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catfern · 7 months

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she will destroy you.

pairing: abby anderson x afab!reader

music: crack baby or bag of bones ( or anything from puberty 2 ) - mitski

word count: 3.3k (i'm exhausted)

summary: rumours are swirling, fighting their way through your front door. you hope to keep your work and private life separate, but your proximity with your boss threatens to catch up with you.

warnings: mean!toxic!abby, cheating, porn with a LOT of plot, swearing, tipsy sex, fingering, oral (r!receiving), zero ( i mean ZERO ) aftercare, angst-ish

an: a quick intermission from cowboy!ellie because LORD. i read one page from one book abt a butch teacher yearning for the headmaster's wife and suddenly I NEED AFFAIRS!! I NEED YEARNING!! I NEED SECRECY!! and who better to do that with than a rlly mean ceo!abby who has a PhD in fucking bitches.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Shit.”

A line of scarlet trickles onto the warm printer paper and settles. You drop your paperwork on an unknown desk and suck your finger, hissing through your teeth at the sting. Your phone buzzes impatiently in the back pocket of your work pants, and you fumble with your non-bleeding fingers to pull it out.

we’ll talk abt this when u get home

see u after ur party i guess

A shit fucking day.

You hall back to your desk, defeat slumping heavy on your shoulders. The Office makes an effort not to stare as you walk by, low whispers hot on your feet like coals in a firewalk. You pretend very poorly not to see the half-lidded, secretive looks shared between your old work friends by the water cooler. Water off a duck’s back, your mom used to say in a nonchalant way when you cried to her about mean girls at school. Not that you ever really knew what that meant.

You were never really thankful to be shut off from the rest of the cubicles, until now. A fortress of frosted glass and a heavy door, your desk was the secluded gateway to a place dreaded. Just you and The Boss, which you guess didn’t help the flying tongues of the old, bored fucks in accounting, but it kept people away. Away from you, with their knowing looks and unknowing laughs.

You huff, settling into your uncomfortable desk chair and digging out a small first aid kit your dad bought you when you first started. Pulling the seal off the small tin, you eye its contents. Disinfectant, thermometer, some loose aspirin and bandaids. You whine lightly as you wrap one tightly around your ring finger, feeling it throb and pulse, like a complaint. Get over yourself, you tell your body.

A sharp - ahem - breaks through your mumbling silence. She’s never sick, she never coughs. It’s a bodiless beckoning, a call into the wild, it’s the wordless agreement you have with her. You pick up your notebook, and the nearest working pen, and shuffle quickly through the open door into her office.

The opaque shades are drawn, the natural light greying and dying on the dark, decaying herringbone floor.

Abby is bathed in the orange light of her desk lamp. With impeccable, almost effortless posture, she’s resting her forearms on her desk, one hand scratching notes into her diary, the other distractedly tapping on the leather top. You follow the shadows that the folds in her dress shirt create, your eyes falling on the contour of her body.

You know she frequents a few gyms. You’re the one who schedules late night international calls around her evening runs, and her weights sessions, and her triweekly spin class. But now, the results of her efforts are on display, tightly wrapped in expensive cotton, perfectly tailored, down to the very last stitch, to her existence. You swallow an uncomfortable feeling when she deigns to meet your eye.

She looks you over in the way she always does, an uncaring, but judgemental once-over, like an army sergeant inspecting a uniform. she hones in on the bandaid,

“Workplace injury?”

Her voice has the warmth of a dying cigarette, rolling like well-spoken honey off her lips. You almost feel ashamed, your finger so offensive to her you could chop it off. You almost feel like you wouldn’t even mind. You start picking at the ends of the bandaid with your thumb.

“Paper cut.” Your voice is always so out of place here. An echo of something that does not belong. She nods her head, ever so slightly, as if she understood.

“Don’t think you can go claiming compensation for that.” It’s a joke you’re not allowed to laugh at. You smile lightly instead. It’s short-lived, “I need you to correct some seating arrangements for tonight.”

Yes, of course. No problem. In wordless agreement, Abby starts listing off adjustments, complaints and warnings from guests about not being seated next to their five ex-husbands, or their whining step-children, or ex-business partners fallen from grace. your pen fingers begin to ache as the whole process draws out.

“And I’m going to need you seated at my table, to keep track of my evening itinerary.”

Uncertainty quickly sows its seeds in your stomach. The unopened messages from your girlfriend burn their way through pocket, searing at your legs like a brand on cattle. Everyone knows, everyone will know. Every detail of your life will be laid bare, and you’ll be tried publicly and without mercy. Your bandaid begins to unravel as you rub anxiously at the glue underneath.

You need to do something, something to get things back under control.

“Actually,” You start, unsure. Abby meets your eye quickly, without hesitation, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” It’s quick, and condescending. Undercutting any sudden courage you may have had, she meets your eye and stares you down, pinning you under ice, almost imploring you to feel terrified. And then she looks away, busy packing away the seating chart, and you wonder if she even looked at you at all.

She stands, and you try to meet her, your hands clutching your notebook.

“Your attendance tonight is mandatory.” She says it slowly, harshly, like it’s hard for you to understand. Her eyes chase quickly over your outfit, “It’s a black tie event.”

You’re left alone in a dark office, hyperventilating.

The apartment is empty and cold when you arrive home. 7 unanswered texts to your girlfriend tell you she doesn’t want you near her, but she isn’t packed. You expect her to come home, hopefully in the hour you have before you have to go again, and you contemplate just blowing the gala off to wait.

Abby’s voice is sharp in your head, a familiar dedication wringing your body. You can’t leave her. She needs you there.

You put off the conversation with your girlfriend into the furthest parts of your mind, allowing yourself to be swallowed in the minor decisions of clothes and hair and accessories. It’s not until you’re throwing your shoes on, and three times you think you hear her keys in the door, that you give up.

The phone rings 5 times before going to voicemail.

Hey. Listen. I know we said we weren’t going to talk until we were face to face but..

Whatever Maria told you wasn’t true, okay? I promise-I fucking promise you, nothings happened. Baby, okay? People are fucking bored, and I love you, so so much. I’ve gotta go to this one thing tonight - i tried to get out of it i swear -, and i’ll come home and we can talk, and we can fix this. Okay? Jus-Just, gimme some time to explain. Okay. I love you. Bye.

Echoes of quiet chatter uncomfortably ebb and flow off the walls of the ballroom. Too many people. Shoes scuff the cheap marble as the rich make their rounds, with light touches and reused laughter. They all hate each other.

Abby is a familiar sight. Wearing the same thing she has all day, she looks staggering. Hands just breaching her suit pockets, comfortably falling at her side, her hair in a calculated braid, designed to make her look approachable.

The air here agrees with her, her smile wide and effortless. You know she’s come straight from a meeting, and you suppose that adds to her charm. The Working Woman, a success story. Her rich friends, who spend their inheritances on shares and indoor tennis courts, lap it up. She’s a foreign object, something unfamiliar and wild.

You don’t interrupt, skimming the sidelines to get to your table. You can feel her glance, without substance, before returning to her conversation. Your event planner ( a shitty flip notebook that fits in every small clutch you own ) sits on the tablecloth at your seat, and you wait. Eyeing the glasses at the placemats next you, you can tell a few drinks has been shared, raking your eyes over Abby’s looser disposition.

She’s happy, and charming. She’s been drinking bourbon. Mint, with ice and syrup, the way you serve it to her in her office, when the occasion calls for celebration.

Her conversation finishes, her soft hands bidding gentle, kind goodbyes to the couple as they move on. She’s a friend to the people that matter.

“I expected you here before me.”

She doesn’t bother to look at you as she sits, instead fixing her napkin to her lap. You watch as the veins in her neck rise and fall as she talks, “Doesn’t matter now. Run me through everything.”

Right, fuck. You open your notebook and run your fingers over the scratchy writing. Your days leading up to this were spent copying details from obscure emails, tidbits you thought Abby needed to remember. Late nights at the office, life abandoned, deciphering biographies and 2 hour youtube deep dives. You can watch yourself fall asleep from the future, your handwriting slipping, long and longer strokes, spelling dissolving, long words abandoned. your pen fell to the floor, and you slept at your desk. Twenty missed calls. You argued when you came home in the morning.

“The Ambassador is arriving around 8:00pm with his new wife, also named Rebecca. Oh, Old Rebecca emailed asking why she didn’t receive an invitation.”

She’s slowly sipping at another whiskey, a different cocktail she ordered just as you’d arrived. The orange peel brushes her nose as she tilts the glass, her jaw tightens as she swallows, “Tell her the venue was at capacity. Send some flowers.”

It continues like this for a bit. Quiet and attentive, she listens to what you have to say, as her eyes follow the crowd. You too, spy people that you know, a few slimy execs that share a whisper and a boisterous laugh as they look your way. You order gin.

Soon enough, Abby checks her watch. An inexpensive, vintage piece of leather and quartz. She excuses herself with a measure of politeness. It’s time for an hour of speeches that don’t matter, before you’re finally allowed to eat. You sigh.

A quiet buzz rips through the growing silence. You open your clutch and hide your phone under the silk tablecloth, away from the disapproving elderly eyes.

i told u to leave me alone

jesus christ

A pit in your stomach. Dark, pressing, ever present. Your saliva is heavy in your mouth, and you feel like shrinking away. Luckily, the waiter isn’t far. Drinks are discounted for the company staff.

Finally, speeches finish. Abby looked nice on the stage, effervescent under the lights. Her hair catches warm light nicely in the strands.

The food comes, but people disregard it for shallow conversations. Plates are taken away full, apart from slim, polite pickings. Your table orders more drinks, and syrupy laughter echoes as anecdotes about private schools and hedge funds are shared. You don’t belong here. Your body becomes unsteady, restless. Your legs shaking, a hand finds you thigh in the veiled secrecy of the table cloth.

Abby’s not looking at you, too engaged in tipsy conversation to draw attention. A nice gesture, but it’s not. It’s wordless agreement. Her thumb traces the outside of your thigh mindlessly, her jaw clenching as she feels your gaze.

You hesitate.

What else did you have to do? Apart from go home and wait for an argument.

You let her touch you a little longer, soft, ghostly. It’s kind, unmistakably. You let yourself revel in it, in her uncommon affection, before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Abby follows not long after. She’s confident, her position charismatic, not unlike the other times she finds a drink, and then goes to find you. She doesn’t stop, so sure that you’ll follow her trail as you’ve done so often before. But you hesitate, again.

She turns back to you, a look on her face that’s hard to decipher. You stumble in your reasoning.

“It’s just-, my girlfrien-“

“Are you coming? Or not?”

Your palms itch, you swallow.

What kind of sick sacrifice. Unfair to have both, some would say, but some don’t know you. How wicked it is to taste both fruit and have to choose the sweeter. Fuck. The drinks settle in your stomach.

Your girlfriend wasn’t coming home tonight anyway, not really.

She’s leading you up the stairs, hands flush to her body. You grip the cold handrail to hold you steady. She’s already steps ahead, the appropriate distance.

A quiet corner doesn’t need to be found. She’s been here before. You’ve been here before. The holy emptiness of the second floor is an accustomed comfort.

She’s quick and calculated, despite the mix of drinks on her breath. One hand pushing you to the wall, the other finding the zipper for your dress. It falls off you like it never belonged to you, kicked away and piled into a corner, forgotten.

Gripping you like you’d run away, she palms your tits and presses crescent moons into your hips. She holds her head away from you, watching you down her nose as you squirm. Abby has always remained detached, carefully groomed a distance between you that now feels too sacred to break. You long to feel her kiss you, to feel her intimately, to run your hands along her arms and feel every curve, every outline. You’ve needed to touch her since the moment you met her. Craved it.

Abby is disrespectful, impatient. She cups your pussy, still hidden in slick panties, letting the rough ball of her palm grind against your clit. It sets you on fire, and she chases it with a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Get rid of them.”

You strip fast, in a very unflattering way, you’re certain, and throw your underwear close to the ghost of your dress. She moves against you again, her hand softer as it wraps around your lips and cheeks. You look at her, hoping to see that softness echoed on her face, but her eyes are elsewhere, too focused on the movement your tits make as she holds you against the wall.

Painstakingly, her fingers slide inside you, her hand pressing down on your mouth as you moan around the feeling of her, the intoxication. Your hands lock and unlock, your nails digging at scratching at the wood boards on the wall as you try to balance yourself.

Merciless. She rocks into you, letting you fall into step with her, find her pace, a relentless one. You feel her melting into your core, her fingers curling and stretching your walls as she pounds into you, again, again, again. You sound pathetic, behind the mask of her hand, whining as she leaves, and nearly screaming when she returns.

Abby watches as your face contorts around her fingers, feels you wrap around her. If she feels even a fraction of what she gives you, you wouldn't know. Her eyes remain unkind, left at a distance, but her breathing is staggered. short, laboured. she looks over you, you feel it, feel as her eyelashes rise as she rakes over your body.

You need it to be desire in her eyes. You need her to starve. To crave, like you do. Desperation.

Her hand moves from your mouth, your whimpering breath filling the room fast, the quiet broken. Her pace slows, and you almost rest on her fingers, left to wonder what she’s playing at. Instead, it comes down on your shoulder, still warm and wet with your breath, and she pushes you down onto her fingers, deep, deep. you feel her at the very centre of yourself, your eyes wide as the pressure builds inside you, her fingernails leaving a trail, evidence of her in your walls. She lets your ragged moans echo, hurt and pleasure. It’s an unkind end to things.

You don’t want to let it to end. You can’t.

The distance is broken. You reach out and grasp flesh, firm under your nails. You’re still riding the ecstasy pulse, the heat in your pussy, and Abby lets you stay, holding onto her as if you would fade otherwise. Your cheeks are almost touching, her breath hot on your ear, you hear her for the first time, raspy groans as you squeeze around her. She’s been holding back.

Damn it all.

“Everybody knows. Please. Please, fuck me like you know you should.”

You meet her gaze. Everything is foreign now. Her skin feels different to how you had imagined it. Softer. Her eyes are more uncertain, more than you’d ever seen before. Hesitance.

“Fuck it.”

Whiskey, and a sip of your gin, and tobacco. You didn’t even know she smoked, but you taste it on her like its the only thing she ever did. The smell of pine came in a wave as she moved, hooking her hands under your legs and hoisting you up. For months, you’ve yearned for her to kiss you, begged for it even. And now, her lips are rough, and bloody, and everywhere. Ghosts tracing your neck, unkind, stinging, exhilarating.

She moves you to the floor without fuss, holding herself over you, your legs spread around her. She’s smiling, and you become so sure that there’s something not quite right with this side of Abby. You’re quickly aware that you’ve landed in hostile territory, vulnerable, needy.

She usually didn’t like it when you begged.

Her tongue is like the rapture on your clit, spitting fire through your veins, in your nerves. You feel it creep up in your body, twisting and tightening through you like something invasive, moans and prayers dripping from your lips that only push her. her name a curse, fallen on your body. You feel her laugh against your slick walls and it jolts you.

Abby, suddenly so aware of you, so kind, so attentive, shifts her posture, “Oh, you’re so needy.” A hand grabs your face, pulling it up from the floor in a dead lull. Her name rolls off your pretty lips once more, “What? You beg for me, and now you can’t take me?” Her tone is mocking, “Which is it? Hm?”

A cacophony. You, you, you. Your head foggy, unsure of what she wants to hear, you beg for again, telling her you can it take it. I can, please, abby.

Her laugh is cruel, mocking as her mouth finds you again, sending cold vibrations up your legs. Slut echoes against your clit.

Inside of you, she feels like a god. Her fingers stretching your walls, pressing deep against your centre at an excruciating pace, and her tongue lazily laps up all that you give her.

“Fuck! Fu-uck, fuck!”

It’s clear to Abby that the caution she so carefully designed was useless now. People knew, and fuck it if they knew. Fuck it if they heard you dripping on her fingers, calling out her name. Fuck it if they stop the music, and turn to listen - fucking perverts - because it’s her. And you’re the one begging for her.

Stars creep in through the haze in your vision, and Abby’s trying to ask you something harsh, but you don’t hear it. You’re tethered to the feeling of her fingers, your whole body knotting around her like a planet in orbit of the sun.

You’d burn if she wanted you to, happily.

You’re so fucking tight around her fingers, your legs shaking and a vicious call ripping through your body. Her Name.

The warmth from your body is too much, and the cool of the floor is lulling, soothing, as you collapse. Abby’s fingers leave you empty, incomplete. You whine as she leaves you, your walls tightening around the absence of her. She wipes your cotton slick on your leg.

She stands, and rolls her shoulders. Fixes the few hairs that fall out of place. Guiltless.

“Get dressed, before someone sees you.”

#i'm gonna get back to cowboy!ellie i swear #i have so many people in my inbox begging for her I HEAR U!!#i just needed a change of pace bc writers block yk #idk what it is w me and mean women but cowboy!ellie is also going to be a bit mean i fear #also i was going to write this w ellie as the gf but i couldn't fit it in #but it is implied!!#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #tlou abby #abby x reader #abby the last of us

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shhh-secret-time · 1 month

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Part 2 is 21 pages. Part 1 was 16 pages. Combine that together and that's a 37 page request I pumped out in a day.

oops.

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Praise Kink, a bit of jealous behavior, mention of character death, bug violence(?), bit of PTSD

Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader

When you finally woke up, the first thing that came to your mind was just how dry your mouth felt. You swallow roughly and it burns the back of your throat in a different way the alcohol of last night did. It felt like you were trying to swallow steel wool, forcing what little saliva pooled in your mouth down your throat.

The second thing was the fact the horse had gone back to a slow trot. No longer could you hear hooves on cobblestone. The wind was no longer whipping around your head and through your hair. The smell of the city long gone, now replaced with a deep earthy scent.

The third was the feeling of Kyle's arms still wrapped around you, one pulls away from your side for a moment. You feel him move around, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He presses his fingers into his heavy eyelids before returning them to the reigns.

Finally, all three things fall into place as you piece it all together. Kyle feels the way your body bolts up away from his chest and brings his horse to a stop. He pulls her off to the crummy dirt road and off to the side.

"Oh! I apologize! I didn't mean to fall asleep like that! I can't believe I just passed out!" Panic sets into your voice and guilt eats at you when you realize he probably rode all through the night.

"It's fine ma'am. I figured you could use the rest. Please don't take any offense or nothin' but you look like you ain't seen much shut eye." Kyle smiles at you holding his hand up to try and settle you.

"I-.... you’d be right. Still, that's no excuse. You're still a stranger, the fact that I just fell asleep like that..."

"A stranger you shot a man for. A stranger you saved from gettin' strangled to death. I never did get to thank you for that." He pauses for a moment as he gets down from the horse. Kyle takes the reigns with him, choosing to walk along aside the horse now. "I've only had a few people in my time willin' to do somethin' like that for me and I at least know their names."

It hits you like a brick. In less than twenty-four hours you got into your first ever bar fight, shot a shotgun, slugged a man with said shotgun, all but bribed the sheriff, ran off with a man who didn't even know your name, and then fell asleep on said man who didn't even know your name. You catch yourself staring down at the handsome gunslinger, breaking yourself out of the daze trance like stare. It was hard not to admire him; looks aside he's been nothing but a delight to you. It would have been all too easy for him to just dump you off somewhere, leaving you and your problems behind.

Instead, here he was. Walking alongside you and his horse, without even so much as asking you about your business. Why you wanted to go out West, or why you needed to hire him in the first place. You hadn't even told him how much you were paying him for all of this.

"Ma'am?" Oh, right, your name.

"I'm being all types of rude, aren't I? I'm sorry..."

"Ain't nothin' to apologize for. I figured you got a reason for keepin' secrets. If you don't wanna tell me, I ain't gonna make ya." He shrugs.

It takes you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you do you finally gain the courage to ask him. "Why are you being so accepting about all of this? Shouldn't you be surprised or at the very least upset?"

"The way I see it, you saved my skin back there twice. Once with Knucklehead and the other with the Sheriff." He says sheriff with a sneer, "I owe you. Besides the way you begged the sheriff to let us go, I could tell you were in some kind of trouble. Wouldn't be right of me to turn my back on someone who needed help."

"So, what, you're just doing this out of obligation and the kindness of your heart?"

That makes him laugh again, but he quickly shakes his head. "Guess you could put it like that. Walk the righteous path and clear all debts sort of ordeal. But I don't think it goes that deep. Like I told the bartender last night, I'm just a simple fella tryin' to make a livin'."

You sit on his horse in awe, if this was an act he was putting on it was a damn fine one. You run your fingers through the horse’s mane, brushing out the sand and dirt on the poor creature who must be so tired. She huffs a little, but she doesn't move her head, so you continue.

After a few moments of walking and silence, you tell him your name. Your full name.

Every time you speak, he gives you his full attention, looking up at you with that gentle smile. You expect his eyes to widen like everyone else's when you drop your last name, your family was famous after all. Instead, he nods along and practices the sound of your name on his tongue.

He says it again and hearing it whispered in that voice of his sounds divine. Once he likes the way it feels and sits, he turns back to the road and keeps walking.

"Pretty name...like the way it sounds. I hate the fact that I ain't gonna get to use it much." His lips purse, talking like he's just mumbling to himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it wouldn't be real wise to be usin' your name if you're tryin' to go into hidin'. Even if we are on the road alone, I don't wanna take any chances. If I get in the habit of usin' your name, I ain't gonna wanna stop." He brings the rim of his hat down over his eyes trying to hide the blush on his face. Even though he says it with such confidence it's hard to look you in the eye.

He's not alone, his words have a greater effect on you than he knows. You pull the cloak still wrapped around your body closer to your form, burying your face in the material. Maybe you could just rub your flushed face away or at the very least it would buy you time to slow your heartbeat down.

Kyle was right about one thing. Your last name has brought you nothing but trouble your whole life. So, for now you'd get rid of it, toss it to the side like the various newspapers you saw littering the city streets. Let it drift away and be carried by the Eastern winds. It was time to leave the city girl you were raised to be behind; you were going out West now.

"The only thing I can't seem to wrap my head around." Kyle breaks the silence between you two again. "Is how someone like you learned to shoot like that."

"How do you mean? It doesn't take much to point a gun at someone and pull the trigger, can't really miss with a shotgun when you're that close."

"That's what I'm askin'. It don't take much to pull a trigger, but you knew how to hold it. Held her like you knew her."

"How'd a lawyers boy go from that to being a bounty hunter?" You ask, bringing up the little fact that Sheriff Cartman spat at him last night.

His lips press together in a thin line and for a moment you feel like you might have crossed a line. Said something you shouldn't have, but when his shoulders slump forward you can feel something different. It's not anger in his eyes, maybe regret? Hurt that rests behind those tired green eyes.

"I don't know why I'm tellin' you this. But we're gonna be together for a while, might as well make conversation I suppose." Again, he talks like he's not really talking to you. His inner thoughts spilling from his mouth like brandy in a bottle. "It was bandits."

Your blood runs cold, that could mean anything but, in this context, you had a feeling it wasn't a good one. Your fingers brush down the coat of the horse as he talks, finding comfort in the animal. You can feel the warm and gentle breathing coming from her. If you squint, you could almost swear they had lined up their breathes. She would take in an inhale, and he would let out a puff of air.

"Pa was a lawyer, Ma was a stay-at-home mama. He made enough for all of us and another. I have a baby brother they adopted when I was younger." He goes to tell his story with a little pause in between.

"You said have. He still around?" That question hurts to ask, but curiosity was gnawing at you. You wanted to know more about this gunslinger, that included the bad too.

"Yeah. I think it was when I was fifteen? Pa was puttin' me through school, was studyin' to be like him. I was gonna put away bad people just like him." He takes his hat off with his free hand, he stares down at the inside of the hat. You catch a glimpse of stiches and patchy line work. Past the scuff marks and tears on the old thing it looks like someone tried to patch it back together again. Enough to where it would hold up. But past that there was a little black and white picture tucked in the makeshift pocket of one of the patches.

A skinny man, honestly looked like a strong gust of wind could blow him away, standing next to the most gorgeous looking woman you've ever seen. Her hair was put up in a tight bun, curves on every ounce of her that made her look like something out of those fancy paintings. The dress she wore clung to her body and on her lap was a little boy. Black hair that didn't match the shade of grey on either of the adults behind him. He had a big toothy grin on his face as he held an outstretched hand for the other boy beside him.

It was Kyle. Much younger than he is now, hopeful looking face with his hair cut short and kept clean. The curls sat neatly on the top of his head, and he dressed like some of the men your father did business with. Fine button up grey shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. A grey tie came down from his collar that disappeared behind a black vest. Still had that soft smile on his face as he looked at the camera.

He quickly puts the hat back on feeling your eyes peering down behind him. Again, you felt like you got a peek into something you shouldn't have seen. If he was bothered you couldn't tell, he just kept talking.

"Pa was always real good at that, puttin' bad people away. Could do it the civilized way, take him down and give 'em a trial. Rely on the system to put 'em behind bars and supposably reform 'em." He scoffs at that statement, "lotta good all that did. Pa put away the wrong man. Some no name bandit leader thinkin' he could take the short way through life and rob some rich folk."

Kyle stops, completely. Stops the horse, stops talking and just stares down at the ground below. You watch a little red scorpion scurry after its dinner. Stinger pulled back and at the ready.

"Men like that got one thing goin' for 'em. They travel in numbers. Numbers that don't like when you mess with their own. Pa wasn't even the man that brought that bandit leader in, but he was the reason why he'd never walk under the sun again. They were gonna keep that no named man locked away in the deepest parts of their holdin' cells. His men didn't like that idea much."

The scorpion chases the target down until they come to a ledge. Something that would be so easy for you to just step over, something that would barely be an obstacle in your way. But for the tiny bug that was fleeing for its life, it was the end of the road. It wasn't dexterous enough to try and make it over the little ledge, the path to freedom taunting it as it falls on its back.

"Don't really know what they were thinkin' or how they came to the conclusion. But they decided in the dead of night they'd...burn down the town? Came in on horseback makin' all types of racket. I remember Ma pushing my brother in my hands an' tellin' me to run out to where we kept the stagecoach. Somethin'-" He chokes and clears his throat to collect himself. "Somethin' about the horses already hitched and ready. To just jump on and wait for her and Pa."

The scorpion closes in on the bug. His stinger blocking the view of the sun, casting the shadow of death over the poor thing.

"I protested, wanted to stay and help her pack bags. Carry somethin' other than my cryin' brother." His hands clutch the sarape around his body, right where his heart would be. "She told me not to argue with her and to get my ass outside. Never heard her curse before..."

The bug kicks its little legs, trying to roll off its back. It squirms, fights, and rocks trying to do anything. Anything but die.

"I did what she told me. Go where she told me. You don't question your mama when she tells you to do somethin' ya know?" He licks his lips, and you wonder if they're as dry as yours are right now. "I put my brother and I in the carriage and I wait for 'em. Then...the house just...erupts. One of those sons of bitches threw somethin' against the side of the house and it catches a blaze."

Kyle closes his eyes, a bead of sweat drips down his face. Like he can still feel the roaring flames against his face. The poor man is standing there reliving it all.

The scorpion finally brings its stinger down. Strikes the pathetic creature in the stomach one good time. The venom does its job, you're sure if the little thing could scream out it would. Instead, it just goes slack, goes limp and dies.

"I... I didn't know what to do. I had just learned to drive the damn thing, so I grabbed the reigns and snapped it. If it wasn't for my brother, I probably would've run into that blazing hell. Probably be a dead man too."

"Probably." Your voice finally pipes up. Kyle looks up at you and you're not giving him the look of pity others have when he tells this tale. Your face is softened sure but there's nothing in those eyes that tell him you're looking down at him.

"That's the last time I saw 'em. Last time I said good night...I only wished I woulda got to say I love you."

The scorpion closes in on its meal. Now that it's not trying to run it figures it can eat in peace. Pinchers at the ready to pick the corpse up.

"I didn't. Spent a lotta time wishin', and a lotta time gettin' good with a gun. Pa taught me there were other ways to take a man down, not everythin' had to be solved with violence. We could do it humane like instead of usin' a gun. Just a shame I turned out to be a damn good shot."

Kyle starts walking again, and as he does, he walks over the scorpion. Crushing the creature under his heel without a second thought. You watch as when he moves his heel the thing lays there with the sand already started to claim it's body. You wonder if it got to at least get a bite of what it worked so hard for.

"So that's how you started bounty hunting?"

"Yep. Started with the assholes that took my parents from me and my brother. Guess they're the only people I never brought in alive."

"Really?!" That was a part of the man you didn't learn from rumors.

"I'm flattered you seem to think I had the ability to bring in fifteen men all by my lonesome, but no. I gave 'em the same treatment they gave my parents." Most men would be proud of that, say it with their chests out. Kyle doesn't, he keeps his eyes on the road and his head down.

"You burned them?"

"Set their whole lil' hideout on fire. Got a bottle of whiskey, drank some of it for courage and then tucked a cloth in the rest of it. Lit the sucker on fire and tossed it."

You try not to imagine the sounds that fifteen men on fire would make, or the fact that not even one of them got away. Kyle was a lucky man that there weren't a few to make it out of that fire that night. Who knows what would have happened if he was caught or worse, they lived to enact revenge like Kyle had.

"Took my brother to an old friend’s ranch and we stayed there for a while. You ever hear of the Marsh family?"

"Sure. They're famous ranchers, good at breakin' in horses and growin' crops."

"Their son is my best friend. I call that man my brother. Call him that until I take my final breath." A smile finally comes back to his face, talking about someone that means so much to him seems to put him at ease.

"Why'd ya leave?" You ask, letting a smile come across your face at the sight of his.

"Didn't feel right just sittin' around. Plus, if word got out that I was stayin' in one place I figured it'd just bring trouble. My brother didn't do nothin' so I asked if I could leave him there. Been out on the road ever since, I send him letters from time to time but it ain't easy gettin' 'em out to me so I just assume he's alright."

"You should visit your brother...I'm sure he misses you." You tell him. It almost breaks your heart the way his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"With the reputation I built up, I'd only be bringin' danger to his doorstep. I couldn't do that to him or Stan." That must be his friend he mentioned, you note. "I take what I earn from bounty hunting and send it their way. Just because I chose to throw away the life our Pa had set out for me, doesn't mean he's gotta. Every nickel and dime I get goes to keepin' me goin' and buildin' a better life for him."

Your heart swells, swells with admiration and pain. It hurts to see a man who so clearly loves his family have to keep himself away from what little he has left of it. Who has to distance himself from the two people he'd call brother. Neither really blood related to him but they might as well be. You can't help but admire him, how he tries to carry all that responsibility on his back. You thought the tired look in his eye was just from staying up all night and riding into the morning.

"Kyle, that's incredibly brave of you. Putting yourself out there for your brother, if it means anything...I don't think you're throwing your life away." You find that courage you somehow mustered up last night and put your hand over his, the one that still has the reigns. He looks up at you, watching as the sun sits behind your head like a halo. You bend down a bit and get closer to him, whispering as if someone was listening in. "I think what you're doing is the most noble thing I've ever heard. You're the kind of man they talk about in story books...if I didn't believe in you before I do now. Thank you."

"For....for what?" He asks and swallows, his adams apple bobs. For the first time in a long time, he can't seem to find his voice, it drops to a low whisper.

But could anyone blame him? The way you look at him so gently, every little blink of your eyelashes has him sinking deeper and deeper into the color of your eyes. That golden sun behind you makes you look like an angel, and maybe you are one. As far as Kyle is concerned only an angel could look at him like that. Find a way to admire him and sing his praise after being told he set fifteen men to hell in a blaze of hate.

"For being you. I used to not think there were good men out there, but you're changing that." You say it like it's the simplest thing on earth. Like he should have just known the answer to that.

But when you say it, it's like being punched in the chest. You have your hands so tightly wrapped around his heart he's sure if you say anything else he's going to keel over. He lets himself have this moment, lets a breath escape his chest and holds onto each little word you said.

"Ma'am, you ain't got a clue as to what you're sayin'. You don't know me well enough to be passin' judgement like that."

"Hm. Good thing I'm a real good judge of character. A man as bad as you claim to be would've robbed me blind especially if he knew for a fact, I was carrying enough money on me to buy your friends ranch."

His eyes widen at that, he stares at you as if you just told him the sky was red and the rapture was coming. Kyle's respone catches in his throat, unable to say anything at that. You can't help but laugh at that, the sweet sound coming from your lips makes his knees weak.

You toss him the stained white bag of cash, the once pure white cloth now soiled by the desert sands. Dirt clings to it but that doesn't stop him from catching it and opening it up. True to your word, there was so much cash in here Kyle could probably beat a man to death with it.

"You walked into that damn saloon with this?!" Kyle yelled quickly, closing the bag.

"I risked a lot on trying to find you." You say with a little shrug. "Sold everything I owned, took what I could carry and set out to hire you."

"You're either crazy or desperate. Please, for the love of God don't take offense to this."

You laugh again and shake your head; you couldn't argue with him. He was right. Maybe you were both, but it was either this or get unlucky one day and go missing. You'd take your chances with the handsome man next to you. At least he wasn't a stranger much anymore.

"I just got tired of the life I was living. Heard there was good opportunity out West. Figured I could settle in Texas or...Colorado?"

"Colorado?! Ma'am if this is some elaborate plot to give me a heart attack just to take me out, you're doin' a damn fine job." He clutches the bag into his chest and takes a deep breath. Quickly he stuffs the bag into the saddle bag on his horse. She stirs a little and shakes her head letting him know that her patience is running thin.

"So, you're suggesting Texas?"

"It's better than fuckin' God damn Colorado!" The way Kyle's cursing picks up when he's stressed is kind of adorable.

Laughter echoes down the road all the way out of the state. You finally find yourself off the East coast for the first time in your life. The company you keep makes it all the better! Eventually you stop at the nearest town and purchase your own horse. You have to slow down a little because Kyle has to all but teach you how to mount her and how to keep her from freaking out. He's calm and patient with you the entire time, only laughing at you a few times when you forget to buckle the saddle completely and almost slide right off. He teaches you how to take care of her and you end up spending most nights swapping stories by campfires.

You're somewhere deep in the state of Missouri, where exactly you're not sure that's Kyle's job. The night sky hangs above your heads with the stars staring down at you. Each little twinkle makes you think they're winking down at you. Kyle's told you that a few of the stars have names and stories behind them, you let him ramble on about it for hours before informing him that you already knew all that. The look on his face alone was enough to make you laugh.

You must have laughed again because Kyle's looking up from the worn-out map up at you now. He has a lazy smirk, the corners of his lips hidden behind the scruff on his face that's starting to grow in. His hair just now starting to go back to when you first met him, he's shaved it off a few times since your journey much to your dismay. You complained for days when he first did it only to be met with an eye roll.

That was something you always noted, that whenever you would complement Kyle's appearance, he'd brush you off or find a way to deflect. Telling you that you were the pretty one or that you were just seeing things because you weren't drinking enough water. The heat was getting to you, and you needed to take some time by the shade.

But he really was a handsome man, the rugged look didn't really line up with his personality but damn if it didn't do something to you. Being next to the man for so long, having made the first real connection with another person for the first time in your life. Well, it was getting harder and harder not to see him in a different light.

Especially since every moment leading up to this point, Kyle would do everything in his power to protect you. Putting himself in harm’s way time and time again just to make sure you'd be safe. Bandits thinking the both of you were easy picking, Kyle's reputation didn't reach every corner of the country. And the few times it did, it only encouraged people like Knucklehead to try and take a shot at bringing him down. There were a few times people recognized you. Someone had put out missing wanted posters with your face plastered all over them.

Of course, when danger came rearing its ugly head, Kyle would be there by your side. At first it was a lot of him taking shots for you, you patching him up. Using those studies your parents provided, removing bullets, and cleaning the wound left behind wasn't exactly what you had studied but eventually you got the hang of it. Each time you'd scold him to be more careful, he'd argue that catching bullets with his body wasn't something he liked doing. And each time just as you'd finish bandaging him back up, he'd give you a look that had your heart fluttering. His eyelids would lower down, and his lips would part in just a way that made them look so kissable. But every time you'd think you got the courage to just do it, he'd pull away and wish you a good night. Disappearing in his tent as if he wasn't just staring at you thinking the same thing.

Little did you know he was thinking the same thing. Countless nights he'd stay awake at night, tossing and turning in his bedroll trying to get the image of you so close out of his head. It had been a long time since Kyle felt this close with anyone, much less got to share the road with another person. Those little moments where you'd brush your fingers over his exposed skin or when you'd wake up nice and early to make sure he got something in his stomach before riding off. It made it harder and harder to want to not make you, his woman. To not take you up in his arms and take you into his tent for the night.

But that's not why you hired him. Once he got you to Colorado, he'd drop you off, probably stick around long enough to make sure you were settled, and then be on his way. Leaving you in that state all by yourself and he'd return to wherever the road took him. That thought filled him with an indescribable loneliness, one he tried to keep out of his head. He tried to focus on how good he felt just being near you, savoring the moments he got with you now.

Like how pretty you looked when you sat next to the fire, back against a log that he dragged over to make it a little more comfortable. A book resting in your lap and a page between your fingers, some novel you both picked up and swapped back and forth. How every time you looked over at him thinking you could steal a few glances without him noticing, only to be caught in the act. Ever since he met you back at the bar you would avert your eyes from him and try to find something else to look at or pretend that you were looking past him. He found it so cute.

"Somethin' funny darlin'?" You don't know when he started calling you that, can't recall but every single time it makes your heart leap.

"Just thinking about that time, you were telling me about the stars. How I'm gonna miss this..." You say with a little shrug and smile, reaching down next to you to grab the bottle of wine.

"You'll still be able to see 'em in Colorado. In fact, I hear they're mighty pretty over the desert." He says watching you take a drink from the bottle.

"It's not the same." You wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your blouse, the red liquid staining the shirt. "It's not the same if you don't have someone to share it with."

It's Kyle's turn to blush a little, he gives you a little hum and a nod like he understands. There's a moment where he thinks his heart stops, but it thumps against his chest, and he finds it in him to speak up. "You always know just what to say to make a man flustered huh?"

"Since when have I talked to other men like this?" You ask scooting a little closer to him, that night wind pushing you a little closer to his warmth.

"I don't quite recall..." He mumbles meeting you halfway.

Kyle helps close the gap between the both of you until your thighs are touching. The material of his jeans brush against your legs, exposed because of the skirt clips holding your skirt to where they just cover your thighs.

"Think it would work on another man?" Your voice drops to a whisper.

His brows furrow at that and his face twists into a scowl. You watch the way his eyes narrow and darken a little. He huffs and you can smell the scent of coffee on his breath. Kyle doesn't say anything, instead he goes for the wine bottle in your hand. The man takes a swig of it, trying to hide the jealous feeling that's starting to creep up on him.

"Reckon it would... if you had the backbone to be talkin' to other men."

"What's that supposed to mean?" It's your turn to furrow your brows at him, they knit together.

"Just sayin' you ain't exactly a smooth talker with everyone you come across. I seem to remember a certain run in with that snake oil salesman that was tryin' to get you to agree to go on a lil' date with him." He taps the bottle against his lips a few times before taking another drink.

You take the bottle from him, crawling over his lap to reach the darn thing. You press your palm into his thigh and suddenly he's very aware of just how close you are to him. Kyle isn't sure if you're doing on purpose but either way it makes his dick twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He doesn't give you time to protest as he moves the bottle out of reach, holding it back just as you brush your fingertips against the cool glass. "No, I think I remember you fumblin' over your words and I had to come over and tell the fella you weren't interested."

Damn him. Damn that handsome red head for calling you out and looking so cocky while doing it. His smirk returns as he cocks his head down at you, the way his lips glisten against the campfire almost has you distracted. Almost.

But you wanted your wine, so you take another lunge for it. Pressing your body into him to try and climb over and snatch it back. His hand comes down to your waist, keeping you in place.

"Ah! No ma'am, I think someone's had enough. All that talk about flirtin' with other men ain't much like you. Think this is messin' with your head." He tuts and shifts you in his lap. He's hoping you don't feel the effect you're having on him.

"You know what I think Broflovski? I think you're jealous!" You challenge crossing your arms under your chest.

"That so? That what you think darlin'?"

"Why else would you be acting like this? You're acting like a damn child! Now give me my bottle, I'm a grown woman I can drink as much as I wanna!"

He laughs at that. Laughs right at your protests and the way you're pouting in his lap. It makes your face burn up, it makes you wanna hit him, makes you wanna kiss him until he shuts up.

"You're real cute when you get fussy you know that?" Kyle lets the compliment slip out of his mouth before he has time to think about it.

He knows better. He knows he shouldn't be flirting with you, shouldn't get attached. But that ship has long since sailed, he's been infatuated with you since the day you told him he was a good man. But fuck if it isn't getting harder and harder, especially with you sitting so pretty on his lap.

"Kyle Broflovski! If you don't start acting right!" You know the blush on your face doesn't help, the scolding falls on deaf ears.

"I ain't the one crawlin' into a man's lap for a bottle of cheap wine." He sets the bottle down beside him off into the dark where it no longer matters. That hand finds home on your waist, rolling his thumbs over the material of your skirt.

You suck in a breath and sit up on your knees, pushing them to rest on either side of him. "You're not just another man...that what you want me to tell you?"

"Can't say I wouldn't like it." Kyle's voice dips low, gravely and makes a shiver zip down your spine.

"If you don't want me flirting with other men..., why are you waiting so long to kiss me?"

"Oh darlin'," He growls and squeezes the back of your thighs, rough hands sliding up your skirt. "I want nothin' more but...you and I both know I can't."

"No, I don't think I do. Enlighten me." You're not letting him get away this time, there would be no running off to his tent to avoid this. You had him wrapped around your little finger, even if your heart felt like it was about to explode.

" 'Cause if I start kissin' you. I'm gonna keep doin' it..." He gets closer, sitting up to his full height just to graze his lips over yours. "Keep kissin' ya 'til I ain't go breath in my lungs left. Then I'll wanna take you in my arms jus' like this." He gives you a little squeeze pressing his chest further against yours. "I wouldn't be able to stop myself from makin' those sweet lil' noises come out of your mouth. Wouldn't wanna stop either."

Your breath hitches and you let out a soft little moan. You card your fingers through his hair, his hat was put away somewhere in his tent, so it left those gorgeous red curls unguarded. He groans and inadvertently bucks his hips up into you, the rough feeling of his jeans grinding up against your underwear.

"Fuck and if you ain't makin' it difficult. Talkin' like that makes me think you planned to get me all worked up. You ain't stupid, just about the smartest woman I've ever met in my life." He continues grinding his hips into you, rolling you over his growing erection. Kyle groans and doesn't even bother trying to stop the sounds coming out of his mouth.

"K-Kyle just kiss me already!" You whimper in his lap.

And he snaps, whatever wall he built up to resist you comes tumbling down. Just the way you say his name has him tossing all logic out the window. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face down towards him, crashing your lips onto his. His teeth almost knock into yours from how desperately he needs this, how much he needs you. It's like being able to stretch your legs after riding for days, or a cool drink of water after being under that blazing sun for too long.

That crackling fire that keeps your little camp sight illuminated doesn't give off nearly the amount of heat Kyle's kiss does. His chapped lips move against yours, somehow despite being on the road for so long they're still so soft. It takes a second for your brain to register that he's finally kissing you, after so long he's finally doing it. Before he can pull back, you press back into the kiss. Hands coming down from his hair to cup his jaw like it'll anchor you from floating away.

He kisses you again and again, each kiss turning more passionate. He goes from a desperate kiss to kissing you like a starved man. His tongue slips out and swipes against your bottom lip, when you don't open your mouth, he growls and pulls you down, so you're now firmly sat in his lap. The action makes you gasp, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, more than excited to explore the inside of your mouth until he finds your tongue. You poke back nervously and chase after the pink muscle. Finally, your tongues twine together, wrapped up in some kind of dance.

He kisses you until your lungs burn, desperate for air. In this silent little battle to see who would break first, it's you. You pull away from him and take in a large gasp. The lack of air and how heated the kiss was makes your head spin. Just as you collect yourself, he's on his feet lifting you up with him. You cling to him and wrap your arms around his neck, even though you know he won't drop you the shock of being moved so quickly like that caught you off guard.

"W-where are we going?"

" 'm takin' you to bed." He walks you over to the tent he's got pitched up, moving to your tent. Kyle bends down and gently lays you down on the bedroll. He sucks in a breath when he sees the way your hair's all laid out and how you've got your thighs pressed together. Lips wet and slightly puffy from the way he kissed you. "Now if you ain't the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Take your blouse off for me."

Kyle looks down at you with darkened eyes, heavy eyes filled with lust. He watches every single little movement you make. They watch as you slip the buttons of your blouse through the little slots holding them together. Watch as you slip the shirt down your arms painfully slow, far too slow for his liking. But ever the gentleman he simply hooks his thumbs in his belt and watches, rewarding you with a low hum.

"That's my girl." His praise all but makes you purr; you like the way he calls you his. "Jus' a lil' more for me. Take that skirt off." His hand slips up your skirt and taps the side of your thigh.

You do it, work the skirt clips off along with the skirt itself until you're left in nothing but your underwear. He tosses them to the side letting them land in your pile of bags. He tugs off his sarape and works his belt, the clinking of his buckle rings out. The only other sound besides your heavy breathing is the bubbling brook next to your camp sight. Occasionally, you can hear the horses stir, but right now all you can focus on is the way Kyle strips down to nothing.

Kyle lays his gun down carefully on top of his clothes before joining you under the furs used to keep you warm. His cock nudges against your thigh, twitching against how soft it feels. You let out a shaky sigh and peer down at it, the angry red tip brushes against your skin.

"I-is that going to fit?" You ask him suddenly a bit worried, but it melts away when he takes your jaw and kisses you again.

"Darlin' we can stop at any moment. But if you'll have me, I'll make you feel real good." His hand snakes down between you two and his fingers go to spread you open.

You let out a little moan and whisper a soft, 'yes' and it's all he needs to continue. His middle finger rolls your bud gently at first until you start to squirm and push against his hand for more. He applies enough pressure to the circular motion that has you seeing stars. He continues rubbing circles on your clit and your hips buck up against his hold. It felt so good.

You moan out in pleasure when he slides two fingers into your hole with ease, your arousal making it so easy for him. He pumps his fingers in you once or twice, pushing into that spot that has your back arching off the bedroll. Kyle keeps his fingers buried in you for a moment, spreading them out and curling them in a come-hither motion. His lips find their way down on your neck, leaving faint love bites. Sucking on the exposed skin with enough force to pull a loud moan out of you.

"Kyle..." A low breathless whimper escapes your lips as he comes off your neck with a pop. "Please, please."

"Sound so pretty when you moan my name like that. Shoulda done this sooner." He works his fingers in you again, thrusting them up into you over and over again. "Fuck you're so fuckin' wet."

You're moaning so loudly you're sure if you weren't alone on the side of the road you would have woken a whole neighborhood. When you try to muffle those moans, he stops moving his fingers leaving you just teetering on the edge. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten, he can feel the way your pussy flutters around his fingers.

"That's it sweetheart, let go for me. Look at me when you cum." He holds your jaw with his free hand making you look up at him.

Your eyes widen and as you finally clench around his fingers giving you that orgasm you desperately begged for. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you until you're whining, and tears are beginning to spill from your eyes.

"Shh, I know, but I gotta make sure you're nice and prepped for me darlin' don't wanna hurt ya too bad." Kyle whispers in your ear until he pulls his fingers out of you finally. You whine at the loss of contact, suddenly feeling so empty. You watch him bring his fingers up to his lips and swirl his tongue around the digit. "Think you're ready for me baby?"

"Kyle, please. I want this, I want you!" You whimper.

"That's a good girl. Roll over on your stomach for me." He leans back up and gestures for you to do as he says.

So, you do, you roll over on your stomach and just as you do, he tucks a pillow under your stomach. His hands glide up and down your legs until they find purchase on your hips. They tighten and squeeze around your waist pulling you back against his cock. Kyle glides you back against his member, grinding your wet pussy up and down his shaft. He lets out a soft moan and lets his head lull to the side.

"Oh," He says quietly as the tip of his cock nudges against your folds, "thaaaaaat's it." Kyle slips every inch of his cock into you slowly, dragging your velvet walls back against him. He pushes and sinks deeper into you until he bottoms out.

"O-Oh god." You bury your face in the bedroll. "Fuck feels so good."

"You have no fuckin' idea..." He grips your hips and begins slowly thrusting in and out of you, "how many times I've thought about fuckin' you senseless. How bad I just wanted to make you fuckin' mine!" His voice comes out in a breathless moan over your desperate cries.

" 'm yours!" You're a mess at this point and he hasn't done much but finger you and start a lazy pace. Each time he drags his cock out he pulls all the way out leaving you empty again. Only to push it right back in at that antagonizing slow pace, like he's trying to get you to remember every little vein on his cock. "Please just go harder, I can take I-I promise!"

"Yeah? Want me to really fuck you baby? I was gonna take my time with ya, show you just how badly I wanted ya." Kyle bucks into you with a sharp thrust making you bounce forward, "but listen to yourself, beggin' for my cock. Beggin' me to go faster. Do it again."

You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut; the first time was easy you weren't really thinking about it. Now that he's making demands of you it makes you feel flustered. That embarrassing feeling of having him looking down at your wrecked form washes over you. When his fingers card through your hair and grip the base of your roots, you let out a shocked gasp.

"Darlin' I believe I asked you to do somethin'. I ain't exactly a patient man right now. Not from the way you're squeezin' me soooo tight." He nudges your insides with a lazy little thrust. All it does is make you moan and claw at the bedroll.

"Please Kyle! Please, please, please" You're reduced to nothing but moans and whines. Begging him to do something, anything!

He seems satisfied with that from the way he pulls you back against his chest. Pulling your head out from the bedroll and letting your moans ring out into the night. With a quick slap against your ass, he begins to pick up the pace. The length of his cock claiming you and pounding into you. Your heart rate spikes as he pushes into you deeper than his fingers could reach. He hits that spot in your pussy that his fingers hit earlier, the one that has you seeing stars and drooling. Kyle lets out a moan when your cunt tightens around him again, one that lets you know just how good you make him feel.

"So fuckin' tight. You take me so fuckin' good baby, like you were made for me. Made to take this cock. Fuck gotta feel you cum around my cock this time. That's it, that's it." Kyle grunts and takes his hand out of your hair. Snaking it around your form he grinds his fingers against your clit again.

Your eyes roll up to the back of your head from everything. The way his cock bullies your insides, how his fingers assault the already sensitive bundle of nerves, and the way he spouts filth in your ear. The praise makes you feel so good, puts you in a head space you've never been in before. The only thing you can think about is what he tells you to. Right now, he wants you to cum around his cock, so you do. You don't even register it until it happens. Until his hips begin to lose that rhythm and he stops pulling out as much.

But when your walls clamp down around him like they had done his fingers, milking him for everything he's worth, he lets out a low moan. He calls your name, not a pet name or the fake name that you've been accustomed to. Your name.

"That's it baby. Fuck I love you, fuck I love you." There isn't so much as a second thought as he just repeats how much he loves you. After one final hard thrust he's spilling into you, filling you with his hot cum. He empties until it's dripping down your thighs, creating a white ring around the base of his cock.

Both of your bodies were wet with sweat from being pressed together. What little strength he has keeps him from collapsing on top of you. His chest pressed against your back, your hearts beating in unison. Eventually Kyle sits back up and slips his cock out of you, carefully lowering you down onto your bedroll again.

You look up at him with an exhausted smile, absent mindedly pushing stray curls out of his face. He looks down at you and smiles in return, he takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm. That afterglow of sex that clings to you and the way you look disheveled has to be his new favorite sight. You guide him down towards your chest and let him rest his head against your heartbeat. He closes his eyes and holds you close.

"I love you too." You say after a while, not sure if he's asleep or not from the way he hasn't stirred.

"Be mighty awkward if ya didn't." Kyle murmurs in between your chest, placing a gentle kiss onto your collarbone.

"Took you long enough to confess." You joke.

"Yeah...don't know what I was thinkin'. Guess I just didn't wanna put them feelin's out there if you weren't inclined to stick around. You got dreams of settlin' down somewhere quiet..."

"Nothing says you can't be there with me when I do."

"I don't know if I could ever go back to a quiet life like that...I don't think I deserve somethin' like that."

"Oh hush." You cup his face and bring it up to yours. "Don't ever wanna hear you talk like that again Broflovski. You're a good man, I told you that before. I don't love bad men."

"You ain't ever been wrong before."

"Wasn't wrong when I went out to find you all of them months ago. I ain't about to start."

"Ain't?"

"Huh?"

"You said ain't. Never heard you talk like that before, usually you talk all proper like. I think you're pickin' up my accent."

"Go back to laying your head down!" You huff and shove his face back down into your chest which only makes him chuckle.

"If I get to wake up to somethin' like this every day.... I reckon I can see myself settlin' down. Maybe we can get a little farm, start our own little ranch."

"I like that...we can send a letter to your brother, and he can join us."

Kyle smiles warmly at that. You remembered his brother, that conversation on the road that started all this. He closes his eyes and begins to picture it all. You and him tucked away in some area in Colorado with his brother who he hasn't seen in years. Maybe down the road you could change your last name to his. His hand finds yours and he rubs his thumb over your ring finger. Imagining a little metal ring, one that matches his.

The road’s starting to look a lot less lonely.

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