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itssupercolm · a day ago
what did Elon musk see in space? man you know he got a thing for weird alien pussy & now he broke up with grimes. who is she elon? xenaphilion centauri? sounds like a WHORE.
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safarigirlsp · 2 days ago
Road Trip
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Road Trip
Flip Zimmerman x Reader
Word Count: 14.3k
Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Graphic Violence. Mentions of Murder. A Serial Killer Appears. Flip Hating Life. Lumberjack Kink. Don’t the warnings fool you, this is mostly Humor.
AO3 Link
Author’s Note: This is special edition fic for my lovely friend, Zannah @babbushka​ in celebration of her Birthday and the perfect way to kick off Autumn! Let’s take a nice relaxing road trip with Flip!
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Something was wrong. Flip’s truck waited for you in the driveway when you arrived home one vibrant autumn afternoon in the middle of the week. It was a rare occurrence that Flip was home before you, almost unheard of. You immediately wondered what in the hell he had done this time to get sent home in the middle of his workday.
Walking to the door, purse in hand, you mused if you would find Flip sullenly grumbling about his plight on the couch; if he would be on you in an instant, needing the relief that only your touch could provide; or if he would be outside, taking his frustration out on his heavy punching bag, slamming fist after angry fist into the rigid leather.
When the front door to your home opened as you approached, you were even more baffled to be greeted by Flip’s handsome smile. Taking advantage of your momentary shock, Flip pulled you into his arms, lifting you fully off the ground into a crushing bear hug as he kissed you.
“What happened, Flip?” You asked when you pulled back from his kiss, looking down at him from your place held high in his arms. “What did you do?”
“Do you really have so little faith in me, sugar?” Flip raised his eyebrows, a portrait of sarcastic innocence.
“I know you,” you laughed, shaking your head. “What kind of trouble are you in? How bad is it?”
“I dunno,” he teased, sucking his cheek as he grinned at you. “You might need to make me work pretty damn hard to fix this one. Any ideas?”
“Not without knowing just how drastically you fucked up to get sent home this early.” You looped your arms around his neck, letting him carry you inside your shared home, kissing along your jawline as he walked.
Inside, Flip lowered you to the floor without removing his lips from your neck. You felt him smile against your skin between playful nips and teasing scratches of his goatee.
“Seeing you in such a good mood makes me even more suspicious,” you teased, tugging his hair to drag him up from your neck for air.
“I took the rest of the week off and we have the weekend,” he proclaimed proudly, looking down at you with that smug grin of his.
“Is this your way of telling me that you got yourself fired?” You raised your eyebrows, still awaiting what must be a grand story of patented Flip-style escapades.
“Nope. We’re goin’ on a road trip,” he told you matter-of-factly, punctuating his statement with a smack to your ass. “Now, go get changed if you want to and get your pretty ass in the truck. I already packed everything. Truck’s loaded. Just waitin’ on you now.”
“A road trip?” You felt a smile creep onto your own lips at the thought of a getaway with your handsome man when he wasn’t tired from long days or stressed from cases. Still, you doubted his capacity as a competent travel agent. “Where are we going? Where are we staying?”
“I already have hotel reservations at a few joints,” he told you, very impressed with himself. “Don’t worry, they’re nice enough for a snob like you. And I packed my fishin’ stuff and campin’ gear because I figured if I make you happy enough with me for a few nights in a soft bed, you’ll let me spend a night or two with you out under the stars.”
“I’ll need an hour or so to pack my things,” you said as you pushed away from him. Releasing your purse into his insistent grip.
“I told you, I packed everything. This was the only thing I was missin,’” he assured you, holding your purse aloft.
“You packed my things? My clothes?” Your skepticism was apparent in your tone and the way you placed your hands on your hips. “I’m not sure I trust you to choose my outfits, Detective.”
“I’ve been around you long enough to know what you like,” he told you with a salacious wink. “And I know what I like to take off of you. But, if you don’t like what I packed, you don’t have to wear a single damn thing the next few days.”
“Did you pack my makeup?” you challenged, taking a tentative step toward the bedroom, wondering if you should trust his assurances. “My hair products?”
“War paint and hot irons. Check.” Smirking down at you, he herded you back toward your bedroom, pinching playfully at your ass as you walked, his way of telling you to hurry up.
“What about the camera?” You rounded on him, ready with an I-told-you-so expression.
“Do I look like a fuckin’ amateur to you, sugar?” Flip told you with mock offense. “And yes, I even grabbed coats for each of us.”
“Did you pack-“ your words were cut off by Flip reaching for the hem of your top.
“Is this your way of sayin’ you want me to help you get outta these clothes so you can change?” He asked with a grin that only widened in response to the smack you leveled to his chest.
Resigning to trust that Flip had packed adequately, you hurried to change into a comfortable outfit apropos of the cool fall weather. In only a few short minutes, you were seated beside Flip in his truck, driving through the Colorado mountains.
You couldn’t deny that it was the perfect season for a road trip. Everywhere you looked, the landscape was painted with all the colors of autumn. Reds, oranges, and golds decorated the mountains, contrasting with the rich greens of the pine trees. The weather was just as beautiful as the scenery, comfortably cool during the day and frosting at night.
As you watched the scenery pass by your window, feeling the weight of Flip’s hand on your thigh, it occurred to you that you had only inquired after your own effects and not his.
“Did you remember your toothbrush?” you asked, turning in your seat to face him. “Your razor and trimmer?”
“Yep.” He was entirely too pleased with himself at such a small victory.
“Did you bring my favorite flannel that I like on you?” you asked as you trailed your fingers across his blue flannel-clad arm.
“I put extra thought into packin’ things you like to dress me in,” he teased, squeezing your thigh.
“What about deodorant? Your own, not mine,” you continued with playful condescension.
“Sure did,” he assured you, shaking his head at your teasing.
“Did you grab your wallet?” You pressed, inquiring now as more of a game to pass the time.
This question was met with silence. Turning to look at Flip, you watched his jaw clench and the knuckles of his left hand blanch white from his grip on the steering wheel.
“Don’t tell me after all that, you actually forgot your wallet.” You almost laughed, lifting a hand to your lips to stifle your amusement.
With a grumbling sigh, Flip turned his truck around, stomping on the gas to speed back toward your home.
Determined to stay in good humor for you, Flip shrugged off the delay and your late start. “All the better to watch the sunset in the mountains,” he reasoned as you drove along the Colorado roads.
“Who is this happy-go-lucky gentleman and what has he done with my grouchy lumberjack?” you teased with a smile, leaning over to place a kiss on his scruffy cheek.
“I don’t take enough trips with you.” Flip took your hand in his as he spoke, driving with his left and holding you with his right. “I’m gonna make the most of this one. I’m gonna show you a damn good time, sugar.”
The first stop on your route was in a small picturesque town on the edge of a National Park, popular among outdoorsman and sightseers. Flip had booked a suite at a beautiful alpine lodge, renown for its views. Unfortunately, it would now be well past dark when you arrived.
Driving through the mountains was generally on winding, narrow roads with sharp curves and often no shoulder. Prudent drivers tried to avoid mountain roads during dawn and dusk because of the increased risk of wildlife venturing across the road. Deer and elk were a perpetual hazard, but the risk of encountering them was always greater during their prime feeding times.
Flip knew this better than anyone. His eyes were hyper focused, hardly sparing a glance at the scenery, beautifully tinged with the glow of the golden hour.
Despite being on the lookout for wildlife, he still had to swerve around a pair of deer standing in the road when Flip rounded a corner. The animals watched the oncoming truck causally, flicking their ears with mild disinterest, as Flip yanked the steering wheel, veering off the sharp drop-off of asphalt onto the gravelly shoulder.
Tires squealing, rocks and dust slinging, expletives spewing, Flip corrected his truck back into his lane after avoiding the animals. The deer turned to watch the intrusive vehicle continue down the road, still maintaining their position in the lane.
“Is it huntin’ season yet?” Flip grumbled, glaring at the deer in his rearview mirror.
A few hundred yards down the road, a distinctly ominous hiss met your ears.
“You’ve gotta be fuckn’ kiddin’ me,” he growled in response to the telltale sound of a flat tire.
Finding the widest shoulder possible, Flip pulled off the road, the right side of his truck canting sideways with the steep slope of the shoulder.
“Do you need a hand?” you asked as Flip stepped out of the truck, fighting to keep his balance on the sloped shoulder.
“No, you just sit there and look pretty, sugar,” he replied with a forced grin.
The truck bounced with Flip’s heavy weight when he climbed into the bed. He freed his spare tire quickly then began rummaging, looking for something else.
“I know my fuckin’ jack’s here somewhere,” he muttered to himself amid a string of unintelligible expletives.
“Hey, handsome,” you called out of the window, watching Flip lift his shaggy head from his task to give you his attention. “I may have loaned your jack to Ron last week. He said he needed one.”
Flip stared at you for several long moments, blinking at you with raised eyebrows while chewing his lip, before releasing a heavy sigh. He put the spare back in its designated spot before jumping out over the side of his truck bed onto the ground. His usual smooth landing was disrupted by the gravelly sloped shoulder, his feet shooting out from under him as he dropped flat down onto his ass on the ground.
Pushing to his feet with another bout of cussing, he dusted his jeans off and walked to your window. He rested his crossed arms inside the window, as he regarded you with the best smirk he could muster.
“You might have mentioned that Ron had my jack before we drove away, sugar,” he told you, shaking his head, still determined to keep his spirits high for your benefit.
“I would argue that this is your fault anyway.” You fixed him with your own raised-eyebrow mockery of his expression.
“Oh, I want to hear this one,” he huffed with a laugh.
“Aren’t you the man who always lectures me about double checking everything before heading out on a long trip?” You shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. “You should have noticed it was missing.”
“You’re right as always, darlin.’” Flip held up his hands in resignation, choosing to laugh at your shared plight. He shook his head at you fondly for a moment before opening your door. “Better get out here and flash some cleavage so we can flag down a ride. If anyone even drives by us all the way out here.”
Grabbing your coat and purse, you stepped out of the truck, slipping yourself on the decline. Flip’s arm shot out to catch you, steadying you before you lost your footing like he did minutes before.
Just as you caught your balance, you both heard the faint rumbling of an engine approaching from down the highway behind you. It was the first vehicle you had seen in over an hour.
“Go, go, go!” You exclaimed, shoving Flip away from you toward the highway, watching as he scrambled back to the shoulder. You were only moments behind, straightening your clothing as you caught your breath. You joined Flip in waving the large single-cab logging truck down, your arm moving in much more demure arches than Flip’s exaggerated flailing.
Thankfully, the truck slowed. Its driver didn’t hazard the steep shoulder himself, choosing instead to simply pull to a stop in the middle of the lonely road. Taking your hand, Flip all but dragged you to the passenger door of the truck, opening it for you.
Peering inside, Flip took one look at the burly driver and grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you back and climbing into the truck ahead of you. He offered you his hand to help you step into the passenger seat while he scooted over into the cramped middle seat himself.
“Thanks for stoppin.’” Flip greeted the driver with a smile, offering his right hand across his body, his long legs almost bent in half to fit in the middle of the bench seat. “We’re just headed to the next town if you don’t mind givin’ us a lift that far.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” the large man replied, smiling at Flip.
“I’m just glad you were drivin’ by. We haven’t seen many other cars on this stretch,” Flip continued, making a point of having polite conversation. “I was worried that even if I had my girl flash some skin to get us a ride, no one would be around to see it.”
“Oh, honey,” the trucker replied, his eyes giving Flip a healthy once-over. “Her chest ain’t the one I’ve been lookin’ at.”
Swallowing heavily, Flip glanced quickly at you before fixing his eyes ahead, his body rigid. It was all you could do to keep from laughing out loud at the change in his demeanor. Reaching to Flip’s chest, you undid the top two buttons of his blue flannel shirt, sharing a smirk with the driver.
By the time you reached town, it was well into the evening. You weren’t surprised to find the town almost entirely shut down, all the businesses greeting you with signs declaring, ‘Sorry, we’re closed.’ The truck driver was considerate enough to drop you both off at the lodge Flip had booked for you.
“I’ll give you a ride anytime,” the trucker quipped before Flip could scoot across the seat to step out, having a nice laugh to himself over poking his lumberjack hitchhiker.
Walking into the lodge, Flip buttoned his shirt, glaring good-humoredly at you as he did.
“Is that what it’s like bein’ a pretty girl?” he huffed at you as he held the door to the lobby open for you. “I feel violated.”
“At least you know you’re doing something right if you’re being objectified. He has good taste if he likes your tits.” You laughed, looking around the deserted lobby. A bell sat on the countertop in place of an attendant, instructing you to ring after hours, which Flip did aggressively, multiple times.
A mousey man with a mustache and round glasses emerged from a room behind the counter, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he forced a smile to greet you both.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Zimmerman.” The man shook his head, holding his hands up defensively. “When you didn’t check in or call, we gave your room away. It’s our peak season and our policy is to give rooms away if we haven’t heard from a guest by nine pm.”
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Flip almost shouted, puffing his chest out and leaning over the counter. “I’ve had this reservation for weeks, and you’re tellin’ me it’s my job to check in with you if I’m runnin’ late, like you’re my fuckin’ wife?”
“It’s our policy. If you read the fine print…” the man’s voice trailed away under the scrutiny of Flip’s murderous glare. “Let me see if we have anything available.”
“This is horseshit.” Flip glowered at the smaller man, standing a head above him.
“Maybe it’s a good thing you brought camping gear,” you said, rubbing his back, not entirely joking.
“Yeah, back in the fuckin’ truck.” Flip was doing his best to chew a hole in his cheek in between his words.
“You’re in luck!” The man exclaimed with a kind of false ebullience that made Flip want to punch him in the teeth. “We do have one room left. It’s one of our more modest rooms, but I can give it to you at a discount due to the late hour.”
“I’m jumpin’ for joy,” Flip growled, retrieving his wallet.
Modest was a very polite term for the room you were given. It was a tiny double room, barely large enough for the two small beds and single nightstand between them. Looking at the beds, you weren’t sure Flip could even fit on one. At minimum, his feet would be hanging off the end.
“I might be better off on the fuckin’ floor,” Flip grumbled, more to himself than you.
“How about we start with a hot shower and see where it leads.” Walking to him as you spoke, you smoothed your hands up his chest, tilting your chin up, inviting him to kiss you.
“Yeah? You think I still have a shot at gettin’ lucky tonight?” He grinned before meeting your lips in a soft kiss. His right hand made quick work of slipping under your top to squeeze your breast as he kissed you. His jeans were already getting tight when he pulled away. “Give me a few minutes’ head start. I worked up a sweat today.”
“Hurry up, then,” you ordered, playfully shoving him back toward the bathroom. “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Forcing the smirk off his lips, Flip fixed you with his best smoldering gaze, slowly unbuttoning his shirt for you in his best parody of a striptease. Shrugging it away from his broad shoulders, he tossed it onto the bed with a grin before stepping into the bathroom.
You stripped your own clothes away, listening to the sound of the shower. After a few minutes, just as you were moving toward the bathroom to join Flip, you heard another sound. Flip’s frustrated growl echoed off the bathroom tile, loud even in your ears through the bathroom door.
“Cancel that, sugar.” A slam from inside the bathroom punctuated Flip’s angry words. “There’s no fuckin’ hot water. I’ll brave a cold shower myself and be out in a few minutes.”
Pulling his discarded flannel shirt over your naked body to keep you warm until your man could himself, you reclined on the bed. It was so small that it would be difficult for even you to sleep on it comfortably. You adopted your most sultry pose, lying on your side with an arm propped under your head, looking like a vintage pinup girl with Flip’s flannel draped open over your figure.
When Flip emerged from the bathroom, shivering and scowling, a white towel slung low around his hips, his eyes brightened immediately at the sight of you.
“At least I can always count on you to make my day, gorgeous.” Slinging his towel away, he wasted no time in pouncing on you, caging you beneath his massive body on the tiny bed, even though he still shivered from cold. Not that he had much of a choice. The only way you would both fit on the bed was with one of you on top of the other; it was too small to lay side by side comfortably.
“Christ, you’re freezing.” You shuddered from the chill of his body against yours as you pulled him down to kiss you again.
“Lucky for me, I have you here to warm me up,” he rumbled against your lips, settling his weight on you, taking his place between your thighs.
Flip began grinding into you almost immediately, growing hard just from the taste of your lips and the feel of your body beneath his. Raising himself above you, he grinned as he sank into your welcoming heat.
Just as that wonderful feeling of fullness consumed you, the bed below you gave a dangerous shudder, accompanied by a resounding crack. The head of the bed collapsed beneath you down to the floor, sending you both lurching forward. Propped above you, Flip plunged face first right into the wall with enough force to crunch the drywall with the impact of his notoriously hard head.
“Motherfucker!” Flip hissed through gritted teeth, his right hand flying up to rub his forehead.
“Are you alright?” Your voice strained as you struggled to right yourself, pinned almost upside down with your head against the wall and Flip’s weight pressing down upon you.
“It’s not as bad as the time I busted my ass tryin’ to fuck you in the shower,” he huffed a laugh at the memory, still rubbing his forehead.
Fighting tangled sheets and the canted mattress, Flip shuffled to his feet, pulling you up with him. Glaring down at the broken bed, he yanked the blanket off of it. He spread the blanket on the floor between the two beds. He also grabbed two pillows and the blanket off the second bed before lowering himself down onto the floor with a groan.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Flip grumbled, extending his arm out to the side, beckoning you to join him. “You can sleep on top of me. I’ll try my best to be a good pillow for you.”
“We can still fool around,” you crooned, placing a hand on his chest as you lowered yourself beside him.
“Do you think it’s safe down here?” He smirked at you, tightening his arm around your waist and pulling you close against him.
“Let’s risk it.” You matched his smirk, kicking your leg over his hips and kissing him deeply.
A pained groan accompanied by Flip stretching beneath you awakened you the following morning as the early light filtered in through the small curtained window. Flip flashed you a handsome grin when you looked at him with a quizzically raised eyebrow, trying his best to conceal his pain from you.
“What’s wrong?” you asked with concern, raising a hand to smooth his disheveled hair out of his face. “Is it your head? Or was I too rough with you last night?”
“It’s nothin.’” He grinned up at you like a jackass. “I just slept wrong last night on the damn floor. My back’s a little stiff is all.”
“Is there anything I can do?” You asked, rubbing your hand down across his chest soothingly.
“I feel better already, sugar.” He pulled you down for a quick kiss before gently rolling you off of him to sit up. Groaning again, he stretched his powerful arms, listening to the creaks and pops in his back. “Sorry you’re stuck with an old bastard like me.”
“There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with, handsome.” Sitting up beside him, you kissed his shoulder, feeling very well rested yourself, thanks to the pillow that Flip’s chest afforded.
Flip’s sore back had him feeling even feistier than usual. After a heated phone call with the front desk attendant, Flip had the poor man apologizing to him for the bed breaking as opposed to Flip having to cover the cost of replacing the furniture he had damaged.
The first order of business was to purchase a jack and get a ride back to Flip’s truck. Luckily, the hotel manager arranged for your ride as well. A pimpled teenager, probably of some relation to the manager, drove you both to a parts store and then out to Flip’s truck. For most of the drive, the kid regaled you with tall tales of a serial killer who was rumored to having taken a liking to life in the mountains. Several women had already fallen victim to him this year alone, according to the teen. In truth, the women had simply disappeared, probably moving on to bigger and better things, Flip had assured you, and not murdered by an urban legend.
Despite your offer to help Flip change the tire, he insisted on doing everything himself. Leaving you to watch from the sidelines as he fumbled and slipped on the steep shoulder. Even kneeling, Flip still had to bend low to wrestle with the tire, grunting occasionally in response to the pain in his back. When Flip was finished, he placed his hands on his hips as he straightened, stretching his back again. Although he tried to hide it, you saw the way he winced slightly when he loaded the flat tire into the bed of his truck.
“Good as new,” he announced, opening your door for you when he had finished loading the tire and jack.
“Are you sure you’re alright? I know your back’s sore.” You climbed into his truck as you spoke, waiting for him to get behind the wheel before continuing, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
“Well, maybe an orgasm or two wouldn’t hurt.” He winked at you like a handsome jackass, resting his hand on his favorite place on your thigh as he pulled back onto the highway.
Rolling your eyes at him, you placed your hand on top of his. Flip only smiled in response, reveling in your playful scorn.
“Since we’re already out for the day, let’s take a drive through the National Park. Maybe get some fishin’ in,” he said jovially, making a point of maintaining his good humor and showing you a nice time. “I booked a cabin inside the park tonight anyway. We’ll need to grab dinner somewhere but we have a nice day in front of us now.”
“Only if you’re going to roll your sleeves up and unbutton that shirt so I get a nice show while we’re doing it,” you replied, flashing him a wink of your own, mocking him.
Grinning at you, Flip unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt and the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them up his muscled forearms. “You can objectify me any damn time you like, sugar.”
It was a long hour’s drive to the National Park’s entrance where you were met by a line of cars waiting to pay their entrance fee so each patron could spend the perfect autumn day in the park themselves. Idling in line, Flip shifted in his seat, trying to stretch his back and work some kinks out of his sore muscles. You looked over at him, worry knotting your brows. Flip straightened in his seat, giving you a handsome nonchalant smile, not wanting you to have any concern over his well-being.
After paying your park fee, the drive became even more mountainous and picturesque, and the road became even rougher when it turned to dirt, winding up the mountainside. Flip sped as fast as the roads would allow, ignoring the posted speed limit, considering it ridiculous in such a rural setting. You finally arrived at a secluded mountain lake, sunlight dappling its frigid waters, crystal clear to the point of transparency. You couldn’t deny the views were worth the drive and the hassle.
Flip beamed at you excitedly like a kid in a candy store as he parked close to the water, under the shade of dozens of pine trees.
“Catch me something big, handsome,” you commanded sweetly, leaning over to kiss him. “You know how much I love big things.”
His excitement was infectious, stepping out of the truck and collecting his fishing gear from the truck bed, smiling despite the slight limp in his step from his sore back. You followed Flip to the lakeside, watching him fondly while he readied his pole, and only laughing for a few moments when he got his large hands tangled in his fishing line. When he cast his line into the lake, you admired the way his arms flexed with his movements, muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his shirt, forearms flexing below his rolled sleeves.
Once Flip was immersed in fishing, you walked back to the truck, preparing for something much more exciting. Flip always kept a couple blankets in the back of his truck, always ready for an impromptu evening of stargazing with you. You retrieved them now, spreading them out in the bed of the truck, making sure it was nice and soft.
Returning to Flip, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, placing your hands on his chest and resting your cheek on his back. At your touch, Flip leaned back against you, groaning happily from your affection.
“Is this your way of tellin’ me I’ve had enough?” Flip asked with his usual smirk. You could feel his words rumble in his chest and his heavy muscles moving beneath your hands as he reeled back in his line.
“Oh no, take as long as you like,” you replied coyly, kissing between his shoulder blades, squeezing his pecs.
“Sure, sugar.” Flip laughed as he set his pole down and turned to face you. “You know I’d never keep my girl waitin.’”
On habit, Flip ducked to hoist you over his shoulder, his usual practice when he wanted to playfully carry you to the bed or couch. He had barely shouldered into you, trying to straighten, when his body tensed with a pained grimace.
“Aw, fuck,” he groaned, setting you back down and straightening, stopping at slightly less than his full height. “This fuckin’ back.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, taking his large hand and leading him back to his truck. “Let me make you feel better.”
You crawled into the truck bed ahead of him, rolling onto your back to welcome him as he joined you on the bed of blankets, moving over your body.
“You’re right as always, gorgeous.” Flip grinned down at you, settling between your thighs, as you unbuttoned his shirt to smooth your hands across his chest. “I feel better already.”
The lazy afternoon sunlight must have seeped into Flip’s bones, because he took his time with you, reveling in drawing long sighs and heady moans from you with his kisses and caresses. He had your top off almost immediately, then taking his languorous time kissing your lips, neck, and breasts, kneading your skin, and nuzzling you with his shapely nose. He could have spent hours kissing you for all you knew of the passage of time when you were caged beneath his powerful body. However long it was, you were frantic with want when you finally unbuckled his belt, freeing his aching cock, and shoved your own pants down your legs.
Arousal dripped from you by the time Flip finally plunged his cock into you, sliding easily into your welcoming heat with the extent of your wetness.
“You feel so fuckin’ good, sugar,” Flip growled with pleasure above you, throwing his head back like a wolf howling at the moon as he thrust into you deeply.
“I bet she does,” a strange officious voice intoned right next to the truck bed. “Too bad for the two of you that this is public indecency.”
“What the fuck?!” Flip roared, snapping his head in the direction of the voice, trying his best to cover your body with his own.
A short, surly redheaded Park Ranger with a wispy douchebag mustache stood with his petite hands on his frail hips.
“Get dressed,” the Ranger ordered. “I’ll wait.”
Flip glared murderously at the small man from where he was still propped above you, the railing of the truck bed concealing your exposed body from the Ranger’s view. Flip’s shirt hung open, revealing his sweaty chest, and his hair was tousled from your fingers, giving him a particularly rugged look. Reaching for your discarded shirt, he ensured your breasts were covered before moving off you and backing out of the truck bed.
“I saw your truck speeding earlier, too,” the Ranger squeaked, unable to tear his eyes away as Flip pulled his jeans up over his hard, wet cock. “Get me your ID so I know how to spell your name on these tickets.”
“Oh really?” Flip scoffed, zipping up his jeans, and again ensuring you were covered when he pulled you up. “How are you gonna give me a speedin’ ticket without a radar read, rookie? Are you just gonna put your best guess on the ticket? That’ll be fun for you in court.”
“Do you think you can lecture me about the law?” The Ranger exclaimed in a nasal tenor. “I’m a federal officer, Ranger Chadwick.”
“Yeah, I think I can, Chadwick,” Flip jabbed, retrieving his badge from his back pocket and throwing it roughly to the Ranger. “I’m a cop in the CSPD, you fuckin’ idiot.”
Ranger Chadwick fumbled with catching the badge, flipping it open. “Then you know I can charge you with public indecency and we’re in a federal park, which makes it a federal crime.”
“Public indecency?” Flip laughed, shaking his head as he buttoned his shirt. He cast a mischievous glance at you before pretending to look around the forest and lake. “What fuckin’ public would that be exactly? You think the bears got a good look at my big dick?” Flip took an aggressive step toward the much smaller man, looking down at him. “The only public I see is you because you wanted to come up and take a peek at me and my girl. I’d call that voyeurism, if I was writin’ up a ticket myself.”
“Do you even know, Detective,” Ranger Chadwick spat Flip’s title out sardonically with the officious smarm of an aspiring bureaucrat. “That we have a serial killer on the loose? There’s been several murders here in the park. It’s my job to keep park goers safe.”
“Yeah, you keep everyone safe from all the happy couples out there drivin’ too fast,” Flip laughed sarcastically.
The diminutive Ranger handed Flip back his badge, pulling his ticket book from his pocket. “Do you need me to tell you your rights or do you just want to pay your fine?”
“Just give me your little chickenshit ticket and get the fuck outta here, rookie,” Flip grumbled, pulling you close to his side from where you stood by the tailgate of his truck.
“Thank you for visiting our National Park today,” Ranger Chadwick said with a sniveling smile, slapping the ticket into Flip’s hand. “Drive safe out there. And keep your dick out of sight of the public. And the bears.”
Flip cussed under his breath, turning the ticket over in his hands, as Ranger Chadwick walked back to his green SUV.
Pulling Flip down into a kiss, you ensured that the squeaky little Ranger got an envious view as he climbed back into his vehicle. You kissed Flip deeply, fingers twisting into his hair, until the Ranger had driven away, leaving you both once again in the solitude of nature.
“I know a shortcut back,” Flip told you, swaying slightly with you in his arms. “I won’t give that little shit the satisfaction of watchin’ me drive outta here goin’ the speed limit. I’m sure he’ll be patrollin’ the usual route.”
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.
“Would I lead you astray?” He smirked down at you, lowering his face close and rubbing his nose against yours.
“Only in the fun ways,” you said fondly, pulling him down into another kiss before you returned to his truck.
Flip did not, in fact, know where he was going. His ‘shortcut’ turned into a scenic drive that had you both lost on circuitous dirt roads until evening. Flip did his best to be a good soldier for you, trying his damnedest to keep his mood light and even poke fun at himself. He only growled a few intermittent curses instead of the constant stream you knew he was holding back. Each bump on the rough roads made him wince a little bit more from his sore back, the added time in his truck not helping his injury either.
Flip seethed all the more over his encounter with the park ranger when you finally pulled into town to find most restaurants already closed after the delay the ranger caused you. The only place that was still open was a local dive bar. You assured him the bar would suit you just fine, not wanting his temper to flare even hotter. After the day you both had, any food would certainly taste wonderful.
With a rumbling sigh, Flip walked you inside the rustic looking bar. His usual proud swagger was hampered by the occasional wince and a noticeable limp from his strained back.  
The bar was unusually crowded. Several motorcycles were parked out front, indicating a few bikers were passing through or out on a scenic drive themselves. Flip generally hated bars himself, having to frequent them too often for his taste on undercover assignments. He hated crowds even more.
Immediately, several pairs of eyes turned to you. Flip’s scathing glare did little to intimidate the three bikers who had locked their eyes on your figure, their stare bloodshot and stuporous from a day spent drinking. Bellied up to the bar, they hovered over it like hyenas over a kill, watching you hungrily.
Placing his large hand possessively at the small of your back, Flip led you to the corner-most table. He held your chair out for you to sit before returning to the bar to order you each a meal and a drink from the bartender. When he returned, setting your drink and his beer down on the table, he grimaced as he slowly lowered himself into his chair. He chose the gunfighter seat for himself; the seat in the corner that allowed him to keep his eyes on the room. 
“Are you sure you don’t want to see someone about your back?” you asked, reaching across the table to stroke your fingers along his forearm. “Even a chiropractor?” 
“Maybe I’ll ask you for a backrub later after you’ve had your way with me,” he returned, smugly leaning back in his chair. “There’s nothin’ that’ll heal me faster than your touch.” 
“Try not to break the bed this time,” you laughed, eyes shining at Flip. You were surprised when he didn’t share a laugh or a smile with you, his expression instead was fixed and severe as he glared at someone behind you.  
“I don’t like the way those bastards keep starin’ at you.” Flip gritted his teeth, setting his jaw. “I should teach ‘em some manners.” 
“Not with a hurt back and a park ranger who’s already on your ass and out for blood.” Taking his hand as you spoke, you raised it to your lips, trailing them along his enormous fingers. “Don’t let them get to you. There’s no question who I’m going home with.” 
Flip quirked a small grin despite himself at your words, just as the bartender called out that your order was ready. Flip couldn’t help the groan that creaked from his throat when he pushed himself up from his chair. It took him a couple steps to straighten fully to his impressive height as he walked to the bar. 
The men at the bar shared a laugh at Flip’s expense, one of them gesturing toward him with a thumb and the others joining in with their leering smiles and moronic comments. One man making a point of telling the bartender, “Make sure you give him the senior discount,” as a witty remark on Flip’s stiffened gait. 
Flip sat your plates down a little too heavily, his fists clenching in time with his jaw when he released the porcelain. 
“Just tell them you threw your back out fucking me,” you said, projecting your voice in the hopes the other men could hear you. Flip grinned in response, taking a large bite of his cheeseburger.  
The men’s running commentary continued through your meal. Judging by the red tinge to Flip’s neck, you could tell he was making a valiant effort for you to keep his cool and prevent the evening from deteriorating further.  
By the time you finished your meal, the men had grown even rowdier, projecting their lewd remarks loudly enough for most of the bar to hear.
“Let’s get out of here,” you said, rising from your seat as Flip chugged the rest of his beer, slamming the glass down on the tabletop. He used the table to push himself stiffly up to his feet, returning his hand to your back to lead you out. He pulled you closer to his huge body, smirking down at you as you told him, “I can’t wait for you to use all this pent-up frustration on me tonight.”
“You must really want to cripple me, huh?” Flip whispered in your ear when he leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Wantin’ to work me to the bone when I’m already gimpin’ around like this.”
Flip’s smile left his lips when he pushed the door to the bar open for you, his jaw setting as he followed you out into the cool night air. Three bikers stood by Flip’s truck, all of them large, leering, and sloppy drunk. One bald man, the fattest of the three, leaned his back against the driver’s door, his eyes raking your body. The other two watched Flip with lurid anticipation of the fight they sought to instigate. One of them cracked his knuckles, the other walked toward Flip.
“Larry, Moe, and Curly, huh?” Flip scowled at the men, unconcerned and mad as hell.
“Hey baby,” Moe called to you from Flip’s right, his speech slurred. “How’s about you let me show you what a real man can do for you.”
“Yeah.” Larry joined the conversation on Flip’s left, thumbing his leather vest in a gesture that was supposed to be intimidating. “What’s a pretty piece of ass like you doing with an old man who can barely walk. We’ll take care of you real nice.”
Squaring his shoulders, Flip stepped in front of you, advancing ominously toward the other men.
“You sonsabitches are about to have a real bad time,” Flip snarled, setting his jaw and balling his huge hands into fists. “Last chance to fuck off.”
“I’m gonna put your old ass in a nursing home,” Larry slurred, swinging a haymaker punch with his right at Flip.
Flip lunged at Larry, much faster and stronger, easily blocking the punch with his left forearm. At the same instant Flip blocked Larry’s punch, Flip slammed his right fist into Larry’s nose, shattering it in an explosion of blood and snapping the man’s head backward.
Moe attacked Flip as Larry stumbled backward, clutching his nose. Moe ran at Flip, trying to catch him with a sucker punch. Flip rounded on him viciously, charging to meet his assault. Blocking Larry’s blows effortlessly, Flip leveled a violent left elbow to Moe’s jaw. The force of Flip’s blow knocked his opponent out cold on his feet, his body spinning in place before falling to the ground.
Curly lurched forward, using Flip’s truck to push himself faster, trying to tackle Flip to the ground. Flip parried his charge, shooting his hips backward in a move Elvis would have envied. Curly stumbled forward off balance, not having connected with his target. Flip grabbed Curly’s shoulders, fisting his shirt, yanking his face roughly into Flip’s knee, teeth and bones cracking and splintering, as tears and blood streamed down his broken face
“Bein’ such an old bastard,” Flip gritted at the men, who sputtered and writhed on the ground, “I’ve learned a few tricks.”
Rolling his shoulders to relax his muscles, Flip held his hand out to lead you to his truck, as though he was inviting you to join him on the dance floor. Unconcerned as ever, he led you around to the passenger door, opening it for you and then closing it behind like a perfect gentleman.
Walking back to the driver’s side, Flip used the toe of his boot to roll Larry out of the way of his tires. Flip grinned at you when he slid behind the wheel.
“Guess your old man’s still got it,” he told you with a wink, wiping his bloody knuckles off on his jeans.
“You never lost it, handsome,” you assured him, leaning in for a kiss before he put his truck into gear, ensuring his tires kicked up a healthy serving of dirt over the bikers as he peeled out of the bar’s parking lot.
Flip had booked a private log cabin in the middle of the forest. It was small and cozy, the perfect place for the two of you to spend a romantic couple of days. Its rustic interior smelled of pine and woodsmoke from a fireplace. The fridge was stocked with everything you would need for some dinners, snacks, and breakfasts. The Sunday paper awaited you on a small dining table. It even had a hottub outside, offering views of the Colorado mountains in their autumn-tinged beauty.
As you perused the quaint cabin, Flip leaned over the dining table, stretching his back. His attention was drawn to the newspaper, whose headline read, Serial Killer on the Loose near Colorado’s Most Beautiful Park. The article went on to detail how the killer targeted young, buxom blondes, viciously slashing them apart with a butcher knife. Flip sucked his cheek as he read, both relieved that this case wasn’t his problem and frustrated that he wasn’t the man who’d get to track this bastard down.
“Are you sure we’re safe out here with all that going on?” You asked, looking over Flip’s shoulder.
“Of course, we are,” Flip promised, straightening to his full height and turning to face you. “Do I look like a pretty blonde girl to you? I’m not his type. You’re safe with me, sugar.”
“I don’t know.” You grinned, trailing your hands over his chest. “You do have some damn nice tits.”
“How about we take a dip in that hottub?” Flip reached to your hips, gripping you as he pushed you in the direction he suggested. “Let me take your mind off all that serial killer horseshit.”
Flip made quick work of stripping both of your clothing away and ushering you into the welcoming bubbly warmth of the hottub. It was outside on a small deck, giving you an unobstructed view of the starry night sky and allowing the glow of the full moon to illuminate your skin. He pulled you into his lap, facing away from him with your back pressed against his broad chest. Wrapping his arms around you, Flip kissed your neck as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, staring up at the sky.
“It is beautiful here,” you sighed, resting your hands on his arms where they crossed in front of your body. “I’m glad you took time off to be with me, you know.”
“There’s no one I’d rather be with than you,” Flip said against your neck, smearing his words into your skin. “Nowhere I’d rather be than by your side. And nothin’ I’d rather do than hold you.”
“Me too,” you agreed simply.
As Flip kissed you, he felt your body relax against him, going limp in his arms. You didn’t melt against him the way you do when you wanted him to have his way with you; you were tired from the long day’s events.
“Let’s get you to bed, sugar,” Flip purred against your ear.
“I know you’re still wound up from today,” you sighed. “I know you want me.”  
“I always want you. Every minute of the fuckin’ day.” Flip punctuated his words with a bite to your neck. “But I can wait until you’re awake enough for me to wear you out myself.”
After a few more relaxing minutes, you allowed Flip to take you to bed and hold you in his arms until you fell fast asleep.
Flip awoke with the dawn the next morning, a habit the military had hammered into him. He looked down at you lovingly, still sleeping soundly beside him. Not wanting to wake you, he gently disentangled his body from yours. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he glared down at his painfully hard morning erection. He thought of all the ways you could alleviate it for him, but you looked too beautiful sleeping for him to rouse you.
Food was the next best thing.
Moving as quietly as he was able, Flip pulled on a pair of jeans and made his way to the kitchen. There was nothing prepared in the fridge, leaving him to the ghastly realization that if he wanted something to eat, he would have to fuckin’ cook it himself.
With a heavy sigh, Flip resigned himself to the possibility that instead of waking you with his hard on, he might instead wake you with a fire scare. Opening the fridge, Flip saw plenty of food items that would be far too elaborate for him to cook before his hungry gaze fixed upon a pack of bacon. He could cook bacon. Surely.
Lighting the stove, he put a cast iron pan over the fire and emptied half the pack of bacon into it. Soon, the pleasant sounds of crackling and sizzling filled the small cabin, along with the delicious smell of bacon. Flip smiled to himself, thinking of all the ways he would gloat to you at having successfully cooked something. He even toyed with the idea of being even more of a showoff and trying his hand at some eggs too.
A light sheen of sweat was already slicking his chest from standing over the stove, slaving over it, as he was prepared to relay to you when you awakened. He could leave the pan unattended for a minute or two.
Flip opened the front door a crack, letting some crisp mountain air in, and went to the bathroom to splash his face and chest with some cool water.
Misplaced sounds of shuffling and grunting from inside the cabin stopped Flip as he dried his face with a towel. Narrowing his eyes, he listened for a moment to the strange noises. They certainly didn’t sound like the noises you made when you were moving around in the morning.
Pushing the bathroom door open slowly, Flip stared slack-jawed at the front door. An enormous black bear stood in the doorway, nose in the air, huffing at the smell of the sizzling bacon.
“Oh, fuck me,” Flip muttered under his breath, watching as the bear took a step further into the cabin. He didn’t have his gun on him, and now he had a fuckin’ bear between himself and where he left you sleeping peacefully.
Bracing himself, Flip charged into the room, waving his arms above his head, trying to make his huge frame seem even larger. The bear watched him with disinterest, too accustomed to seeing tourists to be concerned over a frail human. The bear regarded Flip briefly, its ears flicking in response to Flip’s flailing movements, before deciding that he was no threat and walked further inside the cabin toward the cooking meat.  
Before the bear could amble across the living room to the kitchen, Flip rushed ahead of it to the stove. Reaching the pan, he grabbed it off the stove.
Flip looked at the bear. The bear looked at Flip. Each side-eyeing the other, sizing up his opponent.
Holding the pan out in front of him, Flip waved it from side to side to ensure the bear was focused on its sweet-smelling contents. Once he had the bear’s attention fixed on the pan, Flip slung the entire pan over the bear’s head and out of the front door. The bear watched the pan sail over its head, eyes and nose tracking its prize. With a frustrated huffing grunt that sounded very much like a noise Flip himself would make, the bear turned to chase the pan back out of the door and out of the cabin.
Flip ran forward to slam the door behind the bear, locking it in place. He immediately retrieved his shoulder holsters from where he had left them by the door out of habit, pulling them on over his bare shoulders.
Looking out of one of the living room windows, Flip saw the bear happily eat his breakfast and then lumber contentedly away. Flip sighed with relief as he watched the hulking black animal disappear in the trees.
“What’s going on, handsome?” you asked from the bedroom doorway, wearing Flip’s flannel shirt, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “I heard banging around and grunting.”
“Uh, nothin’ at all, sugar,” he told you, smoothing a hand over his hair as he closed the distance between you. “I just thought I might try to cook some breakfast. You know how that goes for me.”
“Oh no!” you exclaimed playfully, clapping a hand over your mouth. “It’s a good thing I’m up now and the tragedy has been averted.”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” he agreed with a laugh, pulling you into his warm embrace.
“Why are you wearing your shoulder hostlers?” you asked, running your hands over their leather straps, using them to pull him closer.
“I know how fuckin’ hot they make you, sugar,” he growled against your lips, grinding his hardening cock into you. Running his hands down your front, he pushed his flannel shirt that you wore aside, revealing your body to him.
Dropping his head, Flip kissed your neck in the way that rose goosebumps across your skin and sent arousal pooling in your core. You leaned your head to the side, granting him better access. As your eyelids fluttered from pleasure, your eyes darted to movement outside the window.
“Oh my god, Flip!” you almost screamed, smacking his chest to get his attention. “There’s a bear outside!”
“That sorry bastard.” Flip scowled at the animal that had now ruined both of his morning meals.
Taking a closer look at the bear, you saw it nosing something on the ground. A cast iron skillet.
“Did you feed it?!” You cried, slapping him harder.
“Well, yeah, technically,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a guilty expression.
“Now he’s going to keep coming around for more food.” Even as you watched, the bear raised it nose, sniffing for more. “We can’t stay here with a bear right outside.”
“Alright, alright. Damnit,” Flip grumbled, releasing his hold on you. “Go get dressed and we’ll get outta here for a while.”
While you hurriedly dressed, Flip threw some food from the fridge into a travel cooler that he always brought along camping. He packed some things that would be good around a campfire, including the ingredients for s’mores, and the half-empty pack of bacon. All that was involved in dressing himself was pulling on a shirt and his socks and boots.
Once dressed, you both watched through the window until the bear meandered away into the trees before making a mad dash for Flip’s truck. When Flip turned the key in the ignition, the bear peeked its head out of the trees, looking at the truck curiously as the engine roared to life.
Hours later, you arrived at a secluded campground in a stand of pine trees overlooking a lake. You had assured Flip that camping was just fine for one night, despite your usual aversion. You knew how much Flip loved sleeping out under the stars, and you also knew that he had made your cabin a hotspot for the local bear community.
The sun was setting when Flip began setting up camp. After unloading your gear, the first order of business was getting firewood for a campfire. This was one aspect of camping that Flip knew you did enjoy, watching your handsome lumberjack chop firewood for you. He always made sure to give you a good show.
Flip grinned at you as he reached into the bed of his truck, retrieving the large fireman’s axe that he kept there. Lifting it high, he slung it over his shoulder, resting it there, posing for you like the jackass he was. You had to smile at him, raking him openly with your gaze. He looked impossibly handsome in his red flannel and jeans, hair tousled from the day and rustling gently from an easy breeze, with his axe set on his shoulder, his large hand loosely gripping its handle.
“Are you just gonna stare at me like I’m a piece of meat?” he asked as he walked to a dead, dried out tree, axe bobbing on his shoulder.
“That’s half the point of keeping you around,” you teased, smirking at him in turn. “So I can have a private show whenever I want.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flip laughed, as in one fluid motion, he turned to the tree, swung the axe down from his shoulder, and severed its truck in one precise, powerful swing.
Without stalling his movements, he used the square toe of his boot to move the felled tree into position on the ground in front of him. He swung again, this time from over the opposite shoulder, splitting a good-sized piece away from the trunk, the perfect size for firewood.
Flip kept up a continuous rhythm, without slowing his powerful movements. With each swing, he raised the axe high above his head, stretching his huge body to a towering height; then, after joining both hands on the handle, he swung the axe down forcefully with the precision of a sharpshooter to cleave another piece from the trunk. Each time he chopped a piece off the trunk, he alternated his grip on the axe, lifting it over his opposite shoulder for his next swing.
Watching his vigorous movements, you could see his heavy muscles rippling and tensing beneath the material of his shirt, even his thighs flexing in his jeans. His ebony hair fell wildly around his face and neck, jostling with every stroke. Sweat had begun to shine on Flip’s chest where it peeked above the buttons of his flannel, accentuating the cleft between his muscles. He really was an absolute beast, and you adored him for it.
His pace remained steady, indefatigable, until the tree was completely rendered into chucks of firewood. When he was finished, he returned his axe to rest over his right shoulder, and looked at you proudly, flashing you a dashing grin.
“You’re burning daylight, standing there grinning like an idiot,” you told him playfully, putting your hands on your hips to complete your mockery.
Rolling his eyes at you and laughing at your sarcasm, he returned to the truck to place his axe back in the bed.
Next, he piled the wood together inside a stone circle and knelt to deftly light a campfire that quickly roared to life. In minutes, flames were dancing heartily amid the soothing sounds of crackling sparks.
You unloaded the travel cooler, carrying it with you to your seat on a large round log near the campfire. Chocolate sounded like a good place to start, as it usually was. You pulled out the ingredients for s’mores and set about making a good portion for each of you.  As you sat, Flip walked behind you, placing his enormous hands on your shoulders, massaging you with his strong grip.
“I should be the one giving you a back rub, as sore as you are,” you moaned pleasantly, dropping your head back on your shoulders to stare up at Flip, who looked down at you lovingly.
“Nah, you let me drag you all the way out here, sugar,” he told you huskily, kneading your shoulders. “And later, you’re gonna show me how beautiful you look with the moonlight shinin’ on that perfect figure of yours.”
“Oh, so there is a catch,” you laughed as Flip moved from behind you to take his seat next to you on the log.
Darkness had descended around you, along with a nighttime chill. Flip draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to his furnace of a body. Lifting a s’mores to his lips, you placed it on his tongue, relishing the way he kissed the remaining chocolate off your fingertips.
Leaning close to you, Flip kissed you deeply, bringing his free hand up to caress your cheek. He preferred the taste of you to the finest chocolate, purring happily against your lips. You reached a hand to his shirt, unbuttoning a few buttons to slip your hand inside and feel the heat of his chest under your fingers.
Breaking your kiss to catch your breath, you leaned your head on Flip’s shoulder, looking up at the sparkling canvas of stars above you.
“I have to take a leak,” Flip informed you, making you laugh with how bluntly he broke the mood, before gently pushing you away from his side so he could stand. He walked a few yards away behind a pine tree, leaving you to warm your hands over the fire and put together a few more s’mores.
From where he stood, Flip took a moment to lean his head back and gaze up at the stars, pristine and sparkling vibrantly. A faint rustling in the forest near him drew his attention. Narrowing his eyes in the direction of the sound, focusing intently, Flip heard a few more faint noises, now moving between his position behind the tree and where you sat by the campfire.
Brows knotting together, he moved silently from behind the trees to see the source of the noises. His jaw clenched and his pulse raced, pounding in his ears louder than the noises of the forest, at the sight before him.
A dark hulking man in a black outfit stalked from the trees behind you, creeping toward you as you leaned close to the fire. He held a long sharp blade in his right hand, moonlight glinting off its razored edge.
“Boy, did you pick the wrong fuckin’ girl on the wrong fuckin’ day,” Flip growled dangerously, stepping fully into view.
You and the slasher both turned immediately back to look at Flip. You almost jumped out of your skin, flying up to your feet at the sight of the man who had been stalking you from behind, knife in hand. The slasher turned fully to face Flip, wearing a disconcerting and disfigured pale mask, brandishing his knife menacingly. He was even larger than Flip, and armed.
“No need to get up, sugar,” Flip told you with a smirk before fixing the killer with his most fearsome glare. “I’ll just be a minute.”
The slasher stared at Flip, taken aback by his nonchalance. He took a foreboding step toward Flip, attempting to intimidate him into leaving the killer to his prey. Flip returned the gesture, brazenly stepping closer to the slasher, squaring his shoulders.
“Let’s dance, you sonofabitch,” Flip roared at the man, his whisky-toned eyes burning ferociously, flames from the campfire reflected in their mahogany depths.
Raising his knife, the slasher charged at Flip, plunging his blade downward toward Flip’s chest. Flip dodged the attack easily, much more agile than the looming killer. Slipping outside the knife, Flip slammed a vicious left hook into the killer’s temple. Flip blocked the killer’s responding backslash, locking his powerful grip around the killer’s wrist. At the same instant Flip blocked the slasher’s second attack, Flip stomped his left boot down onto the side of the slasher’s right knee, collapsing it to the ground with the sound of crunching chicken bones.
An inhuman wail screamed from the slasher, as he fell down onto his shattered right knee that was destroyed and canted out unnaturally sideways under his heavy weight. The slasher swung his blade at Flip again, a flailing, off-balanced attack, as he squealed in pain. Flip again blocked it easily, this time striking his left forearm harshly into the slasher’s elbow, snapping it like a twig.
The knife fell to the ground as the slasher screamed painfully through his mask.
“Go get my handcuffs out of the glovebox, darlin,’” Flip said to you, keeping his attention fixed on the killer.
Lifting his foot, Flip knocked the slasher over onto his side, watching him writhe in the dirt. Grinning wickedly, Flip raised his boot again. Flip met the slasher’s black eyes as he stomped down onto the side of the slasher’s good knee as savagely as Flip’s considerable strength allowed. Flip’s strike was met with another howl from his prey, now fully crippled and debilitated with both knees and one elbow crushed.
Flip kissed you sweetly when you returned holding his handcuffs. The killer watched from the ground,  more horrified than many of his victims had been as they stared at him in the past.
Grabbing the slasher’s boot, Flip dragged him squirming to the nearest pine tree. Flip then wrestled the struggling killer into a seated position against the tree trunk. Bringing the slasher’s arms around the tree behind him, Flip handcuffed his wrists, securing him to the trunk of the tree.
“What do you think we should do about him, Sugar?” Flip asked you, crossing his arms over his broad chest, chewing his lip as he appraised the crippled killer.
“We still have that pack of bacon,” you mused, moving beside Flip.
“Clever girl,” Flip replied, looking down at you with a fond smile.
Walking to the cooler, Flip retrieved the opened pack of bacon, returning to his place beside you with his usual swagger and a grin on his lips.
“I hear bears like this shit,” Flip told the slasher, tossing the pack of bacon down between the slasher’s legs against his crotch. The killer groaned and grunted, struggling futilely against the handcuffs.
Putting his arm around your shoulders, Flip led you back to his truck, opening your door for you. When he got behind the wheel, you could see Flip chewing his cheek in the way he did when he was thinking about something important. Smirking to himself at the decision he made, he sped out of the campsite and down the dirt road, kicking up an inordinate amount of dust in his wake.
“What do you bet that little asshole Ranger Chadwick is out there keepin’ one of his beady eyes on me?” He turned to share his smirk with you with his question.
Flip made a point of driving even faster than usual, swerving enough to kick up the most dirt possible. The sounds of items rattling in his truck bed and squeaking shocks could be heard for miles in the crisp, and otherwise silent, night air.
You couldn’t have driven more than five miles when the harsh ring of a siren sounded behind you, accompanied by the flashing lights mounted on the roof of Ranger Chadwick’s green SUV. Flip grinned over at you smugly, very pleased with himself indeed.
Finding a suitably wide spot in the dirt road, Flip made a sharp U-turn, driving back the way he had just come. Ranger Chadwick almost ran off the road when he tried to follow Flip’s maneuver, but he managed to complete the turn and speed after Flip.
Flip raced right back by your campsite, slowing and putting on his blinker as he drove by the handcuffed slasher. Ranger Chadwick looked in the direction of Flip’s flashing blinker, a signal cops were trained to watch for. The Ranger slammed on his breaks when he saw the huge man dressed in black handcuffed to the tree, flailing on the ground as an even larger bear approached him. The Ranger pulled to a stop to investigate this new development, ignoring Flip as he drove away.
Speeding through the park, Flip made a point of flouting the speed limit. He figured that if he could catch a serial killer for them, he was entitled to speed as much as he fuckin’ wanted.
“Where to now?” you asked, mostly teasing.
“Home,” Flip huffed, shaking his head at the thought of prolonging this road trip another day. “I just want to get home and spend the rest of my time off fuckin’ you into the mattress.”
The miles flew by faster going home than they had driving out, with Flip’s boot weighing heavier on the gas pedal. You arrived home in the late morning, before the sun had reached its pinnacle. It was only Friday, your trip having been cut short by two days, which meant that Flip still had until Monday morning to enjoy you all to himself. And he intended to make the most of it.
Despite not having slept all night, Flip was enthused when he parked back at your home. He remained determined to stay in a good mood for you, making the last of your vacation pleasant. Flashing you a broad toothy smile, he ushered you into your house.
Flip was on you in an instant, kissing your neck from behind as he followed you in through the door, his hands slipping up under your top to squeeze your tits.
“I’m taking a shower first, handsome,” you laughed at his eagerness, walking toward your bedroom.
“Let me give you somethin’ more to wash off, then,” he argued against your skin, nipping your neck playfully.
“Give me a few minutes and then you can join me,” you said as you disentangled yourself from his hold and made a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring Flip’s pouting lips and his pained, overly dramatic groan.
Steam filled the bathroom as you stripped your clothes away, fogging the mirror at once. Your shower was large and luxurious, glass enclosed on three sides with both a rainwater feature and a detachable shower head. The water pressure was enough to elicit a gasp from you as you stepped beneath it.  
You were invigorated as the hot water washed away the fatigue your body had accumulated over days of traveling and misadventures. After tending to the necessities, you ensured that you had just applied shampoo to your hair, a healthy lather of bubbles cascading down your body when Flip entered the bathroom.  
A pleased rumbling growl drew your attention to the doorway when Flip entered the bathroom, taking in the luscious sight of you. Turning to face him, you rubbed a smearing of bubbles over your tits as you arched your back to rinse the shampoo from your hair. 
Flip was already naked, the hardened planes of his body displayed for you alone. You watched as his already half hard cock filled out, heavy and thick, arching toward you, as he walked to join you in the shower.  
“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, sugar,” he groaned, eyeing you hungrily, as he moved to join you under the water. Replacing your hands with his own on your tits, he squeezed them gently in his encompassing grip.  
“You’re not allowed to die before you make me cum,” you teased, smoothing your hands over the solid expanse of his broad chest, smearing a soapy lather across it.  
“I want to see my cum drippin’ off of you like this,” he said huskily, rubbing the white bubbles into your tits with a grin. Bending to kiss you, his hands left your breasts to smooth down your sides to grope your ass. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, darlin.’” 
Grabbing the shampoo, you squirted enough into your hands for Flip’s thick waves and raised your hands to lather it into his hair. You dug your fingernails into his scalp and let them trace down his neck in the way you knew he loved. His grip on you tightened and you felt his straining cock prodding at your stomach. 
Flip raised his head high, tilting it back to rinse the shampoo out, removing his hands from you to scrub the suds out of his hair. While he was reared back, you allowed your hands to caress down his body, following the hard planes and firm ridges of his torso and waist. You trailed the lines that cut from his hips downward, earning a groan from him when you reached the base of his cock. Your soapy fingers traced the thick veins that laced his massive girth before gripping partially around him, as much as your hand could manage. Pumping him a few times, you lifted his cock to press against his navel, pinning it between your stomachs as you closed the distance between your bodies, looping your arms around his neck while it throbbed between you. 
Rubbing the conditioner into each other’s hair, you spent the time it needed to absorb kissing deeply and rubbing slick hands over each other’s bodies. 
With a knowing smirk, Flip detached the shower head. Removing it from its cradle, he brought it close to your hair, brushing his hand along your hairline as he rinsed it for you. He then rinsed his own as you kissed his broad chest and corded neck. 
Flip’s free hand found your hip, turning you around so your back was pressed to his chest. He pushed you forward as he bent you slightly, pressing your tits against the tiled wall of the shower and pulling your ass out toward him. The smooth stone felt wonderful, cool and textured against your nipples. 
Massaging your hip absently, he returned the shower head to its cradle for now before dropping his hand to your pussy. He started rubbing along your outer lips before sliding two fingers into you. You moaned at the feeling of being stretched by him. Even his fingers were huge.  
Flip bent to kiss you between your shoulder blades as he rubbed his fingers against your favorite spots inside you, knowing exactly where you wanted them. He stroked in and out of you for several minutes until you were moaning against the tile before he withdrew his fingers and straightened behind you. Arching your back, you pushed your ass out further, wanting to feel his cock fill you completely.  
Rubbing the thick head of his cock through your folds, he teased you for a few passes before pushing into you in one firm thrust. You moaned his name at the feeling of being stretched so fully.  
“I love this tight little pussy. You’re the perfect fit for me. Made just for my fat cock.” Flip praised you in a growl as he sank into you. 
He began fucking you slowly, pulling almost completely out of you with each delicious drag of his cock until his head caught at your entrance before plunging back inside. When you began pushing your ass back into him, meeting his thrusts, his pace increased, slamming into you more roughly with each thrust.  
One of his hands still gripped your hip, pulling you back onto his cock as he pounded into you. His other hand reached to the detachable shower head, removing it once again, and turning the spray setting to a pulsing stream. He brought it in front of you to your clit, aiming the jet perfectly. Your mouth fell open in a gasp of pleasure at the overwhelming sensation.  
The way his thick cock spread you open so wide gave the jet of water access to the most sensitive places you had, causing your thighs to tremble almost immediately as your pleasure mounted, swirling in your abdomen like the water itself. Flip couldn’t pound you hard and keep the shower head in place, so he settled for grinding his hips against you, digging his cock into you and keeping you spread open for the stream to edge you into a blinding orgasm.  
Your pussy spasmed and clenched around Flip’s cock in time with the waves of pleasure that rocked through you, a strangled whine tearing itself from your throat. Flip’s fingers dug into your hip as he groaned himself, trying to keep from cumming right then and there from the feeling of you tensing around him like a silky pulsing vice.  
You were still shuddering with pleasure when Flip returned the shower head to its rack and immediately began pounding his cock into you, jolting you against the tile with each hard thrust. His renewed motion had you cumming again, a second rush of ecstasy even more potent than the first, weakening your knees as your entire body trembled. 
“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he panted behind you, punctuating every word with a rough thrust. His breath came ragged as his rhythm grew sloppy and errant. 
Shoving his cock as deeply inside of you as he could, you felt his body tense as his cock pulsed inside you. Heat spread through your core as he pumped you full of the hot ropes of his cum. Throbbing inside of you for several long seconds, you couldn’t remember a time Flip had ever pumped more cum into you. A tell as to how pent up his road trip had made him.
“I want to watch my cum run out of your pretty little pussy,” Flip said huskily, grinding his cock into you, feeling the warmth of your combined cum on his cock. 
Leaning his heavy body over you with a sigh, his hands moved to smooth across your stomach as he kissed along your back and shoulders while his cock softened inside of you.
“You should always be full of my cum,” he said into your shoulder blade as his lips turned into a smile against your skin. “I always want to know you’re full of me.”
“That’s something we both agree on,” you sighed, as a final shudder racked your body. “You always know what I want.”
“I’ll always give you everything you want, sugar,” Flip purred behind your ear.
Using his impressive strength, Flip pulled your quivering body up. Turning you to face him, he encircled you in his powerful arms, holding you tight to his chest as his hands smoothed up and down your back.
“Right now, I want a nap,” you sighed dreamily against his chest.
“You n’ me both,” he huffed, as he led you out of the shower. He draped a towel over your shoulders, before grabbing one for himself.
A persistently ringing phone sounded from inside your bedroom.
Scowling at the intrusion, Flip wrapped a towel around his hips and sat down heavily on the side of the bed before answering the phone with a grimaced, “What?”
“Flip?” Ron’s relieved voice greeted him. “I’ve been calling all morning.”
“I’m on vacation,” Flip replied curtly, stifling a yawn, resting his hand on your thigh when you came to sit beside him.
“Yeah, about that,” Ron’s sentence was interrupted by unintelligible shouting coming through the line, an angry voice that could only belong to Bridges. “You must have had one hell of time.”
“You’d be damned right about that, rookie,” Flip laughed to himself. He could hear more yelling from Bridges in the background. “But why in the hell are you callin’ me about it from the station?”
“Better me calling you than another cop,” Ron said pleasantly. “Hey, wait, give me a minute-“
A squabble sounded from Ron’s end of the call before Bridges’s voice came on the line, shouting loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you want to tell me, Zimmerman, why in the hell I came into my office today on a Friday morning to find out that my star detective has a fuckin’ felony warrant out on his ass!?”
“What the fuck-?” Flip began, but his words were cut off.
“Oh yeah, I have it right here,” Bridges continued heatedly. “A Federal warrant for Aggravated Fleeing, which is a fuckin’ felony. So, do you mind tellin’ me exactly what in the ever-lovin’-fuck you got into on this vacation of yours?”
“Did that little fuckin’ Park Ranger file charges on me?” Flip growled into the phone, the veins in his neck bulging with his rising temper.
“The probable cause statement to get the warrant signed was written by a National Park Ranger Chadwick,” Bridges said amidst the sound of shuffling papers, reading them to Flip. “He says here that you led him on a high speed chase in the middle of the night. That you made an illegal U-turn. That you also fled the scene of a crime, which isn’t charged, thank god.”
“That sawed-off little bastard.” Flip’s hands balled into fists with his words, shaking with the strength of his anger.
“Care to explain what the hell happened?” Bridges asked sardonically. Flip could picture his raised eyebrows and hands on his hips.
“Listen Chief,” Flip began, only to be cut off again by the Chief.
“On second thought, I don’t give a damn what your explanation is. I don’t need you to explain it,” Bridges said in his most lecturing tone. “I need you to fix it. And I mean now.”
“How exactly am I supposed to do that?” Flip gritted his teeth, his jaw flexing.
“Glad you asked, Zimmerman.” As Bridges spoke, Flip could hear other voices in the background, some laughing. Flip was obviously the talk of the station this morning. “Along with this warrant, I got a call bright and early from the Assistant US Attorney for Western Colorado.”
Flip released an audible grumbling sigh at the Chief’s statement, thinking of the Chief discussing him with a Federal prosecutor like a common criminal. You rubbed his back reassuringly.
“The attorney told me that he wanted to thank you for your ‘work’ in the Park, and your assistance apprehending a suspect,” Bridges said, still in his scolding voice. “Which I’m really fuckin’ curious about. The attorney also said that he spoke to the Ranger, and he’ll agree to dismiss the charges upon receiving an in-person apology from Detective Zimmerman.”
“Well, that’s real fuckin’ generous of that little prick,” Flip replied sarcastically, grinding his teeth furiously. In the background, Flip could hear laughter. “Goddamnit, I’m on speaker, aren’t I?”
“You’re technically a fugitive right now, so yeah, I think it’s important the men in the Department are informed of our conversation,” Bridges answered, although you could hear his smile in his voice for the first time during the call.
“No fuckin’ way am I apologizin’ to that asshole.” Flip had to restrain himself from slamming his phone down right then. “You know, I caught a fuckin’ serial killer on his turf! And he thinks I owe him a fuckin’ apology?!”
“Seems a small price to pay to avoid bein’ dragged into Federal Court, Zimmerman,” Bridges said, before having a muffled exchange with Ron, who was no doubt trying to stand up for Flip. “And just to make sure there’s no discrepancies, I want proof. I want it recorded.”
“Recorded?” Flip almost groaned into the phone.
“You’re damn right I want it recorded. Wear a wire. I don’t care,” Bridges commanded. “Figure it out, Zimmerman.”
Laughter and other voices sounded on the call.
“I’ll bring the popcorn,” Ron laughed. Flip thought that Ron should know there’ll be some shit comin’ back his way for that.
“This is gonna be great for the Station Christmas party.” Fuckin’ Landers joined in.
“Flip apologizing? I’m gonna make a copy to play every Friday.” Trapp also sounded highly amused by the situation.
“Now means now, Zimmerman,” Bridges said, loud and stern. “Go apologize to him now. Get back on the road.”
Flip didn’t verbally respond, only growled into the phone.
“Let me talk to your other boss, Zimmerman,” Bridges continued to a round of laughter from the eavesdroppers. “Put your wife on.”
Shaking his head in fuming disbelief, Flip dutifully handed the phone to you.
“Chief Bridges?” you greeted the Chief with what you hoped was a pleasant tone.
“Look, I don’t care how you do it, and I don’t want to know how you do it, either,” Bridges said to you in his friendliest tone, which was still somewhat harsh. “But you line that big pain in the ass husband of yours out like you always do. Get his ass back out to that Park. And you make him apologize.”
“Aye aye, Chief,” you replied teasingly, listening to the rising laughter in the background before Bridges hung up the call.
Scowling deeply, Flip turned to you, dropping his face into your tits and pushing you back down onto the mattress to sulk in your cleavage, as if he could hide there from all of his problems.
“Sounds like we need to get back on the road,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair.
“No fuckin’ way am I apologizin’ to that little prick,” Flip mumbled petulantly against your skin, nuzzling into you with his nose.
“It sounds like you have to. Now get up,” you ordered in your own sweetly commanding way that he never refused. “Don’t make me pull rank on you, too.”
“Yes, boss,” Flip said, laying more of his weight on you, pinning you to the mattress beneath his heavy body.
Smiling to yourself at his surly antics, you managed to roll him off of you and push yourself up from the bed. You placed your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow, giving him your look that meant business. With a heavy sigh, Flip rose from the bed, cursing under his breath as he went to get dressed.
“Just look at this like another road trip,” you teased with a shrug. “What could go wrong?”
Tagging some foxy ladies: @babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @iamburdened @gabesprincess @icarusinthesea @heartlight-starlight @mythrielofsolitude @caillea @fizzywoohoo @darkhairedmenrule @reyloaddict55 @bensolodyad @candycanes19 @danidanisara @queeniebee @lumberjack00fantasies
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lanwangjihouse · 10 hours ago
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tag of the week:
#me walking to the fridge for the 80th time a night just to open it and find the same things as the last 79 times ❋   
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banjobutch · 3 months ago
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amishsicario · 2 months ago
broke: the placebo effect is real
woke: sugar pills just happen to cure lots of things
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postpunkenjoyer · 4 months ago
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fartgallery · 9 months ago
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okay, who tf put this monolith in my toilet?
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somecontext · 9 months ago
you giys are always posting about characters and well i just dont know any of those guys
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wilburlovesyou · 6 months ago
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banjobutch · 5 days ago
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postpunkenjoyer · 7 months ago
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fartgallery · a year ago
might let loose and accomplish a task this week
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wilburlovesyou · a month ago
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