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hattywatch · 5 years

Text

T. Seguin - Back Road Part 2

Author’s Note: This fic has been in the works since JULY, it is now January of 2019. Just so you guys know how slow and hard this has been (that’s what she said). It would not have been possible without various drunken nights on my part and encouraging text messages on @hockeyandtaylorswift ‘s part- and all of the lovely tags that people created when they reblogged the first part. I read every single one of the tags that anyone makes when they reblog any of my fics and they keep the content coming (PSA I’m sure all fic writers will tell you the same thing. Tags, comments etc spark the muse for real), so thank everyone who ever wrote anything nice about it, I love you. As a caveat, this one is 20 pages long. Go to the bathroom, grab a snack and a blanket, and settle in for the long haul. It’s also smutty. Are we back to using the term *LEMONS* now to fight the Tumblr bots? Am I showing my age? Yes, to both.

Part 1

He really takes your teasing in stride, which is awesome, since that's the kind of person you are.

He almost seems to revel in it.

After you sprung that kiss on him and all but slammed your door in his face, he was quick to text you when he got back to his place:

Tyler: Well, my ego is in shreds, but aside from that I'm home safe

was the exact text you got, but close enough.

If you were worried that his chase would be over the second you showed any interest, that text certainly helped calm your nerves.

It turns out that where previous guys all maintained a cool indifference and responded only when you initiated, Tyler was the opposite. He text you almost daily after your movie date. A picture of a dog here, his breakfast there, and best of all there was no shortage of selfies, a truly amazing perk. What a face on that man, honestly.

You never stopped teasing though, because, quite frankly it was nice to be pursued and you were more than a little gun-shy of getting in too deep.

___________

After constant texts back and forth for a week following your date, your nerves had calmed considerably. The chemistry was always there and he even started teasing back a little.

Tyler: You never send me any pictures. This is so one-sided.

You sorely hoped he wasn't asking for what you thought he was. You weren't sure you'd have the willpower to cut him out of your life if he was trying to solicit nudes.

Opting to be cheeky and hoping for the best, you sidle up to your fish’s tank and pucker your lips together, before taking a selfie with Brendan, the goldfish.

You: May all of your fishes come true.

When the tell-tale bubble appears to denote Tyler forming his reply, your heart patters double time in anticipation.

Tyler: That's the stuff I'm looking for 😁

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you're delighted that he's a gentleman and you're morally justified to continue this infatuation.

___________

It's been well over a week, closing in on two, and Tyler has texted lots. He even called once, from the grocery store to ask your opinion on cheez-its vs cheese-nips (cheez-its > cheese-nips, obviously).

He hasn't however, attempted to schedule another date. You're not sure why. He initiates texting and responds pretty quickly usually, aside from the odd early morning or late night text.

You're starting to get a little down on yourself about it until he sends you a picture of him in what is obviously the first-class area of a plane, followed by the message:

Tyler: I'll be home soon, what are you doing Thurs?

You nearly knock Brendan off the end table when you flail your legs in excitement that's decidedly uncool.

Tyler suggests a few date ideas before saying that you’re no help and telling you to wear jeans and closed toe shoes.

___________

When Thursday finally comes you slide back into those lived in jeans you love so much. In full honesty, you did go out and buy a new shirt and some cool slide on sneakers, so you're feeling pretty good about yourself when you're adjusting your hair in the mirror and there's a knock on your door.

You sprinkle a little food into Brendan's bowl as you pass through the living room and grab your keys to meet Tyler at the door.

“Trent! Good to see you,” you lock the door behind you and turn around and meet Tyler's eye with a big grin. He dips down, leaning in for a hug and a respectful peck on the cheek.

“Tear my heart out why don't you? A guy's liable to develop a complex.” The complex is short lived, you can tell since he snakes his arm around your waist and leads you to the flashy sports car that sits in front of your house.

“Where's your Jeep?” He smiles at you as he opens the car door and closes it, walking around the car getting into the driver's seat.

“You know how it is,” he buckles his seat belt and finishes, “boys and their toys.”

“Apparently,” you answer coolly, refusing to be charmed by a shiny, expensive car. What type of girl does he think you are?

Whatever type of girl he thinks you are is quickly what you're becoming as he parks outside of a ranch.

“Are we being real Texans today?” you ask, letting yourself out of the car before he can come around and open the door. He walks around anyway, grabbing your hand and continuing up the dirt road to the ranch.

“Yee-haw,” he says seriously, looking straight into your eyes, but his eyebrows rise to belie his voice.

You can't hold back the giggles that brings out, and let him half drag you the rest of the way through the dusty parking lot to the instructor, who's waiting in the stables.

___________

Overall you are a much better rider than Tyler.

You can see the instructor getting frazzled as she tries to get him to loosen his grip on the reins and to stop inadvertently signaling for the horse to start a trot with the way he's squeezing his calves around the animal’s sides.

After a small lesson in the paddock which easily takes twice the time it should, you're given the okay to take the trail. The horses seem to know the trail so you and Tyler are free to chat, side by side as your horses gently lead the way. Tyler's horse mostly ignoring the inexperienced rider on his back.

“I was worried you wouldn't say yes to me again,” Tyler looks over at you grinning and you can't tell if he's kidding or not; after all, it was you and not him who initiated physical intimacy on your last date.

“Why is that? I thought I made it pretty clear on my porch that I would be open to another date,” you will your cheeks to cool down, it seems just the memory of your mouth on his has you a little warm.

He smiles warmly at you, a little blush appearing high on his cheeks, “Oh, I remember,” he takes a breath before continuing, “but I've been pretty busy with work, ya know, out of town a lot. I wasn't sure if you were sick of waiting for me to be around. Barely got you to agree to the first date.” He must signal the horse to speed up in some way, which Buttercup does with ease. Tyler's face looks stricken for a second until the horse seems to remember who is sitting in the saddle. She slows down to allow you and Spirit to catch back up.

You're laughing, hunched forward on Spirit, Tyler's panicked face burned into your brain.

“ 's not funny,” he's visibly trying to relax, since Buttercup is feeding off of his nerves.

“It so is,” you make out between giant gulping breaths while wiping the tears from your eyes. Spirit has finally caught up with Buttercup and Tyler's pout has subsided.

“Why couldn't you pick something that I'm better at. Let me impress you and feel manly?” You laugh again before reminding him that he's to blame for today's activity.

“Yeah, but I only picked this because you said that you like horses and haven't been riding since you moved here,” he gets a little line between his eyebrows as he scrunches them up and mock anger.

“Well, at the very least, I am impressed by your listening abilities,” you nod primly and he gives you a cheesy grin, before he agrees that he'll take whatever win he can get.

You can see the ranch through the trees and it seems like your ride is coming to a close. The sun is beginning to lay lower in the sky and overall it's been a really peaceful few hours.

You don't want it to end.

Hopping off of Buttercup is much easier for Tyler than disembarking off of Spirit is for you. It probably has something to do with him being 6 foot plus and incredibly fit, not that you like, noticed or anything. He smiles at you from below as he sees you struggling with the stirrups.

“C'mon cowgirl, time to go,” he extends his hand up to you and you obviously accept it. Any excuse to get closer to the man in front of you.

He grips your hips tightly from behind to steady you, as you swing your leg over and try to gently lower yourself back to solid ground. If you were watching the scene play out, instead of being a part of it, you'd surely roll your eyes. But that’s not the case, and his hands are strong and warm and you can feel them through your jeans. It sends warmth radiating through your body and you bite your lip to keep yourself from saying anything foolish.

Normally, you’d be a bit more than a bit self-conscious about him grabbing your hips. They’re wide and thick since that’s where most of your extra weight seems to congregate, but Tyler isn't shying away, and it isn’t necessarily hidden in these snug pants.

You're both silent on the walk back to his car.

___________

He drives back in the direction of your house, but is going well under the speed limit, which is odd for the ostentatious sports car you're in.

He hits a red light and finally looks over at you, “Did you have other plans tonight… or?”

His sentence tapers off and you stare at him with your lips pursed.

“Did you have something else planned?” It comes out a little too high pitched and excited to be passed off as cool, but you sort of hope he does, because you really don't want to go home and wait for him to contact you again, especially if his work schedule is as erratic as he's claimed. Who knows how long you two could draw this thing out for.

He stares at you now, seemingly mulling something silently. “Light's green,” you nudge him with your elbow.

He focuses on the road again but eyes you subtly, “I could make us dinner, if you wanted to come to my place?” He's tentative, like he's not sure what you're going to say- like he hasn't taken you on the best dates of your life, hasn't been unabashedly pursuing you and making you hot under the collar with every look he sends in your direction. Like you could ever say no to that face of his.

“Yeah we can do that, Tony” a grin splits his face and you just couldn’t help yourself.

He hunches over towards the steering wheel in what can only be described as giggles.

“You'll remember my name one day,” he warns as he makes a u-turn, driving the opposite direction of your home.

He'd be hard to forget, all his weirdness and sweetness and playful tenacity. You sit quietly, hoping his invitation to dinner is a little less innocent than face value.

___________

It seems Tyler is absolutely full of surprises, because the driveway he pulls into belongs to a veritable mansion and you're instantly uncomfortable.

Before you can help yourself a small, “oh,” drops out of your mouth. You hope he doesn't hear you, because that's embarrassing. You just feel a little out of place, since you're a waitress and he's picked you up at your house before, which is really just the first floor of a house in the suburbs that you rent and definitely could not afford to own.

He hits a button on his phone and the garage door opens and it's literally like you're sitting next to James- fucking-Bond. Once he's pulled in you see the Jeep sitting in the garage as well, along with a few other cars you wouldn't be able to identify as anything other than wildly expensive. He doesn’t seem to catch the noise you make, but he does catch you surreptitiously looking around. He parks and starts getting out, walking over to the door and unlocking it as you trail behind him.

“I told you, I like my toys.” He lets you into the house before him and you kick off your shoes at the door, afraid to track dirt all over the pristine floors.You follow him through the hallway and into the kitchen. It’s bright and beautiful, with marble floors and countertops and what are surely restaurant quality appliances, and if he told you his personal chef would be preparing dinner for you tonight it honestly wouldn't surprise you in the least.

But he doesn't.

He gets out pans and bread and butter and cheese and starts the stove before glancing at your shocked face, “Grilled cheese okay? I haven't really gone grocery shopping since I got back. Ya know, too busy trying to plan dates with girls who can't remember my name and getting shown up by rowdy horses.” You nod and he turns back to the pan, buttering it up as it heats over the open flame.

He motions over to the island stools and you hop up, watching him cook. “Can I help at all?” You don't really know where anything is, but your momma raised you right, so you ask anyway.

“There’s some wine in the fridge, if you’re interested,” he tells you, and you pour out two glasses as he pops the grilled cheeses onto two plates, placing one in front of you and scooting onto the stool next to you with his own.

“Wine doesn't really go with grilled cheese, huh?” He makes a face, but it doesn't stop him from washing down his second bite in the exact same fashion.

“Excuse you, grilled cheese goes with everything.” Sure it's just grilled cheese and all, but it's really actually pretty good and it's made even better by how sweet Tyler was to do it himself and not take the easy way out and order something in. It feels cozy and private sitting in his kitchen, drinking wine and eating the food he made. You eat mostly in silence, sipping your wine and looking around at the grand kitchen.

___________

It's hard to imagine what Tyler does for a living that he could afford a place like this. He doesn’t give off a businessman vibe and he doesn’t seem like the kind who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, so you’re at a loss thinking of a position for him to work. Mostly you just don't want to be seen as a gold digger, even though you couldn’t have possibly known about this in advance; if you had known, you would have been even more reluctant to agree to a date than you already were.

“You okay? Kinda quiet, usually you're making jokes at my expense, I'm a little worried,” he nudges your knee with his under the table as you finish up your food. You pick up the wine glass and stand, filling both of your glasses again. “Yeah. I'm good. Gimme a tour?” You open your eyes wide, tilt your head, and give him a genuine smile, it's not his fault that your uncomfortable about him being loaded. He obviously wasn't turned off by you not being rich, so you do your best to put it out of your mind in the effort of having a good time.

He smiles and stands dropping both dishes in the sink before he heads off into another room motioning for you to follow.

The two of you must make a decent amount of noise, because as you leave the kitchen, you can hear the tell-tale sound of paws on hardwood and before you know it, you're surrounded in labs. Before you get pummeled, Tyler grabs your wine glass from your hand before they could pounce you with love.

The dogs are wonderful.

He makes a fuss of trying to get the yellow one to stop jumping, but the brown and black ones are a little more well behaved, a little older and calmer. They hear his stern voice and sit and allow you to ruffle their ears, while the yellow one dances around happily, in between you and Tyler.

“It's fine,” you tell him. “If this is how I die, it's worth it,” you're fully sat on the floor now, giving pets and staving off sloppy kisses. He lets the dogs attack you with love for another minute before he helps you up from the floor.

“You'll spoil them.” He hands you back your wine and tells the dogs to go lay down, which they surprisingly do as they head off into an adjacent room. Tyler follows behind them.

“This is the living room,” he pauses, eyeing the dogs who look up at the sound of his voice from their position on the couch. “No,” he stares them down sternly and they plop their heads back onto the couch cushions and ignore you as you walk though.

“This is the dining room, I never use this. I don't even know why I have this room. I only use it when my mom's here.” It's amazing how the house is beautifully furnished and decorated, without looking like a 20 something male threw it all together or looking too overly pretentious, like it was done by a pricey designer.

He drags you into the game room, through the media room, and he ducks his head into a room that he calls his office. “I probably use this room less than the dining room.” He doesn’t even cross over the threshold, and keeps on his way to the stairs.

Letting the curiosity get the better of you, you step in and see stacked hockey pucks and gloves on the desk and jerseys on the wall. It starts to click. It would make sense for him to work in sports; it would afford him the money to own a house like this, and would probably require travel. He’s in great shape and Texas is wrought with professional trainers. You make a mental note to ask him about it later when you get the chance.

Suddenly though, you feel a little uncomfortable in your tight jeans, thinking about all of the hard bodies he probably comes into contact with daily.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Tyler calls from outside of the room, and decide you should probably stop snooping around without his consent; it’s not nice.

___________

The tour continues upstairs.

He shows you where his mom likes to stay, and then drags you into the room his sisters fight over for when they visit.

You know where this is going. Normally, you'd be delighted a guy like him was interested in getting into your pants, but you're not really in the mood to take them off anymore, considering how self conscious you're feeling. You feel a little claustrophobic in your own clothes, your shirt feels constricting around your arms and chest and you can feel where the waist of you jeans is digging into your flesh.

It's an honest shame, because his bedroom is awesome. Everything is a soft neutral. It's decorated minimally but tastefully. There are floor to ceiling windows that light the room up in warm reds and oranges with the dusky sky and the bed looks huge and warm.

You end up not having to deny him, because he doesn't even spare the bed a second glance before he's dragging you into his closet, which is like, wow.

“Hooooooooly,” you're almost reverent looking at the amount of clothes and shoes and, quite frankly the solid organizational skills that were put to practice here.

“Yeah, it's okay.” He looks almost sheepish. Like he doesn't want to be showing off, but you did ask for a tour, so he’s just giving the people what they want. .

“I think your closet is bigger than my entire bedroom.” You're backing out into his bedroom again and see another door.

“Do you have two closets you absolute diva?” You gently slap his chest, unable to stop teasing him as his face gets that distinct pink tinge again. Your face heats up as well at the hard muscle you feel under your hands. That smirk makes its way back to his face as he catches your hand lingering on his pecs. His eyebrows approach his hairline, so you turn away from him, pushing the door open, nosy once more.

“Okay, your bathroom is definitely bigger than my bedroom,” you do a little spin to take in the whole thing. Looking up at the skylight and out the window at the view. He laughs it off before grabbing your hand and tugging you.

“C'mon, I'm going to kick your ass at pool... unless you have to go?” He looks at you, waiting for approval.

You think about leaving for about a second, overwhelmed by- well, by everything. This house, and the cars, and his general… overwhelmingly handsome, charming self. But then you think about it again, and really, you do honestly like him, so you decide to throw caution to the wind. You’ve gotten this far with false bravado and flirtatious teasing,

“You don't even stand a chance, Tommy,” you smile before ducking under his arm and out of his room, hurrying down the stairs.

He chases you, right on your heels until he catches you at the game room, pressed against your back, all warm and big. He puts his hands on your hips and whispers low in you ear, “Let's see what you got, tough guy.”

___________

Once you're away from the bedroom you start to feel a little better. He keeps making sure you're comfortable and wanting to stay, he doesn't seem to be less attracted to you because you're not wealthy or shaped like a runway model. You can't seem to find a fault with him; normally that would be annoying, but you're just happy the only issue you have now is whether or not you want to make a move on him, since it seems he's letting you control all things carnal.

There's not as much pressure down in the game room, far away from the expectations of the bedroom.

Scratch that. There's a lot of pressure, but it's a different type of pressure. Because you were definitely shit talking before and you've lost 3 games of pool in a row. Not just lost; lost would be underselling it.

You were absolutely eviscerated- sinking only 1 of your own balls before Tyler cleared the table, then calls the 8 ball's pocket and smoothly shoots it in without a problem.

Pouting, you turn around and poke Tyler in the chest, “I don't want to play with you anymore. This isn't any fun!”

He grabs your wrist and tugs you towards him. He's laughing, a full loud thing that makes his eyes scrunch up and shows all of his straight white teeth. Your competitive side is still feeling pouty, but your red-blooded-female side is hot under the collar for this idiot.

He wraps his arms around you. “Now you know how I felt when you were showing me and Buttercup up. Sucks doesn't it?”

You let him wrap you up in his arms, it's a nice consolation prize for getting your ass handed to you over and over and over. “Yeah, yeah. I've never played before so… you should be a lot less proud.”

He looks down at you a little affronted. “Let me show you proper technique. I can't keep beating you mercilessly when you're such a rookie. It's not even a challenge.”

___________

You'd like to say that your heart rate and body temperature remained steady as he oh-so-innocently bent you over the table to show you how to properly line up a shot, but you make it a habit to not lie through your teeth.

It feels incredible. He's all angular, hard lines against your curves. It makes you feel distinctly feminine and small, something no other man has ever really accomplished.

Tyler is keeping it strictly business. No funny stuff at all. His left hand on your left elbow helping you stay steady against the felt of the table, while his right hand covers yours, far back on the pool cue.

He shows you a few times, slowly pulling your arm back and smoothly sliding it forward to make contact with the cue ball. You'd never assign the term “erotic” to billiards, but now you'd be hard pressed to ever look at a pool table again without thinking of this moment.

“Go easy. Gentle hands. You don't need a lot of force. It's more about finesse,” he's so close the words drop out of his mouth and settle onto the column of your neck.

Odds are really high you might jump him. It's absolutely terrible.

When he finally stands up and lets you have a go at it alone, you're practically vibrating out of your skin. You hit the cue ball all wrong since your hands are shaking, and it hops right over the ball you're aiming for and off of the table.

“You okay there hot shot?” He's stood up behind you as you drop your face onto the table in embarrassment. You can hear the laugh in his voice.

“It's going great, Trevor,” you manage, raising your head and scowling at him over your shoulder. ‘Great’ may be embellishing, but then he runs a finger over the sliver of skin that's exposed from where your shirt has rucked up, and all of a sudden you need to reassess your choice in adjectives.

The moment can easily be upgraded from “great” to transcendental.

You're not sure if you should stand up and turn around, since that would be prime position to get your mouth on his again. Or maybe you could stay bent over the table and see where he plans on going with this. Or maybe you just let your body turn into a pile of goo here on the table under his hands. They all seem like pretty solid options as far as you're concerned.

Tyler's hand shimmies your shirt up a few more inches and you entertain a flash of insecurity at the thought of your love handles existing, but you're happy to report that you forget about it pretty quickly as Tyler stretches his front over your back once more, clearly undeterred.

He pushes your hair to the side and tucks his chin into your neck, murmuring directly into your ear.

“This good? You want me to stop?” He's grabbing both sides of your waist and there's not a single gap between your bodies.

You're not quite sure you can fully formulate a coherent sentence with his lips running wild on the nape of your neck, so you press your ass back into him so he knows to continue.

“That's a yes then? Use your words, babe” you feel his smile against your jaw before he gently lets his teeth scrape over a particularly sensitive spot under your ear.

All the air in your lungs leaves you in a breathy moan, “Yeah. Yes. You're good.”

His hands drop lower and squeeze your hips, “I'm ‘good,’ what?” He presses his hips closer to yours before pulling away. The friction, while short lived, is sorely missed and leaves you wishing he'd do it again.

The short circuit in your brain isn't making the connection he's trying to lead you towards, and you turn your head towards him, eyes half-lidded while letting out an extremely intelligent, “huh?”

He repeats the motion again, pulling you back harder against him this time. “I'm good- what, (y/n).” He puts emphasis on your name, growling it into your ear.

This time he backs away entirely and pulls you to stand up and turn to face him, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to give him what he's looking for.

“You're good…” you swing your eyes skyward and pretend to consider it while wrapping your arms around his neck, eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled, “Todd?”

Tyler's jaw sets, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “You wound me.” His hand is over his heart. “Maybe I can jog your memory.”

He's got your ass in his hands before you can blink, and you're suddenly sat on the edge of the table. His hands rise to the waist of your pants while his mouth is fixed against yours, playfully dragging his tongue over the roof of your mouth. It tickles and is sharply contrasted with the stinging bite he leaves on your bottom lip.

“Can I take these off?” He's still tugging at the top of your jeans, so you stand and nod rapidly, shedding your pants before he has the chance to do it himself.

“Thanks,” he kisses the word into your mouth as he puts you back onto the edge of the table and gently pushes you back. “I'm going to do these too, if you don't mind,” his index finger slips in between your lacy thong and your hip. He succeeds in tugging it down off of your ankles when you nod your approval.

His hands grip your thighs just above your knees as he settles himself onto the floor between them.

You know what's coming and are so keyed up you're not sure you can even watch. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but the alternative is missing it, and you definitely don't want that to happen.

He goes slowly, licking gently up your right leg, but not breaking eye contact. “You know that's not my name,” he shakes his head gently.

Even now, he's such a little shit that you don't want to give into him. So, you press your cheek to your shoulder and lean back on your forearms, your eyes staying on his, “Tyson?”

He moves onto your left leg, licking from your knee into the crease of your hip. “Not quite. But I'm sure it will come to you.”

His hands push you over the lip of the table and onto the playing surface. A small shriek leaves your mouth because you hadn't been expecting it. He takes the opportunity of you being momentarily stunned to press his tongue against your pussy.

It's been more than a while since you've been privy to such lovely treatment, and you can't help it when your thighs tighten and your hand digs into his hair, while your head tips all the way back in bliss.

“Oh my God. Oh my God; I'm so sorry!” You pull your thighs apart, embarrassed that you'd boxed his ears so firmly between them, but he doesn't stop or even seem all that phased by it. Instead he responds by digging his fingertips into your flesh, pulling your legs wider so he can wedge his shoulders between them while moving closer into you.

Everything feels too good. His hands on your flesh burn in the best possible way and his mouth moving against you is making you lightheaded. You can't control it when your breath starts coming in quick pants as he starts running a finger up your slit while focusing his tongue on your clit.

It's stupid, but you open your eyes and chance a peek down at him. Tyler must be able to feel your gaze, because he opens his eyes then and halts all his movements.

The needy whine that makes its way out of your mouth is ten different kinds of embarrassing, but you need him back on you. Your nerves are on fire, waiting to be sated, but Tyler just looks up at you, inches from where he was, haughty.

“Please don't stop.” Your hand finds its way back into his hair and you tug him forward a little. It's his turn to moan out, and he puts his mouth to you again with renewed fervor.

You can't help yourself when his tongue pushes into you and his nose nudges your clit and he lets loose a growl. No one could blame you for pressing further against him as you beg-

“Tyler, please. Please don't stop,” breathlessly while staring down at him.

You don't realize what you said until he pauses and looks up at you. You can't see the smirk, but you can feel the sweet kiss he places on your clit before he buries his face against you again. He contains multitudes.

It almost makes you wish you kept your mouth shut, because you know you gave him exactly what he'd been after. But you can't be bothered to care as the pressure in your belly becomes too much to bear. He focuses his mouth on your clit, relentlessly circling his tongue around it, and slips two fingers into you, stretching you, and the pressure explodes. Your vision spots as you try to keep your eyes on what Tyler is doing between your legs, but you have to close them when he reaches up to grab your breast over your shirt, too overstimulated by the way he's still sucking at your clit to need any more.

He rises up when you start to whine and wiggle against his licks, his face is wet with you and he looks so painfully sexy, lips swollen and red.

“That's it, baby. That's all I wanted. I knew you’d remember me.” He leans over you and kisses you gently on your lips. Tasting the combination of his mouth and your cunt is only serving to make you wetter.

He grabs your hand and pulls you up, “C’mon, baby, let's go upstairs.” He drags you behind him as he heads up towards his bedroom.

___________

When you get to his room you're magnetized to him. Up until now, you really haven't gotten your hands on him much. So you kissed him, and let your hands slide up his shirt and straight to his chest, you can tell before you've even gotten him undressed that you grossly underestimated how fit he is.

It's so unfair. Everywhere you're soft and curved he's hard, unyielding edges.

The moan slips out before you can close your lips over it, with your face pressed against his neck and your hands running up and down his firm stomach. You shake your head against him, disbelief at how hot he is and how he’s encouraging you to touch him like this.

If you thought he was unbearably smug before, you clearly hadn't seen anything yet. Tyler reaches behind his neck to pull his shirt off and you literally feel like you're in Magic Mike. He's too perfect. The black ink swirling over tanned skin, all pulled tight over his thick muscles.

Your hands go to his shoulders sliding down his triceps and his forearms, before linking your hands with his. You coax his tongue out of his mouth and into yours before sucking gently on it.

The hand holding doesn't last, he pulls your hands back up to his chest, “No, don’t stop. I like that. Do that again (y/n).” He presses your hands flat against him and rests his on top, dragging you up and down his chest and abs. His eyes drop closed and his head is tipped back just a little, savoring the feel of your hands all over him. Tyler clearly wants you to enjoy his body, and you can't say it will be a hardship to give him what he wants; he looks like he stepped out of your wildest fantasies. A tattooed bad boy with a secret heart of gold, the cliches write themselves.

You desperately want to make him feel good, he gave you what was surely the best orgasm of your life down in the game room. But, you just can't help the teasing; it's how you flirt, after all.

“What's that, Tyler?” Speaking soft and low into the shell of his ear, you keep your left hand where he's positioned it on his chest, but slowly slide the right one down his chest, down his impossibly defined stomach, and down to the drooped waistband of his jeans as you tuck a finger into them, hoping he gets the hint. “Tell me what you want, Tyler.”

His eyes look wild as he steps back and reaches down to unbutton and drop his pants. He's so hard already, you can feel it as you get your hand around him through his boxer briefs. Continuing to palm him, you feel a little drunk with power. He's letting out these little huffs and whines that fall into your neck and he's wrapped one arm around you and is grabbing at your ass so hard you're sure to have bruises.

He seems content to let you have your way with his body for the time being, almost egging you on with all his noises and gripping you harder when you give him something he likes. Currently it's the fact that you've pushed down his underwear and are continuing to pull his dick in long, smooth strokes, rolling your thumb over the head, that has him gasping in your ear.

“Yes, like that- wanna be inside you, please,” he's tugging at your shirt trying to pull it off, but you're having so much fun turning him to putty you're not sure if you want to give into him.

You've never had a man like him before. He seems content to let you set the pace of everything. To be in control of this huge man and how he'll get his pleasure, it- it knocks the wind out of you a bit to be honest.

Shortening your strokes, you pull your hand away from his cock, and lift your shirt over your head. Tyler's opened his eyes and looks over at you, groaning when he takes in your breasts. Your bra is pulled down over them, nipples peeking out, since he's been feeling you up over your shirt for the past few minutes. There's really no point in having it on, so you unclasp it and shimmy it off of your shoulders.

He's reaching out to touch you, but before he can, you're on your knees in front of him, sat fully nude, ready to make him feel good.

Dropping his head, he looks down at you and lets out a whine, “That's not fair I can't touch you from up here.”

Bless him, you're going to wreck him.

You take just the tip of his cock into your mouth and he stops complaining.

“You can so,” you tell him, grabbing his hands and bringing them to your head. You wrap your own hands around his thighs. They're firm and muscular like the rest of him, and you can't help yourself, so you lean over and lick up his inner thigh, back to his cock.

He's being so gentle, not using any of the leverage you gave him. So, you use your grip on his legs to force yourself down on him and hope he'll take the hint. After a few bobs of your head, it seems he understands and softly pulls you down over and over onto his cock with the hands that are wrapped up in your hair.

You love the way he's falling apart above you, breathy and begging for more, but you really don't want him to finish in your mouth tonight. Mostly in case you never get this opportunity with him again; you want the memory him inside of you at the very least.

He has the same idea because he tugs gently at your hair. “(Y/n), you gotta stop.” The pride swells up inside you as you feel his legs shaking. “I can't- just get up here.”

You stand, your thighs are a little a shaky themselves from being on your knees for so long, but he grabs you by your upper arms and helps you up.

“Lay down,” you barely recognize the gravelly voice that commands Tyler to the bed, but you know it's your own. He's so good, horizontal before you can blink, lying there waiting for you.

“Please, (y/n). Wanted this for so long, since the first time I saw you. You're so sexy.” You roll your eyes, mostly to stop them from watering at the heart wrenching sincerity that he speaks with. You straddle him and kiss his lips,

“You're awfully sappy for someone who was just fucking my face.” It's his turn to roll his eyes, but they're forced closed as you sink down on him.

He winds his arms around your waist and sits up just enough to watch your ass bounce on him from over your shoulder.

“Tyler,” he tears his eyes away from the image and looks up at you, “I want to make you come.” You stop bouncing on him and slowly roll your hips until his head knocks back against the pillows. He isn't looking up at you, eyes wrenched shut, so you assume you're on the right track.

“Such a good boy. Waited so long for me, Tyler,” he's breathing is labored at best but he manages to slow it enough to answer.

“Love when you say my name. I want you to come, can you do it again?” He's flushed from his face down to his chest and he's practically art, slick with sweat, muscles straining.

All it really takes is him leaning up a little and licking at one breast before sucking a hickey into it for you to lose it around him once more. It's overwhelming this time too.

Tyler is relentless. He takes over this time too, pressing up into you as you try to clamp your legs down around his hips to slow him, used to him letting you be in control, but it seems it's his turn now. He manages to get you onto your back without pulling out, and you haven't stopped coming around him yet.

“No, no. You had your fun. My turn, trust me.” You push up at his chest without any real intent of removing him from you. Your overstimulation quickly turning into another orgasm under his unrelenting hips. He can see the second you're falling apart, the legs that were wrapped around him twitching and squeezing at him.

“Yes, good girl,” he's cupping each breast roughly and you think if he makes you come again you may just pass out.

“Tyler please, I think you're going to kill me,” you scramble underneath him, grabbing at any skin of his you can find. He does that laugh again, with his head back and mouth open wide, nose scrunched. He's honestly a blast and if this is the last time you get to see him like this you will be sincerely disappointed.

“Keep saying my name like that,” he looks down at you all soft, eyes glinting, “that'll make me come.” He fucks into you three times, quickly, almost snarky, before returning to long smooth strokes. Pulling all the way out so only the very tip of the head remains inside of you before pushing all the way back inside, and shuddering each time.

“Is that all it takes?” You kid with him, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “You just want me to tell me how good you are, Tyler?” You feel him pulse inside of you and pause for a brief second before he picks his rhythm back up. “Yes, that's what you want. Tyler, you're so good, baby. I love your dick, Tyler. Fuck.”

Honestly, the way he's staring down at you like you're the one who hung the moon and the way your voice sounds wrecked and breathless is enough to have to clenching around him again, and it isn't even for his benefit when you cry out, “Tyler! Fuck like that Ty, don't stop, please, please, please, Tyler!”

The combine of his voice and you clamping down around him must finally send him over the edge and as soon as you feel him pulse inside of you, you open your eyes. He's absolutely gorgeous, face screwed up in pleasure, breathing hard through his teeth before he's spent and pulls out of you, rolling onto his side.

You scamper out of his bed to clean up and pee. The whole time trying to delay the rough thought of him kicking you out or calling and Uber to send you home in. Just the idea grates against your brain and has you nervous to leave the bathroom.

When you finally build up the courage, he's lying there, still gloriously naked, one foot tucked under the blanket. You search around for your underwear and remember that you left them down in the game room before sighing. Tyler's eye peeks open.

“What are you doing? Get in bed. It's late.” You're stunned and tilt your head blubbering out before you can stop yourself, “You want me to stay?”

“Yeah of course, I'll take you home in the morning after breakfast. I think I have some eggs downstairs?” he scratches at his hair before rolling to face your side of the bed, patting the pillow welcomingly.

Huffing out a surprised laugh, you pull the blankets up the bed and slide underneath them, so grateful that you finally gave into him all those weeks ago.

#tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin imagine #back road part 2 #writing #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars fic #nhl fic #nhl imagines #nhl rpf #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey rpf #LONG POST #20 PAGES #DIRTY DEEDS #TEH SEX #he has a little bit of a praise kink #plus sized hockey fics

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waitingformargo · 6 years

Text

~ Facts about Me ~

I’m pretty cute, I have a cute face with a cute nose and do cute things like naming the head made of styrofoam, that I bought to put my hats on, Brian. Or maybe that’s weird, I don’t know.

I have three guinea pigs that I adore and love to cuddle and I love it when they lick my face.

I listen to audio books at night, I barely fall asleep without.

One of my favourite books is called “The whole world in a single sentence” (translated) and contains little tips on writing, like cinquains or also ideas on what you could write about or words you could use, making you observe your surroundings, find adjectives to describe it etc. I don’t think I actually ever used any of the tips but just flicking through it makes me smile and feel warm. If I had to throw away all my books and pick only one that I can keep it’d be this.

I love my guitar that I named Jesse. I love running my hands over it, smelling it and feeling the strings. But I can’t really play it actually. I know the common chords, sure, but that is hardly enough. I barely practise but it isn’t my aim to be good at it anyway. It calms me down to just strum a bit and to badly play a few of my favourite songs while singing to it.

When I think of home I think of sounds more than anything. I think of children playing and shouting and of the sound of a piano in the background. My parents’ flat is next to my former primary school and next to this again is the music school my dad works at. My room used to be directly next to the school yard and I often did my homework listening to the other children play outside and to the students playing their instruments fading into my room. I actually have a certain melody playing in my head when I think of this. It’s a small instrumental part in the song Unstillbare Gier (Confessions of a Vampire or also Endless Appetite) from the musical Tanz der Vampire (Dance of the Vampires). If you want to listen to it it’s 1:06-1:23 in this version (which is my absolute favourite, having Drew Sarich on vocals): Die unstillbare Gier - Drew Sarich als Graf von K…: http://youtu.be/PCqEybPFdpo

I love music in general, mostly British bands, mostly indie rock.

I collect vinyls although I don’t listen to them often. It’s the same with drinking tea: I love it but I need time for it. I like to savour the moment and to do things like these consciously. I don’t have vinyls playing in the background, I sit in front of my record player and watch the vinyl spin while listening closely. I don’t just take sips of my tea every now and then. I warm my hands on the mug, staring into the brown liquid. I don’t do these halfway. I’d never put a record on when I’m not in the room and I’d never drink tea for breakfast when I only have little time before uni.

When I was younger I sewed myself plush toys. I couldn’t sew well and I still can’t and they all look a bit weird but I am proud of them nonetheless. They were pretty weird animals or even objects though- I still have a hand-sewn jellyfish and a plush belly (yeah, I wrote belly) that I gave to my older sister. It even has a belly button.

I collect sand from all the places I’ve been to in little glass bottles and I like to look for special postcards as well.

I love to write. Since I was 10 I knew I wanted to be a writer. I don’t believe that I ever will be now but that doesn’t change a thing. It is still my greatest and probably my only passion. Nothing has ever come this naturally to me. It’s probably my writing talent that prevents me from bringing anything else to perfection because anything else actually requires work that I am not ready to invest as I was good at writing from the start and expect myself to master every new challenge like I did with this. I haven’t written in a while and nothing makes me hate myself more than when I don’t write for a long time. I don’t want to waste my talent and I don’t want to waste my life. I’m sure this is my biggest fear. To waste myself.

Characters and character development is the most important part for me in a story. I don’t care for the plot. Give me a trashy love story between an alien-human hybrid and a cactus that takes place in the 30th century; as long as the characters are complex and interesting it could still become my favourite book.

I love F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I once created a little book with quotes from Fitzgerald novels for one of my favourite musicians because he made a song full of references to his writing. To this day I like to believe that I am the only one who ever got those hints.

I love drinking milk.

I behave like a child when I am around my parents. When I visit them, coming home to my former home, I can forget about the responsibilities of an adult and pretend everything is like it used to be when I was little. I talk differently with them, feeling like an 8-year-old, play games, solve puzzles, watch movies from my childhood, knowing that they’ll always accept me back like I never grew up.

It makes me proud that one of my heroes smiled at me during a concert.

It makes me proud that I once won in a writing competition.

It makes me proud that I didn’t give up school during an impossibly hard phase and am now able to study at university.

It makes me proud to be a good person.

It makes me proud that I can be proud of myself.

Making this list makes me feel like a complex character from a book someone created and characterised like this, with all these little details because they grew very fond of them and it would be sweet and make me feel loved if that was the case.

I can’t keep plants alive.

I have been suffering from depression since I was about 14. I went through two therapies, am still taking antidepressants and I guess I can’t yet go without them but I’m confident that I’ll be alright eventually.

I always dreamed of having a pet chameleon.

When I was little I used to play with marbles on the floor in the corridor. I gave them names and played they were in school.

I like to draw pictures with hidden objects, adding many details to it.

I rather listen to the audio books of Harry Potter than to read the books. I used to listen to them and draw scenes from it.

I did that with different audio books and movies as well and collected all my drawings in a box. I love to get them out from time to time and look through them.

I still have many of my milk teeth as I put them into a tiny box when they fell out or rather when I pulled them out once they were loose.

I like to remember the times when I played and fell onto my knees, having bruises on them. It’s a very child thing having bruises on your knees.

I like the scent of warm tar in summer, of mowed grass and floor polish.

To me lit candles smell like Christmas while freshly blown out candles smell like birthdays.

I’m silent around strangers. Even with my friends I’m often silent during talks and just listen to them. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, it’s just that I often don’t know how to say it. Maybe that’s why I love to write. I can structure my thoughts.

I love being alone. I can easily entertain myself and being around too many people for too long wears me out. I need to get home and change into my pajamas to recharge then.

I like dimmed lights and soft voices. I like blankets and calmness and feeling cozy.

I love losing me in myself. It often happens at night, it happens when everything becomes slow and fuzzy, when the night swallows reality and I drift off into my thoughts. I especially get inspired and emotional when there are many lights.

Once I was at a city festival and there were hot-air balloons, their lights flickering and I stood there, among many people with horrible music playing loudly, but that kind of moved into the background and I began to cry at the beauty of the moment. And I must have looked weird but I was just happy and overwhelmed by the world.

I usually repress my anger and swallow it down until I explode and say horrible, exaggerated and unreasonable stuff towards those I’m angry at.

I’m loyal and would do anything for my friends and family.

I love drinking cocoa while watching children’s shows.

I like suspenders, bow ties and glasses although I don’t need them.

I would love to own various wigs so I can change my style for each day.

I love food. Yet everyone says I’m a picky eater and I guess I am. But I love the stuff that I actually do eat.

I should go outside more often.

I have the brain of a fly. I can’t remember where I put my notes, when I have an appointment or what I ate yesterday. I also don’t remember much from my childhood. Whenever my parents try to describe an event to me that took place when I was ten or 13 or even 17 I can’t recall it happened. They could tell me anything and I’d believe it.

I don’t have a sense of orientation at all. I could probably get lost three streets away from my home.

I’m a daydreamer. I’m often lost in thought and although I hear someone is talking to me I don’t stop dreaming, not even for a second to tell the other person I can’t concentrate on them right in that moment which leads to them being annoyed.

I love language and what you can do with it.

I am super lazy.

I have no willpower and can’t force myself to do anything that needs to be done. If I have a course in the morning I often don’t go because I can’t bring myself to leave my bed.

Concerning work I worry too much about not being good enough while at the same time only doing the bare minimum.

I don’t believe in god or a higher instance. I also don’t believe that there will be anything happening after I die. I believe that this will be the end.

I am agender. I don’t identify as either male nor female and that’s not a phase, it’s who I am: human.

I like making lists as they help me a lot to structure my thoughts.

I think that my neck is too short and my arms too fat and I’m self-conscious about my belly but all in all I think I look alright.

I’m good at remembering faces, names and voices.

I love my sister to death. She is the most important person in my life.

I can watch a movie once and memorise the best quotes from it. Me and my sister often talk through quotes and make quizzes about who said what in which movie. It’s our thing.

I love writing letters. I think it’s an intimate thing and you think more about what you want to say when you write a letter than a quick text message. I wish I had a pen pal again who I can get to know through letters and who I can tell secrets about me. I want the exciting feeling of waiting for a letter, of opening your mail box to find one.

I’m into freckles and dimples and moles.

When I feel ugly I put on cute dresses, heels and makeup and watch a movie looking bomb.

I like using my typewriter. I love the clicking noise, the font, and that I need more time this way. It makes me think more about what I write. It fuels my creativity.

I’m a procrastinator.

If I had the choice to either go back in time or into the future I'd always choose to go back. I don't want to know what will happen to Society and Earth. This knowledge would burden me too much.

#personal

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