Down the Lake
Cowboy Sevika x Farmer Reader
Synopsis: You run from the city and go back to your old hometown, riddled with the memories of your life as a child, then meet the notorious Sevika, who makes an imprint on your skin and heart.
Content: angst and hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, mild blood and violence, light masochism, light choking and hair pulling, cunnilingus, table sex, possessive sevika, scissoring, Pillow princess reader, age difference (about like 15 years), vaginal fingering, possessive sex.
The agreement to stay at your uncle's farm was a four-year-long agreement. You weren’t spiraling in the city by any means. You were simply drifting, in and out of consciousness, and your mother feared that you’d end up with a bottle in your hand or dead somewhere at a college party.
“Take the gap years,” She said, looking at her computer as you stared at her with your luggage in hand. “Then you come back, and if you can’t improve. You’re gone from this house.”
You found it to be fair. So you lasted about two years in your uncle's tiny farm before the name Sevika was even uttered. Your father belonged to the old, run-down town that you had called your home for 10 years, but your mom did not.
She had given birth to you in the city, given you to your father because her family was deadset on not having a some farmer boy for a son-in-law, and when he died, you went back to her. It was strange to be back in the south again, after years of being surrounded by loud cars and engine fumes.
You missed walking down, seeing different restaurants, and a giant library. Now you have to walk down more than three miles, with the sun in your back, boots making dust curl in your eyes, before you see a corner store.
Sevika had been in town already. You had never seen her before, though. You were a homebody, staying on the farm to help, and then sleep, and then wake up to help again. You didn’t really like going into town because you always felt like an outsider.
“I thought I was helping,” You said to your uncle when he broke the news.
“You are…” He responds with a shrug, dark overalls all mucky and damp, “But she can help more. You know my back ain’t that good.”
Sevika arrives in the morning, just around seven, when you’re getting ready, but your uncle is still sleeping. You don’t know what to expect from Sevika. When you first see her come out of her big dark blue pick-up drunk, your throat tightens, and heat rises to every inch of your body despite it being rather cold.
You’ve met strong people. Physically strong people, though you’ve never really had any romantic attraction to anyone, even when you were surrounded by thousands of people. They simply passed along you by, and you passed by them.
But Sevika. Sevika is something else. Bulky and muscular enough to tower and cover you. A big, round nose, and sharp eyebrows with electrifying grey eyes. Her short hair is pulled back into a small ponytail, though covered by a dark brown cowboy hat.
“You must be Sevika?” You ask, eyes taking in the soft darkness.
“That’s right, and you’re the niece, Y/N.”
You nod, “He said to show you around…and just tell you what we do.”
She follows you along as you show her the chicken coup and the feed. There aren’t that many animals around anyway; it’s a small farm just enough to keep your uncle afloat. She helps you feed the chickens, and you show her around the cows.
Sometimes you’d stare at her muscles, and the way her dark heavy-duty denim jeans would hug her ass, and how her long-sleeves were hoisted to her elbow, showing off. The heavy thud of her boots sends shudders down your spine, and you look away, only giving her a verbal approval.
“Then after that, we check the fences and make sure there aren’t any openings, along with picking some of the crops. A little later, depending on what runs out, I go, or my uncle goes into town and buys what’s needed.” You say with a shrug, watching the sun finally break out of the horizon. “If you spot anything broken, let him know, and he’ll go down.”
After showing her around, you’re back inside the house, offering her a cold cup of water, “How come I’ve never seen you around town?”
Water pools at your chin, and you shrug, “Don’t go that often, don’t really like it.”
“You don’t like the town…or the people?”
You pause, putting the cup into the sink. “The people make up the town. I have no feelings for either, though.”
She laughs, shoulders moving up and down, like you’d told her some hilarious joke. You can’t tell whether you should laugh along or simply stare at her, as her strong shoulders shake, and her dark grey eyes twinkle.
You’ve never been good with people, and for the first time, you wish you could understand social cues and conventions so you could laugh along with her, or make another joke to see her keep laughing. You don't do either, though. You simply move along and check the garden for any ripe vegetables or fruits.
You don’t speak with Sevika. Sometimes you both go inside the house for a glass of water, and your eyes meet for a brief second, before your cheeks heat up and you’re dashing away. By the afternoon, your uncle is outside, cleaning the tools and refilling any empty water containers for the animals.
“Am I on dinner duty today?” You ask, closing in on him, hauling hay from the barn.
He nods, brushing away sweat beads from his forehead. “Ask Sevika if she wants dinner.”
“Where did you find her anyway?”
“Hauling a herd of cows from Joe’s barn. She liked to work, and Joe…well, he’s getting old, and he’s thinking about selling them, and retiring.”
Good for him. You make potato salad with sweet pickle radish and bacon bits, along with collard greens, and red rice. And for dessert, your perfected Banana pudding. Took you two years to learn to cook the shit your uncle was used to eating.
Sometimes the food made you sick, and you couldn’t eat for a week because it reminded you of your father. Then sometimes you’d spend a week eating the same shit over and over until you feel physically ill because it reminded you of your father.
By the time you’re finished cooking, you can hear the screams of the cicadas and the slow cluck of the chickens. You find Sevika inside the barn with her cowboy hat pulled over her face, softly snoring.
You kick her once, and you jump back, as she pulls out what looks like a hunting knife. “Dinner’s…ready,” You respond, clutching the side of your dirty overalls.
She sighs, “Jesus. You sure know how to wake some. Try to be gentle next time, doll.”
Your body freezes, and your eyes twitch. You’ve never had someone call you that. Not in that voice at least. The petname drips like honey, and you find yourself unable to speak as Sevika gets up with a deep grunt.
You all eat in silence. Your uncle says grace, and Sevika follows along while you eat because, frankly, you’ve never been religious. By four in the afternoon, you’re finished, and you’re watching Sevika’s truck squeal dirt into the earth and drive away.
You take a sleeping pill, and as you’re about to lie down, the phone rings. You haul downstairs and answer. “Hello.”
“Hey, hey,” A screeching voice squeals, “Come by the bar, I got two empty bottles of Jack for you.”
Like most twenty-year-olds, you have a hobby—an odd one. You find alcohol fascinating. A phenomenon that can quickly turn into a disease and eat the brain until you’re left with nothing but your clothes and a penny to your name.
You don’t drink. You have vices. But you don’t drink.
However, you’ve taken to collecting alcohol bottles. Under your twin bed lies about two hundred dollars' worth of empty alcohol bottles. Drank by another person, but hoarded by you. Sometimes you think about who drank them and if they were drinking more the next day, or if they puked it all out before going to work.
You drive your uncle's red truck, and it roars in the dead of night, before you’re hauling into town with your hands outside the window, and the wind blows into your hair—the Rusty smells like cedar and old leather. Sometimes, biker gangs leave their motorcycles outside, and they take the bar by storm until the next day.
You’re parked in the back before you walk inside, loud cheering and country music assaulting your ears. There are people line dancing on one side and playing pool on the other. The bar is filled with old men, gawking at the waitresses, and some of them are just plain drunk.
Ekko waves his arm, and his white, bundled locks come into view. He serves you a special drink. Something he never served anyone. A piña colada. “Heard some gossip.”
You hum, mouth closing in on the straw. He smiles, “Sevika is working at your uncle's farm.”
You nod, pulling off the straw, letting the cold taste of pineapple swarm your taste buds. “True. You know her?”
He laughs, “Know her…Y/N. She’s here.” And he looks towards the back, where you quickly spot Sevika with a woman on her lap while she’s leaning onto a table. You feel sick. The pina colada turns sour.
“Where are my bottles, spaceboy?”
You walk behind him, drink in hand, as he leads you to the back. While you’re walking, you make the mistake of looking towards Sevika, and her grey eyes connect with yours for a second. You turn back, and a sudden feeling of unease and…anger makes you shiver.
You walk out of the bar through the back, and Ekko is quick to shove two empty Jack Daniel bottles in your hand. “Where’s my treat?”
“You’re funny.” He says, pointing at you while he fetches from the inside of his pocket, pulling out a plastic bag. There is a variation of gummies inside, and you preen at him.
“Thank you. I am thinking about a comedy career.” You respond, grabbing the baggy from his hand, “You think I'll make it to Broadway?”
He laughs, short and quick, before he’s back inside the bar. You stride to the truck, and you're inside when Sevika comes out, eyes searching until they land on you. You’re quick to shove the bag inside your pocket, pushing the bottles down to the ground and off the passenger seat.
She whistles. “Ain’t you too young to be here, doll?”
There goes that word again. You shrug, and she looms on the truck window, strong arms placed over it, looking inside the truck. “No. I am an adult.” Half an adult, maybe. Old enough to miss how innocent and hopeful you used to be, but young enough to be ignored.
Her eyes narrow, “Say…I heard you’re sixteen. Not an adult.”
“I’m twenty-one. Somebody’s been feeding you wrong information.”
She tilts her head, eyeing you up and down. “You’re quite…small for someone your age. Daddy ain't feed you enough food when you were young?”
You stare at her while she’s giving you this condescending smirk, like she knows everything in the world. It makes you angry, and you turn your head, cranking the gear to drive, nearly driving over her foot as you take off. You try not to cry that night, thinking about your father and his fading face.
In the morning, you don’t see Sevika. You avoid her at most cost, until you’re being invited to hang out at the lake by an old friend, Marceline. However, she isn’t exactly your friend, because sometimes you feel as though she's trying to dig up some truths or lies so she can put you down.
You accept the invite, and you bike into town with a backpack just as Sevika is feeding the cows. You don’t go out much, so your uncle makes it a point to say yes when you tell him about any outings. Sometimes, you swear you could see a twinkle in his eyes when you make an effort to socialize.
You arrive at Marceline’s trailer, and she’s there with her older brother, Micah, and his friend, Joseph. You don’t speak much to either boy, though they’re just a year younger than you. Boys like them are too rough around the edges, and they have no appeal. Not like Sevika, anyway.
Marceline is the one who drives just two miles out of town, into the woods. There’s a pretty lake, hidden behind the lush green woods. In the truck, they split a case of beer, though you don’t take one, not only because you’re riding in the back but because you don’t ever drink with them.
You change into the bikini you used to wear in the city, and dip your toes in the clear water. You can hear the small chirps of birds, the tiny howls of cicadas, and some other animals you can’t recognize. You’re doing under the water, body submerged until you can hear nothing but the beat of your own heart, when you faintly hear something.
You swim up, and as you turn, you see Marceline’s truck driving away, while the two boys cheer behind. They stick out their tongue, making obscene faces, until they’re too far and they become a blur.
You continue to swim until the sun is covered by clouds, and your feet crunch the green leaves. You look around the woods, and you feel strangely at home. You never really felt at home in the city. Your nails dig into the trunk of thick trees, dirt piling up under them, and then you’re on the road.
So you walk back, no clothing worn, just your soaked bikini, dripping down to the floor, and your naked feet, touching hot, cracked road. For the first time, you’re tempted to drink, though you know it’ll never end well. You make it halfway into town before you hear the beep of a truck.
You don’t really turn to look because you’ve gotten used to being catcalled and harassed. Maybe that’s why you never really go into town. You don’t like the way people look at you. The truck beeps again until it’s next to you, and when you turn, Sevika is staring at you.
“What the hell you doing going around naked?” She asks, looking around the woods, “Some–you ain't hurt, are you?”
She inspects you, warm hands turning your cheek to see her, then passing down your cold flesh, moving your arms, until she somehow feels content enough to drop your arm. You notice a dark red tint on her cheeks, and you can still feel the warmth of her skin as you pass into town.
She breaks out a cigarette from the small compartment and lights it up before looking at you, “So…mind telling what happened?”
“Long story.”
“Shorten it then.”
So you tell her everything, watching how her dark tan knuckles tighten around the skinny steering wheel of the truck, slowly turning white. She curses them out for a couple of minutes before pulling into the farm.
You’ve never been a violent person. Not even when you had been in the city, and some people tried to pick on you for the way you behaved. Violence reminds you of the old rugged men who used to sit your father down, and ask him for the money he owed.
It reminded you of their bloodied knuckles, and the way one always sat with you, and made sure to distract you while your father's pained cries howled against the trailer. But unlike words, violence did get things done.
While Sevika disappears to see your uncle, you put on some shorts over the wet bottoms and an old, dirty shirt. The old bat sitting in the corner of the bed spun in your hands. You drove with dust piling in the windshield, and by the time your uncle found out what happened and went to Marceline’s trailer, you had knocked out two of her front teeth, and one of her legs, bulged purple and red.
Marceline did get a couple of hits in. Mostly bruising in your cheeks, and a good bite mark on your leg. You sat on her couch, unmoving, while she gurgled and cried, blood covering her face, sliding down her neck. You watch her squirm, trying to suppress a smile as her hand dangled in the air, like she’s trying to reach you.
When the door sprang open, your uncle looked around with a scared, disappointed look on his face and quickly grabbed her and placed her in the pickup truck. You walked outside, bloody bat still in hand, the sun finally out, blaring in your face, making Sevika look like some sort of angel. For a couple of seconds, she simply stared. Then, she grabbed your shoulder and forced you into her truck.
She doesn’t really say anything the entire ride, but you can tell she’s pissed and somewhat disappointed. She hauls you into the house, swinging her hat onto the wooden table before pushing you into the small bathroom, maneuvering you onto the toilet.
You let her.
A part of you has always enjoyed being moved as if you were nothing. Less than human, or something created as a display. She cracks open the mirror and cleans your face, a damp towel passing over your shoulders and hands.
Sevika laughs, “Did beating up that girl help? Violence does nothing but bring misery to people.”
“It helped.” You respond softly, and she stops, “I feel better, and frankly, I’m going to sleep like a baby knowing I beat the shit outta her.”
Your uncle comes back, and he swings the door open as Sevika is cleaning and covering the bite mark on your leg. He nods his head, and Sevika’s thump wipes across your hand before she leaves.
“You said you ain’t like my brother…” He begins, “That girl–that poor girl’s leg is broken, and her face….”
“She left me in the woods, by myself.” You respond, a tinge of anger curling through your voice. “Her and that useless brother of hers. Should I have let them get away with it, they would’ve done it to some other girl.”
“Y/N…you can’t just fix these issues with violence. You have to–”
You shake your head, “I’m not apologizing to that girl, and if she shows up around here, I ain’t speaking to her either.”
You don’t speak to your uncle for that week. You still work around the farm and cook for dinner, but the conversations are cut shorter now, the silence filled with the drumming of cicadas or the slow roar of the animals. Sevika, though, begins to come around more.
She spends more time caring for the horses, and instead of leaving for dinner like she used to, she stayed and watched you eat. After the fight with that Marceline, it's like she began to conjure a third eye for you.
On Tuesday, your uncle leaves town for his own business. He just leaves money and tells you to take care of the farm. “Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” Despite the anger that seems to linger in his veins, you pull him in for a hug.
Your routine continues. You cook breakfast, though this time you eat with Sevika, and then you’re cleaning the chicken coup and feeding them, eyes lingering on the dark brown eggs before your hauling them away. You change the hay for the horses, sometimes watching Sevika, clean them, and change their water.
You cook something small, and she sits down opposite you, eyeing you down. When you look up, she’s quick to look away, “Something wrong?”
“That bruising looks a lot better. Damn near ruined that pretty face of yours, doll.”
You pause, tupperware almost clattering, “Could’ve been worse.”
Her eyebrows furrow, “What could’ve been worse?”
“I could’ve ended up in the hospital with a broken leg and a fractured rib.” You say, and you pause, a laugh hurling from your system.
“Did you just make a joke at the expense of that poor girl?” Sevika sneers playfully, laughing along with you. “You are…truly something.”
“Poor girl?” You respond with a scoff, setting your plates in the sink. Sevika is quick to get up, and she’s in front of you, and you smell the soil and smoke on her clothing. You’re face-to-face with her chest, and when you look up, her head is tilted, staring back at you. “ She deserved it…” You whisper.
“I know, doll.” Her voice is so soft and husky that it makes you shudder when she takes a step towards you, boots knocking the toe of your own.
When you’re done, you rush back to the house and shower. You expect Sevika to leave when she’s done, but you see her come back inside, using one of the loose towels to wipe the sweat off her forehead. “What are you doing? Ain’t you supposed to be home?”
She shakes her head, “Babysitting duty.”
You want to say you’re not a kid, but you shrug it off. When the sun is down past the horizon, and the stars are covering the sky, you put on a movie, and Sevika comes in. She’s wearing long, loose boxers that show off her strong thighs, and a tight tank top, where you can see the dark outline of her nipples.
In the middle of the movie, a sex scene hurdles through. It’s borderline embarrassing, but you’re focused on the way the girl is damn near crying and moaning as the guy’s face disappears between her legs. You’re not childish, but you’re desperately trying not to laugh, as the girl grips onto the bed.
You couldn’t help yourself. “Bullshit.”
You were too entranced to notice that she had gotten up to fetch a beer. Her legs are spread open, and she looks at you for a second, “What?”
“What?”
You point to the moaning girl, “It doesn’t feel like that. She’s faking it.”
She laughs, “How would you know?” She looks at your lips curled, at the end, “Maybe you just ain’t done it with a person who knows what they’re doing.”
Your face heats up, “How unlucky for me.“ You stand up from the couch, peeling the shorts from the inside of your thighs. Sleep has begun to make your eyes flutter.
Sevika pauses for a second too long. “Where are you going?”
“To find someone who can make me cum.” You say with a smile, trying to humor her as much as possible. You’ve gotten better at humor, though it mostly comes out when you’re with her.
You’re barely through the open door before your wrist is grabbed and your back hits the wall. Sevika is on you, her mouth so close you can smell the beer on her, and the soft scent of soap and skin.
“Them boys here, ain’t going to make you feel good.” She whispers, leaning down to your ear, thumb pressing down on the skim of naked skin, uncovered by your thin shirt. “Not like I can.”
Sex is an act. Something akin to giving and taking, but it works only if you’re in synch with them. If their mouth is warm, and their rough, calloused hands are pressed into your hip bone, and their thick, strong leg is between yours. Her thigh ever so gently grazes your cunt, and a loud, pathetic moan slides from your lips.
It’s as if your brain stops working, and Sevika pulls meek, pathetic noises out of your mouth while she holds you against the wall, tongue licking your mouth, licking every crevice. Her tongue slides across your, sucking on your tongue, fingertips sliding to your hardened peaks, until she’s pulling and pinching at them while you whimper and whine in her hands.
“Such pretty noises,” Sevika purrs, thigh pressing up, forcing you to ride her thigh. “I’m going to eat you alive. Gonna lick on that pretty cunt of yours.”
You whine, “Please…please.”
Sevika smiles against your flesh, pressing hot kisses on your cheek and then trailing them down your neck, licking at the skin. Your hands are quick to slide under her thin top, kneading and pressing on her skin. While her knees continue to press against your clit.
When she’s back to licking your mouth open, nose slotted next to yours, her hands slide to grip your waist, grinding you down on her knee. She moves your hips until you're moaning in her mouth, pulling away to press your face against the top of her shoulder, and your cunt is pulsing against her thigh. “F–fuck, feels go–good…so god.” You whimper.
“Don’t worry, doll.” She groans atop your head, “I'll make you feel better.”
Your eyes are lidded, and at the feel of her knee dropping, you whine, quickly squealing when she picks you up by your arms and lays you down on the dinner table. “Sev–”
“Down, girl,” She murmurs, strong hands on your shorts, sliding them down your leg, “...down.”
You’re staring at the old dangling white light, as the merest press of lips grazes your panties. The pleasure isn’t instant, but Sevika presses light feather kisses along the inside of your thighs, before she’s pressing another kiss right on your clit, finally shaking a soft gasp from your lips.
And then she’s sucking down, pushing the cotton material to rub on the swollen nub, until you’re fighting the urge to clasp your thighs over her head. A surge of vibration passes through you as she groans against your panties, and a whirl of heat curls in the base of your spine.
“So fucking good,” Sevika murmurs, lips pressed against your soaked panties, outlining your swollen clit pressing against the material. Her mouth latches to the bundle of nerves, sucking, until your hands fly to her short hair, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
You feel when she pulls back and pulls down your red striped panties, because you look away from the blinding light, and catch her lidded eyes, staring back at you. Then she’s back down, fingers holding your soaked folds apart, licking a flat stripe from your hole to your clit.
“Jus–just like that…” You gasp, and her tongue works through your sopping pussy, hands pushing your hips down her face, until you’re sure her nose is breathing in your scent. “Sevika.”
You say her name over and over again, back lifting off the counter, while every inch of your skin flushes with heat. She does it again, slower, groaning as your hips roll into her mouth, and you’re taking sharp, shallow breaths.
Sevika circles, and licks on your clit, pushing one finger in, until you buck against her, curling it just enough that your keen, rapidly blinding away tears. “Close…so close–”
Her tongue flicks at your clit before wrapping around it, and you’re whining, and gasping, grinding against her face, muscles tightening, until you can’t hear the sound of your own breathing. You cum on her tongue, back collapsing back on the kitchen table, boneless and raw.
An overwhelming urge to cry hits you, because despite the dopamine of the pleasure, there is an odd stillness in your stomach. This is only a one-time thing. You’re another girl on her list. Another cunt in her mouth.
Sevika is gone the next morning. Disappeared before you even woke up, or the sun broke through. When your uncle arrives, he asks for you, and you give him a light shrug, going back to milk the cows. You go through the motions of the day, and by afternoon, you’re lounging inside Ekko’s house.
His girlfriend, a pretty girl with electric blue hair, named Jinx, cooks a peach cobbler, “Who’s got you moping like that?” She asks.
You usually don’t go around telling people your business, but you know stuff about Ekko and his girls that others don’t. And it didn’t really matter to you who knew. “Sevika.”
“The town's cowboy. Damn near slept with half the women in town.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.”
“Oh shit.” He says, surprise quickly taking over his face. “You slept with her…”
“Did some stuff.”
“You like her?” Jinx interjects, sitting on his lap on the couch. You give him a subtle nod. And Jinx shakes her head, “Bless your soul.”
“How about this, there’s a party going on somewhere in the woods. You make her jealous…and you remember Viktor? Farmer boy near the entrance? Yeah, use him to make her jealous.”
Because you don’t like drinking, your vice had quickly curled into marijuana, the devil's lettuce, or widow's cheese, or whatever other alias it has. You weren’t keen on the rolls, though; the scent was too strong for your liking. Instead, you enjoyed the little gummies that made you woozy and goopy.
The party in the woods was somewhat of a tradition among the younger folks of the town. You ride behind in Ekko and Jinx’s car, with a couple of their friends. They share beer and drinks while you look at the sky, enjoying the dark blue of the sky.
When you arrive, you’re quick to be pushed onto Viktor, a taller boy with thick brown hair and a thin build. “You're a friend of Ekko’s?”
He nods, “I heard about your…situation. Mine is similar.”
“Who are you trying to make jealous?” You ask, limbs finally feeling like liquid, as the fire burns around the darkened wood. Viktor sips on a small beer, looking back at a thick crowd of people.
“A guy?”
He nods. A mutual understatement is settled, and you both walk hand in hand into the woods, though Viktor becomes uncomfortable and skips out of the party, so you’re back in the woods. Back on the ground, the high of the edibles crawls along your spine, and you can almost feel the warmth of Sevika’s lips on your belly again.
You’re crawling out of the woods, through a winding, high boots slapping the dirt, when you’re grabbed and pushed to a tree. “The fuck.”
You focus, and the rough hands of Sevika are all over you, “High, and at some party while your uncle is worried sick about you.”
“Jesus Christ. Lay off.” You sneer at her, trying to rip away from her grasp, but she’s staring at you with those strong grey eyes. It feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside out. It’s no longer a fleeting feeling.
You’re losing your strength, and the flashes of you bundled up in loneliness and despair, alone, hit you. You like Sevika. More than you should. More than you care.
You don’t drink that night or do anything stupid because Sevika takes you home. She guards your bed, and in the midst of unconsciousness, you hear her dip down and the clinking of bottles. “Jesus Christ,” she breaths.
When you wake up, she’s working, and you stop her from saying anything for a second, “Those bottles under my bed. You ain't got anything to do with them.”
There’s a thin straw of wheat in between her lips. “I heard about your father…those bottles–”
“You know nothing about me, and this is the second time you’ve mentioned my daddy. Keep his name out of your mouth.”
You’re quick to walk away, blinking away tears while sweat drips down your back, and the smell of cow shit is burning in your nose. Sevika doesn’t say anything behind you, and she’s gone in the afternoon, and so are you.
You go to Jinx’s house, “I need a favor.”
A bottle of Jack Daniel’s makes it to your hand, and by half of the bottle, you’re in the woods, somewhere in some lake, under the trees, breathing in the scent of soil. You can barely walk when you make it to some broken-down cabin. It smells of decay and soil inside, but you drink the rest, feeling the amber liquid slowly pour out of your lungs.
At night, the amber drink protects you from the biting coldness, and for a second, you can see everything. The past, the present, the future. You as a baby, and then you in 10 years. Dead.
When you wake up, you expect to feel cold and your clothes dirty. Yet, you feel warm, huddled down under something thick that smells of smoke and spice. You blink and blink, taking in your surroundings, first seeing the thick flannel duvet covering your body.
Then the wood panelling and last the familiar cowboy hat on the dark oak dresser. There’s a soft pounding in your head, and your knees wobble, naked feet dragging along the carpet flooring. You’re wearing only a big flannel and your underwear.
Sevika is sitting down, with thick jeans on, while she’s looking out of the window. “A whole bottle? You think you're some sort of alcoholic savant?”
You groan, looking down at the floor, eyes searching for your shit, “Where are my…clothes? Fuck me–where are my boots? I gotta get home.”
“Ever since that damn night we spent together, you've been acting like this.”
You pause, eyes looking down at your chipped nail polish, and you feel like you’re going to throw up. Your throat bobs, and she finally understands.
“You like me.” And she says like she can’t believe it. Then she scoffs. “It bothers you because I’m a woman or something?”
You laugh, hands on your head, as you move around, “If it was because you're a woman, I wouldn’t have let you near my cunt. It bothers me that I like YOU.” You sneer at her with a pointed finger. “More than five hundred fucking people in this forsaken town, and I–I somehow had to like you.”
She stands up quickly and biting, following you as you walk away from her, thick boots thudding on the carpeted floor, “It bothers you that much?”
“Yeah,” you say, eyes wandering for your shitty boots, quickly moving around her room. “It bothers me. I got stuck liking some fucking Cowboy who not only fucked half of the town, but also hates me. Just my fucking luck.”
You wait for her to yell at you or to tell you how much of an impudent child you are. Maybe to compare you to your father, just before he died with a bottle of jack daniel tight in his hand. “Don’t leave.”
You feel it. Her cracked voice, and when you turn, she’s staring at you, eyes just red enough, you feel something in you crack. She’s hiccuping, “don’t leave.”
You’re destructive, you know that. You often feel you'll end up like your father, but instead of his house, you’ll be in some ditch, with a broken nose and a torn limb. Your mother agrees too.
“I like you.” You finally say, letting your boot fall on the carpeted floor, “but I’m going to end up in some ditch somewhere, like my father and you–” the words feel choked and scraped, “you will end up with a nice–a nice girl from this town.”
In the seconds the AC rumbles in the room, Sevika pushes you against the wall, “The hell you are. I don’t want to end up with no nice girl or some other fucking girl.”
“Sevika,” You choke out. “You don’t like me.”
And she’s pushing her forehead into yours, hands wrapped around your arms, tears trailing down her sunken cheeks, “God… if I don’t, god strike me down. Since I saw you, I’ve been weak for you.”
“I don’t deserve it…I don’t deserve it.” You exhale shakily, lips so close to hers that you can taste the cigar she had smoked and the sweetness of an apple pie.
“But you do,” and she kisses you with such softness, your nails dig into her skin, “Stay and let me show you. Stay…please.”
“Why won’t you let me go?” You let her haul you to the floor, back softly hitting the carpet, as she’s touching your skin, rough calloused hands running down your neck, then your shoulders.
Her lips are attached to the inside of your wrist, and she’s straddling you, “I can’t…”
You watch her. Chest rising up and down, as she runs her fingers under your–her–flannel shirt, lifting it above your shoulders, nails raking up and down, making your flesh burn with desire.
And she leans down, pressing kisses along your soft stomach, above your naval, on your hipbone, anywhere her lips reach while you gasp, and your body shakes.
“Tell me…” You breathe out, tight, and airy, “That you won’t leave. Not even if–if your family or–or your buddies tell you to.”
She looks up at you, pupils dilated, eating at the dark grey irises, “I won’t leave you.”
“Even if my uncle and my momma threaten you?”
“I won’t leave you.”
And your hands help remove her shirt, and you hold it up to your nose, moaning around it, while she unclasps her thin bra, discarding it around the room. When she’s back on her feet, she’s unbuckling her belt, placing it on the bed, then shoving her jeans down, showing you a loose, thick patch of curls.
“Up.” She says, head nodding to the bed. “Go on, Doll.”
Your knees wobble as you stand up, eyes still on her until you’re on the bed, and she’s back straddling you, but not before dragging the belt up to her, taking your hands above your head, and wrapping them to the post of the bed. “Tell me you won’t drink. Even when you're sad or pissed at me or the world.”
“I won’t drink,” you gasp, feeling her nails on your skin, harder as if trying to claw into you.
And she’s looking at you with an earnest look that you’ve never seen someone give you. As if she’ll be with you when you need her. As if she’ll drop everything when you ask her. As if she’ll cradle you in her arms when you start to sob. “Even when you remember your father's face?”
“I won’t drink.”
Your admission rings across the room, and Sevika is leaning down, mouth slotted to your yours, while you suck her top lip, and she pushes her tongue inside, tasting liquor. The inability to touch her renders you pliant, and you’re putty in her hands, while she steals your breath, hands still crawling around your shivering skin.
She moves from your mouth, tracing a wet path down your sternum, paying to lick at your dark peaks, hand pinching and tracing the other one. Your back arches into her touch. “Please, Sevika. Pleaseplease.”
She doesn't rush. She takes her time yet again, kissing down your sensitive skin, tongue licking over your stomach and hip bone, until she’s at your inner thigh, and she plunges her face into your clothed cunt, taking in a deep breath.
You won't leave. You won’t go back.
Your panties are quick to disappear, and Sevika watches your cunt with a salivating mouth—pussy glistening, clit swollen, pulsing for her. She presses a kiss to your clit, and you gasp, hips jerking, before she’s doing it again, dragging her mouth along your folds, before licking your clit, circling it lazily.
“I love—” you choke out, feeling her tongue flick at your clit, strong, constant strokes, abusing the swollen bud, until your fingers slide inside you, a wet squelch ringing around you. “Fuck.”
You cry out, back lifting off the soft mattress, a soft sob ringing in your ear, as her fingers curl into that spongy spot. And she eats your pussy without stopping, fingers jerking in and out of your walls, fucking into that spot until you're clamping around her.
The heel of your feet dig into the mattress, and you buck into her mouth, body convulsing, a high-pitched, pathetic sob filling the room. Your thighs shake, and Sevika’s tongue milks out your orgasm, until thin little tears slide to your red cheeks.
Sevika crawls up to your body, chin wet with your slick, and the sound of the clattering makes you flutter. “Who do you love?”
Your voice is shaky, “You.” I love you. I love you
And she’s on you, licking inside your mouth until you're tasting yourself on her tongue, hands immediately going to touch her skin. You’re still trembling, and yet, she’s pulling back, twisting her body, and placing a leg just next to your waist.
Her cunt slides into yours, and your back caves in, pussy still pulsing from your orgasm. Sevika groans, feeling your clit rub just right against hers, the swollen buds sliding against each other. “Fuck…knew you’d be a pretty crier.” She moans.
“Har–” You choke out the word, drool seeping down your chin as sevika’s finger tangle into your hair, gripping tight, rocking against you. A string of tears fall down your eyes. And She angles her hips, just enough that your swollen clit rubs against her thick one.
“Right there?” She coes, fingers inching into your scalm, pulling it, making you mewl, going dumb. “Too cunt-drunk to speak, doll?”
You try to shake your head, but all you can do is cry, and drive your hips to meet her thrusts, bodies slapping together, skin against skin, rubbing your sweat together. Heat simmers in your belly, and the nasty sound of your cunts wedged together only made you dizzier.
Through blurry senses you feel sevika’s hand on your neck, and she leaves it there, never really squeezing. “You ain’t going back to no city…i’m gonna keep you here, you hear me?”
And you nod dumbly and feverishly, finally feeling her rough hands squeeze, your hand traveling to hold onto her wrist, until your eyes cross, and your cunt clenches against nothing, clit roughly brushing against her. A strangled moan leaves your clips, and your thighs clamp, down sobbing into Sevika’s hand as you cum.
Sevika follows a second later, body shuddering, a loud moan ripping from her throat, and she keeps moving, even as you’re shaking, ridding out her orgasm, letting her hand fall sliding down your sweat soaked skin.
You collapse on the bed, lidded eyes too unfocused, and Sevika follows, pulling you into her arms, until you are wedged down into her armpit, breathing in sweat and skin. Your thigh is soaked, but you're tangled together.
“You really won’t…let me leave,” You murmurs, words slow and slurred against her skin. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on her sweaty skin, circling her belly button then back to her chest.
She shakes her head, “You're mine. They’ll have to kill me first. Ya, uncle and your city mother."
You snuggle close to her, and she pulls you to her body, pressed enough that it feels as though you’ll blend into her skin. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel the need to drink.
You sleep through the morning, with an empty, serene mind, body close to Sevika while she snores, and keep her hands on your thigh around your waist. "I love you." This time it's not you who says it.
Sevika fan art by @/oakleftm on Twitter. Thinking about writing a second part with some p!ss and mommy kink...thinking thoughts... Anyways, thank you for reading, comments greatly appreciated ₍₍⚞(˶ˆᗜˆ˵)⚟⁾⁾
