Work Text:
"Why do you have to be all the way down there?" Stanley pried, peeking over your shoulder at what you were sketching out in quick confident strokes.
You were seated on the carpeted ground, back pressed up against the bed. To your right was the night stand where you had placed a few belongings of yours before settling down and beginning to sketch.
You knew sometimes your art would be the only thing that kept money in the both of your pockets when Stanley wasn't out and about doing lord knows what and coming back with wads of twenties that you knew wouldn't last long between the two of you.
So you'd draw. You'd draw anything you could see.
Right now you were capturing the sight of Stanley's battered luggage propped up against the motel room's wall. There was character in a sight like that, emotion that it seemed only you could see - or Stanley refused to. Some of those belongings had been with him since he was 17, the duffle bag fraying at every edge being one.
Your pencil curves around the shapely edges of a textured trash bag full of both of your clothes, translating the image to paper.
"Its a good view." You reply, simply casting glances between the paper and you're subject, letting your tone do the work your eyes wouldn't.
"Not for me." Stanley responds almost instantly and you can hear the pout he must be making. He rested above you on the cheap motel bed, laying horizontally across it so that his head hovered above your own.
Propped up on his elbows gave him enough room to bump the back of your head with his forehead, simply resting it there just heavy enough to push yours uncomfortably forward.
"Im sure you'll live, tough guy." You raise your non-dominant hand up into the air, blindly searching for his cheek. He pulls back, notices, and slots his jaw into your palm with a huff through his nose. You graze your thumb along the underside of his stubble on his neck, drawing a content but attitude filled grunt from him.
Before he can get too comfortable though, you pat his cheek in a chaste sort of way, bringing your arm back down.
"I'm not so confident." He grumbles from above, and you hear him shift. You figure he's looking over your shoulder at your decisive scribbling. There's a long pause and you can practically feel your pencil getting heavier the more he stares at it, like he was pressuring it on.
"You're getting that," Suddenly his forearm is in your field of vision, his arm resting on your shoulder as he points accusingly at your paper. "From that?" He then points at the heap in question resting a few feet away.
"Yes..? And?" You answer, insistent scratches stopping momentarily to cast a look to the side and up at him.
You catch a good view of the underside of his jaw before he looks down at your paper again, instead catching your gaze. He smiles in a soft sort of way that makes you wish you weren't so easy. His mouth quirks up in a cheeky smile that reaches his eyes.
"Well.. your making it look a lot less like junk." Stanley said earnestly, looking past you and into your lap at your sketch again before back at you. You can only see the him from the top of his hair to the base of his collar bone outlined by his undersized white shirt, but its a view nonetheless.
"I think I'll take that as a compliment." You murmur. His overgrown mullet is falling In his face from this angle, but he's still painstakingly handsome. His deep brown eyes hold a certain softness for you in them despite the roughness that crinkled the eye bags into his skin. Crows feet form at the edges of his eyes when he smiles at what you said, pushing his cheeks up.
"Then, you're welcome. Because it was intentional. Totally." He looks away for an instant. You've come to realize how much older than twenty-seven the divots in his skin made him look. But you can only guess at how much his life before and while you knew him aged him. Everything he has been through had to have been a few experiences beyond a life-time's amount.
"I'm sure." You nod teasingly, taking him in. He wasn't perfect, wasn't clean shaven or a prince charming. He was rugged, soft in all the right places and caring when it counted, and that was charming enough for you.
When you blinked out of it and realized you were staring you looked down again, a flush reaching your face despite how.. closely you knew him.
"Right, well, It's art.. if you look at it right." You knew Stanley had a knack for all things artistic, but not for all things traditional artists might deem so. He had to have motivation to do something or there was simply no passion. You resumed drawing.
"Well clearly my eyes aren't what they used to be." He says, and your certain he's making a show of squinting above your head to prove his point.
"..or what they never were." You quip quietly, fairly certian he heard you. To look innocent you continue scratching the same stroke absentmindedly. Seriously, he needed glasses.
"Hmph." Stanley moves to change the subject. "What do you see in junk that you can't see in me?" Stanley complains dramatically. "You can't think I'm that bad to look at." His head lowers with his knowing tone, hovering just off to the side of yours, a little ways above so he can speak into your ear.
"C'mon Stanley.." You mutter in playful warning, pulling away and to the side so you could look at him again. He had let you know his real name mere days into knowing him. It was as if he was desperate to hear it again - at least from a kind voice.
"I'm being serious here!" He wasn't. He pulls back just enough to make sure you have to crane your neck to keep eye contact, flashing you a false heartbroken look. "My ego is shattering up here, baby, don't you have some pity in your cold desolate soul?" He makes a show of clutching his chest with one hand while his elbows supported his weight.
"I'm not answering that." You roll your eyes playfully and turn back to your sketch, keeping your head down. There's a long moment of silence where you could hear the sound of cogs in Stanley's brain turning.
"Then answer my first question." He punctuates his suddenly sweet suggestion with a short kiss to the exposed crown of your head. You're caught a little off guard, but gather yourself very quickly.
"Fine. It's.. captivating. You just have to... change your perspective." You speak slowly and carefully, like you were plucking your words from a hat.
"Oh yeah? S'that simple?" Stanley pries, and you can hear the upcoming suggestion in his tone. You knew this conversation would be taking a turn by his hands, and you're fairly excited to go along with it. Suddenly your art doesn't seem as interesting.
"Pretty much." You know it isn't but you do your best to sound unphased and content with your answer in order to let his suggestion play out the way he was intending.
"Well.. if it's so easy for you, it shouldn't be too hard for a guy like me. Why don't you teach me?" Stanley drawled, chin resting atop your head as his hands reached down to shift your shirt collar(which was his) to expose a shoulder.
"C'mon sweetheart.. change my perspective." He repeats your words in a stupid, cock-sure sort of way you can't help but love, and fall victim to. "I learn fast." He insists while one of his thumbs start to trace lazy circles in the exposed skin, making up for the distance he couldn't reach to kiss it.
"Is that right?" You snatch up your art materials, shifting to stand. You turn around to face him and he's now eye level with your abdomen. He pushes himself up to his hands, bringing his knees in to rest on them as a smile spreads across his face at his flirtatious victory.
"If being adaptive counts, then yeah, so right." He shifts closer to the edge of the bed on his knees, hands coming up to rest on your hips, holding you there before him. His height while resting back on his knees puts you just above eye level with him which was a pretty rare view considering he was literally always above you due to his height.
"Mm," You hum in acknowledgment, simply taking him in before you bring up a hand, one that wasn't holding your art materials, and cup his face. Now, at a much better angle, you can see the neediness in the way he leaned into the touch, eyelids fluttering closed.
Or atleast you thought they were closed, because suddenly you feel your notebook and pencil being taken from you and discarded on the nightstand. You look back to Stanley to see his lidded eyes as he stares up at you through his lashes.
The hand in question grabs your now free one, bringing it up to his face. When you go to cup his jaw to mirror the other side, he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, never taking his eyes off of you.
"I thought I was going to teach you?" You murmur in the quiet room, your voice cutting through the sound of cicadas outside.
"Teach me later," And suddenly Stanley has you locked in a hard kiss, tugging himself up by your shirt to be at your height. One of his hands goes behind your head instantly, carding through your hair for purchace as he keeps you there. The other hand remains fisted in your(his) shirt collar.
The kiss stays innocent for maybe three seconds before he licks at the seam of your lips, urging you to allow him entrance. And you do, letting your mouth open just enough. His tongue licks up into your cheek, exploring your mouth and your own tongue before you eventually have to pull back for air.
Your breaths puff out against his heated skin as he presses patient and spit soaked kisses to the corners of your mouth, simply waiting for you to indulge him again.
"That's not fair." You say breathlessly. "You lied." You accuse him playfully, still smiling at the attention. His hand moves to the back of your neck while his other trails down to your waist. You close your eyes, relishing in the feeling.
"Well, it's kinda my whole shtick, dollface." He murmurs against your lips, eyes closed to mirror yours. "Conning Isn't easy work, y'know. Gotta keep up appearances or the effect will wear off." He says, and for a good second it sounds almost earnest, like he's intent on proving he's bigger and badder than how you perceived him.
"Oh well, in that case all is forgiven." You flourish your words dramatically, giving him a short sweet kiss of your own.
He resumes kissing you after sparing a chuckle, this time much more slowly, guiding you to sit on the bed beside him to make things much more comfortable for the both of you.
Somehow, you two make it to the headboard, your back against it as you sit, and Stanley on his knees above you, straddling one of your legs. He slowly pulls away from you, chuckling softly as you trail after him mindlessly before coming to and opening your eyes once more.
Once he's sure your eyes on him, he starts to pull up his tight white T-shirt that did nothing to conceal his body shape. You make a soft sound at the sight revealed as he pulls it up; you're certain you'd never get tired of it. This was one of his favorite ways to get undressed for you, putting on a mini show - and maybe the only way he knew how.
He tugs the shirt up, instantly revealing a dark brown and unruly happy trail that disappeared beneath the waist line of his jeans. Eventually the happy trail thins out and fans over a nice portion of his pudgy stomach before branching out completely over his chest with a darker portion where his sternum lay. The hair spreads faintly to upwards and decorates his large arms, darker - all together he is a very big and equally hairy guy.
There are a few visible scars and a few not-so-visible ones that litter his chest but you dont pay them much mind. Soon he tugs his shirt off, ruffling his hair in the process and shaking his head to get it out of his face. He flashes you a smile that you can't help but return.
You simply gawk at him, rendered motionless as your hands fidget with the sheets below you.
"Not so bad, right doll?" He asks you, hands finding purchace on your hips, squeezing lightly, ever so gentle. He gives you a genuine smile, leaning forward.
"Yeah.." You dont really answer, instead reaching out In the hopes of touching him, but that ship sails when he takes your chin and tilts it up, exposes your neck, and begins kissing down it.
You stare up at the ceiling, feeling a little robbed, even as you whimper when he hits a sensitive spot on your neck he's very familiar with and sucks a hickey into it. "Ah- Stanley," your voice is higher pitched and breathy when you say his name. Your hands find home on his back, which is almost just as hairy as the front.
"Sh sh, baby. Let me make you feel good." He speaks against your skin, kissing the forming bruise with such a juxtaposed gentleness you felt lightheaded. His hands trail up and down your sides, ecliting shivers in their wake. His hands, whenever near your body or holding your hand, felt so much bigger.
It was well known by now that he got off on getting you off, something you would never complain about ever. However, his obsession with service in bed barely gave you time to treat him as well - and you were trying to break that habit of his, slowly but surely.
"Mmh.." You hum as he plays with the hem of your shirt. "I want to touch you too." You tell him, trying to get him to pull back with a few light pushes on his collar bone with your palms.
He pulls back eventually, giving you a considerable up and down look with new found heat, his eyes catching on your neck before nodding. "Alright," he reaches for the hem of your shirt, bunching it up under your breasts with one hand while the other applied gentle pressure to your stomach.
"But this comes off." The hand bunching your shirt which you’ve borrowed - and swallows you - gives an affirming tug.
"Deal." You say with a smile that he returns and are quick to pull yourself up by the aid of his arms.
He takes hold of your bare waist with one hand to keep you up while your hands work with your shirt. You're only wearing his shirt and sleep shorts, so once you pull the offending article over your head, your upper half is exposed to him.
Your vision is shrouded by the fabric for a few seconds but when you finally get a look at him, he's blatantly and appreciatively staring at you, lost in some whirlwind of thoughts. It's almost too much attention, becoming enough to make you want to cover yourself.
"Damn." Is all he manages to say.
"Damn? And here I thought you were a smooth-talker." You quip teasingly, but you can't put any bite into your voice because it's still breathy with anticipation. Your words seem to snap him out of his trance, and he shakes his head, lowering you back down to the pillows.
"I am." He replies quickly, taking hold of your wrists before you decided to pull any funny buiness that might involve you shrouding yourself.
"Just over here wondering how I got with such a stunner." He gives you an endearing smirk, eyes lidded and hazed with arousal that sends heat pooling straight to your gut.
You move to squeeze your thighs together, but are reminded quickly of the presence of Stanley's knee between your legs blocking your process. He notices the new pressure and merely glances down with an amused huff.
"Guess.. I guess you're just a really lucky guy." Your voice wavers as you try to keep up with his banter, giving him a soft smile. He allows your hands to come up to the sides of his stomach, trailing up to his chest and groping his pecs, ruffling the coarse hair there.
Stanley gives an approving groan at the feeling, eyes slowly closing as he looses himself in the feeling. "Guess I am." He murmurs, sounding dazed.
Soon, he ducks down again, urging your hands to move back to his back as he starts to kiss down your collar bone to your sternum. He licks up the valley between your breasts and you shudder at the feeling.
Before long, Stanley takes to one of your breasts, kissing around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, giving it kitten licks while teasing it with his teeth. The other breast is fondled by his hand which easily cups the expanse of it in his palm. His thumb and forefinger pinch it occasionally to draw a gasp from you.
"Ah- It, mh.." whatever you were going to say is lost on you as Stan puts more pressure on your nipple with his teeth.
He makes an interested sound around your breast, and when you look down he pulls off with a satisfying pop, looking at you through his lashes. He nods towards you with an endearing head tilt, urging you to voice whatever you were about to tell him. "It.. it feels good."
His other hand comes up to play with your saliva coated tit, massaging it lazily. "Yeah?" He askes, going to press kisses on your other breast, still keeping eye contact with you.
"Yeah." You sigh loudly and dreamily, head falling back against the pillow heavily. You slung your arm across your face, the sight of him almost too overwhelming compiled with the attention you were receiving.
"Ah ah, non 'o that." He says almost instantly, and you feel his free hand come up around your arm, pulling it down and off your face. You tilt your chin down, and see that he has raised above you. "I wanna see you." He says softly, and out of the goodness of your heart, of course, you keep eye contact with him.
He rewards you with a kiss to your chin before ducking back down to your breast, upping the intensity just a tad to draw pleasant whines from you, all while he makes sure you're watching. His stubble scratches the soft skin of your breast maddeningly.
At the feeling of him teasing you with his tongue, your hips move on their own accord, bucking your clothed core against the denim of his jeans, a sharp gasp leaving you at the relief that the pressure provided.
You shift, feeling the seam splitting your own shorts begin to dig into your clit, drawing a surprised stutter in breath from you. Your mouth drops open just a bit at the feeling, your brows coming to knit together. A soft moan leaves you as you begin to slowly rock against him.
Stan takes notice of your blatant dry humping of his thigh - because of course he does - and couldn't look more ecstatic. He clicks the roof of his tongue in a tutting fashion though, pulling up and away from you, drawing a displeased whine from your throat.
"Look at you. So needy." Stanley practically purrs these words out, eyebrows furrowing with concentration as he watches your display with rapt interest. One of his hands goes to your waist to grab hold, giving your ruts a more steady rhythm against him.
"You wanted me that bad, sugar?" He asks you, his other hand coming up to take gentle hold of your jaw, squeezing just enough to keep your head from thrashing.
"Yeah- I, I did, yea" You stutter out, focusing very hard on getting your message across without sounding delirious. You appreciate his assistance and once more let him lead you as he draws his hand away from your face, bringing it to his side.
"Well you coulda just said so before you starting humpin' my knee." He trys to crack a joke out at you, but its too soft and too strained near the end to really land. You roll your eyes anyways. You can see the muscles in his neck twitch and his jaw tighten the more he watches and assists you.
You rock your hips against him in a particularly deep thrust, a soft moan leaving you as you squeeze your eyes shut. You're fairly certain your panties are soaking into your shorts with your juices. This is further proven when you blink open your eyes to see Stanley staring at the wet splotch growing on your shorts
"N-nevermind." He swallows visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing in this throat. "Keep going baby, put on a show. Just for me." He blabbers quickly, wetting his lips with a peek of his tongue.
You just barely register the sight of him bringing his hand to his half-mast erection pushing at the denim of his jeans, slowly palming it. He grunts at the feeling, never once taking his eyes off of you.
You do just that, continuing your steady rocking against his thigh with the help of his hand. "S'feels- ah, feels so good, Stan.. Stanley," you mutter, your mind blank as you continue chasing your pleasure.
"Yeah? You're.. yer doing so good." Stanley's voice is heavy with lust, a low whine bubbling in his throat as he ruts into his hand when you drag a long stroke out against him, mouth dropping into an O shape. "Looking so pretty for me." He adds when his breath stutters at the sight of your blissed expression
One hand of yours moves to prop yourself up while the other reaches out to grab the bicep of his right arm which was assisting your thrusts. The new angle makes the fabric dig firmer against your clit due to the harder pressure from his knee, ecliting a loud whimper from your throat at the sensation and your eyes to fling open. "Ah-! Ah, fuck, fuck."
He looks up at your expression for a second, slowing his pace before affirming everything was alright. "You okay, doll?" He asks hurriedly, glancing all over your body.
"Yeah, yeah just don't stop." You urge, rutting helplessly against him while your eyes close again. The angle, though efficient, needed his help. He instantly obliges, starting to rock you against him once more, eyes dropping to watch your combined efforts against his knee.
Suddenly, Stanley feels his hand that he has palming himself isn't busy enough on his clothed dick as it could be elsewhere.
He brings his free hand up to your face, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb while his other fingers cup your jaw. Your eyes blink open to look at him, wide and wet. His thumb prods at the seem of your lips insistently. "Open up, sweetheart."
You oblige, mouth opening to allow his thumb entrance, which he instantly presses down on your tongue. Your lips wrap around the wide and calloused digit, tongue moving experimentally against it in slow strokes. He matches the pace of your thrusts against his leg with your tongue - which meant the more you worked your tongue, the faster you got to go.
"That's it.. that's it sweetness." He says softly, clearly distracted with the way your pushing and pulling his thumb in and out of your mouth, tongue working against it like you would if you were giving him head.
"Yeah, just like that. Just like you're sucking on my dick - fuck," Stanley falters briefly, his hips jutting up into nothing, his knee pressing harder against your clothed cunt. "Doin' so good." He murmurs weakly, absolutely star struck.
You moan something muffled against his thumb and he shudders. He recognized that move because you'd use it on cock to stimulate it just that much more before he finished. "Cheeky thing," He huffs out, disguising a breathless chuckle.
Eventually, you pull his thumb out of your mouth, just barely mouthing over the tip as you speak. "M'getting.. getting close." You said, hips twitching up erratically as you humped his thigh with increased vigor.
"Yeah? Keep going, baby. I'll get you there. Just keep using me, fuck, just like that." Stanley responded in a clusterfuck of words, trying to say everything he wanted at once to you in the hopes it'd spur you on to your high. His thumb finds it's way back between your lips and you babble around it, spit dribbling out of the edges of your mouth.
He's fully erect and has been for some time, just seeing you like this, barely any stimulation, has gotten him hard - almost painfully so.
"Ah- shit! Fuck fuck-!" Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, far before Stanley could ever get his own. You pull off of his thumb so you dont bite it, and maybe some part of Stanley was a little disappointed.
Your vision goes white when you squeeze your eyes shut, the bright light soon turning to twirling colors and patterns that typically happened behind your eyelids. When you open your eyes your vision is still splotched with some of them.
Your shorts, very clearly soaked in the crotch area by your orgasm have left a damp patch on Stanley's jeans. His clothed thigh trembles with effort against your shrouded fluttering core.
Stanley in question is hovering above you, panting in your face, eyes closed. For not cumming himself, he looked very satisfied. You're breathing hard against him as well.
You hadn't noticed until now but the arm of yours supporting your weight had given out. He now had you up by his arms around your middle, tucking you up and close to him. You feel a little bad at the extra weight he had to support, squirming a bit. "You okay?" He asks suddenly.
"Super.." You offer hoarsely, voice strained but wearing a dumb, starstruck smile. "That was.." You trail off.
"Super." He finishes your sentence teasingly, yet earnest, forehead bumping yours. You roll your eyes before feeling a little embarrassed.
"M'sorry.." You murmur, and his eyes open immediately, their brown depths swirling in newfound anxiety and confusion. He pulls back, waiting for you to finish. "For you having to hold me up. And uh, for being selfish." You can't meet his gaze, instead looking downwards. That sight doesn't exactly make you feel better either.
"What? No it's-" Stanley stops himself, thinking about the situation at hand here, contemplating something over in his head. His mouth opens and closes for a second while he finds what he wants to say. "You can make up for it." He offers instead, which is unlike him, a new look forming on his features that made him look like a man with a plan.
"Make up for it?" You repeat, raising a brow as he shifts you around in his arms, lowering you to the pillows slowly and carefully. Stanley Pines, always one to strike a deal. And apparently that didn't exclude the bedroom.
"Yeah." Stanley responds with a sneaky grin, leaning down to speak closer to you, his voice a low sound bubbling in his throat. "Let me taste you." He says blatantly, seeming to think you’ve already said yes because he starts kissing a trail down from your jaw.
His obsession with service needed to be studied. Your certain he could cum from watching you orgasm alone if he did it to you enough times.
"I'm I.. I'm still sensitive." As if too prove your point your lower body gives a twitch. But, you didn't say no, if anything you wanted to scream yes. However, you wanted to hear whatever convincing affirmation he'd give you, not that you needed it.
"I know, baby, I know. I'll be gentle. Promise." He insists desperately, peppering kisses over your collar bone before pulling up again. Even you knew that promise was hollow, but you nodded along anyways. His hands drag heavily down your body before cupping the back side of your love handles, holding you just above the waist line of your sleep shorts.
"Okay?" He urges you, kneading your flesh in his palms to pass the time.
"Okay." You repeat, not having to be asked twice, infact you're dreadfully excited.
He smiles, clearly proud of himself, before hooking the waste band of your shorts from the back. "Lift up for me." He not so much asks, but it's still gentle enough that you're sure if you changed your mind he'd stop right there - but wouldn't be too happy about it.
You do as you're told, lifting your hips up by planting your feet on either side of him. He tugs your shorts down in a single motion, only bothering to take them off of one of your legs, leaving it wrapped around one of your ankles.
He simply sits there on his knees, staring at the soaked fabric of your panties, taking it all in. You watch, propped from your elbows, as he reaches to unzip himself, his member springing free from the tight denim, now only constricted by his boxers, but he doesn’t move to relieve himself beyond that.
Fuck, some part of you always forgets how big he is. The idea of taking it always sparked a burning kind of exhilaration.
He brings his hands under your thighs, kneading the soft flesh there with a content look on his face. Then, without warning, he lifts up your legs, mirroring the action by ducking down just enough so the angle wouldn't be uncomfortable for either of you. "Stan-!"
He shuffles in close, your legs hooked under his arms and held firmly there by his hands just below your ass. His nose slots just above your clothed mound, his eyes shutting as he breaths in deeply. He mouths and licks at the soaked fabric, groaning lowly and contently. The vibration sends a new shockwave through your fluttering core, a whimper leaving you.
"You're.. gross." You say breathlessly, no real bite to your tone because really this was turning you on too.
He grunts, and shoots you a look through his lashes before pulling back just enough to say "And you're still soaked." Okay, you got me there, but that is not a crime.
He sets your legs down with a little lighthearted pat to your thigh, thumbing the fabric of your panties where it stretched around the swell of your waist.
"Still good?" He asks out of the blue, his expression a lot less intimidating than before but still heated. His hair fell in his face as he looked down at you, carefully trying to read your expression while still obviously dripping with desire for you.
He looks down at you, trying to search for conformation towards his words. How did one guy make consent so damn hot?
"Yea, I'm good." Your hand finds his own and rests on top of it, giving it a squeeze.
"Good." He nods in affirmative before taking off your panties in one swoop, once more not bothering to take them off both legs. He then pulls the same move he did before without warning, instead lifting your legs up to his shoulders while he shifted to sit cross-legged so your legs weren't too far extended.
You make a noise of surprise, but other than that you're quiet, buzzing with anticipation. Your flail a leg, successfully kicking off your panties and shorts.
Being on the road for as long as you have has, in the eyes of probably many other men, lowered your appeal when it came to tidiness down there. Your bush was thick at this point, and now soaked through with your previous orgasm.
But Stanley fucking loved it.
He purposefully fans his breath out over your soaked cunt, watching as your legs twitched and goosebumps arose. There's a low chuckle that comes from between your raised legs as he noses his way into your bush, simply holding himself there.
Only seconds later does his tongue make an appearance, licking a flat stripe between your lips, grazing your twitching hole before ducking out again. A soft moan leaves you, your hands squeezing the sheets around you. "Fuck-" you breath out. "Sensitive."
"You'll be fine, doll." Stanley says, pulling away from your pussy to look down at you, a soft smile on his lips. "You can handle one more, right?" One of his hands leaves your leg, trusting you to keep it locked around his head yourself, tucking his index finger up into your cunt, grazing over your entrance.
When you nodded, Stanley's lip quirked up. "Good girl." He ducks down again, mouthing at your clit with small kitten licks while he teases your entrance with his hand, occasionally ducking further down to lick up into you while his hand pulled back.
You gasped, back arching off of the bed as your hips twitched up to his face, thighs trying to squeeze together around his head. He groans in approval at the feeling, simply devouring you like a man starved.
"Shit, shit, feels s'good." Your head falls back on the pillows as you shut your eyes. "Always so good from you." You tell him earnestly, and he hums around your clit, causing a broken moan to wrack through you at the sensation.
"Don't- don't stop. Please dont stop," You practically beg, the sensitivity of your last orgasm, mixed with the scratching of his unkempt stubble on your lips, the consistency of his skilled tongue on your clit, the feeling of his finger teasing your entrance - is all too much in the best way.
He increases in vigor with his ministrations on your clit, his index finger slipping into your quivering entrance for just a moment before pulling out again. "Taste so good," He'd speak out against you quickly, muffled, before going back to lapping up your juices.
This went on, him getting deeper and harder every thrust of his finger until his index was knuckle deep, sliding slowly yet firmly into you. Your recent orgasm aided the process not just in sensation, but in how easy it was for him to slip into you. You got louder and louder, moans turning into sobs about how sensitive you were and then softly crying out about how good it felt.
His index was wide, and his finger pad would curl when he hit the hilt, grazing against that bundle of nerves that turned you into putty in his hands. He does the best he can with what he can't say, letting out affirmative grunts here and there to urge you on.
It didn't take long for him to enter a second digit, his middle and index finger providing a delicious stretch that had you crying out into your hand, even biting it - wary of being kicked out of the motel by complaining neighbors.
You're sure if he could say or speak the things on his mind right now, you'd have been kicked out long ago. This might be the only way to ever get Stanley Pines to stop talking.
"Fuck Stanley- please, oh god, shit -" you babbled when he entered a third, now swirling his tongue in quick succession over your clit as he focused on getting you to cum a second time. You were sure that was all you could take before bursting. His hand was so large.
He seemed to think so too, because he kept fucking his three fingers into you, suckling on your clit with abandon and sufficient work from his tongue. He scissors his fingers apart, working on getting you open and pliable. And you feel yourself getting close, your right there he just needs to keep going, fuck yes you're about to -
You climax, once more unprepared for the intensity of it all. Your hole clenches around his fingers like a vise, and you fist the sheets around you, desperate to hold onto anything.
You barely register him slowly lapping up your release as it comes, still slowly thrusting his fingers into you, gently fucking you through it.
Your vision is once more white, this time staying obscured for much longer than before, shock waves running through you as Stanley drags it on as long as possible.
Soon you start to squirm away from his overstimulating tongue when he doesn't stop and you're surprised when he actually relents.
You blink open your eyes when he lowers your trembling, numb legs to the matress, rubbing feeling back into them with one of his large palms caressing your thighs while the other stayed buried in you, simply feeling your walls flutter around his hand. "So good, sugar. You tasted so good." He tells you quietly, looking over your wrecked figure apprecaitively.
"Uh-huh." You respond, much more distracted with the sight of him, disheveled and beyond turned on, his hips bucking into nothing as he stared down at you. The lower half of his face is coated in your release and his own spit. He gives you a knowing smirk.
His chest heaves with labored breaths, the vastness expanding with each inhale. A slight sheen of sweat covers him, the muscles in his burly arms twitching with restraint. He pulls his fingers out of you, a whine ripped from your throat.
You watch as he brings his soiled hand up to his face, the three fingers he had in you slick with your release. You swallow hard when he sticks his index finger into his mouth, closing his lips around it and sucking off the evidence of your climax.
Your body gives a full on shudder at the low, deep moan he lets out around his fingers. His cock gives an excited twitch in his briefs, a spot on his boxers already wet with pre-come.
His eyes flutter shut for just a moment, savoring your taste, before pulling out his finger. He brings his hand down to your face, his middle and ring finger still evident of your release, and he nods down at you. "Wanna taste?" It wasn't exactly a question, as he's already smearing it over your lips with feather light grazes.
Really, he was super gross.
Still, you're the one who opens your mouth and take his fingers in, focusing on relaxing your throat so you dont gag as he he gently fucks them into your mouth. You do your best to close your lips around them. He hums appreciatively at the sight, eyelids drooping when your tongue swirls around his fingers, licking them clean.
"S'that good?" He asks, voice wavering. You vaugely register his free hand beginning to palm himself through his briefs.
"Mhmph-" You respond in an affirmative, nodding around his fingers, spit dribbling down your chin. He collects it with his free hand, wiping it on the sheets below you, enraptured at the sight before him.
"Fuck-" Stanley stops suddenly, tugging his fingers out of your mouth, now thoroughly soaked with spit. "I could cum just from that." He admits, pupils blown out and eyebrows pinched together.
You suck in a deep breath, sputtering, looking up to the ceiling and say "I know," earnestly. But you knew that wasn't where he wanted to be caught finishing.
There's a shuffling of fabric coming from below you and when you peer down, you spot Stanley shifting his boxers down with his clean hand.
His cock springs out, bumping against his stomach with a twitch.
You swallow, once more reminded of its size and the amount of foreplay it took for you to get ready for it, which he just did. The head is flared and cut, steadily dripping pre from the tip. There's a surprising amount of girth to it - It's a pleasant length that makes your throat run dry. There was that exhilaration you mentioned.
A vein runs down the side, disappearing in the mass of public hair between his legs that his happy trail led to.
You watch as he struggles out of his jeans and boxers, snickering your nerves away when he gets them to his calves and raises himself to his knees. His hand, shockingly still coated with your shared spit - he must've been careful enough to keep it that way- wraps around his cock, giving himself a few long and slow strokes while staring down at your fluttering pussy.
You stare at the sight, wetting your lips with your tongue as he spreads your saliva over his dick. Thrusting shallow into his fist.
"Shit- baby, you gonna let me fuck you?" He asks you, voice wavering as his eyebrows knit together. He lets out a shuddering breath, eyes raking over your face desperately, like he needed you to say yes.
At the first flick of your gaze he speaks again. "I know it's a lot- I'll be so slow. Just wanna feel you, sweetheart." He murmurs, scooting close, shifting your legs up to wrap around his middle, ass pressed against his knees. You spot sweat gathering just above his brow, slicking a few stray strands of hair to his forehead.
He leans down to place a few kisses on your temple, breathing heavily against your ear. "You can take it, I know you can." He encourages, hips rutting against you in shallow thrusts, his cock just barely sliding against your arousal - grazing over your mound.
"You're always so good." He blabbers, hands running soothingly up and down your arms.
"Fuck- Stanley," You give an involuntary twitch at his words and ministrations, hips bucking up to meet his insistent grinding. He lets out a low groan next to your ear.
"Yeah baby- what do you need?" He asks you quietly, sliding his dick slowly and carefully through your soaked folds, muscles twitching in his thighs as he restrains himself.
"You-" you reply almost instantly. "Need you, please, ah-" You tell him breathlessly, trying your hardest to match his slow and languid rhythm against your core. "In, in,," your speech falters.
Your conformation is all he needed, because at once, he lets a low almost growl like sound bubble in his throat, pulling back to press open mouthed kisses to your lips. He seemed to really like the idea of you 'needing him'.
You try and fail to kiss him successfully - basically just slotting your lips with his whenever you could.
He breathes into your mouth, one of his hands leaving your side to instead grab himself, once more stroking his shaft slowly. "Y'need me?" He murmurs against your lips, seemingly prompting you to keep talking.
His other hand moves behind your neck, cradling the back when it lifted from the pillow.
"Y-yeah- I need you." You tell him earnestly, trying to force conviction into your tone through your lust riddled haze.
"-Want you so bad,, you feel so good." You praise, wracking your brain for something else to say. "Always so fu-ah.. fucking good." You gasped out when the head of his dick slips into your entrance before pulling out again.
"No one's ever felt like you,," you finish with a breathy sigh, arms wrapping around his neck.
He whines out against your lips and one of your hands comes up to card into his tangled hair, pulling lightly at the strands. The other claws desperately at his back as you buck up into him, leaving angry red marks.
"fuuck." Stanley says, guiding himself to line up with your entrance, experimentally rolling his hips.
The head of his dick slides into your entrance, catching on the walls before pulling out again. "Slow, slow," he mutters under his breath, looking down at where you two were joining. He seemed to be saying it to himself, tearing his gaze away from the sight to look back at you.
You meet his eyes as he continues to roll his head in and out of you, your back arching at the intrusion. "Shit-" Still, he was a stretch for you - but you were sure with all the prep you went through that you'd manage.
"Shh, shh," He murmurs quiet praise against your face, kissing around your cheeks and forehead. "Doing so good, just relax. Take it baby."
He thrusts a little deeper, sliding into you about an inch before pulling back to where just his head was in before sliding back in the same amount. It was practiced, easy, and it felt so damn good.
The pain of the stretch was being drawn out long enough to the point it just turned into pleasure before he pushed in that much deeper.
This went on for minutes as he used his cock to stretch you out for him. Eventually, he pulled out and then thrusted steadily back into you until he was buried to the hilt. You both shared a moan into the others mouth, his hair falling into both of your faces.
"Y-You're so- so fucking tight." He stammered out against your lips, and you swear you can feel his dick twitch inside of you, hitting a bundle of nerves that leaves you reeling.
"Big-" Is all you can manage, squirming against him. He doesn't let you pull off, just allows you to adjust until it's comfortable while cooing you gently. One of his hands grabs your waist while he drops to his forearm with the other arm - leaving it under your neck.
"I know, I know, tell me when, doll." He urges you, his hips giving involuntarily twitches the longer it takes. Your fairly certian the head of his cock kisses your cervix whenever he does this. "Doing great," he kisses your forehead.
It takes a moment, but soon you can finally take a deep breath - feeling as if the air was being punched out of you earlier by his dick. You just felt so full. "Go- fuck, I'm good. God, Please, move-" You stammer, rolling your hips into him to dive him that much deeper, crying out softly in the quiet of the room. A layer of sweat accumulates on you.
"Fuck, fuck - okay." Stanley responds, pulling himself out until hes barely in before pushing back with a deep, slow thrust into your heat. You cry out his name, and he does the same, holding you close as he starts to rock in and out of you.
His pace is steady and firm, dragging himself out and pushing himself in with meaning - making sure you felt it all. "Sweet moses-" He says to no one in particular.
"Fah- ah, fuck me- fuck,," You say in an incoherent sort of way, cursing the almost unbearable pleasure coursing through you. Tears prick at your eyes from the force in which his hips snap, and the gentleness in which he kisses you. Your mind was scrambled. "S'much- so much.." You murmur, hands groping at him for purchace.
Stanley nods, clearly distracted. His jaw is tense, expression hard as he forces himself to fuck into you slowly, relishing your reactions. He uses his hand under your neck and shoulders for leverage to keep you in place while he takes his other hand from your hips.
He brings it to one of yours clawing at the sheets, flipping it up so he can lace your fingers together, palms touching. "You're doing so good, so good for me-" He reminds you.
"Can I go faster?" He asks you, pressing senseless kisses around your face. You whine, head thrashing.
"I know I said I'd go slow but you just, fuck-" He gives you a sharp thrust. "You feel so .." He pauses, burying himself to the hilt, stilling, only rolling his hips against you. "Fucking good." Another sharp thrust, hips twitching.
He sits himself up, still snug inside of you, and brings the hand previously behind your neck to your clit, rubbing just the way you preferred with his thumb. "Please?" He drawls sweetly, squeezing your hand with his own.
You feel breathless but manage to give him a quiet approval.
At once be begins to start up again, bucking into you - at first he's shallow, but he soon starts to gain momentum and force again, every thrust feeling like an attempt to reach deeper than the last. "There we go," He says encouragingly, his voice low.
"Lookin' so pretty on my cock." He rubs his thumb soothingly over your hand, the juxtaposition making you spin. He removes his hand from your clit, instead grabbing your hips to aid his thrusts.
He speeds up, tucking himself forward, hunched over you. His abdomen lays heavy over your mound, providing pressure and friction for your clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge.
"Fuck Stan- M'close-!" You cry out, squeezing his hand tightly, your other hand holding onto his shoulder for dear life as he fucks into you with abandon.
His mouth descends upon yours, swallowing up your moans with an all consuming kiss as he continues. Whether that was for himself or to quiet you down you had no idea.
"Shit- me too." He pants, thrusts becoming erratic and off-pace.
You feel him force himself to slow down, a spent groan leaving him. You knew he wanted you to finish around him one more time before he came. His self control was beyond you.
"C'mon doll, give me one more." He slides his hand down from your waist to your clit again, rubbing the bud quickly and hard. "Just one more-"
"Stan-!" Suddenly you're cumming, violent twitches and shockwaves coursing through you. Your vision becomes splotchy once more, a loud moan getting eaten up by him again.
Your walls squeeze down around his twitching cock in spasms, quiet cries spilling from your lips.
You feel him pick up pace again, fucking you through your orgasm with renewed vigor, just barely able to keep your eyes open to watch.
"Fuck fuck, fuck!" Stanley is about to finish, but you still have enough energy left to tell him:
"Out- out, pull out-!" The last thing two drifters needed on their hands was a baby.
He does so, albeit begrudgingly, and before he can even stroke himself twice he's finishing, ropes of cum spurting out across your lower belly and trailing down his dick near the end.
His hips twitch in the air as he strokes himself through it groaning out profanities about you.
He collapses on his hands and knees above you, taking in the sight of you with a tired, cheeky smile. "Holy Moses-"
"Now this is a picture worth painting." Corn ball!
.