photo credits to the original posters, dm me for removal. thank you.
cw: 18+, masc reader, age gap, brat reader, reader called a dog and pup, light feminisation (reader jokingly called his ‘missus’), spit.
older, retired boyfriend price (mid 40s) with a younger man, (mid to late 20s), reader’s style is inspired by bobby in the backrooms outfit. Idk about this, kinda trash. Feel free to leave feedback, ty.
John Price who has retired from the military. He’s always been a man of strict routine. His days of retirement were spent bimbling about in DIY stores, picking up materials and tools for his never ending projects.
He still kept in contact with a couple of guys from his working days, checking up on each other. Other than that his life was relatively quiet. Despite his strict routine, he itched for something more.
John and you are an unexpected pairing to those who know the older man. I imagine meeting him could go something like this.
You see his back first. Big, with his shirt stretched over his powerful shoulders. He’s sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey. Before you know it you’re sliding up beside him, finally getting a good look at him. He’s sporting a couple grey hairs, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, giving you a peak at his chest sprinkled with hair.
Whether it’s the liquid courage or some other force at play you get his attention, dropping a coy little “Heyy,” Shivering as he drags his eyes over you. Quirking a thick brow at you. A glint in his eyes. It should’ve been a warning to you, but all did it was further excite and fuel your curiosity. “You lost, lad? Poor lamb.” His tone was teasing, “Pretty thing like you here, looking for trouble are ya?”
It escalates from there, before you know it you’re in his bed. He fucks you like it’s a challenge, and he’s gunning for first place. His heavy, calloused hands hold your thighs apart, sure enough they’d leave hand prints. Before he’s leaning over you, hands moving to behind your knees, pushing and pulling you like your dough in his hands. His stomach softened from his retirement, pressing against yours.
It was supposed to be a one night stand, yet you stuck around. Coming back like a stray cat, and Price entertained it. Who was he to let this pretty boy slip from his grasp.
You mesh well together. In your words, the older man is bossy, while you’re energetic and have quite a bit of a brat streak. And who’s to say he doesn’t love that? He trains you, he is not one to pass on discipline. You’re like a project for him.
He puts his dog tags on you, uses the chain to tug you in for a kiss, or just to tug you closer when you’ve mouthed off a bit too much. Giving you THAT look with his addicting blue eyes, narrowed as his crows feet become more prominent. “Want to try that one again, boy?” His tone, dangerous and full of warning. “Sorry sir,” you breath out, gut stirring.
He’d definitely get you to call him sir, that military training in him. Or it either accidentally slips out of you one time during a casual moment. “Pass me my lighter, dove.” His gruff voice called out from the living room. “Yes sir!” You replied mockingly with a light laugh. Unaware of the stirring in his pants.
If you take it too far, teasing or bratting at him when he’s gave several warnings and those little looks of his. He’ll hold out on you. John makes you hump his boots. Sitting on his arm chair as he barely pays any attention to you. Tapping the ash of his cigar into his ash tray. “Told you boy, but you won’t listen. Now I can’t fuck that lovely hole of yours..” He’d tut in mocking disapproval
Another method he’d use when he wants to deny you any pleasure at all is him having you kneel in front of him, all while he slowly strokes himself over your face. Any attempts at licking him or touching him is earned with a swift smack to your cheeks. Pinching your cheeks together with his other hand, “Keep whining pup, you brought this upon yourself. Stick yer tongue out.”
Your body moves without your brain needing to tell you to, tongue out before he’s spitting on it. “Swallow,” You listen to his words like they’re the most important instructions in the world. Throat bopping as you swallow. “Atta boy,” he hums, running a hand over your head. When he comes he paints your face in white ropes. Groaning as his hand tightens in your hair. “Learnt your lesson? Wouldn’t want to put you over my lap again, remember how I had you last time.” Your thighs press together at the reminder, it’s tempting to lure him in with a sassy retort.
Older boyfriend Price who takes you everywhere with him. Wrapping an arm around you, or sneaking a heavy pet over your clothed arse. No shame in his game, even if he’s realistically old enough to be your father. Finds an enjoyment in seeing people in public raise their eyebrows at this gruff, bulky man with a pretty boy on his arm.
When he’s talking to his former teammates on the phone, catching up with them. He doesn’t correct them when they ask if he’s got a ‘missus’ yet. Only chuckles with a “Could say that.”
When the time comes that he finally introduces you to them you’re met with a, “John! And who’s this?” One of them nods to you, without missing a beat he replies. “The missus,” His heavy hand petting your hip, lips quirking as one of the men choke on their beer.
Finds a routine of having you sit on his lap when you’re home with him. John would slip a thumb inside your mouth, runs it over your teeth, hums in delight when your lips wrap around the digit. “Good dog,” his voice filled with approval.
Besides his fancy cigars and smooth whiskeys, he doesn’t spend his money on any luxuries. That changes now that he has his paws on you. Buys you whatever you want, gets a satisfaction from seeing you give him a little fashion show in your new outfits. Especially those low cut tshirts, makes it harder for him to look you in the eyes.
