i'm so obsessed with pope cody i can't stop thinking about him at work like it's ruining my life 😭😭😭😭 my pretty puppy i want to have him on my lap at all times even though he would probably crush me under his weight but i'd die a happy death if it's like that
andrew pope cody with his hands braced on the bed on either side of your head, rutting his cock against your slick and puffy cunt and begging you to let him put it inside. his desperate voice repeating the same words over and over, ‘please please please, i’ll make you feel so good, just let me—let me inside your pussy, oh fuck, please—’
giggling and telling him no, tilting your hips up to meet his, just to watch the way his shoulders shake from the effort of holding himself up like this, holding himself back. restraint turning his eyes glassy and wet and deliciously close to tears. and he’s so beautiful like this, so perfect and submissive and made in a good boy factory just for you.
when you finally take pity on him, when you tuck your forefinger under his chin and rub your thumb along his bottom lip, the one that’s already dropped open to accommodate his breathy whines and his pleading, wet with his spit and pink from kissing you for over an hour before this, you tell him, ‘okay, andrew, you can put it inside.’
and the noise he makes is nothing short of a sob, head of his cock catching against your opening before it slips inside, stretches you open. he’s so on edge that he comes after two jerky thrusts, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, wings of his shoulder blades cowing together. the aftershocks run along his spine, making him twitch.
you push the sweat at his hairline into his curls, scratch your nails into his scalp until he shivers, looking up at you as he mouths his way down your body. your collarbone and your breasts, the soft swell of your belly. he shoulders your legs open even wider to accommodate the sheer size of them, presses your knees back to your chest so he can press his mouth against your used cunt.
‘so good for me, andrew,’ you murmur as he slowly licks his cum out of you, eyes locked onto yours and rocking his overstimulated cock into the mattress beneath him. ‘you like the way you taste inside of me?’
and he just groans, sucks on your clit in response.
robby’s on top obviously, he’s a little nervous as this is his first time with a guy so he doesn’t really know what to do…
jack on the other hand, this is not his first rodeo.
so he has his hands on robby’s hips gently guiding him, helping him roll his hips, smiling up at robby when he finally gets into the rhythm of it.
he leans up to place a soft kiss on robby’s lips, it doesn’t say soft for long and they end up making out right there on the couch as robby gently grinds against jack’s lap.
“fuck, feels so good. sure you haven’t done this before? you’re a natural.” jack smirks once he pulls away, robby’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as he shyly shakes his head.
“could’ve fooled me, handsome.” jack winks and robby has to fight the urge to cum right then and there in jack’s lap.
i cannot get rabbot out of my brain ughhh those cutie patooties 😵💫
want to be added to my robby taglist .ᐣ reply to this post ᝰ.ᐟ (taglist is tagged from another acc)
pope keeps showing up to the bar every night. at first, you just assume he's here for his brother, but you do find it a little strange that he barely talks to deran when he's around. he just sits in the same corner, orders a single beer, and nurses it throughout the night while watching you closely.
sometimes, you notice he'll stare not at you, but at the men who try to flirt with you while you're doing your job. this stare is a little scarier. it makes them uncomfortable and leaves you wondering why you're so attracted to it.
"you know he's only here because of you, right?" craig points out one night when he catches the two of you in a staring contest.
"what?"
he barks out a laugh, looking at you like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
then, a few nights later, he doesn't show up.
it isn't your business. you don't know anything about this man. but still, it makes you a little worried. he's practically become part of your routine. would it be so bad to hope he's okay?
deran leaves you to do the closing that night. you hate it, but you can't afford to complain. when you finally lock the back door of the bar on your way out, your soul almost leaves your body at the sight of a shadow waiting for you.
"jesus christ!"
you nearly jump out of your skin when you find pope leaning against the hood of what you assume is his car.
"what the fuck are you doing here?"
"waitin' for you."
you pause for a moment. this is the first time you've heard his voice, you realize.
his eyebrows lift slightly, hazel eyes widening as he waits for you to speak again.
"for how long?"
"since nine."
"that's six hours."
"yeah. i know."
you stare at him for a second.
"why are you here?"
"wanted to make sure you got home."
you have so many questions that you don't know if you want the answers. but you can't help feeling... flattered. wanted, even. you should find this entire situation weird, but you want to get inside his head so badly.
"take me home, then."
you round the car and climb into the passenger seat. this is probably an insane idea, but you figure this man wouldn't kidnap his brother's friend. he gets inside a few seconds later and looks at you the same way he always does at the bar.
you type your address into the gps and let it guide him to your house. the drive is quiet, like him, but quick. the car is exceptionally clean, and you notice a soft scent of cedarwood and tobacco mixing with his sweat.
he parks right outside your house. he turns off the engine and suddenly looks nervous. his hands are glued to the steering wheel. you can see his knuckles turning white, like he's afraid of what he'll do if he lets go.
so you decide to make the first move.
you turn slightly toward him, getting a better look at his face, and rest your right hand on his thigh. he tenses immediately and holds his breath as if you're some wild animal about to devour him whole.
you touch him slowly, taking in every reaction. you squeeze the inside of his leg softly, moving dangerously close to his crotch. you catch yourself smiling at how easily his cheeks turn red, just like they did the night you met, and how little it takes to make him hard.
"take your hands off the wheel," you say.
he obeys, a little hesitant, resting them on his knees.
"unzip your pants."
"what?"
"you heard me."
you give his thigh another squeeze.
and he does. he falls into that same look you saw on him the night you met, ready to follow your lead. his shirt rides up slightly with the movement, and you catch a glimpse of freckles scattered across his belly, just like you'd imagined.
"take your cock out."
his gaze drops for a moment. you can practically see the decision being made inside his head. and for a second, you worry you've pushed too far, that he's backing away, that you've made him uncomfortable. but then his hand disappears beneath the waistband of his underwear, and he looks at you again.
"okay." his voice is barely a thread, the deep tone from earlier has melted into something soft and shaky.
"touch yourself, slowly."
you watch him move his hand up and down, unhurried, trembling beneath your gaze. his breathing grows heavier with every passing second. his grip slides easily along his length, already slick with precum from nothing more than your words. you keep your hand on his thigh, steadying him.
you thank god for the tinted windows of his car.
although he follows your instructions, maintaining the same slow rhythm, you notice the way his hips keep pressing upward into his hand, searching for more friction. his free hand reaches toward you cautiously, you swat it away before he can touch you.
"don't."
he lets out a small whimper. "m'sorry."
your other hand rises to his hair, fingers burying themselves in those soft auburn curls. "you can go faster."
you don't have to tell him twice. his eyes close as he strokes himself harder, faster. the sweetest sounds slip from his parted lips and you feel your own underwear getting wet.
"you've been acting like such a creep, pope," you murmur. "staring at me, waiting for me after my shift... i should've called the police on you."
you're so close to him now that your lips almost brush his ear. your fingers continue combing through his hair, tugging gently at the strands near the back of his neck.
he's almost sobbing now, biting down on his lower lip to keep himself quiet. you pet him so nicely while saying such awful things, and he doesn't seem to know what to do with it.
he comes with a loud whimper. his hips still thrusting into his hand, chasing every last second of this high. eventually, he forces himself to calm down though his breathing remains uneven. he opens his eyes slowly but refuses to look at you, too embarrassed by the entire situation.
"pope, look at m—"
"andrew." his voice is huskier now. "my name's andrew"
of course. his name couldn't actually be pope. you've just never thought to question it.
"look at me." your voice softens again.
you stroke his thigh reassuringly. when he finally obeys, you give him a sincere smile. he looks so handsome like this: flushed, breathless, and completely undone because of you.
"don't call the police on me."
you can't help but laugh at that.
"i won't. you were good for me just now."
you brush his hair back, peeling a few sweaty curls away from his forehead.
"next time, you can just wait for me inside the bar, okay?"
he nods, a small smile appears on his face. the first one you've ever seen of him.
you let your eyes linger on him for a few moments longer, then you climb out of the car and finally head inside, feeling a little crazy at the thought of facing him again after this.
you met deran cody first a few months ago. he was a friend of a friend who would hang out and surf with your group every now and then. sometimes his brother craig would be there too, ogling you like you didn't notice. you never actually learned much about deran, and he only knew you'd worked as a bartender for a while because you'd make some killer cocktails whenever they hung out at your place. still, he was sweet and fun, so you quickly took a liking to him.
therefore, when he called you saying he'd bought a bar and was looking for a girl to help him out, you—freshly laid off from your old job—were absolutely ecstatic to give him a hand.
that's why you're here now, serving beer to a group of drunk surfers and accidentally letting the glass in your hand overflow because your attention is somewhere else.
you can't help but stare at the end of the bar, where a lone man sits. no drink in his hand, just looking directly at you with his palms flat against the counter and his back impossibly straight.
"you keep spilling the beer." deran appears beside you with a rag, wiping up the mess.
"sorry, something is... distracting me" you apologize. he arches a questioning brow before following your gaze toward the man sitting in the corner. a chuckle escapes him as he pats your shoulder.
"that's my brother pope, you can ignore him."
but that was impossible. the man is gorgeous, although admittedly a little scary. his dark eyes follow you like a wolf stalking its prey. it should make you uneasy, and maybe it does, a little, but it also makes you eager to know more.
you grab a shot glass, pour some vodka into it, and place it in front of him with a confident smile.
"it's on the house." you announced, leaning over the counter slightly, trying not to be intimidated by the older man sitting across from you. up close, you notice the auburn hair curling at his temples and the freckles scattered across his face and neck, leaving you wondering how far down they went.
and you notice his frown softening slightly and his cheeks flushing a soft red, but maybe that was just the warm weather making everybody sweat inside the bar.
he doesn't say anything. at first, that makes you nervous, but this is the same man who'd been shamelessly staring you down only minutes ago. you shouldn't be the one feeling embarrassed.
"not even a thank you? so rude" your tone is disapproving but the smile on your face gives you away.
he lifts his head slightly. his frown deepens as he looks down at you, trying to appear more intimidating than before, but you refuse to budge.
"drink it".
the command disarms him immediately, like a bucket of ice-cold water had just been dumped over his head. the wrinkles at his brow smoothed out as his face transitioned into a stunned expression. his cheeks grew redder, it definetely wasn't just the weather now.
he still doesn't say anything, but he obeys.
he lifts the shot to his lips and downs it in one go, his eyes fluttering shut when the liquor burns its way down his throat. now you're the one watching him like a hunter, savoring the thought of this beautiful, strange wolf willingly wandering into your trap.
"it wasn't so bad, was it?" you ask with a satisfied smile when he taps the empty shot glass against the bar and clears his throat. the flush has spread down his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, just a little bit of skin visible under the first button he'd left undone.
you're having fun now. you want to see how far you could push this man you barely knew but who seems to fold under the slightest bit of pressure.
glancing over your shoulder, you see deran dealing with a handful of customers on his own, you decide that he can handle it. so you slide back over to the beer tap, pour a tall glass without spilling a single drop this time, and place it in front of pope.
you don't even say anything this time, simply pointing at the drink with your chin and looking him in the eyes, challenging him. and he doesn't hesitate this time. he tooks the glass in his hand and chugs the ambar liquid until the very last drop, meeting your eyes with his. you never told him to drink it that fast and still, he seems awfully eager to follow your orders.
he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and you smile. that makes him visibly tense up again and his eyes widen slightly, like he just realized what he did, for you.
"so you're deran and craig's brother, huh?" you say as you gather the empty glasses, "guess i'll see you around, pope". you turn away, dropping the glasses into the sink before finally helping your boss deal with the growing crowd of drunk idiots piling up on the other side of the bar.
pope cody just sat there for a little longer, staring intensely at you once more. his face is still warm and his pulse keeps racing. he would figure you out later. now, he had to think of a way to walk out of the bar without everyone noticing the painful hard-on tightening up his jeans.
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