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delopsia · 5 months

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Almost Ecstasy | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 4,100 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, age gap relationships (but no ages are explicitly mentioned), cunnilingus, first times together, unprotected sex, Rhett's got a filthy mouth, fluff. No plot, just smut. The title means nothing; I couldn't think of one and wound up naming it after the song I was listening to. Brief Summary: You've finally convinced your old cowboy to have sex with you.

There's a particular coziness to Rhett's bed that you can't find anywhere else; warm and inviting, a Wyoming king mattress that damn near swallows you up just from looking at it. But maybe there's more to it. Could it be the collection of plaid blankets snug around your body like a nest? The soft notes of leather from his chaps hanging on the rack, peppered with an indescribable, warm musk that belongs to the cowboy himself?

Or maybe it's the way he's hovering over you right now. Chapped lips pressing wet kisses to your newly exposed nipple, loving on it until the bud hardens for him to curl his tongue around. The prickly scruff of his unshaven jaw tickling the sensitive skin there. Only serves to remind you of the way it felt against your chin when he kissed your swollen lips.

Teeth lightly tug on your nipple, his pointed tongue working the very tip of it.

"Rhett!" You gasp, jolting.

"Zonin' out on me again, sweetheart?" His abuse only stops long enough for him to tilt his head and wrap his lips around the other before it can begin to feel neglected. "Y' sure you're up to this t'night? We can try again—"

"No," fighting to keep yourself from blurting it out.

Rhett's eyes lift, soft blues scanning your face, the wrinkles beneath them deepening as he squints. Searching for a shred of proof that you're not ready to take this any further. As if you would ever lie to him about something like this.

"I want this," you whisper, an idle hand rising to curl through the curls resting at his nape. "I promise."

That seems to get through to him.

At the very least, it's got him leaning up to meet your parted mouth with a wet kiss, seeming to smile against you. Has only been a minute since he last nibbled on your bottom lip, that big hand stroking the side of your cheek, but it feels akin to the ones shared after days apart. Drawing the weight from your bones and filling your belly with butterflies.

"Jus' don't wanna push ya, 's all," he murmurs, eyes seeming to smile as he draws away.

Then he's dipping down once more. Kissing his way down your chest and across your shivering belly, hot tongue leaving a glistening trail in his wake as if he to help lead him back if he gets too lost in exploring your body. Calloused hands sliding down your naked sides, the perfect kind of rough drag to make your eyes flutter. Roaming down, down, down until his fingers can hook in the thin material of your underwear.

On their own, your hips lift. Thighs squeezing together as he draws the fabric past your knees, suddenly shy despite having been seen like this so many times before. Even more so as he eases his briefs off, discarding them somewhere near yours, the sight of his cock hidden by your leg.

The corner of Rhett's lip rises at the sight of you alone, already bending down to kiss the inside of your knee. Making his way up your thigh too fast and too slow, all at the same dizzying time. Long licks punctuated by chaste pecks, then pausing to suck a darkened mark into the flesh there. Has your hand idly tugging at his hair, unsure if you want more or less.

"Shouldn't let myself stay between your legs too long," he croons, thick lashes cascading his firey gaze, "might never leave."

You don't think you'd mind that, actually.

But now he's properly parting your legs to get a sight of you, and suddenly, that's the very last thing on your mind. The bedroom air feels too cold against your sex, but Rhett's hot breath melts it away like ice in a blazing fire.

It's certainly not the first time you've felt his flattened tongue lick a fat stripe up your core, but it sure makes you jump like it is. Thighs already fluttering, trying to squeeze closed around his head. Unsure of how to react as he slowly draws his tongue up you, groaning all the while.

His attention vanishes for a fleeting moment, "Fuck, 've missed this little pussy." And then he's back, spit-slicked lips wrapping around your rapidly swelling clit, the pointed tip of his tongue teasing it. Has your hips rising off the bed in an instant, chasing the fire of his sinful mouth. Saliva already beginning to pour down your inner thighs, always so fucking sloppy.

Your head tilts back, pressing into the pillow. "Rhett," gasping for breath, "Rhett."

The squeezing of your legs only seems to make him grunt, already pleased with his handiwork. "'s that how y' like it?" Talking directly into your cunt, deep words vibrating up your spine and rattling around your skull. "Me rubbin' you right here?"

Speaking is already a foreign concept. Too focused on the way his skilled tongue massages against you. Has long since memorized the things that makes you tick. How the soft flicks across it make your hips try to rise off the bed, and the way that rolling the little button between his lips will end in your hand yanking on his hair.

All too quickly, your silence is betraying you because now he's moving. Parting ways with your throbbing clit in favor of working lower. "Or would you rather..." All of a sudden, he's flattening his tongue against your entrance, teasing the rim, "I pay attention to this cute little hole?"

He's waiting for you to respond, but it's hard to when he's already pushing in. That wet, burning muscle opening you up, slowly working in and out of you, feeling the way your pussy tenses around those simple little motions.

No, no, you can't remember how to talk at all.

"Or do you want more than jus' my tongue?" Deep down, you know he's only asking it as a way to venture to the next step, but you're half-convinced that he's learned how to read exactly what's on your mind. Seems to know what you want better than you do yourself.

Dumb, your head nods. "Uhuh."

It's far too easy to catch yourself regretting that because his mouth is leaving as quickly as it appeared. You can't even be upset with him; he needs to see what he's doing as he reaches into the empty expanse of the bed next to you. But his hand doesn't wrap around the newly opened bottle of lube; no, he bypasses it in favor of grabbing a pillow.

"Lift your hips for me, doll," and at his soft-spoken request, your hips rise. Just high enough for him to slip the soft pillow beneath them, propping you at the slightest incline.

Such a simple addition, yet its effect might as well be drastic. Thighs seeming a little more sensitive as Rhett's rough palm slides between them, his generously lubed finger nearly making you jump when it rubs against your entrance. A teasing pressure you've felt a couple of times before but never seems to lose that overwhelming newness as it gently presses in.

Your lips part with a silent gasp.

Oh.

"Yeah?" There's a sparkle in Rhett's eye as he looks up at you, the corner of his lip drawn up. Smug.

Taking his finger is easy; a soft glide, punctuated by the rough drag of his rough fingertip against a bundle of nerves that you forgot you had. It's unfair how he knows exactly where it lies. Gingerly testing it by curling his finger into it adds the slightest bit of pressure as he begins to draw it out, then pushes back in once more.

The second one is already beginning to nudge into you, a delicate appearance that never progresses beyond that. Bumping into your drooling cunt with every shallow thrust of his hand, frustratingly teasing you with the idea of more.

Your foot swings. Smacking into Rhett's naked hip.

But all that does is earn a laugh out of him. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Want more," you grumble, squirming down onto his hand, chasing the light strokes of his finger.

He doesn't just give you another; he gives you two. The thick digits stretching you wide, calloused knuckles dragging in a delicious sort of way that has your legs trying to close. Trapping his big, warm hand against your core, still pumping in and out of you as much as the confined space will allow.

"There y' go," Rhett's almost cooing, so amused by the way you clench and squirm from his fingers. "Oughta make y' cum just like this."

Your eyebrows knit together, face scrunching as you shake your head back and forth. No, no, that's not what you want at all! You didn't spend all this time convincing him that he isn't going to break you, just for him to up and change his mind.

"No?" Playing coy, his hand stills, no longer giving you the attention you so desperately crave, and for a moment, your head stops spinning. "What, y'wantin' to cum 'round my cock instead?"

For a split second, two frenzied thoughts slam into one another, sparking a singular sentence that makes its way to your tongue before you can realize what the words are. "Can you even get it up, old man?" There's a bite to it that surprises your own ears.

And yet, Rhett's grin deepens, reaching for your hand and guiding it between your legs. Pressing your heated palm right against his heavy, leaking cock. "I know 'm older, but I ain't that much older, sugar."

Your fingers wrap around him, neck straining to get a good look at what you're doing; how small he makes your hand look as it loosely glides up him. Smearing precum across his tip, watching how he seems to glisten in the golden glow of the bedside lamp. You've felt him before, have had him in your mouth, and felt the way he twitches when he cums down your throat, but this is different.

Slow, he draws his hand away from your cunt, leaving you to clench hopelessly around air. But it's not for nothing. No, he wraps his still-wet fingers around yours, guiding you to hold him a little tighter. Properly stroking him in such a way that he sucks in a sharp breath.

"I sprout a few gray hairs 'n you treat me like I'm geriatric," he chuckles, and he's got a point, but all it does is draw your eyes back to his hair.

Small strands of silver mottled amongst a sea of deep brown, long enough to curl at the nape of his neck but never growing beyond that. A sort of rugged and unkempt that looks unintentional but is maintained with monthly trims by his own hands. Some speckles of gray even glisten in the stubble that seems to permanently cling to his jaw, no matter how frequently he shaves.

A clean kind of rough. Only adding to the faint wrinkles beneath his eyes, the ones that deepen when he smiles, like right now.

The tip of his cock bumps at your core.

And you damn near jump up the bed.

"Rhett!"

"Zonin' out on me, again," punctuates the end of his grumbled sentence by smacking himself against your clit, still wet from his mouth and something more, "'n I'd ask if you're still feelin' alright, but I think y' might bite me."

You're not entirely sure how to even begin confessing that you've spent the past sixty seconds marveling over all the ways he's aged. Quite frankly, you don't even know if he would believe your shameless confession of it.

Without another thought, your arms rise, quietly wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him close. Shrinking that dreadful gap between your bodies until he's forced to brace his body weight with a forearm. Noses bumping, lips ghosting against one another but never quite closing the gap. But it's only for a fleeting second. The next thing you know, he's tilting his head down, watching as he guides his swollen length to your entrance once more.

The pressure is something you anticipated.

The sting was not.

Your hands are scurrying. Clinging to his bicep, to his shoulder, wherever you can find purchase, nails biting into his skin. His cock looks so much bigger now that he's between your legs, splitting you wide as he sinks into your aching cunt. Oh, why did you think this was a good idea?

"Shh, we'll make it fit," it's not until he's shushing you that you realize you've made a noise, pressing a soft kiss into the corner of your mouth. "Jus' try 'n relax for me. Don't wanna hurt you."

You're not entirely sure how to do that. Fighting for control over your own muscles, urging the tension to slip away and let you soften around him. It'll feel good once you get used to him. You know it will. But as your thighs loosen and your attention moves to your strained back, they tense once more.

A heavy puff of breath hits your cheek.

Rhett's mouth never moves, but the indescribable warmth collected behind the blue of his eyes says something else entirely. Urges your focus to his slow inhale. The way his chest expands against yours, holding for a moment, then deflating once more.

A gradual sort of thing that has you mimicking his next breath. The gentle rise of your breasts as your lungs fill with air, how they bump into his warm skin. For a moment, the room is silent, hanging onto your breaths as if you've forgotten how to let them go. Only for it to slip past your lips, warm against Rhett's jaw.

Sudden pressure appears against a bundle of nerves within your walls, the very ones his fingers were just tormenting minutes ago.

He's still moving. Disappearing into your body bit by bit, a shiver jumping up your spine as he fills you. A dull throb replacing the initial sting, growing into a fire that has you clutching at Rhett's biceps for an entirely different reason. Following the quiet guide of his chest, breaths intermingling in a dance of their own making,

"So fuckin' tight for me," he's hissing through a gasp, forehead wrinkling as his eyes squeeze shut, "shit."

And it shouldn't make you flutter around him the way you do, sent into a frenzy from his words alone. An involuntary massage that makes Rhett's eyes flutter open and closed, letting go of his cock, in favor of bracing himself next to your head, fully bracketing you between those thick forearms.

You're trying to speak. Sorting for what you want to say, but it's so hard to think when his heavy balls bump against your ass, hips coming flush with your skin. Heavy cock pushing the air from your strained lungs and past your lips. So, so full.

"There y' go," he's prying his eyes open just long enough to get a look at the obscenity between your legs. Where he splits you wide open, still glistening with the handiwork of his mouth and the lube. "God."

A whimper boils out of your throat, knees knocking into Rhett's bony hips as your legs squeeze around him. Drawing him impossibly close, as if you could ever hope to take another centimeter of him.

"Rhett..." it seems to be the only thing your drooling tongue can produce, your unfocused gaze staring back up at him, can't seem to bring yourself to focus on a particular feature of him. Perfect in every way you can twist the word.

His head dips down, weight shifting to unintentionally push himself deeper into your cunt, careful lips catching yours. A soft, fleeting interlocking of lips, far too chaste for what's going on below. "'s that feel good, sweetheart?"

You're nodding dumbly, "Uhuh."

God, you should have done this sooner. Already drowning in the way he fills you, the warmth of his body pressed snug against yours.

Oh.

He's already drawing out of you. Slow as can be, hardly pulling out by an inch before sinking back into your throbbing cunt, lubricant squelching sickeningly loud for such a delicate movement. Air catches in your throat, palms squeezing his biceps a little tighter as he does it again.

Rhett's mouth finds its way to the meet of your jaw, sucking lightly on the skin there. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel," he mutters, so close to your ear that his words tickle.

You don't understand how he even fits. Bulging tip dragging against your walls. Has you hugging him so tight that you reckon you can feel the fat vein that runs along the upperside of him. Your palms slide up his biceps, splaying out against the hard bone of his shoulder blades, covered in thick muscle that ripples under your touch. Strong from close to two years of bull riding, mottled by a raised surgery scar from an injury of the past. The futile attempt to fix the shoulder he tore up shortly after telling his father he was leaving.

Oh, what you would give to have been there for him.

But you're here now, at least. Legs hitching over his hips, ankles resting against the swell of his ass, clinging as if he could possibly, ever peel himself away from you. Like his chest isn't bumping against yours as he gently fucks into you, slow ins and outs that make your head spin. So big. He's so big.

"Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?" Speaking against your skin, punctuating his question with a surprising jerk of his hips, yanking the breath right out of your throat. "Bein' awful quiet."

But he's not giving you much chance to keep that up, leaning back onto his haunches, hands sliding down to settle on either side of your hips. Gripping them tight, drawing you in to meet the thrust of his hips.

"Ah!" A cry bursts right out of your chest, so sudden that you hardly recognize it was you who made it. Your cunt involuntarily clamps down around him, breaking his rhythm, has those pretty blue eyes rolling to the tune of a surprisingly pitchy whine.

"There y' go," he hisses, mouth absolutely filthy, yet unable to cover up for the soft noises being carried off his breath, "'s that what y've been wantin'? Some ol' cowboy to fuck y' nice 'n slow?"

It's all you can do to tilt yourself into him, back arching against the pillow wedged beneath you. He's rubbing right where you want him, but its not enough; it's still not enough. "Rhett," you choke, between a poorly muzzled whimper, "more."

"More?" Those eyebrows are raising, in perfect tune with his growing grin; you're never gonna hear the end of this. "Y' gonna have to be a lil' more specific than that."

You don't even know what you want, a trembling hand diving to grab hold of the bed sheet, rocking against him the best you can manage. Ears ringing with the lewd clap of his skin against yours, some hellish rhythm that has your heart slamming against your chest like a caged animal.

"Did y' want it faster?" His hips are quickening, pistoning in and out of you with such vigor that you think your eyes may have crossed, a breathy noise whittling out of your throat. But just as quickly as he started, Rhett slows again, grip on your hips growing so tight you fear it'll bruise, yanking you down to meet him halfway, "harder?"

It punches a squeal right out of you. So loud that your hand clamps over your mouth; the nearest neighbor is a mile down the road, and even then, you're certain they could have heard you. Know exactly what you're doing with this old bull rider that you were warned to stay away from, tangled up in his sheets, with him between your legs, right where he belongs.

Maybe it's your rose-tinted view of him that's talking; maybe it's something more; all you know is he's taking hold of your wrist and prying your hand away from your mouth. Guiding it down your belly and between your shaking legs, pressing your fingers to your forgotten clit. And again, you're clenching around him, pulling a surprised moan from him.

"Gonna have this poor little pussy of yours rurnt," his voice growing airy, unruly hair falling into his face as he leans down, eye to eye with you, never once stops talking,"not gonna be satisfied with nothin' else once 'm done with ya."

You had no hope of being happy with anyone else the moment your eyes locked at that rodeo, but that's neither here nor there. All you know is that your fingers are quickening against your clit, and Rhett's growing louder. Can't seem to keep himself quiet; blunt cock head hammering against your delicate nerves, has you fluttering around him in such a way that you both mewl with it.

His body drops back down, almost smothering you as his head buries into the crook of your neck. "Feel so fuckin' good 'round me—ah!"

There's a heat growing in your lower belly. A coil rapidly unraveling into a full-body tremor, skin prickling as that heat spreads up your chest and down your thighs until you're burning. Becoming distantly aware of the low voice that chants your name into your ear, bouncing around the inside of your skull until your vision fuzzies.

"Rhett," babbling, damn near incoherent, "Rhett, I'm—"

"So am I," he blurts. And for a second he's prying himself away from you, but your ankles have locked behind him. Refusing to let him draw away from you. Only seeming to pull him in deeper. Hitting something he wasn't before. "Fuck, y' gotta—y' gotta let me pull outta ya."

But you're shaking your head. Unoccupied hand grabbing hold of his bicep. Squeezing as tightly as you can manage. "Stay."

And that is it. Rhett's breath is catching. Hips stuttering as he cums inside of you with a weak cry. Twitching cock bumping against that little bundle of nerves. Your fingers working faster over your clit. Until all of a sudden, your back is arching off the pillow. Cumming around him without warning.

It's like being plunged underwater. Vision blurry, lungs tight, the noises around you muffling until its a far cry of what it once was. A warm wave washes over you, little bolts of electricity firing down your frenzied nerves. And you're floating, spinning around in an endless depth of something heavy.

Until your lungs fill with air, and you realize that heaviness is Rhett. His careful mouth kissing at your collar, sweaty hands stroking up and down your naked chest. Sprawled out on top of you like a big ol' blanket.

"There y' are," he murmurs, and for a second, his love-filled eyes almost look like hearts, "thought I knocked ya out, for a second there."

The corner of your lip tilts upward, the best your dreamy mind can manage, "nah."

His eyes roll in that contagious fashion that has you tempted to mirror him. But he's already leaning up to meet your lips before you can begin to try, catching your mouth in a wet, half-hearted attempt at a kiss.

"Think I finally tuckered ya out," there's no reason for him to be whispering; nobody is around to hear him, and yet, he does it anyway. Like it's some delicate confession that may lose its worth if he says it any louder.

But your defiant hips are already shifting, rolling off the pillow and up against his softened cock, still deep inside of you. Earns you an oversensitive hiss. "I think I could go one more round."

"Well, hang on a damn second," Rhett's shaking his head as he pushes himself up onto his weary forearms, incredulous. Doesn't seem to believe what he's hearing. "I can't get it back up as fast as I used to."

"Why not?" Coy.

He sighs. Loud. Dramatic. He knows what you're doing, you know what you're doing, and yet neither of you is doing anything about it. "'m old."

Your head cocks to the side. "I thought you didn't like being called old?"

For a second, it's quiet. Neither of you has anything to say as his arm curls beneath your waist. Cinching you up against him as if you're bound to start floating away at any second.

What's he doing?

"Fine."

The room is spinning.

You're moving.

Arms flailing, almost slamming your palms against his chest. And now he's beneath you, half-lidded eyes a smidgen darker than they were before, torn between exhaustion and something that reignites the fire in your belly. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, fully settling in his lap now.

"Do your worst," he taunts, smug. Knows exactly what he's done here.

Oh, you will.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #tw age gap #oneshot #outer range #afab reader

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