I Write Sometimes

you imagined, if god really was listening, he was laughing at you. even so, knowing you were completely, entirely alone, you continued, further and further into the house.

you weren't sure what compelled you to climb the steps. you could feel the presence of the dead beneath the floorboards, lurking in the basement. but for whatever reason, you went upstairs.

slowly, one at a time, until you reached the very top. the place where ben's room was. the pull you felt was stronger now, as if an invisible string had attached itself to you, and someone was pulling the other end, luring you closer and closer.

the door was shut.

"come to me, my love."

his voice filled your head, swirling like smoke. you gasped, heart lurching in your chest. "ben?" you gripped the doorknob, and with a single push, the door came open.

you saw him then, across the room. he stood near the window, back turned toward you. it appeared that he was watching the darkness swallow the world below, the sun sinking low beyond the horizon.

"ben, thank god. what are you doing? we need to leave."

he was still. eerily so. back straight, shoulders tense. then, you heard his voice again. but it was all around you, in your mind, embedding itself into the very air you breathed. "aren't you tired of fighting?"

you should've felt horror. fear. all consuming grief. but all you felt was tired. your bones heavy, muscles weary. you found yourself nodding, tears welling in your eyes, bottom lip quivering. "yes."

"what is life, but filled with pain and suffering? i can fix it. i can make it all go away."

it sounded so appealing. a life without pain. "p-please." your cross slipped from your hand, clattering against the floor, somewhere unbeknownst. your stake suffered the same fate, rolling away, bumping into the wall with a thud.

"come to me."

your legs moved of their own accord, drawing you closer to him. to your beloved. there was something, somewhere in your mind, telling you that this wasn’t right. but you felt so calm. so relaxed. you couldn’t remember why you’d even been frightened to begin with.

when you reached him, he turned to face you. and you saw it then. the pallor in his skin. the cold, dead look in his eyes. it should have terrified you. yet all you felt when you gazed upon him was love.

you brought your trembling hands to his face, holding his cheeks. his skin was cold to the touch. “ben,” you whispered.

“this was how it was always meant to end, my love,” he spoke. “we’re fated to each other. in life, and death.”

“i want to be yours.”

“you will be.” his mouth parted, sharp fangs glimmering in the lowlight. “forever.”

when his teeth sank into your neck, you didn’t cry. didn’t scream. you merely welcomed it, moaning softly as your blood spilled from your neck, soaking his mouth, your dress, everything.

and even as he drank from you, pulling your very life force from you, a contented smile spread across your face.

recovering from the trauma you had experienced was no easy feat. both of you were plagued with nightmares. painful flashes of memory that would leave you trembling, staring off into space, gripped with terror.

it was odd, really. the nightmares you had weren't about gnashing fangs or an evil force trying to lure you into its trap. they were about something that hadn't even happened.

they were about losing him.

you realized that your greatest fear had somehow manifested itself into a twisted scene your brain replayed nightly. ben, forced to his knees by barlow himself, fangs pressed to his jugular. you tried to scream. tried to run to him. but your feet always felt as if they were cemented to the ground.

you were forced to watch ben slip away, lifeblood draining from his body, as you screamed until your vocal cords ceased working, destroyed from the force of your blood-curdling wail.

that was what always woke you. the sound of your own screaming.

ben was there, always, holding your trembling body in his arms as you sobbed against his chest. he felt so powerless in those moments. unable to take away your hurt. unable to fix it.

the dreams lasted for months. they didn't stop until you decided to start talking to a therapist. and even then, they continued for a few weeks after, until you finally found yourself in a place where you felt safe. a little guest cabin on some elderly woman's land. she'd been kind enough to offer you and ben a place to stay. the countryside was quiet. there was no sense of danger lurking. there was just...peace.

there, in that tiny cabin, on that small farm, you found healing. you helped mary, the elderly woman, take care of her land. ben spent much of his time writing, processing what he had experienced. and you? you took care of the animals. tended to the garden. allowed yourself to pretend, just for a moment, that this domestic little life was truly yours.

but the day came when ben took your hands and told you something that shattered the game of make believe you were playing.

"we need to go back."

the cabin was quiet. outside, it was raining. the soft patter against the roof was comforting. but it wasn't enough to quell the wave of dread that welled within you. you pulled your hands from his own as if you'd been burned, rising up from where you'd been seated on the edge of the bed.

"no, ben." there was an edge to your tone. you couldn't go back there. not when you knew what waited for you.

"sweetheart, we have to finish what we started. neither of us will ever know peace until we do."

"i have peace. i've had it ever since we moved into this place. and i'd like to keep that peace, thank you very much." you folded your arms over your chest. protecting yourself.

ben's expression was gentle. his tone wasn't accusatory when he spoke again. it was even. cautious. "i need you to be honest with me. we've never lied to each other, so why start now? i know you still think of that place. i write about it every damn day, so of course i still think about it."

you tried to keep the tears at bay, but they blurred your vision anyway. "of course i still think about it. every night, i go to sleep, terrified that i'll dream about losing you again. but ever since we came here, the nightmares stopped. i'm afraid if i leave, i'll start having them again. and if we go back to the lot...ben, what if that nightmare comes true?"

he stood from the bed, crossing the room to take you into his arms. "hey now, it's not going to come true. barlow's dead, he can't do anything to either of us ever again. nothing is going to happen to me."

your hands came up to rest upon his chest, and you let yourself feel the beating of his heart. a reminder that he was here. that he was alive. "there's still a group of vampires there that hate what you did to their leader. if they see you, they'll..." you couldn't speak it out loud.

"no," he firmly said. "that's not going to happen. they don't have a leader. they're weak. they won't even know we're coming. all we have to do is burn it to the ground. then it'll be over. we'll be free."

voice trembling, you replied. "is that really all it's going to take?"

"there's only one way to find out."

in the end, you agreed. there was no way you were going to let ben do it on his own. you needed to be with him. had to know he was safe. so you made the journey back to the cursed town of jerusalem's lot. the place where your lives had been ripped apart at the seams.

you burned it to the ground. there was no standoff. no battle. just the two of you, turning it all to cinder and ash. but you didn't stay to watch it. you climbed back into ben's car, and you left it all behind. and as it burned, the weight you'd carried in your chest for the past year finally seemed to dissipate. not fully. not completely. but enough to make you feel like you could live again.

life has a funny way of moving on. you'd learned that it stopped for no one. and although you had suffered unspeakable horrors in that god forsaken town, life didn't care about that. it continued on like nothing had ever happened. but that was okay, because you were ready to move on, too.

you returned to that little cabin on miss mary's farm. it was just the same as it had always been, but it felt different. maybe because you were different. but it wasn't a bad sort of change. it was good. welcome. and together, you and ben slipped right back into a domestic little existence. except, this time, it wasn't pretend.

you established yourselves on that farm. it became yours, just as much as it was mary's. and when that precious elderly woman passed, a few years down the road, she left the entirety of her property to you and ben. she insisted that she wanted you to have it, because she had no children or grandchildren to pass it on to. you and ben were the next best thing.

it was all yours. the garden, the animals, the land. and it was everything you'd ever wanted. ben had never imagined he would be living on a farm, with the woman of his dreams. yet here he was, plowing the fields, tilling the earth, embracing the slow, calm life he'd been robbed of for so long.

today was one of those days in which he felt like he was meant for this. like this life had been waiting for him all this time, just out of reach. today, he was watching you. you moved with ease. purpose. feeding the chickens, harvesting the abundant tomatoes that had been growing full and red in the garden, nearly falling off the vine with how heavy they were.

you were perfect. sweat shimmering upon your brow, dirt smudged across your cheek. and still, you looked ethereal.

when you caught him watching from the porch as you approached, you grinned at him. "you just gonna stand there while i do all this work?" you teased.

he couldn't hide his own smile. "you look like you've got it handled."

"i do," you agreed, climbing the porch steps, setting your basket full of tomatoes down on the banister. you leaned in to kiss him, and he accepted it eagerly, mouth smooth and insistent upon your own.

his hands wandered, as they often did, bunching up your dress between his fingers. you pulled away with a soft gasp, lightly slapping your hand against his chest. "mister mears!" you playfully scolded, "are you trying to cop a feel?"

his teeth favored his bottom lip as amusement and desire darkened his eyes. "maybe i was. can't help it, you're irresistible." he kissed you again, salaciously.

"i'm sweaty and covered in dirt," you deadpanned, when you parted.

he shook his head, hands moving to grip your hips. "mm, makes me want you even more. you've got no idea what watching you tend to the farm does to me." he took one of your hands then, lifting it to place against his crotch.

you gasped softly when you realized he was already hard.

"see? watching you garden in your little dress makes me so hard." his voice had lowered an octave. there was a gravelly edge to it that made your knees weak.

"b-ben," you whispered, suddenly void of witty retorts.

"turn around."

your eyes widened. "we...we can't."

he kissed the corner of your mouth. "why, 'cause someone'll see? there's no one around for miles, sweetheart. i could have my way with you right here on this porch and no one would even know."

that pulled an involuntary moan from you, and you swayed slightly on your feet. good thing your husband was there to steady you. you knew you had no reason to protest. your neighbors didn't live close by. no one would see.

weaving one hand through his curls, pulling him down to kiss you again, you spoke. "take me, then."

with a knowing grin, he turned you around, instructing you to bend forward and place your hands on the banister. he flipped your dress over your hips, and you heard him take in a breath when he realized you'd foregone underwear.

"you dirty girl. you knew i'd get my hands on you, didn't you?" his big, warm palm slid over the swell of your ass, and he swatted it slightly, yanking another gasp from your lungs.

"i-i had an inkling," you responded over your shoulder.

he groaned deeply, already reaching up to unbuckle his belt. "god, the things i'm going to do to you." a promise.

his fingers prodded between your thighs, gentle bit insistent, easing inside you. preparing you. coaxing that sticky arousal from you. he loved the way your body responded to him. so soft and pliant. the way your sweet little cunt grew wet for him so quickly sent his blood rushing south.

"such a good little wife," he murmured, removing his hand from you, only to slick your arousal over his hard shaft before he aligned himself with you. "letting me take you here, out in the open."

when he slipped into you, you let out a broken cry, voice echoing. his hands were steady on your hips, holding you in place as he gave you inch after inch. thick. satisfying. framed with a gathering of thick, dark curls that would soon be shimmering with the evidence of your desire.

"say it," he encouraged, as he bottomed out with a groan.

"i-i'm your good little wife!" you squeaked, hands tightening around the banister as he pulled back slightly, only to push back in fully. it stole the breath from your lungs, and your knees quaked. if he wasn't holding you, you would've dropped to the porch.

"that's right," he cooed, leaning closer, mouth hovering over your ear as he repeatedly thrust his hips forward, filling you again and again with tht gorgeous cock. "and don't you forget it."

he took you hard and fast right there, facing your farm land, a reminder of all that you had together. you were his. it was why you gave yourself to him in this way. why you let him spill his seed deep within you, staking his claim. there was something so primal about it all. getting fucked hard by your husband, as chickens squaked in the background, and the milk cow lowed in the distance.

god, you loved it. you couldn't get enough. "don't stop!" you cried, eyes rolling back in your head as he offered a particularly deep thrust.

"woudn't dream of it, honey." and he didn't. not until you were sated, full of his spend, legs trembling.

as he slowly eased his softening cock out of you, he held you steady. just as he always did. "i've got you," he assured you, arms cinching around your waist.

you smiled at him. sleepy, satisfied. "i know you do," you giggled, stumbling slightly as he led you inside to clean you up. he couldn't ignore the pleasant warmth that filled his chest as you shuffled into the old farmhouse you'd made your own.

"christ, d-don't fuckin' stop!" he cried out against the bed, fingers clutching the sheets. between his quivering thighs, his cock hung heavy and low, leaking a copious stream of liquid arousal. the sheets would be ruined once you were finished. you couldn't be bothered to care.

"yeah? you likin' that, cowboy?" you taunted, offering a particularly deep thrust that had his mouth falling open, drool pouring from his mouth.

"uh huh!" came his gasp.

you'd never heard him so vocal before. it seemed that getting fucked in the ass had rendered him unable to control the sounds he made. they rushed out of him forcefully, as if each thrust forced the sound out of his mouth.

"you're such a dirty boy," you taunted, reaching around his narrow waist to grip his aching dick.

"f-fuck! oh my g– ah!" he didn't even have it in himself to respond. his usual mouthiness was gone, replaced with open-mouthed gasps and cries. you were certain that if you could see his face fully, his tongue would be hanging out of his mouth, panting like a damn dog.

"what, don't tell me you're gonna come already. i barely even started."

something about your tone, the way you spoke, so condescendingly, made him shudder. heat licked up his spine, building and building until he was right there, on the edge, much to his own embarrassment.

"sh-shit, shit, y'gotta s-slow down," he groaned, holding onto the sheets so tightly that the corner began to slide right off the mattress.

you leaned forward, one hand pressed against his back, the other still on his cock. "i don't think i will."

and oh, how easy it was. all it took was a few more thrusts, a few more passes of your hand over that blushing, swollen, twitching shaft, and he was coming with a broken sob, body jolting roughly against the bed.

his seed spilled from him in what felt like waves, coating your hand creamy white, staining the sheets, milked out of him with each press of that silicone toy against his poor prostate.

he lost himself, trembling violently against the bed, mouth open, drooling, but hardly any sound came out, aside from broken grunts. his ears were ringing, and he swore he blacked out momentarily, because when he came to, he realized he'd collapsed against the mattress, his own cum sticky and smearing beneath his softening cock.

he could feel you, your hands gentle against his back. "easy," you soothed. "i'm gonna pull out now, okay?"

his barely there nod was what urged you to continue, and you ever so gently eased the strap on out of him, soothing him when he whined lowly at the loss. "you're okay," you assured him.

as you moved to unbuckle the strap, he moved slightly, turning over onto his back. eyes hazy, he glanced down, and his hand came down against the puddle he'd left on the sheets. "made a mess," he mumbled.

you smiled, setting your strap on aside to be cleaned later. "it's okay, i'll clean it up later. for now, i need to take care of you." you moved to settle beside him, carefully easing a pillow beneath his head. "how're you feelin'?"

his mouth curved into a sleepy, disbelieving smile. "never thought that was something i would like," came his honest reply.

"yeah?" you echoed, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

"uh huh. real intense, but...in a good way. think i saw fuckin' stars when i came." his cheeks were dusted pink. as if he hadn't just let you fuck him into the mattress like a whore.

it was your turn to smile. "yeah? well, judging by the mess you made, that must've been a great orgasm."

he nodded, welcoming your warmth as you curled into him, providing that skin to skin contact he so desperately needed. "don't think i've ever come that hard before."

"well," you continued, lips brushing lovingly over his forehead. "there's plenty more where that came from. but for now, what d'ya say we get you into a bath, cowboy? let me get you all cleaned up and ready for bed."

he hummed sleepily. "can...can we wait a minute? jus' wanna be close to you for a bit."

at that, your chest warmed with love for him. "of course, baby. we can stay here as long as you like. i've got you, i'm not going anywhere."

that was all he needed. "luh you," he mumbled as he rested his head upon your chest.

"you were quick, but i'm quicker," he teased, smirking proudly, his hat returned to its rightful place atop his head.

but you merely shrugged, moving beneath him slightly so you were sitting up, as far as you could with him on top of you. the air between you shifted as you looked up at him, realizing the precariousness of this position.

he was in the same place you'd been many times, and the reversal of the role suddenly had your head spinning. the leather of his chaps squeaked as he leaned back a little, watching realization pass over your face.

your hands lifted on instinct, resting upon his hips momentarily before you slid them lower, squeezing his ass, before your palms continued down against the backs of his strong thighs. his eyes narrowed as he gazed down upon you.

"you're enjoyin' this, ain't you baby?" he asked, smirk tugging at his mouth.""you're enjoyin' this, ain't you baby?" he asked, smirk tugging at his mouth.

"uh-huh," you breathed, hands moving back up to rest on his hips. "is this how you feel when i'm on top of you."

with a knowing smile, he ducked forward, lips hovering just over your own. "pretty much. but y'know what my favorite thing is?" his voice had lowered an octave. rough, yet still honey smooth as always.

"what?" your mouth felt loose around the syllable. your brain had stopped working, it seemed.

his nose brushed yours. "i can always feel your little pussy soakin' through your panties when you sit on me like this. s'why i love havin' you in my lap so much."

"oh." you couldn't muster a more coherent response. you were overwhelmed by his proximity. the scent of his sweat. his cologne. his sun warmed skin.

and he was loving every minute of it. how easily flustered you were. how he already had the upper hand, despite being in your lap. "yep. and i'll bet, if i touched you right now, you'd already be wet, just from me wrestlin' you to the ground."

your breath hitched, and he grinned.

"i'm right, ain't i?"

he was. you could feel it, the steady pulse of arousal directly between your thighs. that was the affect he had on you. "y-yes," you whispered in response.

smile growing still, his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. "that's what happens when you start playin' with fire, honeypie." he ducked down to kiss you then, teeth nipping slightly against your bottom lip. the moment you whimpered against his mouth, he pulled back, breathing slightly ragged.

"s'my turn to be a menace now." he teased, just before he scrambled to climb off your lap, leaving you sitting there stunned in the dirt.

"hey!" you finally said, once you'd gathered your wits about you. "get back here, cowboy."

he shot you a look over his shoulder, already sauntering off toward the barn. "what was it ya said to me just a few minutes ago? 'see if you can catch me'? well, c'mon then! see if you can catch me!"

with that, he broke into a sprint, laughing as he went, full of mischief.

"asshole," you muttered to yourself, though you couldn't hide your own laughter as you ran after him. he'd let you catch him eventually, but for now, he was getting you back for stealing his hat.

first, choose your date:

🦬 rhett abbott 👓 bob floyd 🌟 robert reynolds 🧛🏼‍♂️ ben mears 🪖 miles miller

next, choose a food from the menu below:

🥪 ham & cheese sandwich — send any kind of thoughts (fluff, smut, angst, etc) about your date(s) and i will respond with a drabble 🥔 potato salad — choose your date and give me a random title, and i'll write you a drabble 🍗 fried chicken — choose your date(s), and i'll give you a random headcanon i have for them 🌽 corn on the cob— choose your date(s) and a prompt from this ginormous list and i'll write you a drabble (please specify which list you are choosing your drabble from) 🧀 cheese board — ask me to write a slice of life drabble for any of my completed fics 🍉 watermelon — send me your date(s) and the 🎶 emoji and i will make you a short playlist of songs that remind me of them! 🧁 cupcake — ask me for an excerpt from one of my current wips 🍦 ice cream — send me your date and the 📸 emoji and i will make you a random moodboard of them

you can choose however many date(s) you want, and you may send multiple prompts if you wish. if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

anonymous asks are welcome

please bear with me, as i am not always the fastest at answering asks. i will try my best to get to them in a timely manner, but please don't take it personally if it takes me a while to answer yours!

*all graphics in this post made by me

he was so proud of the progress he'd made. the nightmares—flashes of what he had done in the war, of what had happened that night at the el royale, what he'd done to protect you—were fewer and farther between. but something had shifted, tonight. perhaps it was the heatwave, hot and humid and miserable, messing with his head, pulling that ugly irritability out of him. or maybe it was the stress he'd been under as of late, trying to get your garden planted, yet running into countless issues that had halted its progress. that garden was part of your livelihood. part of how he supported you both. if he couldn't provide that sense of stability, he felt useless. not good enough.

he was quiet that evening at dinner. you noticed it. it was hard not to, especially when he always loved chatting over the dinner table about your days, speaking softly, eyes shining. tonight, he only gave one word answers. short. impatient. and when he finished his food, he put the plate in the sink and murmured something about taking a shower. you watched him leave, the pang of your heart heavy in your chest. a spike of worry rippled through you. his behavior today reminded you so much of the way he had behaved when you first left the hotel. when he slipped into a deep depression during his healing process.

those had been hard times. but you'd been there with him, every step of the way. and you would stand by him now, just like always. you gave him a moment of peace, taking the time to wash the dinner dishes and tidy up the kitchen. but as soon as you were finished, you headed down the hall to the bedroom. you found him in the en suite bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, eyes focused on the foggy mirror. you lingered in the doorway like a ghost.

"miles?" you spoke his name. gently. your voice curled into the steam floating through the bathroom.

he let his hands rest upon the edge of the sink. "i'm sorry, darlin'," he whispered. "i know i've been a little distant today."

your chest ached. "what's going on?"

his breath rattled in his chest. "i thought i was past this." a choked murmur. "but today i've been thinkin' constantly about that night. and then i got outta the shower and i guess the hot water made my scars a little red and i just...couldn't stop remembering. no matter how much progress i make, the scars'll always be there. they'll always be an ugly reminder."

his words sent a flash of fire through you. not anger. not at him. more so bitterness toward the woman who was responsible for the scars on his face. and the one responsible for the jagged scar on his abdomen. you squeezed your eyes shut as the memory flashed through your skull, blinding, like a camera flashbulb.

he had just brought down an entire room full people to protect you. the man that possessed him was not your sweet, timid miles. no, he was a soldier. a trained killer. he took down anyone who stood in his way. anyone who had tried to harm you. billy lee was the first one to fall, because he'd had the sickening audacity put his hands upon you, knowing it would upset miles. using you to taunt him. to get inside his head. miles had detached from himself, eyes cold and sharp as he pointed a pistol right between billy's eyes. "no one gets to touch her like that and live," he whispered, before he squeezed the trigger.

you would never forget that night as long as you lived. neither would miles. though he had to kill billy and his people, and he didn't regret it, he still carried grief with him. if only things had turned out differently. if only he hadn't been forced to take their lives. but he did what he had to do. to keep you safe. to keep you alive. and while you hated what he'd gone through to do so, you never held it against him. ever. and though the trauma you had both endured had been insurmountable, it had brought you here. to this moment. this life that you shared together.

tucked into a quaint little cottage, with a garden and chickens and a lone milk cow. your life wasn't perfect. but it was peaceful. slow. predictable. exactly what you needed. what miles needed. but right now, he seemed to need it a little bit more. so you stepped toward him, reaching your hand out, lovingly cupping his chin as you turned his face toward you. "miles, nothing about you is ugly." tenderly, lovingly, you traced the scars littering the left side of his face.

tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip quivered. "you don't have to say that. i-i know i...don't look the same as i did when you met me."

but you shook your head, holding his face with both hands now. "i'm not just saying it. i mean it. when i see your scars, i don't see ugliness. i see a brave soldier who did what he had to do to protect what matters most to him. i see how far you've come. how hard you had to fight to recover. and i love you. every inch of you. scars and all."

your palm ghosted past his neck, down his chest, and stopped right against his abdomen. a little softer now, with the healthy weight he had gained. and there, right beneath his belly button, was a scar left behind from that night. the one that had almost taken him from you. a deep knife wound that had caused some organ damage. it was why he still had a few lingering health issues to this day. but he was alive. and he was here, standing before you. warm and real and weathered from all he had endured, but whole.

"can i love you tonight, miles? can i show you how beautiful you are to me?" your breath was warm against his mouth.

eyes glassy, he nodded. "yes. god, yes."

you took him by the hand and led him to your bed. the bed in which you had held one another during your worst moments. the bed in which you had made love again and again. the bed in which you had spilled all your secrets, fears, and desires. a place where only tenderness was known. no harshness. no cruelty. nothing like the horrific scenes he had witnessed from behind the glass at the el royale. he never touched you like he had seen the men there touch their women. they were always harsh. rough. forceful. even then, before he knew you, miles had promised himself he would never handle his lover that way.

he had stayed true to that. the way he handled you was reverent. adoring. and the way you touched him was the same. you were not hurried as you guided him onto the plush bed covers. not harsh as you climbed onto him, hips bracketing his own. not rough as you carefully unraveled his towel to reveal his blushing, aching, pulsing cock. you confessed your love for him sweetly into his mouth as your fingers wrapped around him.

his hips jolted into you, and he moaned brokenly, head falling back, damp hair catching the glint of the setting sun that shone through the window. "you're the most beautiful man i've ever seen," you gasped, as you sank down onto him, welcoming the slight stretch, so eager for it. "you're everything i could ever want." whispered like a prayer as you leaned into him, kissing him deeply as you took him to the hilt.

"feel what you do to me, miles? how wet i am for you?"

he cried out, bottom lip quivering, nodding his head as he clutched your hips. "yes! yes, my love. i feel it," he whimpered.

your tongue delved into his mouth. "only you can do that to me. you, and your body, and your scars, and your heart. all of it. i'm crazy for you. every inch of you. i want all of it."

you swallowed each moan, each sob, each whine of your name. consuming him whole. pouring every ounce of love and adoration within yourself, into him. "my beautiful boy. my prince. my hero."

he sobbed at your praise. tears streamed openly down his cheeks. "yours!" he managed to cry, shivering beneath you as you insistently, desperately rocked into him.

"yes. all mine. every part of you." you curled your fingers into his soft, honeyed locks. tugging gently. never harsh. never painful. just a light, but insistent, pull. tearful blue eyes flickered up to yours. "say it, sweet boy. tell me you're beautiful."

he gasped, a wrecked sound that rippled wetly through his chest. "d-don't make me," he whimpered.

but you shook your head, rhythm building as you quickened your movements in his lap. "no. i need to hear you say it."

a wail tore from his throat. "i-i'm– oh! –i'm...i'm beautiful!"

heat surged through you, fire in your belly. "again." taking him deeper. faster. harder.

"i'm beautiful."

you held him close, chests pressed together, bodies slick with sweat. "again!"

"i'm beautiful!" he wept, trembling fiercely. "i'm beautiful! i'm beautiful!"

then you felt it. the swell. the gush of warmth deep inside you. miles fell apart in your arms, face buried against your neck, arms wound tightly around you as he babbled echoes of "i'm beautiful."

that, paired with the friction of his pubic bone against your delicate, swollen, sensitive anatomy pushed you over the edge, and you held him tightly as you trembled, crying out his name into the quiet stillness of your bedroom. it was molten. glorious. overwhelming.

as you returned to yourself, to earth, you tenderly tilted his head back to look into his tearful eyes. "are you alright?" you whispered.

he nodded, though still verklempt. "c-can you...just stay close?" a sweet request. one laced with vulnerability.

"of course, angel boy." you brushed his hair away from his forehead, and held him close.

for a long while, neither of you spoke. you merely basked in the closeness. the intimacy. and then, miles broke the silence. "thank you," he whispered. "i know i'm...probably hard to deal with at times, but–"

you shook your head firmly. "no. you could never be hard to deal with. we've been through too much for you to discount yourself like that. you are everything i want to deal with, for the rest of my life."

a soft, breathless sob escaped his mouth, and he surged forward to kiss you slowly, lovingly. "you are always so good to me. i'm so lucky to have you."

but the thing was, he didn’t hate you. that was why he found himself coming to you, night after night during rodeo season. you’d follow him across state lines while he was on the circuit, just to watch him ride. not even his family did that. needless to say, he found himself growing quite attached to you. he didn’t want any of the other girls that swayed their hips and jutted their cleavage in his face. he only wanted you.

he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. it was meant to be casual. a way to let out pent-up frustration. a way to celebrate a good ride. yet he found himself gazing at you while you slept beside him, and suddenly, he saw you curled up in bed in the house you’d built together, a ring on your finger, and— holy shit. when had thoughts of the future weaseled their way into his mind? they settled in his chest with an uncomfortable ache that forced him to look away from you.

he couldn't think like that. he wouldn't. because he knew he couldn't have more with you. he was a good for nothin' cowboy with commitment issues and so much emotional baggage that it was laughable. he didn't deserve anything more than casual, meaningless sex. except it wasn't meaningless. because he stayed. he got out of bed, he dragged himself out the door and picked up some coffee and pancakes from the diner across the parking lot, and returned to have breakfast in bed with you.

you were just waking as he crawled into bed, and he left a lingering kiss, filled with everything left unsaid, upon your lips before he settled beside you. "g'mornin'," he greeted. "i went and got us breakfast." you smiled sleepily, and something broke open within him.

"mm, i can see that. you spoil me, mister," you said, teasing lilt to your tone.

he didn't smile. didn't laugh. he ached. and he couldn't stop it. even as he settled beside you and enjoyed his fill of pancakes and coffee, the television droning on with some stupid morning program. it was painful. all of it. because he'd realized something, that morning. but he didn't want to admit it. didn't want to say those three words, because if he did, it would change everything. he would lose you, he was sure of it. because you didn't feel the same way about him. there was no possible way that you saw this arrangement as anything more than casual.

so, rhett abbott did what he always did: he pulled away. after that sweet, tender morning, he closed himself off. it was his way of protecting his heart, after it had been broken one too many times. but the thing of it was, he didn't anticipate that it would already break when he saw your face the first time he rejected you.

he'd had a bad ride. lost his grip, hit the ground before he was ready. he landed on his bad shoulder, and it hurt like hell. a violent throb that reverberated from his shoulder, down to his fingers. and he was pissed. all he wanted was to run to you, to find solace and comfort in tour arms. but he couldn't, because he'd told himself he was done with you.

you were there to greet him after that awful ride, a look of tender understand on your face, and he couldn't bear it. looking at you only reminded him of what he couldn't have. what he didn't deserve. so he snapped at you. you, the person he cared the most about in the entire world. he snarled like a mean old bear, and spoke harshly to you. "would'ya take a hint?! i don't need you! go find some other bull rider to annoy."

you crumbled. not outwardly, but he could see it in your face. a look of pure dejection. your eyes filled with tears, but you refused to let them fall. "you don't get to speak to me like that," you told him, shoulders tense, hands shaking.

he should have stopped there. instead, he dug his heels in, and made matters worse. "if you don't like it, you can leave. i ain't stoppin' you. hell, i didn't even ask you to be here. you just follow me around like a lost puppy."

your bottom lip quivered. "fuck you, rhett." then you turned on your heel, and fled.

he stood there like an idiot, staring after you, knowing he should chase you down and apologize for being a colossal dick. but this was what he wanted, wasn't it? typical abbott man, afraid to face his feelings, and choosing to run from them instead. he'd convinced himself that pushing you away was better than suffering the pain of unrequited love. yet, as he watched you walk away, the agony he felt over hurting you was far worse than he ever could have imagined. he'd just ruined everything.

instead of trying to fix it, he wallowed. he let himself be miserable, because that was what he felt he deserved. he worked like a dog throughout the week, throwing himself into hard labor to distract himself from thinking about you. it didn't work, however. your broken-hearted face kept flashing through his mind. he woke up everyday, and hated himself for what he'd done. but maybe it was for the best. maybe you were better off. without him tying you down, you could find someone who knew how to communicate their feelings instead of bottling them up.

until he saw you with that someone.

he saw you at the rodeo that night, just like always. for a brief moment, his heart hammered in his chest as he wondered if you had come to watch him ride, despite the way he had behaved the week before. he allowed a blossom of hope to take root in his heart, but it was violently crushed when he saw you with trevor tillerson. of all the men in wabang, trevor was the worst of them. he didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone be in your general vicinity.

it made rhett's skin crawl, and a wave of nausea rose up within him. why did it have to be trevor? surely you knew he was bad news, right? either way, he didn't have time to dwell on it, because his name was up next, and he had a bull to ride. even in his distracted state, he still managed to have a good ride. a great one, in fact. it sent his name soaring up to the top of the scoreboard. the crowd roared, but he was searching for you, secretly hoping you'd be cheering for him. he couldn't see you anywhere.

that night, he decided to drown his sorrows with something strong. he didn't want a celebratory beer. he wanted to get drunk. a bottle of straight-up tequila would do the trick, so he ordered one and tucked himself into a booth in the corner, far away from prying eyes. but he'd only thrown one shot of bitter alcohol back before he saw you. right across the room, you were at the bar, trevor beside you. he was ordering for you, not even allowing you to order for yourself. rhett felt the hot bloom of anger, and something else, in his chest. not jealousy, but discomfort.

he thought of trevor's hands on you. thought of him kissing you, falling into bed with you, and rhett was certain he'd be sick. he wouldn't let this man touch you. not with those grimy hands of his that had touched countless other women, in ways that were not so gentle. he was charming enough when he was sober, but when he was drunk? that was a different story. he got mean.

rhett shoved his own tequila aside, ignoring it as it sloshed out of the bottle. on second thought, staying sober was a better idea. he needed his wits about him if he was going to deal with trevor. but he didn't move yet. didn't get involved. he was going to wait and see what trevor's intentions were. so he waited. and waited. and waited.

he watched trevor flirt with you, and rhett rolled his eyes so hard a slight flash of pain rippled through his skull. the second eldest tillerson was a bull in a china shop. there was no grace or poise about him. he just thundered through life and took what he wanted. and by the looks of it, you were not enjoying his intensity one bit.

the moment rhett saw you shift uncomfortably, your back against the wall, cornered in the booth by the broad shouldered cowboy, he stood. his boots were heavy against the sticky bar floor, spurs jingling as he approached your table. when you looked up, your eyes widened in both surprise and relief. that was all rhett needed to know he had made the right decision to intervene.

"how about you give her some space, trev," he spoke up, voice rough, demanding. slowly, trevor turned, brow raised.

"the fuck do you think you're doin', nosing in other people's business, abbott?" trevor countered, making an overt show of keeping his cool. behind him, you squirmed, pushing your back further against the wall.

you really hadn't intended to get tangled up with him in this way. it seemed that he'd realized you were no longer rhett's "arm candy" as he called it, and therefore saw an opportunity to swoop in. you'd been nice. laughed at his jokes, because some of them were genuinely funny. but he got a little too pushy. a little too comfortable. and he wouldn't let you get a word in edgewise. the entire time, he talked about himself, and his accomplishments. his pompousness left no room for you to interject and tell him you weren't interested. that was how you'd ended up here, at the pit bar, back against the wall.

when you saw rhett, the tension that had been tightening in your chest eased. despite the way he'd treated you last week, you were still relieved to see him, because you knew he would put trevor in his place. and sure enough, he did.

"you backed her into a goddamn corner. now get up, and let her have some space." rhett's hands twitched slightly at his sides. he knew trevor liked to fight. he was likely not going to give up without one.

"you're just pissed you fumbled her," trevor responded with a shrug. "it ain't my fault she got bored of suckin' your dick."

"you don't get to talk about her like that, you fucking prick." rhett slammed his hand against the table, and the liquor glasses rattled. you jumped, heart leaping in your chest.

trevor jumped up, standing to face rhett. "why? did i hit a nerve? i mean, c'mon now, rhett. you've gotta be a special brand of idiot if you can't keep a literal whore satisfied."

rhett saw red. jaw clenched, he drew back, and in a split second, his fist connected with trevor's jaw. the two men broke into a fist fight, and you watched with eyes wide as saucers, heart hammering against your rib cage. but you made no move to stop rhett. you were glad he'd intervened. at least you didn't have to figure out a way to tell trevor to fuck off.

rhett's fists were big and heavy, a lethal combination when it came to physical fighting. trevor was solid, but he was no match for the lithe cowboy. the fight was over in under a minute, the second rhett hit trevor with an uppercut that sent him plummetting to the ground like a tree falling in the forest.

"do i need to call the fuckin' sheriff?" a woman's voice rang across the now silent bar, full of patrons who had stopped their chatter to witness rhett abbott take down trevor tillerson. lucy evans, owner of the bar, stood by the telephone on the wall behind the bar. she was staring intently at rhett, gaze questioning.

"no ma'am," rhett replied, breathless. "he was botherin' a lady, so i took care of him."

lucy nodded once. "i shoulda known. 'least i can count on an abbott boy to do the honorable thing." then she glanced around. "can i get a few of you men to get tillerson outta here? if he wakes up while you're draggin' him, tell him he's not allowed back in my bar again."

everyone went back to what they were doing, but rhett lingered, chest heaving slightly as his gaze, tentative and tinged with shame, flickered to you. "he won't bother you anymore. you should stay far away from assholes like him. they only want one thing, and it ain't to take you out on a nice date."

then he turned on his heel, stalking off toward the back exit. your heart siezed in your chest, and you pushed yourself up from the booth, sidestepping the group of men who came to carry trevor out of the bar. "rhett, wait!" you cried, but he didn't hear you, your voice drowned out by the squeal of the rusty door hinges. you broke into a jog, stumbling out into the cool night, feed scraping against gravel. "dammit, rhett, would you stop?!"

he skidded to a halt, shoulders tense, drawn up toward his ears. he didn't turn to face you.

"look at me," you urged.

still, he remained turned away.

"look. at. me."

he sighed, breath shuddering in his chest, before he finally faced you. his eyes were glassy. "what?"

"thank you," came your whisper.

with a shake of his head, he replied. "i could see he was botherin' you. i just did what anyone else would've done."

"not just anyone would do that. you did it, though."

"yeah, well, 'cause i know what a fuckin' dick he is." a beat passed, and he closed his eyes before he spoke again, hesitantly. "did...did he put his hands on you?" he needed to know. if trevor had done anything untoward, rhett would put him in the ground.

but you shook your head, adamant. "no. he never touched me. honestly, i wasn't seeking him out. he saw that i wasn't...around you, anymore, and i think he took that as his opportunity. i tried to shut him down but that guy won't listen to anyone but himself."

rhett's shoulders fell in relief. but deep guilt shadowed his face, and his bottom lip quivered. "it's my fault you were even in that situation to begin with. if i would've stopped bein' such a goddamn coward and admitted my feelings for you, this mess probably wouldn't have happened."

"rhett—"

"no, i need to say this. i'm shit at expressin' myself, but that's what got us here to begin with. i need you to know that i am so, so sorry for the way i acted last weekend. i had no right to talk to you that way."

you stepped forward, chest aching as you shook your head. "you were hurt, and you had a bad ride. i shouldn't have pushed it."

his eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening. "there's no excuse for the way i acted. who gives a damn if i was hurt. i was an asshole to you, i hurt you. i hurt my girl. and it's because i'm a coward. i realized that i...i'm fallin' in love with you. and that scared the shit outta me. so i pushed you away. i treated you like shit. and i don't know how i'll ever be able to make it up to you, but i just wanted you to know...you don't annoy me. i was just projectin' my own stupid insecurities on you."

you stared at him for a moment, overwhelmed with emotion. "you're in love with me?" quiet. breathless. full of disbelief.

tears welled in his eyes. "yes. i know we said this was just a casual thing. no attachment. but somewhere along the way i fell head over heels for you. and it's okay if y' don't feel the same. but i just wanted you to know."

to his amazement, you rushed forward, throwing yourself into his arms, burying your face against the side of his neck. "rhett, baby," you whispered, voice hoarse. "i'm in love with you, too. i have been for months."

he leaned back, face awash with disbelief. his eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him. but all he saw was sincerity. without another thought, he surged forward, tugging you close, lips connecting with yours. you melted into him, kissing him back with fervor, love, adoration.

"we wasted so much time," he whispered against your mouth.

you shook your head. "we've got the rest of our lives to make up for it."

his hands settled on your hips, touch warm, grounding. "you mean that? are you willin' to make this work, even after the way i treated you?"

your own hands came up to rest upon his scruffy cheeks. "yes, rhett. i want you, all of you."

he kissed you again, tender and sweet. "i promise i'll be better about communicating my feelings with you, instead of pushin' you away."

you nodded, nose nuzzling against his. "and i'll be better about communicating mine, instead of just staying silent."

his mouth curved into a smile. "guess i should ask ya proper then." he stroked his knuckles over your cheek. "sweetheart, would you be my girl?"

"i thought you'd never ask," you giggled. "it would be an honor to be your girl, rhett abbott."