterâs bakery, piping lemon-thyme curd onto a fresh batch of muffins with the precision of someone who shouldnât be allowed anywhere near a piping bagâor a convection oven; or anything sharp, really; anything inside of a bakery, possibly.Â
âSo, youâre the new hire?â The man said, all six feet, Wyoming drawl, and his Stetson pulled so low all you could see was his mouth.Â
You were about to speak up when a glob of curd plopped onto your boot.Â
âThatâs my little sister, Rhett,â Maya warned, kicking open the swinging doors as she emerged from the kitchen, a batch of mint-green pastry boxes piled in her arms. âSo you better not get any funny ideas.â
âAlright, I hear you.â He huffed a low laugh, rifling through his wallet before handing your sister a couple of bills. âIâll make sure to keep my ideas void of humor.â
âGood, and keep them to yourself while youâre at it. Greet your mom for me!â Maya added with biting faux sweetness that had haunted you throughout your childhood. She handed him the pastry boxes, and the two of you watched in silence as he lumbered out of the bakery. The ding of the shop bell, the cuff of his boots on the tiles. He looked back once through the shop windows, the brim of his hat revealing a surprisingly tender face. The shape of it there, for a moment, in a soft bar of sunlightâbefore he disappeared from view.Â
You lowered the piping bag and took a long breath.Â
âDonât even start.â Maya thwacked you with a dish towel.Â
âWho the fuck was that?â
âSomeone you will not get involved with.â
âIâm sorry, Mr. Cowboy McDreamyââ
âStop. Donât start with your funny ideas.â
âMy ideas are famously hilarious.â
âTrust me. Rhett Abbottâs the type of guy who goes for buckle bunnies and touristsâ"
"Buckle-what?"
"âand you are very much neither, so how about you make sure those blueberry muffins donât look like someone assembled them with their eyes closed, hm?â She cocked a brow at your army of malformed swirls. You scoffed.Â
âYou know what?â Defiantly, you lifted the piping bag and proceeded to squirt the rest of the curd into your mouthâbefore scrambling to the back, dodging your sister's ardent attempts at skinning your ass raw with a dish towel.Â
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
The second time you saw Rhett Abbott, you were on a date at The Longhorn. It was the only bar in town that had decent enough beer and a dancefloor that wasnât slick with liquor and vomit past ten PM.
Your sister had set you up: He was the son of the game warden, Adam or Adrian (youâd long forgotten), awkward but polite, built like a shy greyhound, and stealing glances at your cleavage in intervals growing shorter and shorter the further he worked his way down a bottle of Budweiser.Â
He wasnât terrible company, patiently listening to you talk about the weather and how much you missed San Diego and your current hyperfixation on the baby goat that lived on the farm next door to your sisterâs place. It has three legs, so they built her this tiny prosthetic, so she can walk properly. They named her Tres, as in Tres Leches, get it? Isnât that the most adorable fucking thing youâve ever heard in your whole entire fucking life?
You tried to ignore Adam-Adrianâs audible sigh of relief when you got up to grab another round of beers. Maybe youâd get yourself something stronger. Or maybe youâd find a good enough excuse to call it a night, and you wouldâve, you really, really wouldâve if you hadnât bumped your shoulder into none other than Mr. Cowboy McDreamy himself.Â
Heâd swapped the Stetson for a washed-out baseball cap. Jaw hard and stubbled, nose a long slender slope in the lights reflecting off the dancefloor.Â
âHey there, Shortcake.â His quirk of a smile that aged him backwards.
Shortcake.
It wouldnât have worked anywhere else, with anyone else, but you were a lightweight two beers in, and you liked the way the light hit his eyes, clear blue, like a drop of rain on a car window.Â
You wouldâve said something cheeky, something about having funny ideasâbut he cut you off: âHe sure seems like a good time.â
Tipping his chin towards Adam-Adrian slouched in the booth like a lonely sapling.Â
You didn't like the way he'd said it. You knew men like Rhett Abbott, and you knew what happened when you let them into your life. âYou know what,â you said, âhe is, actually. Not that itâs any of your business.â
Rhettâs eyebrows lifted once, then smoothed out. âOkay.â He took a swig of his beer. âGot it.â Like something had been settled between you two.
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
The third time you saw Rhett Abbott, your sisterâs husband, JonahâLike the actor! Oh, and the book! Ha-ha! (which had gotten old the first time heâd said it)âtook you out to the rodeo grounds.Â
You and your sister had grown up in San Diego, amongst beaches and high-rises and palm trees lining manicured promenades. A place of juice cleanses and electric scooters. Men riding bulls in an arena had seemed unthinkable to you; something arcane, something forgotten.Â
The rusty roofing of the grandstands shaded the crowd from the setting sun, its light disappearing behind the mountains, the endless sprawl of the valley. Everyone was buzzing, solo cups swishing beer, kids pressed up against the railing. A glossy nimbus of girls in cowboy boots and jean shorts chirped drunkenly one rung below. Every once in a while the PA crackled with the rumbling voice of the announcer, âAaaaand here we go, folks! Big Joe out the gate, looking strong. Ah! Look at that spin, folks, right in the pocketââ
As a middle-school teacher, Jonah was forever sweet and excited about anything. Even bull riding, it seemed. He explained bull ropes and suicide grips, rattling down the names of the upcoming bulls in the pen. ââokay, so thereâs Rotten Dynamite, rankest motherfucker youâll ever see. Then thereâs Terminator. Oh! And Iron Dome! We love Iron Dome. Blind in one eye, bucks like a whipcrack. Heard Rhettâs riding him tonightââ
Everyone knew Rhett Abbott rode bulls. The framed picture of him and his dad hung above the bar at The Longhorn, the two of them triumphantly holding up a big-buckled belt, the hard set of their twin jaws. People in Wabang rode bucking horses and lassoed cattle, wore their hats to the pharmacy and the supermarket, and hauled feed on their way to church. Old buildings still had hitching posts that cracked and blistered in the sun, like in a Western.
Rhett riding bulls wasnât a surpriseâbut seeing it was.Â
When the chute slammed open, you imagined something inside the crowd opened with it. Iron Dome, with its roiling beastly body, black as a hole in the floodlights, thundered into the arena. Dirt spraying. Crowd shouting. Rhettâs slender body meeting each jerk and heave and lunge, face hidden beneath the wide brim of his Stetson. The crowd surged forward all at once, a wild energy shuttling through it like a wave. Jonah hollered next to you, pumping a fist into the cool evening air.Â
Five seconds, six secondsâ
Seven point one.Â
Rhett's body bending back, bow-tight, arm flung as high as the kick of the bullâs hind legs. Fused in perfect symmetry, their golden ratio like something painted.Â
You flinched when Rhettâs arm snagged on the rope, and when Iron Dome finally lashed him off, and he went flying into the dirtâwhatever had settled between you two, all at once, unsettled itself.
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
During the biggest fight youâd ever had with your sister, sheâd called you a human hand grenade with the propensity for blowing up your life more than you could afford to. WhichâŚokay, fair.Â
People never expected you to be difficult or complicated or messy. You didnât look it. Most of the time you didnât even act like it. Until you slipped up, and slipped up some more, and then the slipping up turned into something big, and the big thing turned into something unstoppable.
Your mom had been the only one to describe it right, sheâd understood, and in a moment of rare clarity that tore through the molasses of her medication, sheâd whispered it to you like this:Â
It comes in wavesâuntil eventually the tide stops receding.Â
Youâd arrived in Wabang with a duffle bag, wearing a rumpled sundress and hiking boots.
Jonah had picked you up from the bus station with an excited grin and a too-tight hug. Maya had made you chicken and waffles, like when you were kids.
Back then, she'd made it whenever Mom was at her worst, when she was passed out for days, barricaded in her room like a pharaoh in a tomb. Chicken and waffles usually meant things were shitty and couldn't get much shittier. It also meant you'd skip school and spend the day at the mall down Fifth, where the sun slanted through the glass dome in the food court, made it all hot and damp like a terrarium, and the two of you would pretend to be salamanders lazing on the bench by the churros stand, T-shirts covered in cinnamon and sugar and delight.Â
Wabang felt like those afternoons in the mall. Wabang was supposed to be the place where you got better.
You stuck to your routine, you made your bed, you ate enough and drank enough, you slept and woke on time, you went to work, you stuck to beers and cigarettes, you read and wrote and you fed the chickens in the garden, you always came back home.Â
One afternoon, sitting on the porch staring out at the endless bowl of the valley, Maya handed you the keys to the bakery. âI want you to open up the shop. Four-thirty AM on the dot. You think you're up for it?â
âAre you kidding?â
Tomorrow was going to be a day so big, even Jonah was stopping by to help. Theyâd prepped the order for the wedding on Willow Ridge all week. Maya had even pulled an all-nighter the day before. It was a big deal, and she trusted you enough to be a part of that big deal.Â
Trusted you enough to be a part of this life that she'd built so far away from the mall down Fifth, from momâfrom you.
Smiling carefully, you reached for the keys. Maya snagged them away, narrowing her eyes. âDon't eat all the frosting, you little shit.â
âNot making any promises.âÂ
She tossed the keys and you caught them.
You felt like a saint anointed, like someone had tapped a sword to your shoulder, and you glowed with it, and your sister was so beautiful in the sun, and youâd said thank you, and youâd promised youâd do good.Â
Youâd be good.Â
Maybe you deserved to celebrate being so good.
It was a Friday night after all, and you were bored and maybe a little sad, and maybe you were exhausted from following all these rules you were trying to build your life around. And so you rode the rusty bike Jonah had dug up from the bowels of their garage all the way to The Longhorn. And what started with a beer, ended with a bottle of whiskey and a joint on the back of someoneâs pickup. Tame in comparison to what you'd once done on a Friday night, or on any night, really.
So it was fine, right? It was going to be fine.Â
There was a girl with a shiny blonde mane and pink-chrome nails, her deep, lovely croon when she called you ââso fucking pretty, baby girl.â You missed feeling like this. You missed saying yes and yes and yes, bursting from it, unstoppable. You mightâve kissed her, but you werenât sure, you mightâve wanted to marry her, which sounded about right, and you wanted to tell her this, to confess it to her and hold her soft pink-chrome-tipped hands...
The next thing you knew, you woke up next to your bike in the flatbed of a pickup, in a driveway you didnât recognize, in a part of town you werenât familiar with.
Head pounding, throat sore. Five missed calls from your sister. It was Saturday. It was noon.Â
You were still drunk when you reached the green-and-pink awning of Sweet Peaâs, its buttery cream trim like frosting. Inside, the bakery was buzzing with a barrage of patrons on the sunniest Saturday Wabang had seen in weeks. At the counter, Maya didnât speak to you. Instead she sent you straight to the back where you threw up once in the sink and once in front of the convection ovens.Â
âGive me the keys,â Maya ordered, and you patted yourself down, before you remembered youâd stuffed them into your boot. She told you to go home, that she didnât want to see you today. Jonah promised that everything would be fine, that Maya just needed a minute. Get cleaned up, heâd said. Itâs gonna be okay, heâd said. But he hadn't looked so sure.
You hadnât been good.
You hadn't been good at allâ
Head throbbing more than it had before, you dragged your shitty bike through town. You rode until the sparse sprinkling of houses turned into open fields, pastures flat and endless. You struggled down a lonely dirt road, sweat spilling down your back, your chest, your face, stinging your eyes, you were hot, you were so hot, and your arms shook from the rattling of the uneven ground.
The road stopped abruptly at a rusty fence. You dropped your bike and climbed through the wide gaps between the bars. Marching through the field that stretched on forever, an oceanâs worth of it, green, dry, pricking at your bare legs, the afternoon sun battered you like judgment. You kept wading forward until you couldnât get yourself to, until unceremoniously, with the theatrics of a very hungover and very disgraced saint, you collapsed into the shade of a lonesome tree.Â
You were sure then that youâd reached the end of the world, that you were so far away from anything and anyone, and that here, like this, finally, no one would hear you.
When was the last time you cried?
Covered in sweat and dirt, possibly still drunk and possibly still high, key-less, wretched, useless, melodramatic, sobbing, gasping for breath.Â
It comes in wavesâ Â
âLook, I donât mean to bother you, but this hereâs private land.â
Youâd heard it too late.Â
The horse, the gentle pelt of its hooves in the field. Itâs puffs of breath. A manâs low murmured, easy, girl.Â
You refused to open your eyes, feeling like a child, as you flopped onto your side to turn away.Â
Youâve got to be fucking kidding me.Â
âYou doinâ alright?â His voice softer then.Â
âIâm fine,â you murmured into the grass. The buzz of a bug on your cheek. You slapped it away.Â
âAre you hurt?â
âNo, justââ sunbathing? contemplating? ââhaving an existential crisis. Iâm almost done.âÂ
A sound like a huff or a scoff, a swallowed-down laugh maybe.Â
âDo you need me to call someone?âÂ
âJust give me a second.â Pressing your hands to your face, you took long breaths, waiting for that big bawling bone-pelting agonizing throb of exhaustion to settle down. âOkay,â you finally said. âIâm finished.âÂ
Turning towards him, there he sat, high upon his noble steed like a cowboy in a story. With his brows scrunched beneath his Stetson, he was a man fully unprepared to stumble upon some sobbing wildling on a Saturday morning.
You werenât sure if he recognized you. You didnât care. Youâd lost your capacity for public shame a long time ago.Â
âRight. Iâll leave. Uhâsorry.â You got up, wobbling there like a newborn calf, shaking out the damp hem of your dress, before heading down the path youâd trampled into the grass.Â
âWait,â he called out. âDo you want me to bring you back?â
The thought of getting on a horse made bile rise in your throat. You werenât going to risk throwing up a third time.Â
âNo, thank you,â you shouted.
He followed you all the way back to the fence, the steady trot of his horse in the distance. You felt his stare across the field, hot and strange on the back of your neck as you peeled your bike off the road and headed home.Â
It was the fourth time youâd seen Rhett Abbott, and youâd prayed it was the last.Â
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
âHey there, Shortcake.â
God didnât like you very much apparently.
You swallowed, hunching lower behind the display case where you were restocking the cardamom cinnamon rolls.
Rhett was tall enough to lean over it. âYou feelin' better?â
So he had recognized you.Â
Standing up straight, you cleared your throat. âAll my demons have been temporarily exorcized, thank you.â
âHm.â He huffed a laugh, that quick smile of his that made him all boyish. âReckon I should try that sometime.â
âWell, I highly recommend hysterically crying on someone elseâs property. Itâs very catharticââ
âThat you, Rhett?â Maya shouted from the back.
âYes, maâam.â He straightened.Â
âJust gimme a sec, Iâll grab your momâs order.âÂ
You busied yourself with wiping down the countertop before your sister caught you fraternizing with the one person in Wabang that needed to be left un-fraternized with.
The two of you had only recently regained some common ground, and part of that truce was the unspoken rule that you please, please, please not obsess over the wrong people.
Rhett Abbott wasn't wrong per se; he just wasn't very right either.
Rhettâs shadow spread across the counter as he leaned over the display case again, close enough you caught the waft of his cologne, the unbearable blue of his gaze. You swallowed. His attention trailed down your throat. When he smiled again, it was soft, it stayed there for a while. His voice low then, âThereâs a rodeo tonight. You should come. If none of us break any bones, we'll head to The Longhorn.â Â
You stared at the spot where the worn collar of his denim jacket pressed into his neck.
âIâll think about it.â You said it to that spot.Â
âGood.â He said it to your mouth.Â
Good.Â
Youâd found out long ago that there was one word that could make you do anything for anyone.Â
Just one wordâand you were piled in the truck bed of Rhettâs Chevy Silverado, squeezed against the cab with some of his old friends from high school, your legs slung over the lap of a woman whoâd known Rhett since kindergarten and who had the sweetest gap-toothed grin youâd ever seen in your life. You told her so, and the gap between her teeth seemed to grow with pride.Â
Driving down the winding roads of the valley, the cool air snapping your hair into your eyes, the hem of your dress fluttering, you tipped your head skyward. Before Wyoming, youâd never seen a sky so black. The nights here hit harder than anywhere else.Â
You cackled when Gaptooth helped you press the hem of your dress down before you flashed the whole truck, laughing harder when she offered a pull off her cherry-red vape. With the smoke citrusy and sweet in your mouth, you turned towards the driverâs seat, your cheek mashed against the flaking metal edge of the truck bed.Â
Rhett was driving. You watched his long tan arm lean out the window, fingers tinkering, playing with the wind. The soft swirl of hair. The faded bull skull tattoo on his forearm, flashing there in the beam of the headlights.
You wanted to reach out, mirror every turn of his wrist, trace the swell of a veinâ
His arm went limp. You realized too late he was watching you in the side mirror.
That buzz in the back of your head, down your chest, places below.
You didnât look away once.Â
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
At The Longhorn, everyone scattered, some fighting their way to the bar, others pulling each other to the crowded dancefloor.Â
âWhatâre you drinkinâ, Shortcake?â The voice was too high to be Rhettâs. It was another rider from before. (Lloyd something-something; four point three seconds on a bull named Napoleon, which was fitting considering Lloyd was as tall as a water dispenser.)
âUh.â You hastily checked the meager cash youâd stuffed into your boot. âWhatever five bucks will get meââ
âItâs on me.â The rough twang of that familiar voice as he leaned over you. You could still smell the dirt on him, the sweat. âShortcake.â Rhett shot Lloyd a sharp smile, and you had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Â
(You bought yourself your own cider with your own five bucks.)
The rest of the night went on easy. Crowd thick enough you kept drifting away from familiar faces, before meeting them again in the line to the bathroom. Hopping from table to table, clinking bottles and shuffling cards, until Gaptooth pulled you to the dancefloor, where girls in boots and baby-tees taught you how to line dance. âShake those hips, San Diego!â And so you did, and life was at its sweetest, and you didnât have to think about the last couple of days or the last couple of years or how Maya had stopped asking where you went at night. And you spun and spun, spun wildly, and thought only about a blue pair of eyes watching you beneath the wide brim of a Stetson.
Oh God, how youâd missed this feeling.Â
He found you much later; outside, at the back entrance, unlit cigarette between your lips, crouched on the ground with your back against the wall. You were in the process of yanking a boot off, tipping it upside down in the hopes it would produce your lighter. Had it fallen out on the dancefloor?Â
âNeed a light?â
Rhett leaned one hand against the wall, presumably still a little lopsided from facing off a two-thousand-pound bull a couple of hours ago.Â
âOne sec,â you said, yanking off your other boot, revealing a couple of coins and a tube of lipgloss. You looked up at him, his lighter already in hand. You smiled. âYes, please.â
Rhett huffed a laugh. You wondered what his full laugh sounded like, big-bellied and unbridled. Did he tip his head back from so much delight?Â
Leaning against the wall with a stifled groan, Rhett carefully slid to the gravel, knees popping. He landed on the ground with a thud. âShit. Ow.â
âCarefulâ
âThink thatâs too late for me.â
âThat bad?â you asked.
âSurprisingly less terrible than last time.â
âWho wouldâve thought a bull named Bonecrusher would go easy on you?â
âIf by easy, you mean he made me see God a couple of times, sure.â
You snorted, before popping your cigarette in your mouth and waiting patiently for him to light it for you. He huff-laughed at that too. Apparently he was easily amused.
His hand, big and dry as a baseball mitt, came up to shield the flame from the wind, and for a moment all you smelled was him. The earth, the acrid sweetness of sweat slicked across skin for too long. Like youâd been tucked into him, an animal in his burrow.Â
You couldnât look at him like this. You hummed with this feeling. The brim of his hat bumping gently against your forehead. When the flame caught, you leaned away and took a long, long drag. âThanksââ You cleared your throat. âThank you.â
âSure.â
The two of you sat there for a moment, drenched in the red halogen glow of a neon sign. You, crosslegged, playing with your necklace, pressing the pendant to your mouth; him, with one long leg stretched out, the other hiked up for his forearm to lean against, fiddling with his Zippo. You stared at a couple making out against a car. He stared at the men smoking by the bins.Â
You both spoke at once:
âWhy do youââÂ
âWhy were youââ
âOh. Sorry.â You blinked.Â
Rhett pointed his Zippo at you. âBy all means, ladies first.â
You snorted again, offering him your cigarette. He hesitated, like he hadnât expected it, but you were still humming and the night was cool and life was still at its sweetest, and when he took a drag, stubbled jaw working, it felt like you could get away with more than you should.Â
âWhy does everyone say you choose the rankest bulls on purpose?â you asked.Â
Rhett seemed to give it some serious thought, tugging his hat back to look at the sky. He handed you the cigarette. Then, ââCause Iâm convinced I have something to prove. Itâs either that or a real shit attempt at self-sabotage. SometimesâŚitâs both.â
His honesty made something inside of you open.Â
âWhy were you crying the other day?âÂ
Taking a drag from the cigarette, you gave it some serious thought too. Then, âMy sisterâs giving me a second chance. I stopped getting those a long time ago, so Iâm just trying really, really hard not to fuck it up. But I kind of suck at not fucking things up. I donât know, itâsâŚâ You took a breath, trailing off.Â
âComplicated?â he said.
âExcruciating.â
âSounds about right." Rhett hummed in agreement, looking at you from the corner of his eye. âYouâre in luck. Youâre speaking to the Abbott Family Letdown. So.â He gave a silly flourish with his hand.Â
âOh.â You sat up in mock-surprise. âWhy didnât you say so? Always a pleasure to meet a fellow embarrassment.â You popped the cigarette back in your mouth and stretched your hand out. He shook it with a laugh. The squeeze of his thick fingers, warm and dry.Â
âWe could start a support group,â he said. Â
Reaching your hands above your head, like you were hanging a banner: âThe Disappointment Club,â you mumbled around the cigarette.Â
When Rhett Abbott laughed, really laughed, when he shook with it and his shoulders did a little shimmy, he did indeed tip his head back from so much delight.Â
You laughed with him. You wanted to press two fingers down the Adamâs Apple that bobbed up and down his throat. You were so close the brim of his hat bumped against your head again. You told him everything then, told him about the keys and the girl and the back of that pickup. ââand so Maya had to cancel multiple orders and pay it out of her own pocket. Plus, it was, like, the pastorâs daughterâs wedding. So Iâm assuming God was cataclysmically displeased.â
âGodâll forgive you for a couple of fuckinâ muffins.â
âA couple of muffins? Those were toasted pear-and-almond tartlets with a frangipane center and a cardamom crumb topping.â
âFrangi-what-now?â
âExactly.â
âTrust me, it ainât that bad. One time I got so drunk in the barn I forgot to latch the gate, and we lost forty head in a night. Took me days to herd them all back together, and my dad didnât let me into the house until they were all accounted for.â
âIf we turn this into a competition, weâll be sitting out here all night.â
He turned then. His slow crooked smile. âSounds like a good time to me.â
You didnât know how long you sat there, talking. Your cigarette stub forgotten on the cool asphalt. The parking lot was empty now. Even the neon sign seemed to have dimmed.
Whatever had unsettled between you two, unsettled itself so completely you fell wide open. He couldâve reached right inside, he couldâve thrown something inâ
Was it so wrong to look at him like this and hope, with a desperation that mightâve killed you, that he wouldnât look away?
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
Friendship.Â
Could you call it that?
It felt a lot sharper, had more blowback.Â
Rhett liked to describe it as your little two-man support group. âHottest club in town,â heâd say. Which wasnât particularly funny, but it was stupid enough it made you snort every time.Â
Time was no longer governed by phasesâno more mornings, noons or nights, no more suns or moonsâinstead, you found yourself adhering to Rhett Abbottâs reliable rhythms.
Your days started when the tiny bell above the shop door rang, and the brim of a worn Stetson swung up to reveal that surprisingly tender face. Maya had her suspicions about Rhett stopping by the bakery almost every day like clockwork: âThereâs only so many errands he can runâŚand do you really think Cecilia Abbott eats that many toffee-nut buttermilk muffins? Woman must be enormous by nowââ
You felt like a puppy, Pavloved, scrambling to the counter every time the shop bell trilled in the quiet. On the days he didnât come in early, you usually met him on your lunch break. You were notoriously terrible at making sure you ate properly, and so heâd bring you a sandwich, or take-out, and youâd eat on the back of his Chevy in the parking lot, legs dangling from the truck bed, kicking up every time he made you laugh. Rhett made you laugh the way youâd forgotten to, that startled smack of a cackle, like you still couldnât believe that there was someone who made you topple over from so much fucking glee.Â
Your favorite days were the ones he was off work early, and heâd come pick you up, toss your bike onto the truck bedââGet in, Shortcake, weâre going on a trip!ââand heâd take you to the lakes or a town one valley over or the mountains, show you Wabang, show you Wyoming. He showed you the delicate difference between yarrow and hemlock when you trekked through the forests.
âWow, dude, real Bear Grylls energy,â youâd said the first time heâd started a fire on a bed of pine needles.Â
âThatâs the most California thing I think youâve ever said.âÂ
âWait until I start talking about the way they stack vegetables at Erewhon.â
He grunted a laugh.Â
âDo you miss it?â
âThe vegetables at Erewohn?â
âHome.â
It took you a moment.Â
The thought of your sisterâs and Jonahâs sweet storybook house, with their porch covered in sun catchers shaped like honeycomb, their little brood of chickens in the garden, how the thought of it all moved through you on reflex. But Rhett hadnât meant that house or those people or this place.
âI don't know, sometimes.â
Sometimes being here makes me forget to miss anything at all.Â
You forgot to miss the most at night, when your days came to an end at the rodeo or The Longhorn. When Rhett sloppily swung you across the dancefloor, the smell of beer and sawdust and the distinct spice of his cologne. Rhett was fierce, he was momentum, he was unstoppable force in a place full of immovable objects. You wanted to hurtle away with him, wrap yourself around his body, thigh to thigh, chest to chest, chin to chinâtake me places.Â
Did he know he did this to you?Â
Did he know how easy you were? Â
That when you chose someone like this, you fell into them, and everything and everyone else fell away?Â
You didnât pay attention to Lloydâs weird come-ons, didnât care about the girls that crushed around Rhett after he tumbled off another bull, or the way he always seemed to sidle up to you whenever anyone tried to buy you a drink.
You were singular, soaking up his closeness until you felt thick and stupid with it, and all you could do was let him turn you on the dancefloor like a drunken spinning top, his gravelly laughter shaking uncontrollably in your ear. Those lean arms looped around your waist, and your hands slid up the skin of his neck, slick with sweat, to cradle his face.
How those eyes crinkled when he grinned, and how easy it was then to imagine him as a child. The defiant thing with bloodied knees getting into trouble at the edge of town. The Abbott Family Letdown, you thought with so much fondness you couldâve kissed his cheek.
Nights always ended like this: The two of you fused to each other, dancing, or squeezed into a booth, or smoking out in the lot, talking and talking about everything and anything, about the places you wanted to see, and the things you wanted to do, and the people you wanted be. The choices you wanted to make and the ones you really, really wished you could remake.Â
Sometimes you didnât speak at all, and you just sat there and stared at each other, as if to say: Out of all the places in the world, this is where I find you.
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
You loved the rainy season, loved those humid afternoons youâd sit on the back deck at Rhettâs place.
Heâd fixed up the Abbott's old bunkhouse with Perry, a small cabin at the edge of the forest where ranch hands used to stay back in the day. The two of them had worked on it for a year, and you knew Rhett felt a sense of pride whenever he talked about it, running his hands along the smooth timber walls with a kind of care that felt personal. He and Perry had carved their names like kids into the bottom of the front door, and Rhett knocked the tip of his boot against it every time he left the cabin. âFor luck,â heâd told you once, and heâd looked a little sad.Â
His was a place of wide gridded windows and Navajo rugs. It was surprisingly sentimental, filled with keepsakes and old furniture from his parents or his grandparents, the kind of place that looked like it had been here from the start, as enduring as the soft in-line of a favorite coat.
You liked the traces of him here, the mundanity of them; aftershave and painkillers in the medicine cabinet, forgotten mugs of coffee left on window sills and counter tops, his belts, his toppled boots by the door, his packet of Camels by the sink, his dadâs old CD collectionâThe Black Crows, ZZ Top, Stevie Ray Vaughanâa small army of Amyâs arts-and-crafts projects sprinkled atop shelves, family photos tacked to the refrigerator. Â
Out on the back deck, your eyes trailed over the rocks set in a neat row on the railing. You sat in a wicker chair, listening to the rain pattering against the tin roof, the cradle of pine all around.Â
Youâd had a long day at the bakery, and Rhett had had an even longer day herding cattle out of the west pasture, which had started to flood from all the rain.
He sat on the deck with his legs stretched out and his back against the railing. In a T-shirt and jeans, head knocked back, his baseball cap pulled low.
Heâd closed his eyes a long time ago. Had he fallen asleep?
âStop starinâ,â Rhett mumbled, eyes still closed.Â
You snorted, caught. Ears going hot, you dug your cheek into the weave of the wicker, clenching your eyes closed like a child when he opened his. Your tell-tale grin. His low chuckle.
You felt young with him sometimes. Like you didnât have to pretend the way you did with Maya, constantly trying to prove that you werenât the useless little sister floundering through life.
It was easy with Rhett, you could be honest. And you had all these big feelings and these even bigger wants, and they were shameful, complicated, and they ached, and you knew this need all too well, had felt it with every crush youâd ever had, never knew what to call it or how to say it, or how to have it be done to you. You didnât just like people; you disappeared into them.
And with RhettâŚ
You wanted to crawl after him on your hands and knees, feel his big, big hand grab you by the hair, pulling and pulling, your teeth sinking into the worn leather of his belt.
Open up, Shortcake.
You swallowed. You pulled your knees to your chest. You wanted to close yourself like a box.Â
âYou want the talking stick?â Rhett asked with one of his huff-laughs.Â
The talking stick was silly.
You didnât know when it had started; something to do with support groups and their strange rituals, and youâd said it as a joke once at the bar when Rhett had looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Youâd handed him your soggy coaster and said, You want the talking stick? And heâd taken it with a smile loosened by relief.Â
You shook your head. âNo, thank you.â
âYou sure?â
âSuper.â
âBecause if you ainât taking it, I willââ
âOh god, if youâre going to start talking about that bull rope paste again, Iâll suffocate myself in the mud.â
âFirst of all, itâs called rosin. Second of all, ouch.â He looked genuinely offended. âAnd you better make your mind up quick, âcause Iâm gonna start listing my favorite ones. Also, did you know you have to heat it just right? Otherwise itâs like pulling taffyââ
âI donât think Iâve ever had the kind of sex I really want to have,â you finally said. Blurted, really.
You thought of what your sister had called you once: a human hand grenade. Â
The distinct click of Rhett snapping his mouth shut, teeth on teeth. The rain pattered onâand you knew you had to as well, you had to get it out quick before you stuffed it all back down.
âAnd Iâm scared Iâll never have it because Iâm too chickenshit to tell people about the kind of sex I want to have, and, itâs nothing crazy, it justâitâsâŚa feeling? And like, some people just arenât into it, but I havenât slept with enough people to really know if thatâs true or if Iâve never bothered to get close enough to someone to actually tell them or to know if that really is the kind of sex that I actually want, because Iâve never had it, I just know that I want it, and what if I tell the next person thatâs the kind of sex I want and then I donât like it at allâŚwhat then?â
Youâd closed your eyes again, vibrating, the blackness vibrating with you.
âWhat kind of sex do you wanna have?â Rhettâs voice was so low you barely heard him.Â
Breath catching. You opened your eyes. You stared at his hands.
You pantomimed tossing the stick over your shoulder. âLost it,â you mumbled.
I'm sorry, you wanted to say but you couldn't get yourself to.
Even though you werenât looking at him, you knew Rhett was thinking, trying to figure out if he could push you or if he wanted to wait it out, if he should pave it over with conversation, or if he should stand up to grab a beer. Because in the end, you were friends. And you did know him, and he did know you.Â
Rhett settled for something that broke your heart a little. âYou know, you can talk to me. Right? About anything.â
You swallowed, nodded.Â
âWant a beer?â The soft familiar crack of his knees as he stood.Â
You were too scared of the things youâd say if you had one. Shaking your head, you said, âWater, please.â
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
Something shifted after that. It felt tectonic, structural. There was this muscle inside of you strung so tight. It waited. Agonized for relief, for a thumb to rub along its tendons and help it unravel itself.
It was different that morning, and you were curled in the tub, shower head pressed closeâdown there, right thereâand you needed so much, and his name spiraled through you endlessly, oh god-oh god, eyes squeezed shut tight enough the whole world cracked open. You came so hard you felt helpless in it, loosened from yourself, your mouth finding your forearm, your teeth finding your skinâ
Youâd bitten down hard enough Rhett traced a finger over the swell when you met him later that day. âWhat happened?â His voice too low. Unfamiliar.
âHurt myself at the bakery,â you lied.Â
He huffed. No laugh. He didnât believe you.Â
Whatever had started to shift, didnât stop its shifting. It infiltrated your conversations, or rather lack thereof, until both of you felt like you were fumbling through something that used to be easy.
Rhett stopped coming into the bakery, rather opting to drive you home whenever you had to close up shop on your own, even if it meant he had to leave the ranch early to drive all the way to town and back. There was an energy around him, especially at the bar when he was a couple of drinks in.Â
You were used to Rhett Abbott quietly watching over people, making sure no rowdy tourists messed with the regulars, or that the Tillerson boys left Perry alone on the rare occasion that he did join you two at the bar, or looming over you whenever some guy slid up to ask for your number, his blunt: Can I help you, man?Â
There was something about him, like maybe there was a muscle inside of him too, strung too tight for too long, waiting...
The first time Rhett got into a fight in front of you, something incomprehensible roiled in your stomach.
It had started innocently enough. You knew Lloyd liked calling you Shortcake, and youâd never paid it any mind; he was a touchy drunk the girls tolerated, each meeting his relatively tame come-ons with an eye-roll and a middle finger. But heâd had too much to drink that night, and his hands had sloppily snaked their way around your waist to pull you to the dancefloor. ââno, seriously, Iâm good, Lloyd. Like, Iâm running for evil mayor of that town in Footloose. Iâm doneââ
âCome on, Shortcake, for me?â
âI said Iâm fucking good, Lloyd.â His arms tightened around you, breath bloated with liquors unknown. âYou can let go now.âÂ
You saw Rhett too late, shoving his way through the crowd. You lifted your hands like you were trying to reprimand an incoming cyclone, âRhett, donâtââÂ
Leaning in close to slur something in your ear, Lloyd was oblivious to the fact that Rhett's shoulder was about to collide with the back of his head.
What proceeded was a burst of juvenile male posturing that consisted mostly of huffing and shoving, like two big pigeons clucking at each other over soggy bread on the sidewalk. But when Lloyd whacked Rhettâs hat off with an accidental swing, the next thing you knew, a fist met a cheek, and a knee met a groinâand you cursed God for ever making you this hopelessly attracted to dick.Â
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
âPlease donât do that again,â you told Rhett much later, sitting next to him on his couch, pressing a bag of frozen peas to his head. âNot for me, okay?â
Rhett sat slouched beside you, the big bend of his back, as he stared at the scuffed knuckles of his right hand.Â
âIâm a big girl. I can deal with Lloyd, for Christâs sake. Heâs, like, three feet. Heâs a human step stool.â
âHe was touching youââ
âPeople touch me all the time.â
âNot like that. I didnâtâŚI donât want anyone else to fucking touch you like that.â
You tossed the peas into his lap.Â
He looked at you then, face hazy in the dim lights of his living room.Â
Anyone elseâŚ
It echoed in your body, over and over, traveled all the way through you. Â
âPretty sure thatâs up to me,â you said.Â
With a sigh, he pressed the bag of peas to his head. âI didnât mean it like that. Iâmâsorry. Okay? Sorry. I didnât realize I was doing it untilâŚYeah.â He took a breath. âIâm a shitty drunk.â
âThat makes two of us.â Shifting, you grabbed his arm to help him up, catching him when he swayed with a groan. âCome on. Letâs get you to bed, Bazooka Man.âÂ
Rhett let you guide him to the bedroom, the same way heâd let you drive him home in his truck. It did things to you, knowing you could wrangle this big cowboy down the hallway and into his bed, without him putting up a fight.
You liked when he listened to youâand you knew full well there werenât many people he listened to in the first place.Â
âGotta admit, I got him good though,â Rhett murmured when he stumbled into bed, that stupid little grin of his, the one that made his canines flash.
You snatched the peas to smack him with it. âStop,â you warned. âYou kneed him in the ballsack, you trigger-happy fuck. Are you proud of yourself?â
âI hope his sperm count plummets.â
You couldnât help your laugh, and he couldnât help his.Â
This, you could handle. This was the Rhett with the crooked smile and the lopsided gait, his intense boyishness that made you wonder about how he got each scar on his body.
With this Rhett, things were easy, almost routine, and you felt lulled into the practiced rhythm of it, unthinking; helping him unbutton his shirt, before yanking off his boots, his jeans, the way you had countless of times after heâd been bucked off a bull hard enough heâd returned to the cabin in a tourniquet and his head foggy with medication.Â
On the first night youâd driven him home from the hospital, heâd told you that he didnât like letting anyone help him like this, and youâd reached over the stick shift to wipe the hair from his forehead, and something about the way he'd leaned into it had made you so unbearably sad. Â
You didnât know when you snapped out of it, crouched before him, about to grab his boots to bring them to the doorâwhen you finally looked up.
His silhouette was black against the glow of the bedside lamp, eclipsed by it, he loomed above you in shadow. Your chest cramped up with a feeling youâd tried so hard to push away.
In your head, you were careless.
In your head, you let his boots fall to the hardwood floor. You crawled to him on hands and knees, and you nuzzled his bare knee, the soft hairs there, the lean muscle of his thigh, ran your nose to the spot where the checkered cotton of his boxers bunched just so. I need. I need and need and needâ
âYou canât do that to me, Shortcake.â Rhettâs voice rumbled in the quiet.Â
âDo what?â
âLook at me like that.â His voice felt like a finger below your chin, tapping it up.
âLike what?â All breath.Â
Rhett didnât answer. His head tipped to the side. You imagined yourself from where he sat, imagined his shadow was big enough it swallowed you whole.
This was a Rhett you didnât know.Â
The bed creaked as he leaned forward. You didnât breathe, didnât move a muscle, when his fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw. Your breath hiccuped when you felt a gentle tug on the corner of your mouth, and you realized heâd loosened a single strand of hair from your lips. The heat humming there, humming through you.
âAre you ever going to tell me?â he said.Â
Your confusion mustâve been obvious, because he spoke again: âAre you ever going to tell me what you want?âÂ
What I want?Â
It was such a simple answer.
It shamed you how simple it was.Â
In the dim light, you stared at the vein roped along his forearm. You wanted to trace it with your tongue, with soft grazing teeth, wanted to lap up the salt and tang of his skin, gather it all in your mouth, take the sweetest littlest bites.
You wanted to lean all the way in, kiss the inside of his palm, that starburst scar from when his glove had once ripped during a bull ride. You imagined then, taking the thick pad of his thumb into your mouth, letting it press into your tongue until you bit down, until it reached all the way in. Until you writhed from it.Â
With a frustrated huff, you tipped forward. Your forehead bumped against his knee.
You didnât know what to do with yourself anymore.
You couldâve wept when you felt strong fingers carefully run down the curve of your skull. The cuff of nails scraping along your skin. The sound it made.
He held you like this: your head cradled in his big, big hand.
You knew Rhett understood something about you in that moment.Â
You felt young, skinless, unsure in your body. None of you felt grown. You were all baby teeth. You were a tiny stack of bones that shook.
âYouâre okay, darlinâ,â Rhett said it with so much tenderness you made a shameful sound low in your throat, and your nose pressed into the scar that ran up the center of his knee.
What you wouldâve done to kiss it then, just once, to lave it in spit, with your eyes screwed shut and a hand between your legs, there, down thereâ
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
Your biggest secret was this: Youâd let anything be done to you if it was just done sweetly enough.Â
Your relationship with intimacy had always been complicated.
You knew what you looked like to men; you were the young desperate thing to be flung face-down and taken, filthy little whore, you asked for it, you want it like this, right? You want it like thisâÂ
The few times youâd had sex, that assumption had left you shaking in the bathroom after, still drunk or high or both, wiping cum off your face or scraping it out of yourself, rubbing the tacky film of it between your fingers until it got grainy.Â
The shame of it all, the shame of your body glaring back at you in the mirror like a creature unknown. Because you had wanted it like that, but not really, and you hadnât known how to say it right, or maybe they hadnât listened, and you hadnât blamed them for it, except you had. Most of the time you blamed yourself, an archaic miserable reflex that seemed to define every aspect of you being a fucking woman.Â
When you thought about what you wanted, sometimes all you were left with was a feeling.
You thought of big sure hands helping you out of your shoes, unlacing one, then the other. You thought of your hair being washed and your mouth being fed and your cheeks being kissed, one at a time.
It was so embarrassingly sexless.
All you wanted was to know with a kind of relief that you could let go now, that it was going to be okay, and that for a blissful fucking moment, you didnât have to be yourself anymore.Â
You could just want.Â
You could be all of your wanting at once and nothing more.
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
âMorninâ.â
You didnât open your eyes.
A low chuckle from above. âI know you ainât asleep.â
With a tired groan, you cracked one eye open, then the other. Rhett had changed into a T-shirt and sweats. Heâd showered, hair still damp and curling at his neck.
He was staring. You knew why. Your dress lay puddled on his living room floor.Â
Still hazy from sleep, was it so terrible to let yourself be looked at like this? The worn cotton T-shirt youâd snatched from Rhettâs drawer riding up your stomach as you stretched.
You caught the bob in his slender throat. He was pretty like this, you thought. A patch of sunlight spilled across the side of his face, eyes a tremendous shock of blue. He smelled like his deodorant, his aftershave. His hand so close to your face all youâd have to do was open your mouth.Â
âYou feeling better?â you said, voice frayed with leftover sleep.
A night on Rhettâs couch always left you a little discombobulated. It was deep and wide, all buttery brown leather, the kind you sunk into as if lazing in a palm.
Your gaze climbed from his hand up to his bare arm, from his throat to his freshly shaven jaw. You were so tired you couldnât hide from him.
You fell all the way open.
His hand twitched like maybe heâd reach out.Â
But you two were good at this game. Especially sober, in the daylight.Â
Rhett cleared his throat. âMaking breakfast. You hungry?â His attention wavered on your mouth.Â
You swallowed. He tracked it. Â
âStarvinâ,â you drawled in some faux-impression of him, in the hopes it was silly enough to lighten the mood. Â
He chuckled. âStarvinâ, huh? Okay, cowboy.â He grabbed a pillow and whacked your thigh, âGiddy-up,â before heading to the kitchen, limping slightly.
Had he not taken his painkillers?
âHow do scrambled eggs and pancakes sound?â he tossed over his shoulder.
âUhâHeavenly?âÂ
âOkay, calm down, theyâre more for me than for you.â
âLiar. If I werenât here, youâd have a cigarette and a Bud Light.â
âIf I didnât make sure you ate properly, youâd be having orange juice Captain Crunch three times a day.â
âItâs delicious?â
âItâs deranged, is what it is.â
You laughed, more out of relief than anything else. This was normal. You could deal with normal.Â
Not bothering with putting on your dress, you dragged yourself to the kitchen in nothing but his T-shirt and your underwear. It wasnât an unfamiliar sightâyouâd weathered the occasional hangover on his couch wearing lessâbut something about this felt different. There was too much inside of you, and after last night, you didnât know how to look at him without thinking about the way heâd called you darlin'. Â
You managed to sit through a painfully normal breakfastâradio on, mundane small talkâand even though it wasnât Captain Crunch with orange juice, it would do (a mumbled statement that earned you a balled-up paper towel to the head).
You helped clear the table after, before heading out to brush your teeth. When you returned the radio was off, and Rhett was stooped over the sudsy sink, placing a plate onto the drying rack. You hoisted yourself onto the kitchen table and watched as he washed his hands, slowly, methodically, staring out the window like he was thinking.Â
âYou want the talking stick?â you said.Â
Rhett huffed a laugh, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink, looking down, looking up. His wide back expanded as he took a breath. You almost expected him to shake his head when he finally spoke: âWho bit your arm?â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âI know what a bite mark looks like.â Of course Rhett Abbott would know what a bite mark looked like. It almost made you laugh, the ridiculousness of it. âAre you getting into fights I donât know about? Or is Mayaââ
âOh God,â you pitched forward, âno, of course not! Bitingâs not her style. She prefers dish towels.â You were joking but Rhett wasnât laughing.
This whole moment felt unreal. You hadn't thought about it in days. The bruise was already healing anyway, yellow and mottled and absolutely not worth being contemplated on.
You raked through yourself for another answer, something stupid enough, something unbelievable: Tres, the three-legged goat? The wonky convection oven at the bakery? A rabid child on the streetâ
âAre you ever going to tell me?â Rhett gripped into the sink so hard his hands paled from the pressure.Â
The question surprised you.
You remembered how heâd asked you that the night before. Â
It made the same frustrating weight sink onto your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them again, vision splotchy. Staring at the tender swirls of hair gathered at the nape of Rhettâs neck, you took a breath and you said, âIt was me.âÂ
You watched as the color blotted back into his hands.Â
âI was in the shower,â you said. Then, âI was...thinking of you.â
Remembering then how his finger had traced along the tender swell of the bruise just hours later, in the bar, in the red lights, and how youâd secretly hoped heâd press down to make it ache, make you remember how much youâd wanted him, in that moment, in the bathtub surrounded by the splotchy shower curtain, the tiles painted in dried suds, like Venus in her shell, shaking open, shaking apart.Â
I was thinking of you.
You closed your eyes when Rhett finally turned. Sitting on the kitchen table, legs dangling over the edge, you kept yourself still. You listened to his breath ragged and strange in the quiet. A warble of birds outside. The creak of the floorboards as he came to you.Â
His closeness was a cloud bank rolling in, suddenly all around, the smell of him, coffee and deodorant and soap. Your face lifted on instinct. Eyes still closed, you basked in the heat of his breath pouring across your forehead, your cheeks.Â
I was thinking of you.
All of you sighed open.Â
And you waited for him in that blackness, until you felt the distinct prickle of skin on skin, a knuckle maybe, a single finger running down the inside of your forearm, down, down, before it reached that tender spot.Â
He pressed.Â
Your eyes snapped open. Sunlight turned that blue stare into something startling, electric.Â
As if moving through a trance, your hand settled atop his still on your arm, finding his thumb and digging it into the bruise even harder. That dull ache turned sharp, shot right through you.
Eyes twitching, mouth opening. The sound you made.
Rhett looked at you like heâd never seen you before.Â
Letting go of his hand, you reached for him, digging your fingers into the hair bunched at the nape of his neck, and you pulled him close, pulled him all the way down. Your forehead rolled against his, your nose mashing into his skin, mouth open, waiting, wanting so fucking much. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseâ
Rhett stopped you with a thumb on your bottom lip. You couldnât even feel ashamed for spewing out the most pathetic huff. Filthy little whore. Your jaw loosening, tongue darting out to taste him, to dig your teeth into him just a little.Â
But Rhett slid his thumb away, pressed it like a gentle warning into your cheek.
âDo you want this?â His voice cracked right in the middle.Â
You nodded, nose bumping against his a little too hard.Â
âSpeak up for meââ
âYes.âÂ
âGood,â he said, he smiled small. You wanted to bite at it, make it bigger. âYou say the word and we stop, okay?â
You nodded. He waited.
"Okay," you said.
âWeâll go slow. Yeah?â
You nodded again, numbed to everything except for him. âYes, please.â
Rhett groaned, leaning into you so completely your mouths almost collided. âGod, you kill me with all your please-and-thank-yous. Youâre so good. You wanna be good for me?â He said it like he was testing something. And your chin nudged forward, body bending towards him, and whatever he was looking for, he found it in the way your legs fell open all the way.
Gripping into the back of your knees, he dragged you closer, his thighs sliding between yours, and you sputtered a breath when you felt the hot press of him against all of you.
âYes,â you breathed.Â
âYou are, darlinâ. "
Darlin'
"Fuck, you are. You donât even know how damn good you are.â His hands sliding back up your side, your throat, gripping your jaw to tip your face towards him. Your fingers fumbling to hook into his forearms. You felt as though all you were doing was holding on.
Letting him lead. Letting him keep you like this.
He made you wait. Ran the tip of his nose almost soothingly along the bridge of yours. Lips taunting, that terrible shudder of closeness that escaped you every time your mouth tried desperately to meet his. Â
You thought of the way he ran his hand along the flank of his horse, patted her once, twice. Easy, girlâ
Maybe you hated him for it. How much he undid you. How he had you sitting there, soaking in it, vibrating inside all of your unbearable catastrophic fucking need like he had you leashed.Â
âPlease,â you finally mouthed into the heat of his breath. And his eyes flashed. And when you were ready to plead just one more time, without an ounce of shame left, his mouth collapsed against yours.Â
It surged through you like a spinal tap.
Drawing out, deeper, digging all the way in, tongue and teeth, the smooth jut of his chin.
Your hands were everywhere, unsure of what they wanted to grab hold of first, like a woman drowning; in his hair, on his jaw, scraping down his wide shoulders, sliding up the heat of his neckâHere and here and here, let me touch you right here.Â
Rhettâs hands stayed bolted to your jaw. You felt like he was the only thing keeping you upright, like youâd unspool if he ever let you go.Â
You were a wanton thing, wincing into his open mouth. A constant drool of need. And you were hot. God, you were so hot. You couldnât breathe with how hot you were. Yanking at your shirt, you just wanted it off, off. Rhett nipped at your bottom lip once, and then he was smiling. Was he laughing? Like he was catching on, like he took such pity on you. Your teeth clacked against his. You couldn't keep your shit together. You couldn't think, you couldn't think...
âI wantââ You tugged at the shirt until his hands joined yours. âI want all of it off.â You sounded drunk, like you were listening to yourself from one room over.
âOkay. Okay, darlinâ, I got you.â And he did. He helped you peel the shirt off, but it snagged on your elbow, and your face was stuck against threadbare cotton, and you laughed, because what the fuck? Here you were, going crazy on Rhett Abbottâs kitchen table.Â
You were still laughing when the shirt finally came off, laughing harder when Rhett tossed it over his shoulder and it landed on the coffee maker.
He was smiling above you, the morning light painting him soft and perfect as he combed the hair out of your eyes.
You wanted to run your fingers over his face, read him like braille.
It was a foreign realization that, now, here, you could. You could do so much. You could have all the things that had piled inside of you, one on top of the other. All of your fucking wanting, it felt bigger than your body. You were so full. And it was just the two of you, and this was Rhett, and it was all going to be okay, it was okay to let go of him and to lean back, push the leftover coffee mugs to the edge of the table, to let Rhett huff a strangled laugh when one of them thunked to the floor, like he couldnât believe that he was here like this, with you.
âFuckinâ hell,â he muttered, staring down at youÂ
A hand traced where your body met the table, like he was cutting along the shape of you, skin sliding against yours as he traveled up and up, past each dip of your ribs, your arms, shoulders, up the hollow of your throat to your collarbone, to that dip right in-between, where the pendant of your necklace rested.
He pushed it in just a bit, and the pressure made you arch, made you mad with it. âFuck, look at you, baby."
Baby.
You were baby.Â
âNo oneâs ever taken care of you, huh? You poor thing.â His lilting condescension left you gaping. âRemember what you told me? Youâll tell me what you want. Youâll tell me, yeah? How do you want it, baby? Iâll take such good fucking care of you.â
He leaned over you, ghosting his mouth over your jaw, kissing you there, so unhurried. âWhere do you want me?â
Everywhere.
You swallowed, shaking your head, eyes screwed shut.Â
Fucking everywhere, all at once, all the time.
You make me want so much it pushes out everything else.Â
He chuckled into your neck. âGotta tell me, baby.â Sucked at your skin with tongue and teeth. His T-shirt hung low enough it grazed over your nipples. You arched into him.
He hummed. âHere?â His thumb tenderly traveled up the swell of your breast and tapped against your nipple. Breath hitching, you shook your head.
âWhat about here?â His mouth pressed a wet kiss to your clavicle. No. Going lower, kissing a path to your other breast, breath gathering over it. You closed your eyes when he looked at you.
âAnd here?â His tongue like a small flame over your nipple, laving at it so softly, round and round, the wet sweep making you dizzy. Losing yourself in it. Chest bowing up into his mouth, arching so high it hurt.Â
He bit down once. You whined. Shook your head again, not there.Â
On and on it went:
Here? Mouth on your sternum. And what about here? Hands grabbing your waist. A soft scatter of kisses around your belly button. Biting into the soft flesh of your tummy until it kicked a laugh out of you. No, stop, stop. Okay, okay. Here? He fed your fingers into his mouth, the warm glide of his tongue, snag of teeth when they caught on your knuckles. And here? Baby, what about here? Spit on his chin as bent down to lave at each hipboneâNo, no, no.
Here? Traveling lower and lower to kiss the top of a thigh, then inside of it with a drag of his tongue.
Your body hiccuped once and hard with need.Â
Rhett moved around you with the same intensity he had waiting in the chute at the rodeo, holding something back, containing it. You wanted to slam it open, wanted him thrashing and sweating and tossed around, you wanted and you wanted, you wanted so much.Â
Maybe he took mercy on you, or maybe heâd run out of patience, when he finallyâfinallyâparted your legs. That pained sound of his. That sweet little oh. âFuck. Youâre so wet. You need it that bad, hm?"
You were nodding again. "Yesâ" Could he tell how hard you were nodding?
You heard the distinct drag of a chair on the hardwood floor, and you couldâve laughed at the ridiculousness of seeing him sitting at the kitchen table, the very one youâd just had breakfast at, now covered in the sprawl of your naked body, soaked and aching, your thighs parted for him, right foot resting on the back of the chair.Â
Rhett mustâve caught on because he laughed, tipping his head against your leg, kissing your calf. You hissed when he nipped at you there. âGod, I couldââ Groaning into your skin. âI could take a fucking bite out of you it's not even funny. Jesus.â
With his arms hooked around your legs, his kisses traveled up the inside of your thigh. You watched, open-mouthed, slack-jawed, as his dark swirl of hair traveled between your legs.Â
Youâd fucked yourself to the thought of this.Â
âYou want it here, baby?â He nosed at the elastic of your underwear, warm breath pouring over you.Â
You nodded so hard your head knocked against the table. You were swimming in it. The whole world swimming with you. âYes, pleaseâŚâÂ
His murmured curse.
Your desperate whine.
Before finally, a kiss to your cotton-covered clit.Â
It made your whole body still.
âHow you do you want it?â he mumbled it against you. Right there. Down there.
You knew he wasn't expecting you to answer, but your needing felt vicious like this, burned in the back of your throat, and you thought:
Messy.
And with a shame that bloomed hot and red across your chest, you realized you'd pleaded for it out loud, voice like a frayed rope one pull away from snapping.Â
Rhett's lashes were long and dark as he looked up at you. He huffed a laugh.
Something about it sounded very, very mean.Â
He gave your clit another quick kiss. And then another and another, longer this time, until his mouth opened, tongue flattening against the center of you. You felt him gather spit, felt the hot gush of it. How he grabbed the elastic of your underwear to stretch it across you so tight it made your clit thrum, holding you there, strumming his thumb up and down, playing with it. âLook at this.â Before giving you a quick pat, once, twiceâthe peeling wetness of it in the quiet. âFuck, babyââ
Before you had time to gather enough breath, Rhett buried his face into you, mouth mashing against you there, right there. Taking big bites. Spit and tongue and heat that drooled right through you. He groaned, pressing in deeper, the wide pad of his tongue nudging your clit, over and over, working you like this, until you were soaked enough a string of wetness followed when Rhett finally pulled off your underwear.
He flung it across the kitchen, uncaring, and you heard it land somewhere on the floor with a slop.
You were completely naked then, and he stared down at you like he wanted to be everywhere but he knew he had to make a choice.Â
It made your brain light up. It made you writhe when his palm pressed a smooth circle over your aching core, before cupping it once and hard, holding you like this, holding all of you at once. âYouâre so perfect, baby. Look at you being so perfect for me.â His endless reserve of nonsensical drivel, slow and honeyed and drawling, like he was pouring it into you.Â
You wanted more, you waited for it, legs opening wider, wider.
A breath, thenâhe spit on your hole.
It felt fucking preposterous.
And then his mouth was on you again. Without that barrier of cotton from before, everything was raw, wetness wetter, pressure harder. His tongue, spongy and hot against you, teeth scraping across your clit. Pulling in a deep mouthful. You felt it everywhere when he moaned. His head shaking once like something gone rabid.
One of his hands dug into your stomach, the other crept up the front of your throat, digging for entrance when it reached your mouth. You let him in, his thick fingers pressing into your tongue.Â
âSpit.â He said it right against your clit, before sucking.Â
Youâd caught the undertone: You want messy? Iâll give you fucking messyâ
You grabbed his wrist, laved at his fingers, until you felt a dribble down your chin, and before you could get lost in the pressure of something thick and foreign in your mouth, he pulled his hand back, smearing the mess over your aching hole. Thumb flicking fastâbefore stopping. You punched out a pitiful cry.Â
âYou want my fingers, hm? You think this sweet pussy wants my fingers?â
You knocked your head into the table so hard your ears rung, yesyesyesyesyes. Nodding and nodding and nodding and nodding.Â
You were so open and so wet, he easily breached you.
Full of him. You were full with him.
His fingers curled against that spongy rippling spot inside of you, that spot that gave way completely. He pressed down on your stomach, hard, and you keened, elbows digging into the table, your hands hovering, twitching in the air.Â
Rhett was strong enough to keep you from moving too much. You blamed all those damn bulls. His body moved on instinct, meeting each buck and squirm of you. Heâd told you once that it was never about anticipating the next move, it was about response, action-reaction, it was all reflex when he was on that saddle.Â
You couldnât keep still, hips jerking, lurching wildly beneath him. You were everywhere. You were fucking dynamite. But he pressed you down, fingers working inside of you with that steady unbreakable rhythm. His tongue on your clit. The filthy sounds of it dripping into the kitchen, all the lapping, the squelch of his fingers, your wet keening sobs. You let him fuck you and fuck you and fuck you and fuck you like this. Your hands finally tearing in his hair. Feet fumbling to find the back of the chair for leverage, trying to ride his face, his fingers.
Donât stop, you thought so hard it charged through you like voltage. Please, âDonât stopââÂ
His hand on your stomach splayed wider, pressed down, gripping into youâand you realized heâd felt your body tense up faster than you had.Â
Something about Rhett feeling you were about to come made your vision blurry. His body meeting yours at every turn.Â
You said his name then. He groaned something into you, but you couldnât hear it over the pulsing in your ears. Chest arching, legs buckling around his head.Â
You came in complete and utter silence.Â
Eyes screwed shut, dropping into blackness.
You thought you might've reached the bottom of something.
It was so perfect you wanted to cry.
The slow drag of his tongue coaxed you back slowly. His fingers had slipped out, now tracing soothing wet circles on the inside of your thigh. You couldnât believe Rhett's head was still between your legs, mouth lazily lapping up the mess. You gently pushed him away, clit too sensitive for more.Â
Rhett blinked, bleary-eyed. He looked wild. Hair a mess, face ruddy and wet. Covered in you.Â
âHoly shit..â His voice was nothing but a low rasp.
Holy shit.
The chair jerked back as he stood again, roughly wiping his face on his T-shirt with such habitual boyishness you couldnât help but reach for him. Delirious, gooey-warm. You were kissing him and kissing him, kissing him all over. You could taste yourself on him.Â
"Did so well for me, baby." He murmured in between kisses, smiling slow. "So fucking good." His hands gripped your head, turning you this way and that like he was checking in.
You couldn't do anything but nod. Your legs felt gummy as you wrapped them around his hips to pull him close. His hardness ground right against you.
Rhett hissed. Eyes squeezing shut. Nodding his head almost absentmindedly when you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats to pull them down.Â
You felt hungry with it. Insatiable.
Rhettâs cock was heavy and full as it sprung free, the glossy-pink tip swollen with all his aching. Your mouth went numb, filling with spit, with how much you wanted to taste him, slide him all the way into you until you stopped breathing.
But Rhett was shaking his head, no. âI wonât last, babyââ Raw enough it almost felt like he was the one pleading with you now.Â
You didnât want him pleading.
You wanted him to feel good. All you wanted was for him to feel good.
Without a word, you wiped a hand through the wet mess between your legs, all his spit, all yours, all your cum, the terrible gush of you, and you spread it over him in a slow filthy pump. He was so big, you stacked one hand over the other.
Rhett tipped forward, his jaw slack, transfixed as he watched your hands move over him. âHahâfuck me...â One wet deliberate slide after the other, his hips bucking forward.
Next time, you thought, you'd have him all the way inside of you. You could almost imagine it when Rhett leaned over you, caged you in with shaking arms. His mouth buried in your throat, licking a hot strip to your ear, slurring more of his sweet nonsense, so fucking good, baby, oh my god, baby just like that, fuck fuck fuckâ
He was thrusting into your hands so hard the table kept jerking back, hitting the window sill. The little ceramics there rattling. One fell to the floor. The back of your head knocked against something hard enough it left you dazed, and Rhett's bumbling hands came up to cradle you there, soothe you through it. Fuck, you good, baby?
He was so perfect it killed you, he fucking killed you.
You kissed him, breathed straight out of his mouth. All you wanted was to make him come for you. Come for me. Please, please.
And when he finally did, when his hips met yours in a wet cuff, when he groaned into your mouth, broken, out of itâhe spilled hot onto your stomach.
Forehead to forehead.
Breathing heavy. Â
You felt the wet drag of his spent cock run from your stomach down to your pubis, where he patted it against your clit, once, like some nasty little parting gift, like a promise.
You kissed him one last time before you collapsed onto your back.
For a moment, neither of you said a word. You watched each other. Eyelids heavy. You realized you were breathing in time.
Out of all the places in the world, you thought.
Somewhere in the thick of it, you ran a finger through the puddle of cum on your stomach. Cool now. Spread it across your tongueâacidy, bitter.Â
The taste of him.
You wanted to disappear into it.Â
âYouâve gotta stop or youâll actually kill me,â Rhett groaned, leaning in all the way. He gently grabbed you by the jaw, kissed you, wet and open-mouthed, the slip of his tongue going deep. âYouâre so good,â he murmured against your lips. "You're so good..." Giving you one sweet peck, then another.Â
And you were still stuck in your daze, sitting at the bottom of this thing that felt vast and everywhere. Sunlight poured through the windows, cradling you in the warmth of your afterglow.
Before you could feel ashamed for it, you let it slip: âthank you, daddy.â
And Rhett looked at you like he'd received an answer to a question he hadnât known how to ask.
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
Afterward, Rhett piled you into his arms and carried you to the bathroom.
You thought distantly of all the other times youâd had to clean yourself up alone.
Rhett was dense and fumbling after âcoming my damn brains out, Christ.â But he was trying his best to be slow with you, helping you into the shower.
The two of you swaying like drunkards in the hot spray of the shower head.
You were so tired.
Youâd been holding on to something so deeply for so long, it was knocked loose now, it was open like a wound. You imagined the water rushing in, clearing it out until the blood ran clear.
While you both rinsed yourself off, Rhettâs mouth found you every once in a while. It felt like he was making sure you were still there. Pressing a kiss to your temple, the top of your head, a scatter of them on your shoulder.Â
Once even, he lifted your hand and kissed the inside of your palm with such tenderness you wanted to die.
¡ ¡ â ¡ ¡
âWhat now?â Rhett murmured into your damp hair.Â
You were on the back deck, curled in his lap on your favorite wicker chair. Sunlight splintered through the trees as it hit the floor. A patch of it warming your bare feet.
It had taken you a while to climb out of the daze, find your way back to your body. Slowly, slowly, mind un-blurring until you felt coherent.
Your voice was a dry rasp when you finally spoke. âDo you think people should be fucking members of their support group?â
âOkay.â Scoffing, Rhett jiggled you in his lap. âFucking? Really?â
âFine. Fraternizing.â
He shot you a withering look. It made you snort.Â
You knew he was right.
Whatever youâd done on his kitchen table, it had left something big inside of you. It felt important.Â
âWho wouldâve thought Rhett Abbott was such a closet romantic,â you mumbled, delighting in the way he rolled his eyes.Â
Leaving it at that, you curled back into his chest, lazily lifting a finger and tracing along the soft slope of his nose, down his Cupidâs Bow, each curve of each lip.
Look at youâso surprisingly tender.
He opened his mouth to nip at your finger.
âWeâll go slow,â you whispered, echoing the words heâd said to you before, with such reassurance it felt rooted deep.
âAlright,â he murmured, nodding, letting you press your finger to his jaw to make him look at you. âSlow. I can do slow.â
You couldn't help your grin, thinking about all the things he'd done to you in his kitchen just an hour ago. âYeah. Tell me about it.â
He quirked a mean smile, pinching your side until you laughed.
Like this, you didnât feel difficult or complicated or messy.
Your laughter spiraled as you tipped your head back from so much delight.Â
You let it shake through you.
You let it shake through the tin roof and the wicker chair and the rocks on the railing and the sun and the pine trees and the grass and the dirt and the valley that rolled all the way to your sister's house, the very place you'd started calling home the second your duffle bag hit the welcome mat.
And finally, you let it shake through him, sitting there, washed in shards of sunlightâlooking at you like you were the easiest thing to love.Â
I have a theory that - and Iâm going to expose just how old I am -if Eddie lived, he wouldâve loved The Black Cauldron, The Great Mouse Detective, and Who Framed Roger Rabbit.
Change my mind.
My Favourite Game
Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader!
Summary: You havenât had much luck when it comes to dating and sex which has inadvertently placed you in a position of being wholly inexperienced with the whole scene in general. But when your long time friend Rhett Abbott offers you a way to experiment safely to figure out what to do, you immediately jump at the opportunityâdesperate to learn and get more experience.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers? Hell yeah! Reader is inexperienced and actually has a safe space to actually experiment. The dynamics between Rhett and Reader are extremely comfortable (they talk about a lot of personal things), Theyâve been friends for a while (high school acquaintances turned adult friends), Mentions of Violence (kind of vague as well), Rhett is Mentioned to be Protective
Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up yâallâŚ), Oral Sex (fem! And male! Receiving), Fingering, Biting (leaving marks), Dirty Talk, Hickeys and Love Bites, Cum Play, Swallowing, Hair Pulling, Choking, Overstimulation, SemiâPublic Sex (Truck Sex yâall wahoooo lol), Handjobs, Riding, Making Out, Thigh Riding, Praising/WorshippingTeasing (physically), Begging, Reader is described as being inexperienced they have had sex though, just really bad sex, Very Soft Dom and Sub dynamics that switches, Finger Sucking, Gagging (very brief moment, nothing extreme), Good Girl is used.
Authorâs Note: Jesus Christ, thatâs a lot of smut warnings lol. I loved writing this, I buy into the friends to lovers trope so much, but I also enjoy the âIâm teaching you new things about yourself and weâre slowly falling for each otherâ trope lol. Did I go off on this and have to change my keyboard midway through because the A, D, F and G keys break? Yep. But holy hell did I enjoy writing this new segment of RAF and Iâm so excited to keep writing for this man!
Word Count: 13,962
It was painfully evident that you didnât have much luck with men. You used to think maybe the first one was just a flukeâthat one high school boyfriend who didnât know the first thing about tenderness and treated you like a friend more than a lover. But as the years went on and the faces changedâfirst dates, flings, those awkward two-month situationships that ended with unread messages or cold shouldersâit became harder and harder to ignore a simple, infuriating truth:
You attracted a certain type of guy, and unfortunately, that type of guy brought on heaps of trouble to you.
Rhett had told you as muchâin different ways, tones, and situations.
âI can tell just by lookinâ at âem,â Heâd mutter over his beer, eyes narrowed at whoever was looking at you, or whoever had come to pick you up from his ranch when you would hang out, âAinât no way that oneâs gonna treat you right.â But you never listened to him. You had told himâand yourselfâmultiple times that he was just being overprotective, and looking too deeply into things.
But the truth was, he was right, you werenât being treated right. Not even close.
In bed, it was glaringly worse. You didnât come firstâliterally or metaphorically. The guys you saw acted like just showing up was enough, like their presence alone shouldâve sent you spiraling into pure ecstasyâlike you were supposed to be grateful that they were blessing you with the experience of having them between your legs.
You definitely werenât. Not even once.
You could actually count on one hand how many times youâd almost felt an orgasm building. And the only time someone even offered to go down on youâand even then, he was half-assing the job, and made it feel like a formality rather than something he actually wanted to do. You barely felt his mouth. But you pretended it was good, just so it wouldnât be another disappointment.
For a long time, you thought maybe something was wrong with you, that maybe your body was broken or maybe you were just one of those people who didnât get much pleasure from these types of things and needed simpler acts to truly experience something even close to sexual pleasure. So. You stopped trying, stopped dating, and stopped chasing what felt more like punishment than passion.
And within the quiet that followed your dating celibacy, you had found yourself spending more time with Rhett.
Neither of you were truly close with each other before that.
Sure, youâd gone to the same high school, crossed paths in hallways, shared the occasional class where youâd borrow a pencil or flash him a smirk when he got caught nodding off mid-lecture. But he ran with the rodeo kids, and youâwell, you drifted between circles, kept mostly to yourself, caught up in extracurriculars and jobs and the kind of boys Rhett always ended up warning you about years later.
It wasnât until a spur-of-the-moment decisionâone boring Friday and a reckless text to your old classmateâthat you ended up at one of his circuits. You hadnât seen him ride since high school, and you figured, why not?
You didnât expect much.
But then you saw him in the dirt and the dust, bronzed under the stadium lights, laughing with his hat tipped back and his knuckles split open. And something shifted.
You stayed longer than you meant to that night. Helped him limp back to his truck. Got late-night fries together. Talked about everything and nothing, just like people who didnât know yet that they were about to become each otherâs person.
After that, it became a routine. A quiet, natural rhythm. The two of you set aside one day a week for bar hoppingâusually Tuesdays, when the crowds were thin and the drinks were cheap. But when you gave up on dating for a while, something in that rhythm expanded.
You werenât just hanging out once a week anymore. You were showing up at circuits again, slapping the rusted fence rails as he rode past, grinning like you were seventeen again and seeing him for the first time. You started meeting his friends. Familiarized yourself with his family againâAmyâs quiet greetings, Perryâs tired but kind nods, Ceciliaâs slightly surprised but not unwelcome smiles when you appeared in their kitchen one Sunday morning, still rubbing sleep from your eyes in Rhettâs oversized hoodie, and Royalâs glares that he shot at Rhett.
You became a fixture in his life. A known presence.
Especially after long nights of drinking, where youâd inevitably end up back at his place, curled up on his bed groaning because a headache was already brewing.
And with that bond that grew came something that bloomed slowly but powerfully: his protectiveness.
It had always been thereâcoiled beneath the surface, stitched into the way he watched you, waited for you, walked you to your door even when he was half-asleep himself. But when he started to piece together the kind of experiences youâd hadâthe disappointments, the lack of care, the way men made you feel like an afterthoughtâit shifted.
It changed the way he looked at you. Like you were fragile, but not weak. Like he wanted to wrap his hands around every bad memory and crush it.
He never said much when you opened up about it. Didnât need to. The silence was heavy enough.
âYou donât deserve that,â He said once, soft as gravel, not looking at you. It had hit you harder than you expected. Not because of the wordsâbut because of how he said them.
When you broke it to him that you were taking a break from dating, he didnât even hesitate before saying âMe too.â You hadnât expected that. You had laughed, asked him whyâ saying youâre Rhett Abbott, donât you have girls throwing themselves at you every other week?âbut he just shrugged, scratched the back of his neck, and muttered something about solidarity.
What you didnât know though was that Rhett Abbott was relieved by this news.
It meant peace. No more stepping in between you and men who didnât deserve to speak your name. No more black eyes or busted knuckles or security dragging him out of bars with the same tired âAbbott, we warned you.â No more cold rage coiled in his chest when you came to him with a new dating story.
But more than all of thatâit meant he had more of your time again, and that you were his once more.
Not in the traditional sense. But in the quiet, easy way where he got to have you beside him. In his truck. At his kitchen table. Laughing on his porch. Falling asleep in his living room. Talking to him about things you didnât tell anyone else.
He got to watch you laugh with his family. Got to listen to you hum in the passenger seat. Got to see you when you werenât trying anymoreâwhen you were just being you.
And lately, Rhett had been thinking about things. Dangerous things.
About what it would feel like to be the one to show you what good could be. About how his hands would never treat you like an obligation. About how heâd never rush you, never expect anything, never make you fake a damn thing.
Heâd been thinking about you in ways he shouldnât. Imagining things he wasnât proud of. But he never said it. Never crossed that line.
Not until you did.
ââââââââââ
The bar was louder than usual, the kind of noise that sank into your bones, all thudding boots and clinking glasses and low country twang pouring from speakers that surrounded the walls of the drinking areas. You and Rhett were squished together in a booth that barely had enough space for one of his thighs, let alone two. He was pressed against your side, the warmth of his arm brushing yours every time either of you reached for the second pitcher of beer youâd ordered.
Youâd been sipping slowly at firstâwell, pretending toâbut somewhere between your third and fourth shared laugh, the drinks started going down faster. Something about being shoulder-to-shoulder with Rhett always loosened you up. Maybe it was the way he leaned in when he talked. Or the way his voice dropped just slightly in the middle of a crowd, like everything else was just noise unless you were listening.
By the time the second pitcher was empty, your head was spinning, your cheeks hot, and Rhett was nudging you with his knee.
âGuessinâ itâs time we call Perry?âHe suggested, raising an eyebrow and pushing his light brown hair out of his face. You groaned.
âCanât we just sleep in your truck?â And he let out a small laugh, shaking his head slowly.
âYouâre too pretty to get eaten by coyotes, sweetheart. Câmon, Iâm sure my place is more comfy than the leather seats of the truck.â He teased, as he pulled out his phone.
You both slurred your way through the callâRhett taking the lead while you giggled beside him, repeating his name like a chant until Perry muttered, âJesus Christ, Iâm on my way.â
The drive back to the ranch was a blur. Youâd nodded off on Rhettâs shoulder. He smelled like leather and dust and whatever cologne he always swiped across his throat before circuits. He didnât say much on the way home, but his hand never left your thighâmore because in his drunken stupor, all he wanted to do was feel your skin against his, even if it was seen as an accident.
When Perryâs truck pulled up to the house, it was as if your bodies had already memorized the path inside.
You and Rhett stumbled up the steps, bumping into one another in the narrow hallway, muffling your laughter behind lazy hands and hushed voices. His hand settled low on your back, fingertips resting just under the hem of your top, warm and heavy with quiet intentionâthough he played it off like it was nothing. Like he always did.
His legs bumped into the frame of the hallway table and he cursed softly, grabbing onto your arm to steady himself.
âShh,â You whispered, glancing behind you, âYouâre gonna wake your parents.â He waved his hand.
âItâs okay,â He murmured, his breath brushing your hair slightly, âIâm sure theyâre used to it by now.â You reached his room like it was second natureâyour bodies moving together in a practiced rhythm, like youâd done this dance before. And you had, in bits and pieces. Just not like this. Not with this kind of tension buzzing just beneath your skin.
You practically fell through the doorway first, catching yourself on the edge of his bed with a half-giggled groan. Rhett followed close behind, his shoulder knocking lightly into the doorframe before he caught himself and dragged it shut behind him with a soft click.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the pale moonlight bleeding in through the slatted blinds. Familiar shadows painted across the floorboards and the messy sprawl of his clothes on the chair. The scent of him clung to the roomâwarm skin, worn flannel, the faint tang of sawdust and leather.
You kicked off your boots, one thudding softly against the wall, the other tumbling onto its side. He mirrored your movements, stepping out of his own boots with less precision, letting out a groan of relief as he did so. You tossed your clutch onto the side tableâjust beside the lamp he never usedâand sank onto the edge of his bed with a quiet sigh.
âHere,â Rhett said, reaching for the top drawer of his dresser, âTake these.â He tossed a soft, well-worn T-shirt your wayâgray with faded black lettering you didnât bother readingâand a pair of boxer shorts that still held the shape of his body in their fabric. You caught them against your chest, fingers curling over the cotton, the residual warmth of his drawer somehow sinking into your skin.
âIâm gonna go grab some water,â He added, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice low, but clearer nowâmore focused, or sobered up, âYou get changed.â
Then he disappeared down the hall, the sound of his footsteps padding softly away as the door swung gently shut behind him.
You sat in the quiet for a moment, the distant hum of the house settling around you. Your pulse felt louder than it shouldâve. Your fingers trembled slightly as you peeled off your tank top, the material catching on your shoulder before slipping free. You dropped it beside your clutch, then shimmied out of your jean shortsâtight and damp from the heat of the night, catching slightly on your thighs before falling to the floor.
The air kissed your bare skin, cool in contrast to the heat that had begun to build in your chest.
You tugged Rhettâs shirt over your head. It was too big, the hem falling just below your hips, the neckline gaping enough that the slope of your collarbone peeked out. You ran your fingers down the faded cotton, breathing in the faint scent of him lingering in the fabricâclean, woodsy, unmistakably him.
The boxers came next, soft and worn from a thousand washes. You slid them up your legs, the waistband resting low on your hips, baggy and comfortable in a way that made you feel small and safe all at once. You folded your other clothes neatly into a pile beside the bed, then sat back on the mattress just as the door creaked open again.
Rhett stepped in with two glasses of water, his knuckles curled tightly around the rims to keep them steady.
He paused when he saw you.
There was nothing particularly sexy about it, nothing overt or posed. Just you sitting on the edge of his bed in his boxers and his old shirt, legs bare, hair a little messy, your lips parted slightly as you took in a few deep breaths from the buzzing that tingled over your skin, and the shift in energy that floated through the room.
But something in his expression changed. His jaw flexed, and his eyes softenedâthe tension in his brow melting away the more he looked at you.
âGot you some water,â His voice was quieter now, more rough. You reached for one of the glasses, your fingers brushing his as you took it, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
âThanks.â You took a sip of the water, the coolness of it sliding down your throat and settling somewhere just above your ribs. You sighed through the swallow, then leaned back slightly on one hand, blinking slowly at the ceiling as your head gave the first warning pulses of what would no doubt be a brutal morning.
âJesus,â You muttered, placing the glass on the floor beside the bed, âI can tell Iâm gonna have such a bad hangover in the morningâŚMy head is already pounding.â Rhett hummed in agreement, moving toward his dresser again.
âWouldnât doubt it,â He mumbled, âI feel it too.â You watched him open the top drawer, his back partially turned to you. He didnât say anything elseâjust reached in for another t-shirt. Then, without warning or hesitation, he grabbed the collar of the one he was wearing and tugged it off in one smooth motion.
And just like that, your breath caught.
Youâd seen Rhett shirtless before. Once, maybe twiceâat the lake, when his whole family had piled into trucks and driven down with coolers and towels and floating chairs. But those times had been quick, and youâd always looked away out of caution. Too many watchful eyes, too much risk of your gaze being caught. Too much danger in what you might feel if you stared too long.
But now?
Now there was no one watching.
No one except him.
And he wasnât looking at you.
He stood a few feet from the bed, half in shadow, and your eyes swept over the length of his bare back, over the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, the slight arch of his spine as he leaned forward into the drawer. You barely breathed.
His skin was pale where the sun hadnât kissed it, but scattered across his chest and along his ribs were bruisesâreal ones. Deep and blooming like brushstrokes of ink and wine. Purple that melted into faded yellow. Green along the edges. Some were new, still fresh and angry. Others had already begun to fade, ghosting into the gentle gold of healing. They streaked across his ribs in uneven patterns, coiling beneath the planes of lean muscle, dipping into the shadows of his collarbones and clinging to his hips like the remnants of a war.
It was violent. And somehow, beautiful.
Because it was him.
It was the proof of everything he did, everything he gave. The risk. The pain. The stubborn pride that kept him getting back on the bull even after it had thrown him into the dirt. Youâd heard the groans he swallowed, watched him limp back to the chute with blood on his jeans and dirt on his teeth, but you hadnât seen this. Not up close.
Not in the quiet.
Your eyes traced the line of one particularly stark bruise that stretched from the edge of his left pectoral down to his ribs. The skin there was darker, tight. Raw. And still, your gaze followed it like your fingers wanted to.
And God the urge to touch him was burning through you.
You wanted to trace every edge, every mark, every scrape and wound. You wanted to know if his skin was as warm as it looked. If his chest would rise faster beneath your palm. If heâd shiver when you pressed your lips to that bruise just below his ribs.
Your thighs pressed together slightly, feeling your stomach tighten as you began to flush under the confines of your own thoughts.
Rhett tugged the fresh shirt over his head and ran a hand through his light brown hair, slicking it back out of his face before finally turning back to you. His eyes flicked upâjust for a secondâand he caught your transfixed gaze.
âYou okay?â He asked softly, voice thick. You cleared your throat, heat climbing up your neck as you dropped your gaze for a moment, pretending you hadnât just been caught practically devouring him with your eyes.
âYeahâŚTotally fine,â You muttered, fingers fumbling for the glass on the floor, bringing it back up to your lips. You took a long sipâlonger than necessaryâas if the coolness of it might extinguish the warmth that was flooding your chest. Or the way your thighs were still shifting together beneath his boxer shorts like they had a mind of their own.
Rhett didnât move, and didnât say anything for a second, his blue irises scanning over you for a moment, seeing the little movement that your thighs were making, a little tell that he had seen before from other women. He licked his lips slowly, like he could still taste your gaze on him. His voice dropped just a little as he said itâcasual on the surface, but thick beneath. Heavy with the kind of tension that had been building between the two of you for months.
âYou were starinâ.â Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked down instinctively, the corner of your lip twitching with something between embarrassment and defense. Still, you shrugged like you could play it off.
âWellâŚItâs kind of hard not to when youâre all bruised up from the bull,â You murmured, trying to keep your tone light. âDidnât know they were that bad.â He hummed at thatâlow and dry, like he didnât quite believe your answer.
âYouâve seen âem before,â He said, voice gravel-thick, head tipping slightly. âShouldnât be a surprise to you at this point.â You lifted your glass again to stall, sipped slower this time, letting the water cool the heat that was quickly rushing to your cheeks. Then you glanced at him again and gave a one-shouldered shrug.
âI think youâre making it a bigger deal than it actually is, Rhett. I think the beer is getting to you.â That made something shift behind his eyes. He tilted his head a fraction, just enough to cast a slanted shadow along his cheekbone.
âReally now?â He murmured as he stepped closer, the floor creaking faintly beneath his weight. âYouâre gonna tell me that Iâm not seeinâ straight?â He asked, pointing at himself. You nodded, your laugh shaky but still defiant.
âThatâs exactly what Iâm saying, Rhett.â He didnât reply right away. He just stared down at you, long and quiet. Then, wordlessly, he stepped the rest of the way to the bed and placed his fist downâslowly, deliberatelyâon the mattress beside your thigh.
He didnât touch you.
But the air between you shifted.
His knuckles were close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes followed the shape of his forearm, the way the muscles tensed beneath the skin, until they traced up to meet his face again.
You tilted your head up to look at him, and he was already thereâalready watching you.
His gaze locked with yours, blue eyes shadowed and steady, but flickering with something sharp, something knowing. Your stare skimmed over the details of his faceâso close now, you could count the flecks of gold in his irises. The stubble along his jaw. The faint creases near the corners of his eyes that deepened when he laughed. The way his bottom lip jutted out just a little more than the top one, wet from where heâd just licked it.
âYouâre a little liar,â he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a slow, crooked smirk. âI can see it in your eyes.â
The words hit low in your stomach.
You wanted to deny itâwanted to scoff, roll your eyes, tell him he was being ridiculousâbut all you could do was hold his gaze and feel the heat crawling higher in your cheeks.
Still, you stayed composed. Barely.
âI think you need to sleep off your drunken stupor, Rhett,â You commented, chin tilting upward in subtle challenge. âYouâve got beer goggles on, and you really are seeing things now.â
He didnât back off.
Instead, he leaned in closer. Slowly. Deliberately.
His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm and smelling faintly of beer and mint as it fanned over your lips. Your lashes fluttered, but you didnât look away. You didnât move. Not even when your breath caught slightly in your throat.
You just kept your eyes on him.
ââŚGuess I really do need some sleep,â He murmured after a beat, his voice quieter now. Rougher. But when he pulled back, he was grinning.
Cocky.
Like he knew you werenât as unaffected as you were pretending to be.
Then he straightened, turned slightly toward the dresser again, and asked casually, âYou stayinâ in the bed with me? Or you movinâ to the spare room?â
Your lashes fluttered quickly, and you swallowed hard before clearing your throat.
âIâll stay here,â You said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though your entire body was still tense from how close heâd just been. âProbably wonât make it to the spare if I get up.â He nodded once, like that was the answer he expected, then reached for his belt buckle
âAlright,â He replied. You quickly looked away as his fingers moved to undo his belt, the subtle clink of the buckle sending another unwanted jolt of heat through your chest. Before your mind could wander any furtherâbefore you could accidentally lock eyes with the line of his hips or the way his thumb hooked into the waistband of his jeansâyou padded toward the head of the bed.
You placed your water glass beside your clutch on the nightstand with a soft clink, keeping your movements slow, and controlled. Like that would help rein in the sudden buzz running beneath your skin.
The sheets were cool as you slipped under them, the scent of his laundry soap mingling with the lingering smell of him on the pillow. You shimmied slightly to get comfortable, dragging the duvet up to your waist and tucking one arm beneath your head, the other laid loosely across your stomach. You stared up at the ceiling.
Behind you, the sounds of him undressing were harder to ignore than youâd hoped.
A soft rustle of denim. The unmistakable swish of fabric sliding down over skin. A low breathâjust a little ragged, like maybe even he was feeling the same pressure you were. You swallowed.
Then the mattress shifted.
He moved carefully, like he didnât want to jostle you, but you felt him all the same. The bed dipped slightly with his weight, and the warmth of his body immediately spread beneath the covers, replacing the cold air youâd just tucked yourself into.
He settled on his sideâclose, but not touching. Or at least, not exactly. His arm stayed to himself, his shoulders turned slightly away, but your legsâŚYour legs brushed.
Bare skin to bare skin. Just barely.
You didnât move. Neither did he.
The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. Not anymore. It was full of tension, sureâbut there was something else in it too. Something gentle. Something known.
âGânight,â He murmured, voice low and sleepy, already starting to sink into the mattress.
You turned your head a little, just enough to look at the back of his shoulder, then whispered, âNight.â
Your eyes lingered there for a moment. On the curve of his neck, and the slow rise and fall of his breath.
And maybe you were imagining itâbut his leg seemed to press a little firmer into yours.
A quiet, tentative contact.
And neither of you pulled away.
ââââââââââ
You woke up to your alarm going off like a goddamn air raid siren, the high-pitched chime echoing through the quiet room like it had been waiting to give you a heart attack.
Your eyes shot open.
A groan ripped from your throat as you reached blindly for your clutch, limbs still tangled in the sheets and your brain pulsing with a headache that had already staked its claim behind your eyes. The light from the phone screen stung, but you silenced the alarm with a few taps, your movements sluggish and mechanical.
From behind you, Rhett let out a muffled groan of his own.
âWho the hell sets an alarm on a Saturday?â He mumbled, voice gravelled and sleep-heavy.
You ignored the ache in your skull long enough to fish out the familiar blister pack from the depths of your clutch, thumb already popping the next pill loose. You brought it to your lips and dropped it onto your tongue, reaching lazily for the lukewarm water glass on the nightstand.
âIt wasnât to wake us up,â You muttered, taking a small sip and swallowing. âItâs my birth control reminder.â The bed shifted behind you. A soft rustle. A new weight.
âBirth control?â Rhettâs voice had sobered slightly, still low, but laced with something else now. Confusion, maybe.
You placed the glass back on the table and rolled onto your side, glancing over your shoulderâand promptly noted two things: one, heâd taken his shirt off during the night, and two, he was looking right at you.
His eyes were a little narrowed. Brow furrowed. His hair was a mess, and his voice hoarse.
âYeahâŚBirth control,â You replied slowly, letting the words hang in the air as you watched his expression closely. âYou knowâŚThe thing that women take to help their periods and prevent pregnancy?â He rolled his eyes, though the motion lacked bite.
You raised a brow. âSo whatâs with the third-degree, Abbott?â
He shrugged lazily and turned onto his back, his arm behind his head, jaw tight. âDidnât think you were on it, thatâs all. Never seen you take it before.â
You smirked. âWell, Iâm usually out of your house by this time. Or Iâm in the bathroom and take it there.â
And that was all it took.
That one sentence cracked something open in his chest and sent his thoughts freefalling.
You were on birth control.
The implications settled into him like wildfire. No condom. No consequences. Just skin to skin, you wrapped around him, begging, whisperingâhe could come inside you and not think twice, could bury himself so deep youâd feel it for hours. He could grab your hips and pull you down hard against him, his hands splayed over your stomach as he fucked you slow and steady until you were begging him to finish. No pulling out. No holding back. No guilt.
He wanted to kiss your thighs open, drag his tongue along your folds, taste every part of you while you whimpered into his pillow. He wanted to hear your breath hitch when he whispered let me do it right this time, to watch your expression when he sank inâslow and thick and deepâand told you how tight you were, how good you felt, how heâd dreamt of this.
He wanted to mark you up. Leave bruises on your neck, your hips, your thighs. Paint you with proof that someone finally gave a damn.
Heâd be quiet about it, though. Youâd both have to be quiet.
His parents were probably still in their room. Hell, Perry might be awake. So youâd press your mouth to his shoulder, muffle your moans against his skin, and Rhett would whisper filth in your ear with every lazy roll of his hips, voice ragged and barely restrained, telling you not to stop squeezing him like that. Not unless you wanted him to come right then and there.
His cock twitched against his thighâsudden and sharp under the weight of his boxers.
Shit.
He shifted slightly under the blanket, adjusting himself, trying not to groan at how sensitive he suddenly felt. But the mattress wasnât forgiving, and the movement wasnât subtle.
âYou alright?â Your voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. Curious. Careful. âYouâre all red.â
He cleared his throat. A little too quickly.
âMhm. Iâm okay.â
You turned toward him more fully, propping yourself up slightly on one elbow, your hair flattened on one side from where you had slept on it. Your eyes narrowed, playful. Familiar.
And thenâyour voice softened to a whisper, full of teasing promise. âIf I didnât know any better, Iâd say you were staring at me.â
He blinked.
You were close. Too close. Your face inches from his, lips parted slightly, breath warm against his cheek. It mirrored what heâd done to you last night, except now the tables were turnedâand he didnât know what the hell to do with himself.
âIâm not,â He said quickly, voice cracking.
But you didnât back off.
You just tilted your head slightly, and thenâwithout meaning toâyour thigh brushed his, and you felt something.
You stilled.
Your breath caught.
And your eyes went wide.
ââŚOh,â You breathed, heat crawling up your neck.
âSorry,â You whispered a second later, but your voice was breathy and full of implication.
Rhett swallowed hard, his Adamâs apple bobbing as he stared at the ceiling. âItâs alright,â He said, quietly. Voice a little higher now. Tight.
The tension between you thickened like syrup, slow and sticky and impossible to ignore.
Neither of you looked at each other at first. It was safer that way. Eyes stayed on the ceiling, the far wall, anywhere but the quiet place in the middle of the bed where everything had shifted. Where your thighs had brushed, where your breath had caught, where Rhett was still hard and trying to will himself down with a silent prayer and clenched jaw.
But then you shifted again.
Not a lot. Just enough that the blankets rustled and your voice came outâlow, almost shy.
âDoâŚDo you want some help with that?â
His eyes snapped to you like a whip. His entire body went rigid.
âW-What?â The word cracked in the middle, like it hit the back of his throat too fast to smooth out. His brows pinched together, mouth parted, lips dry as hell.
You sighedâsoft and nervousâand pushed yourself up a little more, bracing your weight on your elbow so you could look him in the eye.
âI said,â You repeated, quieter now, more deliberate, âDo you want some help with that?â Rhett sat up a little tooâmirroring you without realizing it, like his body needed to be closer. His face hovered just inches from yours now, the tension rolling off him like heat off pavement.
âAre you beinâ serious?â He asked, voice hoarse.
You nodded slowly, searching his face. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
His gaze darted away for the briefest second, scanning the room like it might offer him a better answer than the one sitting right in front of him. But when he looked back, his expression was tight. Unreadable. Barely holding something back.
âWell, I meanâŚWeâre friendsâŚâ
You raised your brows, your face still close, voice low but firm. âAnd we havenât really been going out with other people. And sexual frustration is a thing, Rhett.â
He squinted slightly, more in thought than judgment. âYouâre the one that said you wanted to take a hiatus from dating and stuff. I thought that meant physical things too.â
You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. âThat was more meant for me because I really donât feel much whenâŚYâknowâŚThings are happening.â
Rhett stilled.
His lips parted just slightly, his breath hitching. Then his jaw flexed and he leaned in even closer, until the space between your mouths was damn near nonexistent.
âYou what?â He asked, barely above a whisper. His voice sounded guttedâlike it hurt him to even imagine it.
You swallowed thickly, heart rattling inside your chest. âIâŚI donât feel much when Iâm being intimate with someone.â There. It was out. A truth you rarely admitted out loud, even more rarely to a man.
Rhettâs jaw tensed. His throat bobbed. Something wild flickered in his eyesâsomething that looked a lot like heartbreak, but deeper. Protective. Personal.
ââŚHow about I make you a deal,â He said suddenly, his voice husky and serious.
You tilted your head slightly, cautious. âWhat kind of deal?â
âLet me try somethinâ,â He murmured, watching your expression with unshakable intensity. âAnd then you can do whatever you want to me after. Or nothinâ at all. You donât owe me a thing.â
Your lips parted. âW-What do you want to do?â He reached up slowlyâlike he was afraid to spook youâand let his fingertips brush beneath your chin, giving you the softest touch he could with the calloused pads of his fingers.
âLay back,â He whispered, âAnd Iâll show you.â You stared at him for one long, charged heartbeatâyour skin prickling, your thighs already pressing closer, the ache in your core blooming slow and warm at the tone in his voice.
Your face burned as soon as the word left your lips.
âOkay.â
It was soft, nearly swallowed by the quiet tension in the roomâbut Rhett heard it. His eyes didnât leave yours. Not for a second. His hand drifted from your chin to your shoulder, then eased you gently back onto the pillow. The mattress dipped beneath the shift of your weight, the sheets cool against your skinâbut Rhettâs hand never stopped touching you. He moved with patience. With care.
And then he did something unexpected.
He slipped his arm under your neckânot in a way that caged you in, but cradled you. Like he wanted to hold your head up, protect it. His fingers curled gently into your hair, and his thumb brushed over your cheek. Slowly.
His voice came next, low and laced with something close to a smile.
âRemember that timeâŚIn high school, when we ended up kissing in Marleyâs closet during seven minutes in heaven?â
Your stomach flipped violently, a swarm of butterflies bursting awake.
You narrowed your eyes. âYou said youâd never bring that up.â
He chuckled, soft and rough. âItâs been long enough that I think Iâm allowed to bring it up.â His thumb grazed your cheek again, and you swore it soothed something in you you hadnât known was wound tight. âBut anywaysâŚRemember when you said you were nervous? Because you didnât know what to do?â
You nodded slowly, your voice nearly a whisper. âYeahâŚâ
âAnd I told you to just breathe. Donât even think about what was happeninâ. Just breathe.â Your lips parted a little, your heart thudding louder.
âYeah,â You whispered again.
His gaze held yours, warm and steady. âWell⌠Just do that again, alright? Just breathe. Think about something else. Got it?â
You hesitated. Swallowed.
âRhettâŚAre you sure you want to do this? Itâs going to be a waste of your time.â Your voice cracked near the end, thick with embarrassment and doubt youâd carried for too long.
His expression shifted. Not angry. JustâŚStruck.
He leaned down slowly, and before you could say anything elseâbefore you could panic or second-guessâhe kissed you.
It was soft. Just lips brushing lips. But it stunned you all the same.
You gasped faintly into the contact, breath hitching, body going still under the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours. He lingered for only a second before pulling back, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours again.
âIâm positive,â He murmured, voice low and resolute. âNow just relax, okay?â You nodded, even though your heart was pounding. You let your hands rest by your sides, fists curled lightly in the sheets as Rhett shifted closer, keeping his arm under your neck, still holding you, still touching your cheek.
His other hand drifted down. Slow.
He didnât go for the obvious. Didnât grab. Didnât grope. Instead, his fingertips brushed along the hem of the shirt you woreâhis shirtâlifting it just a few inches before slipping beneath. You shivered instantly, the cool air meeting your heated skin, and thenâ
His fingertips touched your stomach.
Barely there. Like the ghost of a thought.
They dragged gently across your skin, dipping just beneath your ribs, pausing, then continuing downward. Featherlight. Reverent. You sucked in a breath as goosebumps erupted along your arms and legs, your thighs pressing closer together as he traced the soft curve of your waist with maddening patience.
âStill alright?â He asked, his voice low, lips brushing your temple now. You nodded quickly, breath stuttering. âYeah.â
âGood.â
His hand moved againâback up first, over the flat of your stomach, the pads of his fingers gliding like silk. He circled your navel once, slow and hypnotic, then dropped lower again.
And lower.
Until he reached the waistband of the boxer shorts.
His fingertips paused there, resting lightly on the elastic band.
He kissed your temple. Then murmured against your skin: âCan you lift your hips for me?â
You didâslowly, your legs tensing slightly as you pushed up just enough. Your breath hitched as the cool air rushed between the fabric and your skin when Rhett tugged them down, slow and smooth, watching your face the entire time. Your body sank back down onto the mattress as he pulled the boxers down your thighs, past your knees, until they slipped off entirely.
Rhett paused for just a second, the boxer shorts now discarded somewhere at the foot of the bed, the room still and warm as his gaze settled on youâcompletely bare in the soft hush of the early morning light.
His eyes traveled up your legs, over the subtle dip of your hips, and down again to the place between your thighsâand the air left his lungs like heâd taken a punch to the gut.
âJesus Christ,â he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of it. âYouâre so fuckinâ beautiful.â
You swallowed hard, your eyes still locked with his, every inch of you humming beneath the heat of his gaze. The sincerity in his toneâthick, reverent, guttedâmade your breath catch.
Then, slowly, Rhett reached out. One of his hands cradled your knee, coaxing your leg outward, and he shifted down the bed as he gently murmured, âSpread your legs for me, Y/N.â
Your heart thudded. You hesitatedâbut only for a beat. Then, you nodded, slowly letting your legs fall open, nerves twisting in your stomach like warm thread as cool air hit you, followed almost immediately by the heat of his body slotting between your thighs.
His skin was warm against the inside of your legsâhis shoulders wide and strong, his bare chest brushing the backs of your thighs as he settled in. You saw his eyes trail up your body againâslow, careful, like he was trying to memorize you. Then he looked up.
Youâd closed your eyes.
Breathing slowly. Deeply.
Trying not to shake.
âHey,â Rhett said softly, and you felt the mattress shift as he reached for you. His hand found yours where it lay clenched beside your hip. He interlaced his fingers with yours carefully and held on tight.
Your eyes fluttered open just as he leaned forwardâand kissed the inside of your thigh.
A soft press. Then another. And another. Working slowly upward, like every inch of your skin deserved a proper hello. His breath was warm, his mouth even warmer, and every brush of his lips sent a new wave of heat coiling through your stomach.
By the time his mouth reached the top of your thigh, you were barely breathing.
Thenâhe tilted his head.
And he kissed you right against your core, and your whole body jerked.
Your hips twitched against the bed, your hand tightening in his, a quiet gasp slipping out of your mouth. His tongue traced a slow, deliberate line through your foldsâlike he was savoring you already. Like he was trying to learn what made you shake.
He kissed you again. Then again. Languid, like he wasnât in any hurry. Like this wasnât something to get over withâit was something to cherish.
His tongue moved with devastating patience, lapping and sucking gently, drawing shapes that made your thighs clench around his head. His hand gripped yours tighter.
âOh my god,â you gasped, the words barely audible. Your back arched slightly, and you felt Rhett moan into youâactually moanâlike your pleasure was feeding his. The vibration of it sent another jolt of electricity straight through your spine.
Thenâhis mouth didnât leaveâbut you felt his fingers press gently against your entrance. He didnât push in right away. Just teased. Traced. His tongue circled your clit once moreâslow and wetâand then his finger slipped inside.
Your breath hitched, a sharp little gasp escaping you as your hips rocked upward without thinking.
Rhett stopped instantly, lifting his head slightly. His mouth was shining.
âYou alright?â he asked gently, his voice low and rough and just a little breathless.
You looked down at him with wide, wild eyes and nodded quickly. âYes,â you breathed, your voice cracking with need. âOh my god, RhettâŚyes.â
His mouth pulled into a crooked smile, his eyes still locked on yours. âFeel somethinâ now?â he murmured, teasing, affectionate.
You reached out and threaded your free hand through his hairâfisting it lightly at the crown, your hips rising up just slightly. âItâs witchcraft,â You whispered shakily, overwhelmed and already trembling.
Rhett laughed quietly, the sound sending shivers across your skin. âNah,â He said, leaning in again, voice warm and sinful against your core. âItâs actually just me wantinâ to feel you come on my tongue, sweetheart.â
And then he dove back in.
This time, with more pressure. More hunger.
His tongue flattened against your clit, slow and firm. His finger curled inside youâand then he added another, stretching you just enough to make your breath come in shallow, frantic bursts. His pace increased, mouth and fingers working in tandemâsensual, focused, a little rough now.
Your thighs began to shake.
Your hips lifted and he pressed his arm across your waist to pin you gently down, grounding you while he devoured you like a man starved.
The noises he madeâlow, greedy groansâonly made the tension build faster. Like your pleasure was his. Like getting you to break apart in his mouth was the only thing he cared about.
âRhett,â You whimpered, barely able to breathe.
And thenâhe curled his fingers just right.
Your whole body seized. You let out a strangled moan, your mouth falling open against the pillow, your hand clutching his hair, the other tightening in his grip so hard you felt the tremor run down his arm.
Your orgasm hit like a freight train. Sudden, shaking, relentless. Your thighs clamped around his head and your hips bucked up into his mouthâand he didnât stop. Not for a second.
He kept licking, groaning against you, working you through every last second until your legs twitched and your body slumped, utterly spent.
When he finally lifted his head, his lips were swollen, his chin slick. He looked completely wreckedâand proud of it.
His hand slipped out from between your legs, fingers soaked with your arousal as he licked them clean, before brushing his wet fingers against your trembling thigh. You were still panting, still half-blind with aftershocks. And he leaned over you again, eyes wild but soft.
âYou alright, darlinâ?â He asked, bringing his mouth to your cheek. You laughedâhalf a breath, half a sobâand nodded.
âFuck, RhettâŚLet me try and return the favour pleaseâŚThat was so fucking good.â He blinked down at you like he hadnât expected it, like your voice alone could unravel him all over again. Then he let out a slow, ragged breath and leaned down, kissing youâsoft, slow, indulgent. A thank you, a yes, a prayer.
âOkay,â He murmured against your lips, voice husky, âYeahâŚokay.â
He eased onto his back beside you. The sheets shifted around you both as you rolled onto your side and slid your hand across his stomach, your fingertips brushing the light trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He watched you carefully, gaze gentle but burning. âYou donât have to, you know,â he said softly. âYou already gave me enough just by lettinâ meââ
âI want to,â You cut in, voice quiet but certain. That stopped him. His jaw flexed slightly, his breath caught, and his hand reached up to cup the side of your face for just a secondâhis thumb brushing your cheek in a quiet, gentle pass. You kissed him again before shifting down the bed, your heart pounding as your thighs pressed together beneath the oversized shirt. You settled between his legs, your hands sliding up the tops of his thighs as he let out a low, shaky exhale. His skin was warm and soft beneath your palms, his muscles tense beneath the surface.
You hesitated just a little, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.
Rhettâs hand came down gently, resting over yours. His voice was low, coaxing.
âGo ahead, sweetheart. Youâre doinâ fine.â
You pulled the fabric down slowly, watching as his cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already hard from the weight of everything heâd just felt and everything you were about to do. You swallowed nervously, staring for a second too long.
Rhett noticed.
âHere,â he said softly, sitting up just slightly. He wrapped his hand around himself first, guiding yours over his. âJust like this. Nice and slow.â His fingers slid away, letting yours take over, his breath catching the second you squeezed him.
You started slow, pumping gently from the base to the tip. The skin was hot under your palm, smooth and taut, and you watched in fascination as he twitched beneath your touch. His head dropped back onto the pillow with a thud, a low groan tumbling from his throat.
âYeah,â he breathed, âThatâs it. Just like that.â
You tightened your grip a little, experimenting, and Rhettâs hips lifted off the bed slightly. He let out a quiet, broken moan. âFuck, darlinââyouâre already drivinâ me crazy.â
Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned forward, licking a slow, uncertain stripe up the underside of his shaft. He hissed between his teeth, his hand flying to your hair, not pushingâjust holding. Anchoring.
âYou sure?â He asked, voice tight.
You nodded, lips brushing the tip. âIâm sure.â
Then you took him into your mouth.
Just the head at firstâsoft and careful. The taste was salty and clean, a little musky, faintly bitter, but not bad. JustâŚHim.
You swirled your tongue around the tip, feeling his thighs tense under your hands, and then took him a little deeper, bobbing your head slowly, finding a rhythm.
Rhett cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in your hair.
âJesus, Y/N,â He rasped. âYou feel so goodâŚSo fuckinâ good.â
You kept going, learning by the way he moaned, by how his legs twitched, by the way he tugged at the sheets. You tried to take him deeperâand gagged, just slightly, your throat tightening around him. You pulled off, coughing softly, lips slick and eyes watering.
Rhett sat up a little too fast.
âHey, heyâY/N, you donât have to do that,â He murmured, pushing your hair back, âTake it easy on yourself, alright? You ainât gotta prove anythinâ.â
You nodded, catching your breath. âIâm okay,â You whispered, voice breathy but determined.
And then you went back down.
This time slower. More confident. You pumped with one hand and sucked gently, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. Rhettâs breath went ragged again, his voice wrecked.
âFuck, youâreâgoddamn, youâre so good at this,â He groaned, hips twitching against your hand.
It didnât take long after that.
You felt his thighs start to tremble, the hand in your hair tightening as he gasped, âShitâIâm gonna comeââ It was more of a warning than anything, but you didnât pull away. You just kept going.
His climax hit with a low, drawn-out moan. His hips stuttered and you felt his warmth spill over your tongueâsalty, thick, slightly bitter with a sharp edge that made your throat clench. You swallowed instinctively, slow, letting it slide down, feeling him shudder beneath you.
When you pulled off, your lips were slick, your eyes glassy.
You licked your lips once and blinked up at him.
ââŚDid I do good?â You asked softly.
Rhett stared at you like he was about to lose his goddamn mind.
Then he sat up, grabbed your face with both handsâhis touch tender but firmâand kissed you, slow and deep, his tongue massaging yours, tasting himself on you and you on him. He pulled back breathless.
âYou were fucking perfectâŚSo fucking perfect.â You collapsed back onto the mattress with a soft, stunned laugh, breath still coming in shaky waves as you wiped at your lips with the back of your hand. Rhett was beside you in a heartbeat, his strong arms already tugging you toward him like he couldnât stand to have even an inch of space between you anymore.
You let him pull you into his chestâhis skin still warm, heartbeat steady but strong beneath your cheek. His arm draped low over your waist, the other curling behind your shoulders like he was trying to wrap around as much of you as he could.
There was no tension now. No nerves. Just the quiet intimacy of skin on skin and breath against breath.
Rhett sighed softly into your hair, his mouth grazing your forehead before murmuring, lazy and fond, âWe should do this more oftenâŚâ
You let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle against his collarbone, your voice soft. âYeah⌠I completely agree.â
There was a pause. The kind that felt fullânot empty. Like something was waiting behind it.
You lifted your hand slowly, tracing a fingertip along his chest without looking at him. Then, voice smaller, more vulnerable:âYouâre soâŚSafe.â Rhett went still beneath you.
Not tense. JustâŚQuiet. Like your words had caught him off guard and gone somewhere deep.
Then he smirkedâsoft and slow, the kind of smile youâd only seen a handful of times before. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, barely more than a brush of lips against skin, but it made you shiver.
âWe can do whatever you want together,â He murmured, his voice like warm honey. âIâll help in any way I can.â
Thatâhis reassurance, his promiseâsettled something in your chest. Something that had been unsettled for a long, long time.
You turned your head just enough to look at him. Your nose nudged his jaw, and your lips were still curved when you whispered âYou really mean it?â
âOf course I do.â He said simply. You couldnât help the smile that rose up then, soft and wide and honest. It spread slowly, uncontainable, tugging at your cheeks as your hand splayed over his chest and you cuddled in closer.
Rhett exhaled against your hair, one hand trailing up and down your back in soothing strokes.
âYou know what?â You whispered, voice thick with something more than just affection nowâsomething raw and real and aching to be spoken aloud. âI think this is the first time Iâve felt likeâŚMaybe it wasnât me. Maybe Iâm not the broken one.â
His fingers stilled. Then tightened gently at your waist.
âIt was never you,â He said, quiet but firm. âThey just didnât know how to do things.â Your eyes welled unexpectedly. But you didnât look away.
And Rhett didnât look away from you eitherânot even when you whispered, âThank you.â
âFor what?â He asked.
âForâŚFor showing me what itâs supposed to feel like.â
Rhettâs brow creased slightly, and he leaned forward, brushing his lips against your forehead again, like he was sealing the moment there.
Then, against your skin, he murmured, âAinât even gotten started yet, darlinâ.â
ââââââââ
You and Rhett made an effort to see each other every other day after that morning.
It wasnât always planned. Sometimes it was just a lazy drive that ended in a shared milkshake and quiet conversation. Other times it was louderâpool hall banter, bar games, him showing up at your place just to fix the damn sink he swore wasnât level. But no matter what it started as, it always ended the same:
With your bodies pressed together. With your hands on his chest. With his lips parting against yours like heâd been starving all day.
The first time it happened again was at the drive-in.
You wore cutoff shorts and one of his flannels tied loose at your waist, and you didnât even make it halfway through the previews before your legs found his lap. The movie faded behind you like static. His palm settled low on your back, and your mouth found his in the kind of kiss that made your teeth knock and your fingers curl in his shirt.
You didnât even remember what was playing. All you remembered was the sound of your breathing turning into gasps when his hand slid between your thighs, his voice rough against your ear.
âYou gonna let me feel how worked up you are already?â
You reached down, grabbed his wrist, and guided him to the apex of your thighsâslow, sure. His fingertips pressed against the damp heat soaking through your thin cotton panties, and Rhett exhaled like heâd been punched.
âJesus,â He murmured, his forehead tipping against yours as his fingers flexed, just barely moving. âYouâre soaked.â
You nodded, breath already hitching as you shifted slightly in his lap, grinding your hips forward just a touch. The thick muscle of his denim-clad thigh was already pressing against your core in the most devastating way.
âI wanna try something,â You whispered.
His eyes flicked up. Searching. Heated. Still trying to catch up with this version of youâbold, direct, knowing what you wanted and how you wanted it.
âIâve always wanted to do it,â You admitted, your voice breathy but firm. âEspecially with you.â
His lips parted. His chest rose.
And then he smirked.
âOkay,â He said simply. âYou can do whatever you want with me.â
Thatâs all it took.
You adjusted your knees on either side of his lap, straddling him completely, your hands pressed to his shoulders for balance as you positioned yourself just right. His thigh was firm beneath youâyears of riding and wrangling muscle. And you sank down onto it slowly, the seam of his jeans dragging perfectly against your soaked panties.
A quiet gasp escaped your throat.
Rhett groaned, hands rising to grip your hipsâgentle, grounding, but not controlling. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your waist as he watched your eyes flutter, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
âYou good, sweetheart?â He murmured.
You nodded, barely able to breathe. âSo good.â
You started slow. Grinding gently against him in small, slow circlesâtesting pressure, building friction. The thick denim created just enough resistance to drive you mad, the fabric catching on your clit with every pass.
You rolled your hips again. And again. Shakier each time.
Rhettâs grip tightened, guiding you just slightlyâhis hands molding to your curves like he was born to hold them. âThatâs it,â He breathed, voice almost reverent. âJust like that⌠Goddamn, youâre beautiful.â
You whimpered, burying your face in his neck for a moment as the sensations built, wave after wave, hot and pulsing and slow. Your hands curled into the flannel on his chest, and you swore you could feel his heart hammering.
Then you pulled back just enough to kiss him.
Hard.
He groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, encouraging your movements, letting you use himâletting you take your pleasure from him like he wanted nothing more. Your hips began to rock faster, your thighs trembling, the damp patch growing darker on his jeans with every pass of your soaked panties.
âFuck, darlinâ,â He gasped, his forehead pressed to yours. âYouâre gonna come just like this?â
You nodded, dizzy, breathless. âI canât stopâŚRhettâIâm gonnaââ
He kissed you againâslow this time, anchoring you as your hips faltered and your whole body seized up.
You came on his thigh with a broken sob of his name, shaking hard against him, every nerve burning, clenching around nothing as your hips twitched one last time and stilled.
Rhett held you through it, murmuring sweet things against your temple as you slumped forward, boneless and buzzing.
âThat wasâŚâ You panted, barely able to form a sentence.
âYeah,â Rhett said, his own breath shaky as he kissed the side of your head. âIt was fuckinâ perfect.â
From that moment on, it was like you couldnât stop.
The next week, he was driving you home, windows cracked, your hand resting on his thigh like it was second nature now. And somewhere between a curve in the road and a long silence, you leaned over, unzipped his jeans, and slipped your hand inside.
He choked on a breath. âJesus, Y/Nâwhat are you doinâ?â
âHelping,â You said, voice teasing and low as your fingers wrapped around him.
You stroked him slow, lazy, while he tried to keep his eyes on the road, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. When he cameâhot and fastâyou licked it off your hand and the skin of his stomach without hesitation.
Rhett nearly crashed the damn truck.
Another time, you just climbed into his lap without warning. No teasing. No warm-up. You just needed himâneeded the weight of him, the heat of his mouth, the security of his hands cupping the back of your neck like if he let go, youâd vanish.
You kissed him like you were going to disappear if he didnât hold you tighter.
And he did.
Every time, he did.
He was addicted to you.
And you were addicted to him.
Yet somehow, you still hadnât had sex.
Not because you didnât want to. But because you kept finishing each other off before either of you could think straight.
It was chaotic. It was messy. It was you and Rhettâtangled in passion, steeped in something deeper neither of you had put into words yet.
Until one quiet evening when the summer air hung low and warm, and you turned to him and said:
âWanna look at the stars with me?â
He blinked. Smirked. âLike, right now?â
âRight now,â You said, already sliding your shoes on. âBring pillows and a blanket for the truck bed.â Rhett raised a brow, slow and deliberate, the corner of his mouth curving into something crooked and full of knowing.
âOh,â He drawled, slinging an arm around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, âYouâre planninâ somethinâ.â
You only grinned as you wiggled out of his arms, walking out ahead of him before calling over your shoulder:
âDamn right I am.â
âââââââââââ
You and Rhett had a specific place you would go to when you wanted to look at the stars.
It was a lookout you had both found randomly one night, years ago, when youâd gotten lost coming back from a circuit. The GPS cut out somewhere along a winding dirt road, and the two of you had been bickering about turns when the trees finally gave way to a clearing so wide and open it looked like the sky had cracked open just for you. The ridge overlooked a valley, endless and quiet, the stars so close it felt like you could pluck them from the sky if you reached high enough.
That was the place he drove to tonight.
His hand was on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, fingers skimming just beneath the hem of your shorts. The low hum of the truckâs engine mingled with an old country song playing through the speakersâsomething slow and warm, full of steel guitar and dusty longing. The cool summer air flowed through the open windows, tousling your hair, raising goosebumps on your arms. But Rhettâs palm was warm and steady against your skin, his thumb tracing little circles lazily.
You shifted slightly in your seat, thighs parting just a little more, and he immediately took notice.
His fingers drifted inwardâjust a little. Just enough to make your stomach clench.
Then he started tracing letters.
Soft. Slow. One at a time, with the very tip of his finger, like he was spelling a secret across your skin.
âWhatâs that one?â He murmured, not taking his eyes off the road.
You blinked. Swallowed. âUh⌠An S?â
âWrong,â He smirked, squeezing your thigh.
âAn E?â
âNope.â
You glanced at him, raising a brow. âThen what was it?â
âNot tellinâ,â He said, dragging another letter right after it, slower this time. âGuess again.â
You stared down at his hand, heat blooming low in your belly. âD?â
âThat one was,â He said, a low chuckle caught in his throat. âBut not the one before it.â
Your cheeks burned. You knew what he was spelling now.
He leaned closer, his voice thick. âWant me to keep goinâ?â
You nodded, breath hitching. âYeahâŚKeep going.â
He traced another letter.
And another.
You were just about to reach for himâjust about to say screw the stargazing and climb into his lap right there in the cabâwhen the headlights hit the edge of the clearing, and the trees broke apart.
You both went still.
The lookout was exactly how you remembered it: tall grass, wildflowers curling in the moonlight, and the stars above glowing like soft embers in an old fireplace. The valley stretched below, dark and quiet, and the only sound was the breeze rustling through the open windows and the soft creak of the truck tires crunching over gravel.
Rhett cut the engine.
The music died.
Silence swelled between you, not heavyâjust full. Like both of you were thinking the same thing and neither of you wanted to ruin it by saying it out loud.
Then Rhett opened his door and climbed out. You followed, your legs shaky as you stepped onto the grass, the air cool against your thighs. The tension was still simmering in your veins, but now it had space to breathe.
You grabbed the first blanket from the backseat while Rhett grabbed the pillows and the top blanket.
The two of you worked in an unspoken rhythm.
You laid the first blanket down flat across the truck bed, smoothing the edges with your palms. The metal beneath was still faintly warm from the earlier sun. Rhett climbed in beside you, placing the pillows near the cab, his knee brushing yours as he tossed the second blanket over your shoulders.
You didnât speak as you climbed under it together.
You didnât have to.
His body curved naturally around yours as you settled onto your sides, facing each other, the warmth of the blanket sealed around your bodies like a cocoon. Your foreheads almost touched. Your breath did.
Rhettâs hand found your waist under the blanket. His palm spread slow and deliberate, thumb grazing your hip, before lazily dragging across your stomach, the pads of his fingers skimming your skin like he was reading a prayer written in braille. You reached up and brushed his hair back gently, smoothing the strands that always stuck up in crooked directions. He sighedâlow, content, eyes fluttering shut like your touch alone could unravel him.
His fingers slipped higher beneath the hem of your shirt, slowly, carefully. He tugged it up until you sat up and peeled it over your head. The night air kissed your bare chest, nipples tightening instantly under the sudden exposureâbut you werenât cold. Not with the way Rhett looked at you.
He stared like he was witnessing something sacred.
Then he leaned forward, lips parting just enough to drag across your collarbone before his teeth sank inânot too hard, just enough to make you gasp.
âPainful?â he murmured against your skin.
You shook your head, your breath shaky. âStings a bit, but nothing I canât handle.â
He smirkedâsomething soft and sinfulâand lowered his mouth again, kissing just beneath the mark heâd left behind. His tongue laved the spot slowly, like an apology and a promise all at once.
Then, his voice was velvet-wrapped gravel against your skin.
âIs there anything else you want to do with me? Any ideas youâve got in mind?â
You shook your head slowly, eyes locking with his in the low, starlit dark. âI just want you to fuck me.â
He stilled. Just for a beat. Then smiled against your chestâslow and deep and pleased.
âYeah?â he rasped, lifting his head to look you in the eye. âYou want me to fuck you?â
You nodded, your heart pounding.
He leaned toward your jaw, kissing a soft trail until his lips brushed your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, âBeg for it.â
You bit your bottom lip, breath catching, heart stuttering at the sheer weight of the way he said it. There was no mocking in it. No arrogance. Just pure, overwhelming needâcontrolled only by the thin thread of his patience.
His eyes shimmered in the moonlight, pale blue burning like lightning behind clouds. You leaned in and kissed himâsoft, needyâand whispered against his lips, âPleaseâŚFuck meâŚâ
He shook his head, grinning with that maddening, slow confidence. âGonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.â You kissed him againâmore desperate nowâand as you pulled back, his hand came up to your face. He cradled your cheek like you were breakable, his thumb tracing the soft curve of your bottom lip.
âOpen up,â He murmured.
You obeyed.
Your lips parted, and he slid his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad against the back of your tongue. Instantly, your mouth watered, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him gently. His eyes darkened, watching you like he could come undone just from this.
He pulled his thumb out slowly, a glistening trail connecting your lips to the pad of his finger, then dragged it downâpast your chin, your chestâuntil it disappeared beneath the waistband of your shorts.
His soaked thumb found your clit in one perfect stroke.
You gasped. Bucked.
âCâmon, Y/NâŚâ He coaxed, voice a rasp as he rubbed slow, tight circles. âYou want it, right?â
âYes,â You whimpered, your hips grinding helplessly into his hand. âGod, RhettâyesâpleaseâI need youââ
He groaned at the sound of your voice, fucked-out and pleading, and pressed his thumb harder.
âKeep talkinâ,â He muttered, eyes flicking down to where his hand moved beneath your waistband. âWant to hear you beg while Iâve got you all worked up like this.â
âI want you to fuck me,â You gasped, your palm reaching for his lap now, squeezing his cock through his jeans. He was already hardâthick and burning hot under your touch. âI want you inside meâI want to feel it, Rhett. All of you. I want you to ruin me slow.â
He swore under his breath. âJesus Christ.â
You kept rubbing, palming him harder now, feeling him twitch and grow impossibly harder.
âI want you to come inside me,â You whispered, eyes glassy. âI want to feel you finish deep. I want you to fill me up until Iâm sore. Until Iâm dripping with it.â
Rhettâs jaw clenched, his breath shudderedâand his thumb didnât stop moving. Every nerve in your body was locked on the delicious, unrelenting drag of his thumb over your clitâyour underwear now utterly ruined, soaked straight through, clinging to your folds in the most humiliating, erotic way.
Rhett kissed you againâhotter this time. Sloppier. The kind of kiss that made your teeth knock and your breath catch. His tongue slid past your lips, curling against yours with growing desperation, and when he finally pulled back, he did so only far enough to breathe against your mouth:
âTake off your shorts,â He rasped, voice wrecked. âAnd get on top.â
You nodded so fast it almost hurt, fumbling to shimmy them down. Your panties peeled off with them, sticky and wet between your thighs. You didnât even try to hide the way they dropped to the side of the bed. Not with the way Rhett was watching you. Not with how he was already ripping open his jeans and pushing them down with his boxers in one rough, desperate tug.
His cock sprang free, flushed and hard and leaking at the tip, the moonlight catching on the slick sheen of it.
Your whole body ached as you climbed into his lap and straddled his waist, your knees bracing against the warm metal bed of the truck, the soft blanket bunched beneath them. You sank down slightlyânot to take him in just yet, but to rub your soaked core along the full length of him.
The heat of himâthick and pulsing against youâdragged across your folds, every ridge and vein grinding right where you needed it. You tilted your head back with a breathless moan, your hips moving in slow, teasing circles, coating him in your arousal.
âFuck,â Rhett groaned, his hands flying to your hips, holding you there, letting you grind against him like he was made for it. His eyes trailed up your body, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. Then he reached up and cupped your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples.
âYou look so fuckinâ beautiful up there,â He rasped, voice trembling with restraint. âYou like that? Like rubbinâ yourself on me like a good girl?â
You nodded frantically, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. âFuck, RhettâŚYou already feel so good. I canât wait any longer.â
He gave your nipples a teasing pinch, and you nearly came undone right there.
âYou donât have to wait anymore,â He murmured, voice thick with care and gentleness. âTake what you need from me, Y/N.â You reached between your bodies, wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, and guided him through your folds once moreâwet and slowâcoating him thoroughly before lifting your hips.
Then you aligned him with your entrance, and with one long, shaky breathâŚYou sank down.
The head of his cock stretched you open, dragging against your walls in a way that made your whole body lock up. Your gasp cracked through the night air as you grabbed onto his wrist with both hands, using it as leverage while your head tilted back and your mouth dropped open.
âShit,â You whimpered, your voice trembling. âSo bigâŚâ
âFuck,â Rhett gritted out beneath you, his jaw tight, his knuckles white where he gripped your hips. âYouâre tight, sweetheartâŚJesus Christ, I can feel every part of you.â You kept lowering yourself slowly, inch by inch, your inner walls gripping him like a vice as you took him in deeper, stretching around his girth with a burn that made your eyes flutter.
âRhettââ Your voice cracked, pleasure blooming slow and low in your belly, ââFeels so full⌠So deepâŚâ
He looked absolutely wrecked beneath you. His head tipped back for a second, the cords of his neck flexing, jaw clenched as he tried not to buck up into you too soon. His hands left your hips only to return to your chest, massaging your breasts again with wide, reverent palms, his thumbs brushing your nipples in slow circles.
âGod, youâre perfect,â He rasped, his voice shaking now. You whimpered again as you bottomed out, the base of him pressed flush against you, the stretch relentless. Your thighs were trembling already.
Then his hand came upâslow, gentleâand wrapped lightly around your neck.
Not choking. Not restraining.
Just holding you there, grounding you, letting his thumb graze your jawline.
âYou okay?â He whispered.
You nodded, lips parted, barely able to get the words out. âSo okay,â You breathed. âYou feel so fucking good inside me, Rhett.â
He groaned again, like your words alone could push him over the edge. His fingers curled slightly around your neck, just enough pressure to make your walls flutter around him.
âThatâs it,â He whispered, eyes burning into yours. âTake me. Use me. Fuckinâ ride me Y/N. Iâm yours.â He watched you with something close to aweâhis pupils wide, breath ragged as your hips rolled in that uneven, desperate rhythm, your thighs quivering from how much you were feeling, from the stretch and heat and weight of him pulsing deep inside you.
âFuck, Y/NâŚâ Rhett groaned, his voice strained and reverent, one of his hands gripping your hip as you moved. âYouâre so fuckinâ tight like thisâŚEvery time you come back down, I feel your pussy clutch me like it doesnât wanna let go.â
Your breath hitched.
You whimpered again, high and shaky, your hands splayed on his chest for balance as you tried to keep going, but your rhythm faltered, hips stuttering with every twitch of your muscles. Every drag of his cock against your inner walls made you cry out a little louder.
Thatâs when his hands slid lower.
âLet me show you somethinâ,â Rhett murmured, voice gravel-smooth as he sat up slightly and wrapped both hands around your waist. His grip was firm but gentle, like he was grounding youâlike he was giving you something to fall apart against.
He pulled your hips forward, grinding you down slow, dragging your clit along the thick patch of hair above his cock.
You gasped, your eyes flying wide, hands bracing hard against his shoulders.
âJesus fucking ChristâRhett,â You gasped, your head falling back as your thighs quaked around him. âOh my fucking godââ
âThatâs it,â he breathed, dragging you again, slower now, more deliberate. âFeel that? Right there? Thatâs where I want you. Grind on me, sweetheart. Just like that.â
Your whimpers melted into full-bodied moans as he kept your hips moving in that rhythmâcircling and dragging until you were damn near sobbing against his mouth, your clit raw and throbbing with every glide across the coarse hair and the thick base of his cock.
He didnât stop until he felt your hips start moving in sync on their own. He let his hands slip back up to your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples again as you rocked into him like you were losing your mind.
âGood girl,â He groaned, voice deeper now. âLook at you. Fuckinâ perfect. Soaked for meâŚRiding me just the way I like.â
Your breath hitched, your hands tangling in his hair as he leaned in, kissing up your throatâsloppy, hungry, and hot.
Thenâsuddenlyâhe sat up fully, his hands grabbing your ass and pulling you closer, forcing you to stay pressed tight against him as his mouth found your neck.
He gripped your hair and yanked it gently, exposing the smooth column of your throat.
And he started kissing. Licking. Biting.
Not enough to hurtâjust enough to make you whine.
âBet none of those assholes ever touched you like this,â He growled into your neck, rutting up into you nowâslow at first, but deep. âBet none of âem knew how to fuck you right.â
You gasped as he hit that spot again, your nails digging into his shoulders. âThey didnât,â You whimpered. âFuck, Rhettâthey didnât. Youâre the only one whoâs everââ
âDamn right I am,â He snapped, his teeth grazing your throat. âYou hear that? Thatâs what you sound like when someone actually gives a shit about makinâ you feel good.â
He slammed into you again, this time rougherâdeep and hard and relentlessâand your whole body jolted forward, your nails dragging down his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He groaned at the sting. âMark me up, Y/N. Let me feel it.â You were crying out now, your rhythm breaking down into messy, frantic movements, grinding and bouncing as best you could with how hard he was gripping your waist, how deep he was rutting up into you.
âGonna come, RhettâfuckâIâm gonnaââ
âCome for me,â He rasped, slamming into you harder. âSoak me. Make a goddamn mess, sweetheart.â
Your vision blurred.
Your body locked up.
And then everything broke open.
You screamed his name as your orgasm ripped through youâwet and loud and overwhelming. You trembled violently, your whole body twitching as you felt yourself gush around him, soaking his lap and thighs, your slick coating every inch of him.
âGoddamn,â Rhett growled, his breath breaking into ragged pants. âFuckâY/N, youâre squeezinâ me so fuckinâ tightâshit, Iâm gonnaââ
Then his hands flew to your hips.
He slammed you down against him one final time, holding you there with a bruising grip, his voice guttural and feral as he cried out:
âFuck, Iâm gonna come inside youâfill you upâgonna stuff you full of it, darlinâ, so youâll still feel me dripping out of you tomorrowâJesus Christââ
You gasped as you felt it.
The twitch. The pulse. Every thick, hot rope of cum flooding you so deep it made you clench again. He buried himself as far as he could go, his hips bucking wildly against you as he spilled every last drop.
You scratched your nails down his back againâhard.
He didnât stop you. If anything, he moaned louder.
âFuck yes, baby. Just like that.â
You collapsed forward, breath shaking, your chest pressed to his, your bodies fused togetherâhot and slick and shaking.
And he held you.
Tight.
Like you were the only thing tethering him to this goddamn earth.
Neither of you spoke at first.
Just heavy breathing. Soft trembling. The sound of your heart pounding where it pressed against his.
Thenâbarely audibleâRhett whispered against your ear:
âGuess what Iâm writing?â Your breath was still ragged. Shallow. The tremors hadnât stopped yet, and your chest was still rising and falling in uneven waves as you lay sprawled over him, your body warm and slick against his, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was echoing in his chest too.
ââŚOkay,â You whispered hoarsely, your voice barely carrying above the rasp in your throat.
Rhett didnât say anything at first. He just smiled. One of those slow, crooked, half-cocky ones he couldnât control when he was too soft to be smug and too smitten to pretend he wasnât.
Then you felt it.
The gentle press of his fingertip against your outer thighâbare, slick with sweat and still trembling slightly from aftershocks.
He dragged a slow line into your skin.
âI,â You breathed, voice soft and cautious.
He nodded, the tip of his nose brushing your jaw as he traced another.
âL,â You murmured, and he smirked faintly.
âYeah,â He whispered against your cheek, his lips grazing your skin.
You didnât breathe as he drew the next oneâround and smooth.
âO.â
Another nod. His smile grew, quiet and reverent, the kind he only ever gave you when you were laughing in his passenger seat or half-asleep in his flannel.
And then he traced the last letter. Angled. Sharp. Deliberate.
âV,â you whispered. And this time, you stilled.
You pulled back just enough to look down at him, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. He didnât flinch. Didnât hide. Just met your gaze with those wide, ocean-blue eyesâlike he was terrified and relieved and stunned that heâd said it at all.
Your thumbs brushed the corners of his mouth, your fingers curling gently along his jaw.
And your smileâGod, your smileâwas soft and sure and finally at peace as you leaned in just close enough for him to hear you when you said:
âI love you too, Rhett.â
The air shifted.
He exhaled like heâd been holding it forever, his brows twitching with something emotional and overwhelmed, and then he leaned up, kissing youâsoft and slow and messy with gratitude.
When he pulled back, his voice cracked.
âYouâre so good, Y/NâŚâ
You smiled again, barely able to speak as your hands continued to caress his cheeks, your fingertips memorizing every inch of him like a prayer.
âYouâre perfect, Rhett,â You whispered. âI couldnât have asked for a better person to be in my life.â
And this timeâneither of you said anything after.
Because everything that needed to be said had already been written across your skin.
sometimes boyfriend is boyfriend is... is boyfriend
boyfriend
Me searching x reader fics after gaining a new fictional crush after watching a movie/serie

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thinking thoughts of Phoenix sending a video of fanboy and bob messing around
we know that this feelingâs foreign
I Wanna Be Adored
Pairing: Todd Stevens x Fem!Reader!
Story Summary: Youâre not his girlfriend and heâs not your boyfriend. Youâve never even kissed in public let alone been seen together in the same room. But somehow, every time Todd Stevens is alone with you, itâs like his self-control gets tested in ways he never imagined. You were supposed to be just a secretâuntil hiding it stops feeling like protection and starts feeling like a punishment. (This is a three part story!!!)
Chapter One Summary: You and Todd meet for the first time at a KNA kick off party.
Story Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Angst (thereâs quite a bit, but thereâs a happy ending), Alcohol Use, Smoking/Drug Use, Mentions of Hazing (nothing is explored, and we are not in typical canon of âThe Lineâ though the characters will still match their personalities, none of the events of the lake house happened), Todd is protective over his privacy and the Reader as well. Reader is also a Sociology Major, (also Iâm using the year 2023 as reference because thatâs when the movie came out and it would only make sense to use thatâŚ), I also canât remember if itâs mentioned in the movie what Toddâs Degree is in soâŚIâm saying Poli Sci (this ainât canon lol)
Smut Warnings (for this chapter): Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up yâall), Oral Sex (female receiving), Fingering, Light Hair Pulling, Spit Kink, Breast/Nipple Play, Finger Sucking, Biting, Scratching, Licking, Aftercare, Mentions of STD/STI testing and results..
Authorâs Note: The long awaited Todd Stevens has entered the chat lol, and I couldnât be more happier with this first chapter. I kind of took a few requests and meshed them all together and Iâm so excited to update this trilogy!
Word Count: 12,854
The party had already taken on a life of its own by the time Todd Stevens stepped out onto the upstairs balcony, with a red solo cup of beer in hand, as he surveyed the chaos below like a king overlooking his court.
Down in the backyard, it was all motion and heat and sweat-slicked bodies. Beer pong tables rattled with every cup-to-cup bounce, surrounded by a mixture of pledges and sorority girls chanting in rhythm with one another for their respective teams. At the far end, a keg stand was underwayâtwo pledges holding some linebacker-sized sophomore upside down while foam gushed from the spout, spraying his face and the grass beneath him. In the lighting of the backyard there was an undeniable haze from weed and cigarette smoke overtaking the crowd, which gave this dream-like film to everything that he was looking at. Music was pounding through the house, radiating into the backyardâsome remix of a remixâand in the gaps between songs, you could hear the shrieks of laughter, the crash of dropped bottles that he would have to clean up, and the occasional celebratory yell echoing into the summer night.
It was the first KNA party of the year. A tradition. A gauntlet. A spectacle.And a way to actively sniff out which pledges were going to stick and which ones you were going to kick to the curb before the end of the night. And as always, Todd had to show up, show out, and claim someone to disappear with by midnightâor else someone, somewhere, would absolutely run their mouth about it. Because if the President didnât get any action on the first night of partying, it was going to be the talk of the breakfast table for multiple days, and he wasnât going to allow that to happen.
Todd took another sip from his cup, cringing down the warm beer that tasted bitter on his tongue, as his eyes sharply focused and pinpointed onto you.
There was something about the way you moved through the crowdâunbothered, smooth, like you were dodging and timing things perfectly so you didnât get into an accident. Your expression wasnât of boredom, exactly, but you certainly looked out of place and uninterested in the events that were going on around you. And that alone made his mouth go dry in a way that had nothing to do with the awful taste of beer that made him nauseous.
He didnât recognize you. Not even in the âmaybe I saw her last year at Kappaâs spring ragerâ kind of way. And Todd typically prided himself on knowing names, faces, storiesâespecially the ones tied to people who looked like you. So that meant you were either a freshman or a transfer, probably dragged here by a sorority girl, or a friend who fed you two shots of cheap vodka and told you that youâd have a âgreat timeâ. You didnât seem totally out of place though. If anything, you looked like you belonged here more than half the girls who spent hours trying to get noticed by him.
Your black shorts clung to your hips perfectly, riding up just high enough to tease the line between tempting and indecency. The tank top you wore was barely a step above lingerie, the thin straps slipped against your shoulders with every movement and the neckline dipped just enough to leave everything and nothing to the imagination. His tongue flicked against the inside of his cheek, as he bit down slightly on the skin, keeping his face composed. He watched as the hem of the top kept riding upâexposing your soft, supple skin of your lower stomach with every movementâwhich lit a fuse within him. Was it carnal desire? Was it the fervor of a starved man? Was it him being put under your spell? He had no clue.
What he did know was that he wanted his hands on your skin. His mouth. His teeth. He was already picturing you laid out against the dark navy sheets of his bed, while he pushed up that top to reveal more of your skin to him, with your stomach rising and falling under his palms as he kneaded and pushed and squeezed, making you breathless.
Then someone handed you a bottle of tequila. It was some random juniorâalready wasted, wobbling a little, leaning in close to say something to youâbut Todd watched the moment closely. You laughed, said something in return, touching his arm gently, then pointed to the corner table setup with a stool like you were negotiating a contract. You shrugged, and nodded, giving him a toothy smile, before taking the bottle out of his hands completely and making your way over to the table with a type of lazy grace that punched all the air out of Toddâs lungs.
You didnât even have to climb onto the stool to get attention, because the moment you took the bottle into your hands, it was like a beacon lighting in the haze of smokeâevery guy within shouting distance turned their head. You barely made it to the corner setup before a small crowd formed in front of you: blushing pledges, his fellow fraternity brothers, half-drunk upperclassmen who were swaying a bit to the music. And you? You handled the attention like you had done it a hundred times.
One after the other they all stepped forward, mouths open, heads tilted back like they were receiving holy wine at your altar. You poured each shot slowly, deliberately, letting the tequila glisten in the party lights as it streamed from the neck of the bottle down into their waiting mouths. A little smirk played on your lipsâmischievous, indulgent, almost like you were enjoying the small moment of submissionâand when they finished, you gave them a tap under the chin, a teasing brush of fingers over the jaw, a word you murmured too low for anyone else to hear.
Sometimes you would cup their cheek just briefly before moving on to the next person, it certainly was affectionate but it also had a commanding sort of effect, like these men were putty in your hands.
Toddâs jaw tense. His fingers tightening around the rim of his cup, knuckles blanching as he watched you going through every single person. You werenât even fighting for attention, you were making them earn yours.
âWhatâre you lookinâ at?â Gettysâ voice cut in, lazy and amused, half slurred from the drinking he had been doing, as he dropped into the spot beside Todd. He leaned on the balcony rail, beer sloshing in one hand, scanning the crowd like a man who could have his pick of the crop. He was dressed too nicely for the party sporting a pair of khakis and a fitted blue button-up, sleeves cuffed, hair just disheveled enough to look intentional. Todd didnât answer right away. He nodded downward with a jerk of his chin, toward where you stood, bottle in hand, head tilted and smiling at some tall guy with a man-bun who was clearly lingering a bit too long.
âLooking at my next girl,â He replied, eyes still locked on you. Gettys followed the nod, his thick eyebrows raising in surprise.
âThat one?â He asked, pointing directly at you. Todd nodded,
âYep.â Gettys gave an approving hum.
âGot a name?â
âNope.â
âYear?â
âNope.â
âOdds?â Todd downed the rest of his beer like it was a shot and shoved the empty cup into Gettysâ hand, wiping the lone droplets off his mouth, letting out a small burp.
âI donât need odds.â He replied, causing Gettys to chuckle.
âConfidence is definitely a hell of a drug. Good luck, dude.â Todd rolled his shoulders back, adjusted the hem of his white t-shirt so it hit just above the waistband of his black jeans, and shook out his hands once. The tension that coiled in his chest was a mixture of anticipation and pure, simmering hunger. He didnât usually get this keyed up before a hookupâmost girls made the first move, or they locked eyes and fell into itâbut this felt different. Like he was stepping into something volatile. Something that might have a bit of a burn on the way down, but he liked the heat.
He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, slipping between people like they were parting for himâwhich they technically were. Head turned. Hands grabbed at his arm. Someone reached for his shoulder and pulled him into a quick hug, already slurring compliments about the party.
âBest kickoff yet, Pres!â He smiled, said a quick thank you. Shook a hand or two. Let a girl with glitter on her chest drag her nails lightly over his biceps, and then quickly he pulled away, giving her a polite nod before disengaging, totally focused on the task at hand. The music changed as he stepped out into the open yard, bass rolling into a heavier beat that rattled through his chest. The haze of smoke was denser here, pulsing with bodies and sweat and light. Somewhere to his right, someone popped open another bottle of something fizzy and cheap, and a cloud of mist shot up into the warm night air.
But Todd only saw you.
You were still pouringâback arched slightly, one hip cocked, hair falling forward as you tilted the bottle expertly into another open mouth. You didnât miss a drop. You smiled, touched the guyâs cheek gently, and then looked up.
Thatâs when your eyes met.
It was just a flickerâa second, maybe twoâbut it sank into Toddâs gut like a meat hook. Your gaze locked with his, and something about the way your mouth curled into that slow, almost knowing smile made it feel like everything you were doing that night was deliberate, like he had fallen into your trap. Like youâd seen him watching you. Like you knew he was coming for you. Even though you hadnât looked at the balcony once since arriving, because he wouldâve noticed immediately.
Stillâthat smile made his chest tighten.
You bit the inside of your cheek, ever so slightly, like you were holding something backâa smirk, a comment, maybe a dare or tauntâand then turned your attention back to the line in front of you as if he didnât just set the ground beneath you on fire.
Todd exhaled sharply through his nose, lips twitching. That was the first point to you.
Fine.
He stepped in, shuffling forward as the group slowly thinned, inching closer with every pour and tap and cheeky grin you gave. He could already see it in his headâwhat line heâd open with, how his voice would drop low, just enough for you to lean in and for it to buzz in your chest when he spoke. But for once, he was second-guessing the script.
You seemed different, more because you werenât throwing yourself at him like every other girl at this party. Hell, you hadnât even looked twice at the guys who were practically drooling in front of you.
So when it was finally his turn, Todd stepped up with just the barest curl of a smirk on his lipsâcool, collected, with the kind of self-assurance that came from knowing he was wanted. He raked his hand over his slicked back hair, a sigh coming out of his mouth.
You glanced at him again, and for the first time all night, something about you shifted. It was subtle. Your body didnât move much, but your posture changedâlike you felt the temperature rise, like the pressure in the air dropped a little too suddenly. Your gaze flicked over him, lingering just a second too long, going from his dark blue eyes to the dip of his collarbone, moving to the curve of his jaw. Then you looked away and shied ever so slightly. A shoulder tilt, the way your fingers adjusted the bottle in your hand.
It surprised him. You had been confident all nightâplayful, controlled and commanding of the crowd in front of you. But now you seemed so different.
Was it his presence now that he was up close? Or did you actually know who he was?
âYou take special requests?â He asked causally, tone low and smooth as silk. Your eyes lifted slowly to his again.
âDepends on what it isâŚâ You replied, your voice laced with a teasing edge, but Todd caught the small hitch in your breath, the faint narrowing of your eyes. He leaned in just a little, close enough that youâd smell the lemon and mint in his cologne, close enough that his voice would vibrate in your throat.
âHow about you take a shotâŚAnd spit it into my mouth? Could you do that for me, sweetheart?â He said, watching your entire body stiffen, completely caught off guard by the request. You didnât recoil from it, or roll your eyes. Your lashes fluttered a few times, and then your lips parted. Your eyes widening then narrowing again. It was like you were taking your time, building anticipation for the answer before leaning forward slightly and tracing your thumb over the spout of the bottle.
âThink you can be a good boy for me and take it all in one go, cause Iâve got a bit of a big mouth.â You smirked, trying to play the game he was setting up for you. Todd let out a low laugh, his tongue scraping against his teeth. His shoulders relaxingâbut that molten hunger still pulsed under his skin.
âIâm pretty sure that anything touched by your tongueâŚI can take.â He replied smoothly, gaze dropping to your glossy lips, before returning to yours. That one lineâspoken with that low, rough cadence that made his words feel like a brushstroke over your throat from the heat of itâsent a flash of warmth straight to your stomach and core. You werenât expecting the flirtation to feel this concentrated. This direct. Like he wasnât just hitting on youâhe was circling you, lining you up for something deeper and much more vast than you would ever be expecting.
You slid your tongue slowly across your bottom lip and reached for a plastic shot cup on the table behind you, fingers closing around it and tilting with the kind of deliberate ease that told him you werenât just playing alongâyou were actually enjoying this. Feeding the anticipation. Todd watched closely, eyes tracking the light gold stream as it poured from the neck of the bottle, hitting the rim of the cup with a delicate splash. You filled it to the brim, till the very last drop in the bottle was wrung out.
A quiet, amused hum came out of your mouth, setting it to the side. Todd noticed the way your lips twitched slightly at the corners, like you already knew what that meantâan excuse. A reason to pull you away. You brought your gaze back to his, heavy-lidded and warm as sin. Todd didnât move. He wanted you to give the command.
âOpen,â You said, your voice was smooth, but sensual, threaded with challenge. You brought your free hand up and cupped his jaw, your fingers digging gently into the sharp angle of his cheekbone, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. He was freshly shaven, his skin warm from the crowd and the booze, and the attention. He dropped slightly, his knees bending just enough so that he was looking up at you from beneath his lashes. His lips parting.
Waiting.
You didnât break eye contact as you brought the cup to your lips, tilting it slowly, letting the tequila roll onto your tongue, swallowing none of it. The brim of the cup tapped faintly against your teeth, then you set it down beside the empty bottle, leaning over him. Todd held still, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides as you brought your mouth just inches from his. He could feel the breath coming out of your nose, fanning over his face, and thenâ
You parted your lips.
The tequila spilled onto his tongue in a warm, slick stream, and he swore he could feel every single drop. It was sweet, sharp, with a subtle hint of mintâyour flavor now, imprinted into his memory. Your hand never left his chin during this, and he didnât flinch, or pull back, he just closed his mouth once the last of it touched his tongue, his lips brushing yours faintly in the movement. Then he swallowed.
You could feel the muscle in his jaw clench under your palm, and the way his lips glistened afterward, with tequila, spit, and a faint shimmer of your lips gloss. You werenât sure if the thrum in your stomach was your or his, especially with how close the both of you were. You didnât break eye contact though.
He leaned in just slightly, enough for you to feel the edge of his voice against your skin when he spoke.
âYou taste better than the tequilaâŚâ He murmured, âBut I think you already know that.â Your breath caught. Your hand was still cradling his face, but now your fingers slid slightly, grazing down the column of his neck, feeling the flutter of his pulse. Your teeth sank lightly into your bottom lip. You didnât smile. You didnât need to for him to know he had you wrapped around his fingers, just like he was wrapped around yours.
He reached past you casually, his knuckles brushing your bare thigh as he pushed the empty bottle farther down the table with the back of his hand.
âSince youâre off duty now,â He started, straightening a bit, his voice a little more hushed so the conversation was just between the two of you, âLet me get you a drink.â He added, leaving no room for a âno.â Not because he was cockyâeven though he kind of wasâbut because he knew you werenât going to say that. You nodded slowly at him, a smile coming up on your lips.
âIâd like that.â You replied. He took a step back, gaze raking over you in a slow, deliberate up-and-down that lingered too long on the waistband of your shorts before coming back to your face.
âIâm Todd,â He added, casually, like his photo wasnât plastered in the hallway of the frat house with a shiny golden plaque that read âFraternity President of 2023.â You smirked at him.
âI know who you areâŚâ You let your voice hang just long enough to watch his brow twitch in amusement. âIâm Y/N.â You added.
âWell, Y/NâŚâ Todd murmured, voice warm and edged with something unmistakably smug, âItâs nice to put a name to the face that just made my night.â You could feel your cheeks heat up before you could stop them. That wasnât the kind of compliment he tossed around casuallyânot with that look in his eyes either. You let your gaze dip to your grass stained shoes for half a beat, your smile caught between flirtation and disbelief before you push a little breath through your nose and tilted your head. âLetâs go get that drink, huh?â He added, nodding toward the patio door with a little jerk of his neck.
âLead the way.â You replied. Todd turned smoothly and stepped forward through the sea of bodies. You followed close behind, your hand brushing his back once, just lightly, just to steady yourself through the crowdâand he glanced over his shoulder to look at you, just to make sure everything was okay, even though he felt the touch radiate all the way down his spine. You watched how the crowd responded to him. People instinctively made space, shifting slightly without realizing it, like they didnât want to miss him walking by. A few guys pulled him into quick shoulder hugs, exchanged words you couldnât catch over the music, and he responded easily, a hand raised or a few words passed without breaking stride.
Then came the girls.
A cluster of them near the outskirts of the crowd, all glittered, turning the second he passed. You saw the flickers of recognition in their expressions, the way their eyes darted to you and lingered. One of themâa redhead in a matching crop top setâwhispered something to the girl next to her and shot you a look that wasnât subtle. Todd didnât even pause. He gave a low murmur of acknowledgment to someone he clearly knew, then motioned lazily toward you, hand sweeping in a half-gesture like âsheâs with me tonightâ, and the air shifted instantly.
He wasnât announcing it. But he wasnât hiding it either.
You felt it in the prickling heat at the back of your neck.
When you reached the row of coolers tucked beneath the back awning, the noise dipped just slightlyâenough to hear the lid opening, and the ice shifting inside as Todd tilted it to you. The light from the patio glinted off the water pooling at the lip of the container, clinging to the sides of every can.
âPick your poison,â He said over the music, leaning forward slightly and holding the lid open for you.
You scanned the offerings. A rainbow of seltzers, cheap beers, some harder stuff buried beneath ice. âIâll take a Cutwater,â You said, and he reached in without hesitation. He lifted one and turned it toward you to read the label.
âIs Lime Margarita good for you?â You gave him a small nod.
âPerfect.â He cracked the top without asking, and a fine spray of condensation misted his fingers. The can was slick in his hand, dripping with melted ice, as he handed it to you. Your palm got wet and chilled instantly, and immediately it was like he realized the small mistake.
âOh wait, let me justââ He said, tugging lightly at the hem of his white t-shirt. âBring it down here.â You tilted the can toward him. Todd pressed the edge of the fabric against the metal, wiping the droplets off with a careless little smirk. The contact was nothingâand somehow way too much. You couldnât help but glance down at his exposed stomach, seeing the muscles that he had, flexing at the cool night air. You laughed softly, shaking your head.
âVery gentlemanly of you.â You commented.
âWhat can I say? Iâm tryinâ to impress you,â He replied causally, grabbing himself a beer with the same hand and popping the tab, the can hissing sharply. You both leaned against the cool edge of the house as he took a sip and then looked over at you, eyes dragging slowly over your profile.
âSoâŚâ Todd started, his shoulder brushing yours faintly. âYou a freshman?â
You shook your head, sipping your Cutwater. âJunior. I just transferred here actually.â He raised his eyebrows.
âYeah?â
âYeah,â You replied, glancing at him, âWanted a change of scenery. My old college was a bit of a drag soâŚThatâs why I moved.â
Todd hummed thoughtfully, taking a long sip of his beer before asking, âWhat program are you in?â You smiled into your drink.
âHow about you guess?â He chuckled, the sound low and a little surprised.
âAlright.â He glanced at you sideways. âCommunications?â
You shook your head. âNope.â
âEnglish?â
âMm-mm.â You gave him a slow, smug shake of your head again.
He tilted his head, watching your mouth like it held the answer. âOkayâŚAm I close with it being in the arts?â
You made a sound in the back of your throat. âWellâŚIt could be considered an arts major or a science major. Depends on who you ask.â
Todd narrowed his eyes slightly. âPsychology?â
Another shake of your head, your smirk growing.
âSociology?â
You grinned, tapping your can against his in a little cheers. âBingo.â
He laughed and took a sip, tongue swiping the corner of his mouth. âSociology, huh?â
âSurprised?â
âNo,â He said, eyes on yours. âKinda makes sense. You seem like the type who watches everyone a little more closely than most people.â You quirked a brow.
âIs that your way of saying I seem nosy?â He smiled, lazy and wide.
âNo. Thatâs my way of saying Iâve been under your microscope all night and Iâm just now getting the chance to enjoy it.â That earned him a laughâand a soft, slightly bashful glance away from you. Your eyes returned to him a second later, studying the curve of his mouth as you tilted your head.
âLet me guess yoursâŚâ Todd raised his eyebrows.
âBy all meansâŚHave at it.â You took a thoughtful sip from your can.
âEngineering?â
He shook his head, already grinning. âI wish.â
You bit your inner cheek, tapping a finger along the side of your drink. âPhilosophy? History?â
âNope,â He said, sipping. âAnd nope.â Your face scrunched up a little, almost like you were going through a list of majors inside your head.
âOkay. Computer Science?â
That one made him snort. âStill nope, and once againâŚI wish.â
You laughed, nudging your shoulder against his. âAlright, last guess before I give upâPolitical Science?â Todd nodded immediately, clinking his can against yours.
âYeah. You got it.â You blinked in surprise.
âReally?â He let out a small laugh.
âReally.â
âHuh.â You tilted your head, studying him again. âYou donât look like a Poli Sci major.â
He raised a brow. âWhat do Poli Sci majors look like?â
You shrugged. âI donât know⌠I havenât met many. But the few I have? Letâs just say they werenât six-foot-something frat presidents with good looks, good hair and really nice smelling cologne.â
He smirked, leaning just a little closer. âSeems to me like youâve been putting that sociology major to good use by studying me.â
You gave him a soft look, letting the words hang between you before replying, âJust trying to figure out what Iâm working with.â
His expression twitchedâsomething shifting behind his eyes as he stared at you. The air was thicker now. Denser. Your words landed somewhere deeper than flirtation, and neither of you pretended otherwise.
âTouchĂŠ,â He murmured after a beat, voice a little rougher now. He took another sip from his beer, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, and the heat that had been simmering quietly between you both felt just a little heavier now. Charged. Familiar.
The music swelled from the house again, a bass-heavy remix thumping through the walls and out into the night. The crowd behind you had thickened, but out hereâagainst the siding, the drinks in your hands cooling your palmsâit felt oddly quiet. Like this was its own little pocket, set apart from the chaos. Like something might happen here if you both let it.
Toddâs voice was lower now, almost like he was sharing a secret:
âWanna get some air somewhere quieter?â You licked your bottom lip.
âLike your bedroom?â You replied. Todd let out a soft, half-choked laugh that cracked slightly in the middle.
âSeems like someoneâs used that move on you before,â He said, trying for smoothness but ending up just a little breathless, his grin curling at the edges with something sheepish. You shook your head slowly, taking another sip of your Cutwater, your eyes not leaving his for even a heartbeat.
âNoâŚIâm just really interested in sleeping with you tonight and was hoping suggesting your bedroom would be a good way to convey that.â His cheeks flushedânot dramatically, but enough that the soft golden light from the patio caught it, and for a second, he looked boyish. Like someone had managed to reach in past the confident, cocky exterior and press a hand directly against the softer part of him. The part that wasnât used to someone else taking control, and being forward.
âOh really?â He murmured, his voice thick. You just raised your brows, lips twitching with a smirk as you nodded, slow and sure. Todd leaned in againâthis time closer, his shoulder brushing yours fully, his head tilting slightly as his voice dipped into something that curled around your spine like smoke, âCause I feel the same way.â You felt that one like a pressure change in the air. Like gravity shifted slightly in his direction. You smiled softly, your mouth brushing the rim of your can again, and you took another sip, calm as anything, even though your heart was now hammering a little against your ribs.
âLead me to your room then,â You said.
He wrapped his hand around your wristâfirm, warm, steadyâand replied with a grin curling at the edge of his mouth, âIt would be my pleasure.â And with that, he guided you inside the house, his grip gentle but possessive. The moment you crossed the threshold, the temperature seemed to rise. The air was humid, dense with sweat and cigarette smoke and too many bodies pressed too close. Music pounded through the drywall like a heartbeat. The deeper you moved into the house, the more the sound seemed to saturate the walls, seeping into your skin.
Todd stayed just ahead of you, parting the crowd with an ease that was almost unconscious, like they could sense itâhis presence, his rank. When someone tried to barrel down the stairs without looking, he shifted in front of you instantly, forcing the guy to step aside with just a look.
When you reached the top floor, the hallway was dimmer, a little quieter. Todd spotted Gettys immediately, leaning against the wall near the landing, sipping from a Solo cup like he owned the place.
âHey!â Todd called, still walking. âTell the rest of the brothers my roomâs occupied until further notice. I donât want any interruptions.â Gettys blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sight of you behind him, but he didnât question it.
âWill do!â He called back.
You leaned in close, your voice low and amused, barely louder than the buzz in the walls, âOne of your henchmen?â Todd let out a quiet laugh, glancing over his shoulder at you.
âHeâs one of the pledges, actually.â The way he said itâlike a correction, but with no embarrassmentâmade you smile. He walked you further down the hallway, his hand brushing yours occasionally. Then he stopped in front of a door near the end and twisted the handle. When he pushed it open and flicked on the light, you blinked in surprise.
The room was immaculate.
Bigger than expected, and far more put-together than any frat bedroom had any right to be. The walls were paneled in dark mahogany wood, smooth and polished, with warm-toned lighting that gave everything a golden sheen. The floor was clean hardwood, no clothes or beer bottles cluttering the corners. His desk was perfectly arrangedâa set of color-coded binders already labeled, a stack of fresh notebooks, pens in a holder, and a small chrome lamp beside a wireless speaker. No mess. No chaos. Everything was sharp, intentional.
Mounted on the opposite wall was a sleek flat-screen TV with a PS5 neatly tucked beneath it. A row of controllers sat in a tray beside it, and next to that, a locked mini fridge with a magnet that read: You break it, you buy it. His sneakers were lined up in perfect order beneath the bed frameâeach pair spotless, like he cleaned them often even if there wasnât a trace of stains.
But the bed was the centerpiece.
A king-sized mattress, framed in dark wood, took up the middle of the room. Navy blue sheets, tightly tucked. Pillows fluffed. The comforter was a dark charcoal, folded neatly at the end like it had been smoothed out just before the party started. It looked less like a frat boyâs crash pad and more like something out of a boutique hotel catalog. Todd closed the door behind you with a soft click, sealing out the thrum of the house like it was nothing more than background static. You turned in a slow circle, taking in the unexpected quietâonly hearing the faint hum of the mini fridge and your breathing. Todd leaned against the inside of the door, watching you with that same half-lidded smirk.
âWhat do you think?â He asked, gesturing slightly toward the room. You raised your eyebrows at him.
âAre you secretly Martha Stewart?â Todd barked out a laugh and pushed off the door, running a hand through his hair as he took up the space beside you.
âNo,â He started, trying to control his laughing, âI just like being organized, I guess.â You squinted at him, one brow raised suspiciously.
âOrâŚYou secretly have a girlfriend who cleans up after you.â That made him tilt his head with a thoughtful little hum, but he shook his head without hesitation.
âNo. Definitely not. Havenât had one since I joined the frat, actually.â You bit the inside of your cheek, amused.
âSo youâre basically admitting youâre living the bachelor lifestyle.â Todd shrugged, walking over to set his beer can on the dresser.
âI get what I can,â He said easily, âbut itâs not often. Iâm manning a whole house of kids, basically. You can imagine how much free time I get forâŚExtracurricular activities.â He turned back to you, his eyes flicking down to your hand. Gently, he plucked the Cutwater from your fingers and placed it next to his own on the dresser, his touch lingering for half a second longer than necessary.
âIf you need to use the washroom or anything by the way,â He added, nodding toward the side of the room, âItâs right over there.â You followed his gaze and spotted the door you hadnât noticed beforeâsleek, tucked neatly into the paneled wall. You gave him a soft nod.
âIâm gonna pop in there quickly, actually.â
âNo problem,â He replied, stepping aside. You slipped across the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and flicking on the light.
It was just as polished as the bedroom.
It was compact but elegant. A glass-walled shower stood at one end, the tiles inside a dark slate grey. A black bath mat lay perfectly aligned in front of it, and the vanity was a sleek modern fixture with a brushed steel faucet and a glowing backlit mirror that automatically turned on when you entered. A set of hand towels was folded neatly on the counter, and the air carried the faint scent of eucalyptus and mint from a diffuser quietly humming on the windowsill.
You opened the top drawer out of curiosity and found a small box labeled disposable towels in clean, bold lettering. You tugged one out quickly and laid it across the counter. The heat of the party still clung to your skin, making your clothes feel damp and sticky in all the wrong places. You took your phone out of your back pocket, placing it beside the towel, and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, sliding them down your hips in one smooth motion, stepping out of them before reaching for the towel.
You rinsed it under the warm tap, letting the water run through the durable material until it was just the right temperature. Then you pressed it gently between your legs, wiping away the sweat, the grime, the faint stickiness of a night spent in body heat and adrenaline.
It was quick, efficient. Just enough to make you feel fresh again. You tossed the towel into the trash, and pulled your bottoms back on, folding your underwear into a ball and stuffing them into your pocket before washing your hands quickly and splashing some cool water on your face.
When you glanced in the mirror, you didnât look frazzled. If anything, you lookedâŚLively. Lit from within. Like anticipation had bloomed in your chest and you hadnât fully admitted it until now. You were going to hookup with the hottest guy at the party, and not only that, he was as enthusiastic as you were, and that gave you the jitters. You let out a shaky sigh.
âYou got this.â You whispered to yourself, shoving your phone into your back pocket, before closing the light, and opening the door quietly, stepping back into the heat of his gaze. Todd was standing at the foot of his bed, the golden light catching in his soft light brown hair, casting soft shadows across the sharp angles of his face. He had just put his phone down on the dresserâscreen dark, distractions offâwhen his eyes lifted and locked onto you again.
âEverything okay?â He asked, his voice softer, stripped of the teasing edge from earlier, but still thick with electricity. You nodded once.
âYeah, Iâm fine.â You replied, your breath a little shallow. Your steps toward him were slow, purposeful. There were only a few inches between you now. And up close, the weight of his gaze felt tangible. His blue eyes were scanning over you in a way that made it feel like he was cataloging every curve, every flicker of expression, every breath you took. Not in a way that made you shrinkâjust the opposite. It made your skin feel hot under the fabric, made your spine straighten and your pulse dance in your throat.
Then, without a word, Todd reached out and curled his fingers gently around your waist. His touch was warmâanchoring. He tugged you in, easing you flush against him, and dipped his head until his lips hovered just a breath from yours.
The kiss came slow.
But once his mouth met yours, the heat behind it was unmistakable. His lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with the kind of care that felt deliberateâlike heâd been thinking about it all night and didnât want to waste a single second now that he had you. His hand slid up, fingers tracing the line of your jaw before cupping your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along the curve of it. The gesture contrasted with the intensity of his mouthâthe press and pull of lips, the soft scrape of teeth, the faint flick of tongue tasting lime and tequila and something distinctly you.
Your hands found him instinctivelyâone sliding up the column of his neck, your thumb feeling the steady, pounding thrum of his pulse, while the other rested on his shoulder, nails digging lightly through the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He groaned softly against your lips at the contact, the sound vibrating in your chest. When he finally pulled back, it wasnât far. Just enough to breatheâand even then, it sounded like he had to remind himself to do it.
âFuck,â Todd murmured, his mouth still barely parted, his voice breathless and low. âThat was nice.â
You barely had time to smirk before his arms slipped around your thighs and lifted you in one fluid motion, your hands instinctively scrambling around his neck while your legs wrapped tight around his waist. The movement drew a surprised laugh out of you, breathy and bright, and Todd didnât waste a second before kissing you again. This time, messier. Hungrier. His lips parted yours quickly, tongue brushing deep in a way that made your fingers clutch tighter at the back of his neck.
The walk to the bed was short, but it felt like everything inside you was expanding with every step he took. When he reached the mattress, Todd bent just enough to place you down gently, his mouth still on yours as he eased you back against the soft, cool sheets. The scent of his cologneâmint and heat and skinâseeped into the linens as he pulled away only to shift you up higher, one hand braced behind your shoulder blades as he guided you toward the center of the bed.
He hovered over you for a moment, gaze sweeping your face. His fingers stroked lightly down your side. Then his voice, low and sure, murmured, âYou okay still?â
Your lips curved, even as your chest fluttered with anticipation. âIâll tell you if I feel anything differentâŚâ
Toddâs eyes flicked over your expression, reading it, memorizing it. Then he whispered, voice rough, reverent, âOkay.â
And he kissed you again.
This time it felt differentâdeeper, more indulgent. Like you were sinking into something slow and molten and completely consuming. His body pressed against yours, the weight of him grounding but never smothering, his mouth moving with skill and patience like he had nowhere else in the world to be but right here, unraveling you kiss by kiss.
One of his hands slid under your top, palm warm against your bare stomach, fingers tracing upward with soft, teasing pressure. Your hips shifted reflexively beneath him. The other hand stayed braced beside your head, steadying him, but also boxing you in. His tongue dragged over yours in a slow, sinful rhythm, every movement of his mouth drawing you deeper into the haze. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to break the kissâhis mouth parted, chest rising and falling against yours, his breath heavy and hot on your lips. For a moment, you both just stayed there, suspended in that shallow space, still close enough to taste one anotherâs breath, to feel the heat pulsing between you.
A slick strand of saliva lingered between your mouths, glinting briefly in the warm light before it broke, sliding down the corner of your lip. Todd swallowed hard, his voice low, almost rasped.
âCan I take your top off?â You didnât hesitate. You nodded, immediately propping yourself up on your elbows. His hands were gentle but eager, sliding further under your tank top, and in one smooth motion, he lifted it over your head and off your body, tossing it aside blindly. The cool air kissed your newly bare skinâand his gaze devoured it. Todd froze for a beat, his lips parted, pupils blown wide as he took you in. Your bare breasts, the way your chest rose and fell unevenly with every shallow breath you drew, your flushed skin lit gold by the soft lighting of his room. His mouth twitched like he was trying to speak, but couldnât quite form a sentence.
âJesus Christ,â he muttered under his breath, almost reverent. His tongue darted out briefly over his bottom lip, like instinct. âYouâreâŚâ He trailed off, not being able to finish. He just leaned forward and kissed you againâdeeper this time, hungrier, like your bare skin had knocked the last bit of composure out of him. You gasped softly into his mouth as he gently pressed you back into the mattress, your spine arching slightly to meet him. His hand slid up from your side to cradle your ribcage just beneath your breast, his thumb brushing softly along the sensitive skin there, teasing.
He pulled back for just a moment, breath brushing against your cheek as he murmured, âYou look so fucking goodâŚâ His voice sounded ruinedâwrecked already, like youâd just barely started and he was already on the edge. Then his lips were on your jaw, warm and open-mouthed, kissing a slow trail toward your neck.
âSo softâŚâ He breathed against your skin. You tilted your head to the side automatically, letting him in. Letting him explore. You were already breathless, your body taut beneath his touch, goosebumps chasing every kiss he left in his wake. His tongue traced a path along the curve of your collarbone before he sucked gently on the skin there, teeth scraping just enough to make you inhale sharply.
Then he moved lower.
His mouth hovered above your chest, breath hot against your skin. He pressed a kiss between your breasts, then to the swell of one, his hand sliding up to cup it with near reverence. His thumb brushed over your nipple once, and your breathâyour hips shifting, your thighs squeezing around his waist.
He leaned in slowly, and the moment his hot wet mouth wrapped around your nipple, your back arched off the bed, a quiet moan escaping your lips. His tongue was warm, swirling around the bud before sucking gently, then harderâjust enough to make you whimper. His other hand slid up to tease the neglected breast, his thumb flicking softly, waiting for the bud to harden so he could give it a small squeeze between his fingers. He nibbled gently on your nipple, pulling back just far enough that his teeth grazed it, sending a sharp, unexpected jolt through your body that made your breath catch. Your back arched, fingers lacing into his hair on instinct, gripping tight as the sensation lit a fire across your chest and straight down between your legs.
Todd groaned softly at the feeling of your fists tugging him closer, his breath catching just slightly. He let go with one last teasing flick of his tongue, then moved to the neglected breast, his mouth latching on with a deep, satisfied hum that vibrated through your ribs.
His tongue swirled slow and wet, painting circles around the bud before sucking hard enough to make your thighs twitch. He bit down, just lightly, enough to make you gasp again, and then soothed the sharpness with his tongue, lapping over the sting with slow, deliberate motions. You whined softly, chest heaving as your hands clutched tighter in his hair, and he pulled back with a quiet pop of suction, your nipple glistening and swollen from his attention.
Then he blew.
A cool stream of air fanned across your damp skin, and your whole body shuddered at the contrast. Goosebumps broke out across your stomach, your legs, your armsâyour breath catching in your throat.
Todd grinned like heâd just won something. âYour breasts are so fucking good,â he murmured, voice thick with awe and hunger. âCould stay all day licking and sucking on them. Theyâre the perfect fucking sizeâŚAnd your skin tastes so good against my tongue.â You let out a breathy, breathless sound that mightâve been a laugh, mightâve been a moanâyou werenât sure. You opened your eyes to find him staring up at you from between your breasts, pupils blown, lips red and slick from his work. He looked drunk off you. Addicted.
He kissed a slow path down the slope of your chest, tongue tracing the subtle dip of your sternum. Then lower, along your stomach, your skin twitching under his mouth as he mouthed at the soft skin thereâkissing, nibbling, scraping the faintest edge of his teeth across your navel. You giggled and squirmed, his hands sliding up your thighs to steady you again.
âFuckâŚâ You breathed, chest still rising and falling from the way heâd just wrecked your upper body. âI know you have a lot of fucking experience just by the way you do that.â Toddâs lips curved against your stomach. He nipped at the skin just below your belly button, playful, a little smug.
âI just know how to be a memorable lover, I guess,â He murmured. You let out a small breathless laugh, eyes fluttering shut for a second.
âYouâre saying you just have pure raw talent then?â
âExactlyâŚâ He replied, his voice rough and satisfied. His tongue tracing a lazy, slow circle around your navel, before pressing his lips just below it. Then his hands slipped back down, finding the waistband of your shorts. His thumbs dipped beneath the fabric, and his voice dropped as he looked up at you again.
âMind if I take these off? You didnât speak, you just rested your hands over your breasts, squeezing them gently before nodding.
âPleaseâŚâ You whispered, lifting your hips for him. Toddâs blue eyes darkened in the light, pupils blowing even more, sliding your shorts down slowly, his gaze not leaving yours. But when he realized you had nothing underneath them he let out a soft moan.
âJesus fucking ChristâŚâ He rushed to pull them off the rest of the way, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the tasteful sight of you against his charcoal duvetâbare and glistening with anticipation, thighs just slightly parted. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes to your soaked, swollen core like he could decide what to do first.
He lowered his body slowly, hands spreading your thighs open wider, until he had the perfect view.
âFuck.â He breathed, âIs there anything about you that isnât perfect?â You let out a soft, surprised laugh and threw a hand over your face, your cheeks growing hot.
âDo you always shower people with compliments when youâre hooking up with them?â You teased, peeking at him through your fingers. Todd looked up, his lips curving up into a smirk.
âOnly people named Y/N.â You bit your lip, heart skipping at the way he said your name like it already belonged to him.
âYouâre so smooth,â You murmured, dropping your hand from your face, âNo wonder youâre President of KNA.â He dipped his head and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, lips dragging over your skin before he sucked softly, marking you thereâjust faintly. His teeth grazed the delicate flesh, and you squirmed. He grinned against your skin.
âYouâre very flattering,â He rumoured, his voice vibrating against your inner thigh, and then his tongue slid through your folds, catching you completely off guard. He didnât tease or build up to it. He just dove into you like a man starved for your arousalâlicking a long, thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit, moaning like the taste of you had just blown every fuse in his brain.
âOh my godââ You gasped, voice catching as Todd buried his face deeper between your thighs, dragging his tongue through your folds with slow, wet precision. His grip tightened, spreading you wider, thumbs digging into the crease of your thighs as he groaned directly into your coreâlow, broken, starved.
His mouth was devastating. Tongue licking your entrance with long, reverent strokes before he started sucking on it softly, slowly, like he was tasting honey from its source. It was obscene, wet, loud, and it only made the heat spiral harder through your body.
You bucked your hips involuntarily, but Todd didnât let you get far.
He flattened one hand against your thigh, then moved the other to your lower stomach, pressing down gently to keep you grounded, to feel you clench and spasm under him. When he lifted his mouth, his lips were slick, pink and swollen, glistening with your arousal as he looked up at youâcompletely wrecked and so goddamn smug.
âFuck, babyâŚâ He panted, voice raspy with heat, âYouâre making a fucking mess down here.â His fingers slid through your folds, gathering slick, spreading it deliberately over your clit in slow, teasing circles that made your toes curl and your mouth fall open. Then he spatâa hot, messy strand right onto your dripping slitâand moaned like heâd just won the lottery.
âJesus, look at you,â He groaned, rubbing it in with two fingers, making a filthy sound as he massaged it in. âThis pussyâs begging for itâŚSo soft, so fucking wetâŚYou gonna let me play with her a little longer?â You couldnât even form a word. You just nodded frantically, chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths as your thighs trembled under his grip.
âGood girl,â He murmured, and thenâfinallyâhe pressed two fingers to your entrance, teasing it before gently sliding them in. You gasped, your back arching as he filled you slowly, knuckles deep, curling them with purpose the moment they were fully inside.
âOh fuckââ You whimpered, clutching at his hair, your nails digging into his scalp as he crooked his fingers perfectly against your front wall. His mouth returned to your clit, tongue flicking and swirling as he fucked you with his handâslow at first, then faster, rougher, working that spot inside you until your hips bucked without control.
âYouâve so fucking tightâŚâ. He mumbled against you, every filthy word vibrating through you, âSqueezing my fingers like you never want me to stop. You close baby?
âYesâTodd, fuckâdonât stopââ you cried, your voice high and shaky, your whole body beginning to shake as he doubled downâlicking harder, faster, dragging the flat of his tongue over your clit in sync with his fingers pounding into you, relentless now.
Then he pressed down harder on your lower stomach, fingers still curled inside you as you felt the pressure building, unbearable, incandescent.
âToddâIâmâfuckâIâm gonnaââ
âCome on, sweetheart,â he growled, his voice filthy and coaxing. âSoak my fucking hand. Let go for me. I wanna feel this pussy flutter around my fingers while you scream my name.â
And you did.
With a choked sob, you came hardâhips lifting off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as you screamed his name. Your whole body convulsed, walls fluttering wildly around his fingers as you came and came and came, your breath stuttering, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.
Todd groaned against you, his free hand holding you down with firm pressure as you bucked, grinding against his mouth in desperation while he kept licking you through it, slow and thorough. He didnât stop until your body went limpâuntil you were gasping for breath, fingers still tangled in his hair, thighs twitching from aftershocks.
When he finally lifted his head, his face was slick with you, lips shiny and parted, chest heaving.
âHoly fuck,â He whispered, his voice ruined. âThat was the hottest thing Iâve ever seen.â You could barely reply, your voice hoarse, trembling with pleasure.
âI thinkâŚYou just broke me,â You managed to breathe. He grinned, breathless, brushing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, then again, softer.
âDo you need a break?â He asked, and you nodded.
âJustâŚA few minutes. Come back up here and kiss me again though, and maybe get out of those clothesâŚI want to see you.â Todd nodded.
âOkay,â He murmured, voice rough, before he slipped his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate slide, watching the way your body twitched at the loss of fullness they provided. His fingers glistened with your release, and he didnât even try to hide the way he looked at itâlike it was something ethereal and otherworldly. Then he leaned in and kissed a path up your inner thigh, slow and sticky and warm, leaving smudges of you along your skin. His mouth wandered higherâover the swell of your hipbone, your stomach, pausing just long enough to drag the sheen of your arousal from his lips across your navel and up toward your ribs, hot and sinful. He hovered above you, eyes lidded with lust, curls falling forward slightly as he reached for the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion.
The cotton peeled away to reveal a lean, pale torso speckled with freckles like someone had flicked them onto him with a paintbrush. His body wasnât bulkyâhe wasnât the type to live at the gymâbut he was toned in that deceptively strong way that made your pulse pick up. Defined shoulders, firm chest with just the faintest dip of his sternum visible under the warm light, and a subtle shadow of muscle along his abdomen that hinted at long hours of effort beneath the surface. Not showy. Just real. Real strength, real softness. Real heat.
A barely there trail of light brown hair led down from his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans, and without thinking, your hand reached for itâfingertips dragging lightly over the line, over the freckled skin, feeling the flex of his abs beneath your touch.
âJesus, youâre so hot.â You whispered, full of awe, confessing and complimenting his body all at once. Toddâs lips quirked into a slow, knowing smile at the wonder in your tone, the way your gaze traced him like you were memorizing him cell by cell.
âOh, really now?â He teased, seeing the way you were drinking him in. If you had been sitting upright you wouldâve been drooling all over yourself.
âYeah,â You replied softly, fingers curling around his side, dragging your nails over the freckles scattered along his ribs. With his eyes still locked on yours, he reached down and undid the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper echoing faintly in the quietness of the room, a low metallic sigh dragging and bouncing off the walls. He then shimmied out of them awkwardly at first, before kicking them off quickly, letting them join the pile of clothing that lined the floor. Your eyes glanced down at his boxer briefs, now catching a glimpse of him in all his glory.
His erection pressed firmly against the dark grey fabric, the shape of it unmistakable and mouthwatering. For a moment he let you lookâhis hand drifting down to grip it in his palm and adjust it slightly into his waistband so that when he shifted on top of you there wouldnât be any pressure on your already overstimulated core.
âJust want to make sure you actually have a bit of a break...â He explained sheepishly. You let out a small laugh as he leaned over you again, the soft dip of the mattress shifting beneath his weight, bracing one arm beside your head. His other hand cupped your face, cradling your cheek with a tenderness that made your stomach flutter. He kissed you slowly at firstâjust a brush of lips, soft and warmâbefore the hunger started bleeding back in, his mouth slanting over yours more firmly, shifting against you before pulling away for just a breath, sliding the hand from your cheek all the way down, letting his fingers trail across your throat, and chest, past the swell of your breasts and stomach, dipping quickly between your legs again. He swiped his fingers slowly through the mess he had left there, gathering your arousal with a light touch that made you gasp, your thighs twitching. Then he brought those same fingers up, glistening, and held them poised in front of your mouth.
âI want to watch you lick yourself off my fingersâŚIf youâre okay with that.â He whispered, his voice like velvet and gravel all at once.
You didnât hesitate to lean up slightly and closed your lips around them, sucking your own arousal off his digits with a slow, deliberate pull of your mouth. Your tongue dragged along the pads of his fingers, coating them with spit and heat as your eyes fluttered half-shut. You let out a soft moan at the taste of yourself on his skin, humming around them as you sucked until he was clean.
Todd exhaled sharply, watching like heâd never seen anything more erotic in his life. âSo fucking hot,â He muttered under his breath, voice wrecked.
Then he was kissing you again.
This time was different. Messier. Desperate. His mouth crashed against yours, his tongue sweeping past your lips to taste what you had just licked from him. It was spit-slick and scorchingâteeth clashing, lips parting wide, the kind of kiss that felt like it wanted to consume everything in its path. Your hands slid up his bare chest, fingers digging into the solid muscle and faint dusting of hair, pulling him closer, needing more. His hips rolled onceâjust enough to press the heavy weight of his cock through his briefs against your core, not fully grinding, just teasing, just enough to make your breath catch.
Your thighs clenched instinctively around his waist, locking him in place. He groaned against your mouth, the sound rough and guttural, and rocked his hips again, slow and careful, letting the friction build like embers fanning into flame.
You whimpered softly, the kiss breaking just long enough for you to press both hands to his chest, halting him slightly.
âWhen was the last time you got tested?â You asked, breathless but serious, voice a little hoarse from the moaning you had been doing. Toddâs lashes fluttered, dazed from the heat of you, but attempting to get his thoughts in order. He glanced over at his phone on the dresser, then back to you, panting lightly.
âI have my most recent test results on my phone, it was likeâŚTwo weeks ago. Everything came back clean, all the panels were negative.â You gave him a soft peck on the lips, humming.
âDid you get tested because of a scare?â He shook his head, pushing some of your hair off your forehead.
âNo. It was just a checkup appointment at my doctorâs. I do it every few months for my own state of mind. When was yours?â You pecked him again.
âLast month,â You whispered, âIt was negativeâŚI havenât had sex for three months though.â Toddâs expression flickeredâsomething quiet, something fond under the hunger. His thumb brushed along your cheek again, like he was grounding himself in the moment, in you.
âDo you want to use a condom just in case?â He asks, âI really donât mind.â He added.
âNoâŚâ You whispered, brushing your lips across his. âI want to feel you. Iâm on the pill, so weâre okay.â
Toddâs pupils blew wide, breath catching at the raw honesty of it, and then he gave a slow, dazed nod.
âSoâŚâ He murmured, voice husky, âDoes this meanâŚWe can have sex now?â You nodded without hesitation, and before the words could even settle into the air between you, he surged forward to kiss you again. It was messy and immediate, his mouth colliding with yours with a hunger that made your toes curl. His hands skated down your body, gripping your thighs, your hips, anywhere he could get skin to hold.
Then he pulled back just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs pushing them down in one smooth movement. His cock sprang free, flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. Thick, long, curved just enough to make your stomach flutter. He wrapped one hand around the base and gave it a slow, languid stroke, his chest rising and falling like he was trying not to lose control before he even started.
Your mouth parted, eyes locked on the sight of him. He looked so goddamn good like thatâfreckled chest heaving, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes, his cock glistening in the low light. Todd let out a shaky breath, then leaned forward again, bracing himself over you, kissing you deep, filthy, groaning when you reached up and slid your hand into his hair. You tugged gently, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, and he moaned into your mouth.
Then he reached down between you, dragging the head of his cock through your soaked foldsâslowly, deliberatelyâcoating himself in the slickness you left for him. He guided the tip to your entrance, and then, with a slow thrust, he pushed inside. Your breath hitched, the stretch making your whole body tense. His cock slid in deep, inch by inch, your walls fluttering and clenching greedily around the thickness.
You gasped into his mouth, eyes wide, your fingers tightening in his hair. âOh my godâŚToddââ
âI knowâŚâ He panted, forehead dropping to yours as he pushed the last few inches inside, fully seating himself in your slick wet heat. Your nails scraped down his back. His head dipped lower, his nose brushing yours, breath hot and uneven.
âDoes it feel good?â He whispered, voice thick with awe.
Your body arched beneath him. âSo fucking good. Jesus, youâre fucking blessedââ That made him groan, his lips curling into a breathless smirk, one hand grabbing your thigh and pushing your leg up onto his shoulder as he leaned back to lock on the place where your bodies met. The slide of him inside you was slick, deep, steadyâlike he was savoring every inch. He thrust back in, slow and deliberate, hips rolling forward until he was seated flush again, his breath catching in his throat.
âFuckâŚâ He breathed, barely more than a whisper. He did it again. And again.
Then, eyes still drinking in every twitch and gasp you gave him, he murmured, voice thick with heat and reverence, âYou look so good with me inside youâŚâ
The words sank into your skin like warmth from the inside out. You whimpered, breath catching in your throat, nails dragging gently down his arms.
Todd leaned forward slightly, pressing one hand down on your stomach, right above your pelvis, his palm flat and steady. You felt the pressure instantly, grounding youâand then you felt it deeper, that sensation of him moving inside you heightened tenfold, like he was pressing in from the outside and inside at once. Your back arched reflexively, your mouth falling open in a broken moan.
âOh my godââ You gasped, and he groaned again at the way your body responded, tightening around him.
âYou feel that?â He asked softly, eyes flickering between your face and where his hand rested on your belly. You nodded, desperate, hips twitching up into his next thrust.
âItâs so much,â You whispered, hands flying to his biceps, fingers curling over the muscle and nails biting into his flesh.
âI know,â He rasped, his thrusts growing just slightly deeper, more rhythm than force. The pressure of his hand stayed firm, not roughâjust heavy and intimate, like he wanted to remind you that you would probably remember this experience long after you left this room. That he was there. That you were full of him and his whole world had narrowed to that single truth.
âGod, you feel perfect.â He murmured, dragging his lips down to your collarbone, where he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. You moaned, high and aching, your hips rolling up to meet every thrust. His words werenât vulgarâthey were soft, breathless, worshipful. He was panting against your neck now, thrusting into you with slow, sensual rhythm, each movement designed to press deeper, to make you feel every inch of him.
Your fingers curled into the back of his neck, pulling him back into a kiss that was all heat and tongue and shared breath. You moaned into his mouth, hips grinding up harder as the pressure inside you started to spiral again.
âDonât stop,â You whispered against his lips. âPlease donât stop, Toddââ
âI wonât,â He breathed, fucking you with slow, deliberate strokes that made your toes curl. âYou feel too fucking good. I could stay here all nightâŚJust like this.â He leaned back enough to look at you again, his hand still pressing gently on your stomach.
âLook at you,â He murmured, pupils blown wide, voice hoarse. âYouâre so goddamn beautiful like thisâŚTaking me so wellâŚâ
âTodd,â You whimpered, your voice shaking now, your body wound tight around him.
âIâve got you,â He promised, hips never breaking rhythm. âYou wanna cum again for me?â You nodded frantically, tears gathering in your lashes from the sheer intensity, the fullness, the way his cock dragged so perfectly inside you. Then he gripped your wrist and pinned it gently to the mattress above your head, his palm wide, fingers curling around yours as he leaned in, breath hot and ragged against your lips.
âThen give me your all, Y/N,â Todd growled, voice wrecked and low, full of need. âLet me feel you soak me, hmm?â
And with that, he thrust into you deeperâharder. The bed creaked softly beneath the rhythm of his hips, your back arching as the change in pace pushed you closer and closer to that precipice. His free hand slid under your thigh, guiding it higher up his shoulder, pressing in at just the right angle. The pressure was perfectâhis cock dragging deep inside you with every thrust, brushing that devastating spot again and again. You cried out, fingers clenching tight in his grip.
âThatâs it,â He murmured through gritted teeth, âFuck, Y/N, I wish you could see yourself.â Your moans grew louder, breathless, brokenâhips twitching as the heat coiled sharp and hot low in your belly.
âToddâŚIâm gonnaââ
âI know,â He panted, grinding into you deeper, harder now, âGive it to me, sweetheartâcome on, give it to me.â
Your whole body tensed, the band inside you snapping like lightning through your veins. You came with a gasp that turned into a cryâlegs shaking, walls clenching and fluttering hard around his cock as you soaked him just like he asked. It hit you like a waveâblinding, electric, messyâyour head tipped back as stars pricked behind your eyes. Todd didnât stop. He let you ride it, working you through it with strong, steady thrusts, his mouth trailing hot kisses across your jaw, down your throat. His voiceâbreathy, ruinedâwhispered against your skin:
âFuck, Y/NâŚYou feel unrealâŚâ
And then he gave one last deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp groan. His body trembled. His cock twitched, and then you felt the warmthâthick and hot as he spilled into you with a soft curse into your neck.
âJesusâfuckââ He whimpered, his hips stuttering against yours, trying to push even deeper, like he wanted to pour every last drop inside. His grip on your wrist loosened as he leaned forward and kissed you, lips hot and messy, breath still catching in his throat.
You moaned into his mouth, your body limp and sensitive beneath him, the wet heat of his release already leaking from where you were joined.
When he finally pulled back from the kiss, your chest was heaving, and your leg slipped off his shoulder with a little moan escaping your mouth at the burn that flared up your thigh. Todd caught the sound and grinned lazily, his face flushed and shining with sweat.
âYou okay?â You nodded, your expression softened, dreamy.
âYeahâŚYeah, Iâm okay.â You reached up to brush his damp hair off his forehead, your fingertips gentle. His blue eyes shimmered in the low light, soft and blown out, watching you like he couldnât quite believe you were real.
âFor a hookup,â you murmured, voice teasing but fond, âyou really gave it your all.â That made him laugha real, throaty, post-orgasm kind of laugh, a little breathless and warm. He leaned in and kissed your cheek, letting his nose nuzzle softly into your neck, his chest rising and falling against yours as he murmured into your skin:
âI could say the same thing to youâŚâ
You hummed, smiling as your fingers combed through his hair, your body still pulsing with the afterglow, wrapped in the heavy quiet of the room. The sheets were a tangle around your legs, the air thick with sweat and sex and the faint cologne still lingering on his skin.
Then Todd stirred, pressing one last kiss to your collarbone before lifting his head.
âIâm gonna get a warm towel so I can clean you up,â he said, voice quieter now, like he didnât want to disturb the peace between you. He looked toward the bathroom door, then back at you with a crooked smile. âDo you want some water?â
You nodded, your throat still dry from all the moaning and panting. âThat would be nice. Thank you.â He eased out of you slowly, hands braced against the bed on either side of your body like he was trying not to disturb you more than necessary. You whimpered faintly at the loss, feeling his release pooling warm and thick against your thighs, giving you a small kiss on your cheek before slipping off the edge of the bed. The air felt cooler now. Or maybe it was just the absence of his body weight pressing into you, the heat of skin-on-skin gone too suddenly.
Todd reached for his boxer briefs, tugging them up with the quiet rustle of cotton and elastic before padding across the hardwood floor. You watched as he opened his mini fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of water, condensation already misting the sides. He came back and handed it to you gently, placing it in your palm with the same care as if it were something precious, and then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips were warm. Slightly sticky with sweat and the last remnants of the kiss he gave you before everything had melted away. You placed the bottle on your chest, letting the cold soothe your heated skin, still catching your breath.
Todd straightened and made his way to the bathroom, disappearing inside and leaving the door slightly ajar. You stared up at the ceiling, the wood paneling glowing amber in the warm light, your legs still slightly spread, the room carrying the heavy silence of a night that had been anything but quiet. Your body hummed, not just from the orgasm, but from the afterglowâthe softness that settled into your bones after something really fucking good.
A few minutes later, Todd returned, moving slower now. The energy between you had shifted, but it wasnât awkward. If anything, it was softer. He came back with a warm, damp towel and knelt between your thighs again, his touch gentle, his eyes checking yours before he laid it against your skin.
âYou good?â He asked quietly. You nodded, a small hum escaping you. He cleaned you up with care. He didnât rush or joke about it or make it weird. Just focused, patient, his brows drawn slightly in concentration like he didnât want to miss a spot. When he was done, he leaned up and pressed another kiss to your inner thighâless sexual this time, more like a parting kiss. Then he tossed the towel into his hamper.
âDo youâŚWanna stay over?â He asked after a moment, looking down at you like he wasnât sure if the invitation would land properly.
You shook your head slowly, sitting up a little. âI think itâs best that I go back to my dorm tonight.â
He noddedâno offense taken. âCan I at least pay for your Uber so you donât have to walk home?â
You gave him a smirk, biting your lip. âSure.â He stood, walked over to his dresser, and opened the top drawer. You watched as he pulled out a regular hoodieâa slightly oversized one with a faded logo across the chestâfollowed by a pair of black sweatpants, and then a clean pair of boxer briefs. He placed the bundle of clothes gently beside you on the bed.
âYou can change into these so you donât go home cold or anything,â He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.
You raised your brows in amused surprise, tugging the hoodie toward you. âCan I have your number? You know, so I can get them back to you safely.â
Todd smirked, that same cocky curve to his lips that had gotten you into his room in the first place. âIf I didnât know any better, it seems like youâre trying to secretly get my number for other nefarious things.â
You shrugged, slipping the hoodie over your head, his scent enveloping you immediatelyâclean, warm, a little like the cologne he had been wearing the whole night and something unmistakably him.
âMaybe Iâll put you on speed dial so that I can have you on callâŚIn case I need another memorable night.â He let out a small laughâquiet, almost bashful.
And that was how the night ended.
Wrapped in his clothes, body still aching in the best way, your number saved in his phone, and his name now lit up in yours as President Todd.
Lewis Pullman as Bob in Thunderbolts (2025)
i have NOTHING appropriate to say

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