Corey was holding out on you. He didn’t seem like a prude – far from it. His entire presence gushed sexual energy, from the look behind his eyes to the way he sat. But he seemed to like control. It was almost as if he enjoyed depriving you, or maybe he wanted you to beg. He asked you what you really wanted for your birthday, but you were too shy to say it out loud.
Corey tag list: @ethanhoewke @kuromi2005 @rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires. Comment here to get on a tag list (say Corey, Michael, or both). Thx for gif @hiraethedits .
18+ MDNI; choking, unsafe (post-Michael)
- - -
You’ve been seeing Corey for weeks. When you first met, you were at the diner and got stood up by a friend. He was sitting at the bar. You watched his forearms and strong jaw flex as he ate a sandwich. You didn’t think he could see you watching him, but you forgot about the mirror at the back of the bar. He got up and you pretended not to notice him coming your way, until he sat down at your table uninvited. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds. He watched you curiously. He had an air of darkness and a twinkle in his eye.
A moment later, two bottled drinks were delivered, one for each of you. You couldn’t stop staring at how his hand dwarfed his beer bottle. You watched the tendon on his thick neck move as he talked and the vein on his wrist bulge as he fiddled with a napkin. He noticed you noticing, too. He seemed entertained by your interest in his body. It wasn’t just his body, though. He had these wild curls that dangled near his eyes as he looked up darkly at you and smiled. He had cuts and bruises he said were from boxing.
Over the next few weeks, you started dating. You went to see a movie and he wore glasses. Hot as fuck. He held your hand and you purred like a kitten. He caressed the inside of your elbow, and the shockwave through your body almost killed you. He kissed you when you said goodnight, and you never wanted anyone as bad as you wanted him.
You had him over one night to watch Netflix. He was surprisingly restrained. You were obviously so hot for him, and he knew it. But all you did was kiss. He wouldn’t escalate beyond that, and when you tried to advance things, he would smirk and kind of dodge you. Then, he saId he had to go. This happened on more than one occasion. You were miffed but determined.
Corey was holding out on you. He didn’t seem like a prude – far from it. His entire presence gushed sexual energy from the look behind his eyes to the way he sat. But he seemed to like control. It was almost as if he enjoyed depriving you. Or maybe he wanted you to beg.
He asked you what you really wanted for your birthday, but you were too shy to tell him.
-
Birthday Night
It’s your birthday and Corey is coming over. There’s only one thing you want from him, and you’re afraid he might not give it to you. When he shows up empty-handed, you start to get your hopes up. Surely he won't give you nothing. You're certain he already knows what you want.
Corey has new facial and knuckle injuries, so he's looking extra hot. He's also wearing his glasses. He's freshly showered and smells like pine and musk. He's wearing dark jeans, a navy button-up, and a navy corduroy jacket with the collar up. You're wearing leggings and a sweater. You take his jacket and drape it over the back of a chair.
You make popcorn and Corey gets it out of the microwave. His hand makes it look like one of those small 100 calorie bags even though it's full-sized. He opens it just a tiny bit at the top, turns the bag upside down and shakes it so the unpopped kernels fall out. You watch his knuckles and thick fingers as he shakes the bag. He follows your lusty gaze to his hand and smiles. You want that hand between your legs, and he knows it. When he grabs a handful of popcorn, he gets salt in one of the cuts on the back of his hand. He sucks his knuckle and watches your pupils dilate, flashing his eyebrows when he's done.
-
You watch a movie together on the couch and snuggle into him. He's sitting upright, manspreading with his feet on the floor, and you're leaning into him from the side with your legs on the couch with his arm around you. He strokes your hair and kisses you a few times and as the movie goes on, your head ends up on his lap. Your head isn't directly on his cock - You can't physically see or feel it, but you feel its heat radiating toward your face and it's almost too much. At the end of the movie, you sit up and share a long, steamy kiss.
Corey asks in a low seductive voice, "Did you decide what you want for your birthday?" The sparkle in his eye is all you need to proceed.
"Yeah," you say, getting up on your knees. His face brightens in anticipation and his large hands find the small of your back.
"I want you," you say. His eyes smile in satisfaction and he gently pulls you into him. A tingling rush floods your body. He's still manspreading, so you bring one of your knees between his legs. You hover there, then bring your face almost to his and he takes your face in both hands and kisses you. His tongue parts your lips. As the kiss heats up, you lower your throbbing heat down on his huge thigh, seeking friction. His massive hands gently knead your ass as you grind into him and your kiss becomes sloppy. Your heart races. His thigh feels so good between your legs, but you want more.
"Is this all you want?" He asks.
"No." Your face heats up. But for the moment, you continue riding his thigh as you search his face. You can tell he’s turned on. Your knee nudges the crotch of his pants and his hips start to move ever so slightly. After getting denied several times over the past few weeks, you’re hesitant to grab him.
Corey gently lifts your sweater off and you’re left with a bra and thin tank top. You pull your bra off through the sleeves, hoping to tempt him into ravishing you. He eyes your nipples and breathes deeply.
"I'll give you anything you ask for," Corey says. “Birthday girl,” he adds seductively. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden. He bites his lip when he sees this, but stays composed.
“Anything?” you ask. He nods and looks down at you dragging your moistening leggings along his thigh.
“Oh yeah," he nods. “Anything you ask for,” he adds. Oh, God. You’re going to have to come out with it.
You look him dead in the eye and say, “I want your cock.” He flashes his eyebrows then takes your hand and puts it on the hard bulge in his jeans and your temples feel weak. He’s hard. So thick. His hips rock into your hand and he further hardens as he unbuttons and unzips himself. You tilt your hips forward for more friction with his thigh. You're absolutely throbbing.
“All yours,” he says, nodding down toward the requested organ. You fold both sides of the zipper down and reach into his underwear, your hand appreciatively freeing his stiff member. It’s so smooth and warm and at full mast. You massage his hard cock, your whole body humming, begging you for more. You keep moving on his thigh, soaking through your leggings.
His cock weeps into your hand. Your breath is heavy and so is his. But aside from gently rolling his hips into your hand, Corey doesn’t do anything else. He seems to enjoy watching you be overcome by your need for him and his fat, hard cock.
“Is this all you want for your birthday?” He asks, fully aware that it’s not.
“I want you inside me,” you breathe. He bites his lip and his girthy fingers immediately curl into the waistband of your leggings. You rise up on your knees and help him remove them, then he pulls down his own jeans and briefs and you break contact to help pull them off. His face is flushed, but his movements are still measured.
There’s something so hot about him sitting there naked from the waist down with his glasses and facial injuries, making you practically beg for his cock.
Corey outstretches his massive hands, welcoming you into his lap. You climb onto him and your slippery seam meets his warm, stiff shaft. His hands on your ass move you up and down against him, then you tilt your hips and catch the tip of his cock with your entrance. You can hardly believe this is finally happening. It happens in slow motion.
You begin to sink onto his girth and it's the most delicious stretch. His eyes darken. His lips part and his head falls back, his sexy Adam's apple thrusting forward. You sink further onto him and his hips rise, closing the gap. You’ve never felt more complete than with his cock finally inside you. God, he feels so good. You feel him twitch. He breathes deeply but stays remarkably still. Your hips begin to move, but his strong hands on your thighs force you to be still. He gives you a cautionary look and your eyes widen, curious what he’s going to do.
You try again to ride him and his eyes darken to black. His massive hand wraps around your throat. His strong fingers dig into your neck before your whimper makes it out of your mouth. He looks back and forth between your eyes and wets his lips.
He growls, “Was there something else you wanted, birthday girl?”
Pressure is building in your face. Your eyes water. You can’t speak, but you try to nod.
He relaxes his hand, but keeps it around your throat, tilting his head curiously, waiting for you to say it.
You gasp for air. “Fuck, yes,” you breathe, “I want you to fuck me.”
FINALLY, he grabs your ass with both hands and holds you down on his cock. His ass flexes, pushing himself up into you. He tilts his hips down only slightly, then back up with a vengeance, sinking you down even further on his cock. Your clit meets his body just right. He feels so fucking good.
He allows you to roll your hips into him. A pulsing pressure builds in your core as your lips meet and you kiss ferally as you ride him. He tears your tank top off and devours your breasts. He sucks and marks your neck. He manhandles you on his cock, controlling everything from the rhythm to the depth. It feels better than you could have imagined.
You feel yourself getting close, and he feels it too. Your brow furrows and the motion of his hips intensifies. He closes the gap between you, and his hands on your hips make your clit rub into him while his cock pounds just the right spot inside.
The pressure in your core bursts and you see stars, tensing then reaching a stuttering release, clenching around his cock every few seconds, moving slower but harder into him.
His cock pulses. Air fills his cheeks then he exhales through his puckered mouth and his head falls back as he groans and slams you down onto him, erupting inside you. His hips jut up into you and he pulsates violently, emptying his balls.
You both finish coming and catch your breath. You collapse into him and rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his chest rise and fall under you, studying his beautiful neck. He loosely hugs you into him and strokes your hair.
When he reached for your trash, you swiveled your chair so your pants brushed his strong forearm. He looked up at you from under his curls and you were biting your lip. You flashed your eyebrows, and he read you like a book. A devious smile spread across his face, then faded. His eyes were dark and sexy. As he stood back up, he ran his masculine, veiny hand up your leg, tracing a line halfway up your thigh. Your heart raced and your stomach fluttered.
SUMMARY: Inmate Corey is assigned work detail at your office and you're horny for him. You manage to get some privacy and hook up multiple times.
WARNINGS: Crazy sexual tension & horniness, bribery, inappropriate touching, mild dubcon since he has no rights (but he's so down), hybristophilia (craving that criminal cock), unsafe P in V, sometimes rough, various sex acts?
A/N: Inspiration/history | Check out the full-length illustration of Day 4. Also, check out @slutforstabbings hot new story.
__________________________
Day 1 - Monday
You saw him from behind when he bent over to pick up the trash bin in your office. The first thing you noticed was his shapely ass, followed by the rolled-up sleeves of his orange top. You were grateful to whoever issued his too-small prison garb. Judging by the curve of his biceps, he probably had to cuff the sleeves or else cut off his circulation.
"Thanks," you said.
"No problem," he responded in a deep voice with a northern accent. As he turned his head toward you, you saw the scar on his neck. His curly hair. His perfect nose. There was no doubt who it was. He did a double take and caught you checking him out with your mouth agape. He gave you a little smirk and raised his eyebrows as he left with his Corrections Officer.
-
You couldn't help it. Not only did he have a stunning body, but you were also stunned to see "psycho killer" Corey Cunningham on inmate work detail at all, let alone there of all places: The judicial complex where he was convicted. The thing was, he was only convicted of arson and destruction of property, so he wasn’t treated as a violent offender.
Corey was never even charged with a violent crime after the 2022 killing spree. All the murders were pinned on Michael Myers – Law Enforcement was in a tight spot after allowing a town mob to literally shred him to a pulp. It would be a terrible look if they turned around and said, “by the way, someone else actually committed most of the Halloween murders this year.” They wanted to avoid anything that could raise even a shred of doubt that Michael deserved it.
Plenty of people in Haddonfield still connected the deaths to Corey, though. The motives pointed to him, whereas motives were never a factor for Michael Myers. There were two major competing theories about the 2022 victims: either Corey killed them with Michael, or Michael killed them for Corey, his rumored lover. If the latter was true, frankly, you thought that was hot as fuck. But all you knew for sure was that Corey Cunningham was fine as hell and suddenly in your office.
Obviously, Corey’s work detail assignment was all the talk around the water cooler that day. You downplayed it and suggested everyone just keep to themselves whenever he came in. If it was any other notorious criminal, you would have been on the phone with the Warden’s Office within minutes asking how the hell this happened. It was an open mockery of the system. But the last thing you wanted them to do was take him away. You secretly lusted after him during the whole joke of an investigation into “Michael’s” latest killing spree, and then throughout his arson trial. It wasn’t unethical - Your agency didn’t handle felonies, thankfully. But all the agencies talk, and you hung on any crumb you heard about him.
-
You thought about Corey all day. You thought about how your office was back in the corner, and the windows had blinds. You thought about the way he looked at you. Your wheels started turning. As a starting point, you moved your trash can under your desk and twisted the blinds shut on your window to the main office hall.
-
Day 2 - Tuesday
The next day, when Corey came in, he greeted you with your name, which was printed on your office door. Something about that scar was so hot. You loved his tattoos, too. You stayed in your chair, right next to the waste basket. He stopped for a moment to look around your office for the trash. "Good morning," you said quietly. You nodded under your desk. It was a bold move. You didn't want to be demeaning, but you knew he would like where you were headed with this. He smirked subtly and approached your desk.
When he reached for your trash, you swiveled your chair so your pants brushed his strong forearm. He looked up at you from under his curls and you were biting your lip. You flashed your eyebrows, and he read you like a book. A devious smile spread across his face, then faded. His eyes were dark and sexy. As he stood back up, he ran his masculine, veiny hand up your leg, tracing a line halfway up your thigh. Your heart raced and your stomach fluttered. He went and emptied your trash before coming back.
After returning the basket under your desk, his chin hovered over your shoulder. He brought his nose to the crook of your neck, and you were tingling everywhere. He put his mouth to your ear and whispered, "you smell amazing." Your ears burned and your nipples were rock hard. You could hardly stand the tension. You inhaled deeply and smiled. He smelled amazing, too. Like wood, musk, and fresh cotton.
After Corey left your office, you made a trip to the restroom just so you could politely greet his Corrections Officer and take note of the name on his tag.
That day, you also volunteered to stay back from a conference everyone else in your office would attend the following week. You pointed out the critical need for someone to be on call in the actual office. Records were close to full virtualization, but there were still some physical files. When they said yes, you had to contain your excitement. The Solicitor General personally thanked you for looking out.
-
Day 3 - Wednesday
Colleagues seemed to notice that you wore a skirt, but you didn't care. You almost always wore pants, but at this point, every choice you made needed to bring you closer to having Corey Cunningham inside you.
That morning, you closed your door more than half-way and stood at your desk. You wheeled your chair slightly out of the way. Corey slipped into your office without opening the door wider, and stopped in his tracks when he saw you in that skirt. You shamelessly checked each other out like two animals in a mating ritual. Your eyes fell on the bulge in his orange pants. Both your faces flushed. You each knew exactly what you wanted.
You turned to face your computer without sitting down. You wrote on a post-it note "everyone will be gone Mon-Weds" and put it on the top of your trash, which he still had to crouch down to pick up. He read the note and looked up at you with his pupils wide, then scanned your body as he stood up, his hand trailing up the inside of your bare leg. "Good," he said to your chest, then crumpled up the note. He was breathing heavily. His muscular thigh grazed yours as he went to empty the trash.
He came back with the empty basket, and for a moment, he stood directly behind you with his free hand on your hip. He gently pressed his hard-on against your skirt and dragged it about an inch upward. You silently gasped at the pang of pleasure. You both heard the CO's keys jingling increasingly louder in the hall. Before leaving, Corey adjusted himself, which made your toes curl. He gave you the most lustful gaze on his way out. You were determined for this man to fuck you.
-
You thought about Corey that night and barely even touched yourself but came so hard. You needed to figure out how the two of you would get some privacy from the CO. You did some research. The CO escorting him normally worked at the prison and was only on a temporary assignment at the judicial complex to fill in for someone on parental leave. The judicial complex was by far the preferred place to work, and it paid more, too. It probably wouldn’t take more than a phone call to get him permanently transferred, which would benefit both you and the CO. Hopefully this might incentivize the CO’s cooperation the following week.
Before you proposed this, you would have to make sure the CO was essentially bribable – the pay was absurdly low, so many of them were – and that he wouldn't turn around and try to get you fired. On your way home, you bought a burner phone.
-
Day 4 - Thursday
You emptied your own trash before Corey got there, buying you a couple of minutes. He came in with a broom and dust pan, but there was nothing to sweep. You sat in your chair and he stood in front of you. You looked at each other with electricity between you, wondering what would happen next – or rather, how you would make it happen. You grabbed a fine point sharpie and pulled down his waistband, sending a rush through your body and his. His breath was so heavy. You watched his bulge swell, then rested the heel of your palm against it as you held his waistband. He held his shirt up for you, and you wrote your burner number just above his pubic hair. It was wildly intimate.
When you finished writing, you didn’t scoot back, and Corey didn't bother turning away when he adjusted himself before leaving. You caught a glimpse of his fat, pink cock-head and felt weak in the knees. You were so wet that when he left, you had to turn your skirt around to make sure your arousal wasn't visible. You went home during lunch and changed underwear. On your way back to work, you stopped at the bank to withdraw some cash, just to get the conversation started with the CO. You kept your door half-closed for the rest of the day so it wouldn't be conspicuous when you kept it half-closed with Corey there in the morning.
@cordelium illustration
-
Later that night, you were eating dinner alone at home when you got the call.
"You have received a collect call from an inmate at the Illinois Department of Corrections. Would you like to accept the charges?" Your heart raced.
You pressed #1 and said "Hey,” as casually as you could. “It’s good to hear from you.”
Neither of you were stupid, you knew the line was monitored and recorded. .
"Uh, hey," he said, his low voice sending a hot chill down your spine.
"How are you doing?" you asked.
He groaned softly, which sent you throbbing. "It's been a hard week," he said.
Your chest swarmed with butterflies. "Yeah? How hard?"
"Very, very hard." God, he was so fucking hot.
You sighed. "I really wish there was something I could do about that."
"God, me too. Trust me."
"Um. Is your CO nice at least?"
"Oh yeah," Corey said. "He's one of the best. He's really nice, as long as we are, too." Jackpot.
You exhaled in relief. "Well, good." You started walking to your bedroom, dying for relief.
"Yeah," Corey said. "How's your work? Are you ready for your thing?"
"Ugh, I couldn't be more ready." It was true. You were aching for him. You opened your nightstand.
You heard someone tell him his time was up in the background. You laid down and put your vibrator up your skirt.
"I've gotta run," he told you.
"It was nice hearing your voice," you said.
"Yeah, you too, babe." . . .Babe. Your heart fluttered, and that's not all.
You were about to overheat by the time he hung up and you turned on the toy. You made yourself come in less than a minute, and you couldn't help but say his name.
-
Day 5 - Friday
Now that your plans were in motion, you were even more excited than usual to see Corey. You tied up your trash in a grocery bag to save him some time, but left it in your bin so he wouldn’t leave empty handed. You were purring between the legs by the time he entered your office and gave you that hungry look. You could already see the beginning of his arousal. His broad chest heaved under his prison garb and the veins on his hands bulged.
You sat toward the edge of your chair. He crouched next to you to get the trash, inhaling you on his way down. He turned to face you, and you swiveled your chair toward him. You subtly opened your legs at the risk of a tidal wave whooshing onto your chair. He wasted no time sliding his hand up your inner thigh all the way to your soaked underwear. You watched his prison tattoos flex as he gently rubbed his thick digits along your panties. Your clit throbbed so hard, he must have felt it. He inhaled deeply, then surprised you by lingering there and nudging the wet, silky fabric aside. Living dangerously.
He bit his gorgeous lip as he slid two fingers into you with a silent shudder. You gasped softly, then quickly covered your mouth. He breathed heavily as he gently fingered you, his thumb on your clit. His lips parted and his head tilted back. His Adam's apple was absurdly sexy, and the scar on his neck mesmerized you.
Corey obviously had trouble peeling himself away, as did you. You were so fucking hot for him, you would've risked almost anything for just a few more seconds - anything but the chance to have him inside you. You didn't want to ruin what you were so close to achieving.
"Here," you whispered with a folded $100 bill held between two fingers like a cigarette in your lap as you began to close your legs. You dared to finger the back of his curly mullet before he stood up. The seediness of giving him money turned you on even more. He withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his mouth as he stood up. His bulge had grown and was once again right in front of you. You slipped the bill into his waistband and took the opportunity to graze his raging hard-on. "Tell him we wanna talk," you said.
He nodded. The keys of the CO jingled closer, and Corey quickly composed himself.
"See you then," he whispered as he secured the cash. He adjusted himself and you felt the sharpest pang of desire. You watched his ass as he left. It looked so ripe, you wanted to pluck him right off the vine.
-
THE WEEKEND
Sunday, you got another call from prison.
"I miss you," he said.
"I miss you too," you told him.
"How's the weather?" he asked.
"Wet. Very wet."
"It's gonna be hotter Monday," he said, then shifted gears. "Hey, uh, the friend we talked about wants to meet you. He's cool."
This was very good news.
-
Day 6 - Monday
Monday, you were alone in your office, just as you planned, and you could not have been more ready for Corey. You wore very accessible underwear and a skirt that was long enough to be decent but flowy enough to easily lift. Your shirt wrapped around with a tie closure. You didn't know how much time you would have.
It was radio silent in the office with everyone else gone to the retreat. You gathered up everyone's trash yourself and put it in one bag so it would be ready for Corey and the CO. Right on schedule, you heard the door to the office open, then the CO's keys jingle louder and louder down the hall until your door pushed open.
You were leaning back against the front of your desk but stood up straight when they came in. You started to introduce yourself.
"I know who you are," the CO said gently. "I know you're as human as me. I've just gotta know I'm talking to the person, not the job."
“Of course,” you said, then cleared your throat. “You normally work at the prison, right? The gig here is until, what, next month?”
He nodded, intrigued. “That’s right.”
“Do you like it enough to stay?”
“Sure,” he said, skeptically. “How do we make it happen?”
“Well, Corey and I would appreciate a little privacy this week. I know you have a tight schedule, and this won’t even disrupt it. I’ll handle the cleaning for our office, and we’d like to spend that time alone instead. If we can do that, I’ll make a call next week.”
He slowly nodded, either wondering how he could trust you to make the call, or marveling that you could truly be that horny.
“I think we both want the same thing,” you reassured him. “For you to be here. It would obviously benefit me, too, in case of any future, uh, opportunity.”
You glanced toward Corey, who was chewing his thumbnail excitedly. Every little thing he did was so fucking sexy.
“Sound good? Here,“ you slipped him several folded bills. “For your discretion meanwhile.”
The CO looked you in the eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. He extended his hand to shake yours, then pocketed the cash. “Alright,” he said.
Before the CO even left, Corey was all the way up against you, backing you into the edge of your desk, hands engulfing your head, his lips grazing yours, breathing hotly into your mouth as your hands drifted toward his ass.
“Ten minutes," the CO said and you heard him jingle away. You pried your head from Corey’s for a moment to look at the clock on your wall.
9:40
“That was hot as fuck,” Corey growled in your ear.
Then, he kissed you like it was his first time tasting water. Your chest swelled full of life as your mouth greedily accepted his, and you untied your blouse. He grinded his arousal into you and grabbed your ass. You slid your hand into his waistband. Hot, rock-hard, and thick.
He wedged himself between your knees and nudged you into sitting on the edge of your desk. He bowed his head to continue kissing you thirstily. He threw your blouse open as your palm moved the smooth, warm skin of his girthy shaft. You were throbbing impatiently beneath your skirt and the feeling radiated through your ass and thighs. He palmed your breast aggressively, nudging your bra down, then took your nipple into his mouth and gave it a gentle bite while his other hand slid between your legs. His cock head weeped into your palm. You almost choked on your gasp. You were desperate for him.
9:42
When his thick fingers reached the narrow, wet lace of your thong, he whispered "fuck, yeah" as he pushed it aside. His voice got hotter and hotter. He gathered your skirt out of the way, and his head dove between your legs. His beautiful nose rubbed your clit in a way you never knew you needed as he lapped at your dripping seam and softly moaned into your cunt. He devoured you like he was starving - eyes closed, brow furrowed.
But every inch of your body wanted every inch of his. “I need you inside me,” you said.
He stood up and fumbled with his waistband, his lips returning to yours, imparting the light tinge of yourself. You helped him free his cock and tilted your hips invitingly. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you against him. His warm, naked shaft dragged up and down your slippery seam. The warm tension in your core coiled tighter and you whimpered.
The swollen head of his cock prodded at your entrance. You never needed anything as bad as you needed him inside you at that moment. He held you tight and plunged his cock inside you. You moaned in unison. You were so absurdly wet and ready that his imposing girth felt nothing but amazing. He pulled back just a little, then plunged even further, bottoming out with the sexiest grunt.
9:45
It was the perfect stretch and each thrust felt better than the last. Your hips moved in the same rhythm. He was meant to be inside you. You were already close. You wrapped your legs around him. He lifted one of your thighs, and you sank further onto him than you knew was possible, your clit smashing and grinding into his pubic bone with each beat. Oh God, the friction was perfect.
9:48
You came harder than you knew was possible, your whole body contracting, releasing. Corey erupted with a groan, holding you down on his cock, and pulsed enormously inside you. His hips rolled into yours much slower as he came, and when his balls had given you everything, he sat you down on your desk. You both were breathing heavily, his forehead against yours, when you heard the front office door open.
9:51
"Fuck," Corey exhaled. "I'm sorry." You both scrambled to compose yourselves. You tied your blouse again as the keys jingled down the hall and the CO’s shadow passed your closed blinds.
"Damn," the CO said when he saw you all hot and disheveled. "You're the real deal. I'll give you a minute," he said, and stepped outside your office.
"God, you're so fucking hot," Corey gushed in a whisper, and kissed you forcefully before he left.
-
Tuesday - Day 7
The next morning, you got an actual work call you had to deal with. It was an Assistant District Attorney. You hoped Corey didn't hear his voice. The door to the front office opened just as you were finishing up. You got off the call and scrambled to clear your desk and calm your nerves.
There were no jingling keys, just one set of heavy footsteps. You paused your clean-up to take off your blazer, leaving a black, stretchy tube dress with a built-in shelf bra. You planned to take off your underwear before he arrived but didn't have time. You would've gone commando to begin with, but thoughts of Corey would have been a hazard to your chair.
Your heart pounded and your core tightened the closer he got. Through the blinds of your interior window, you saw his silhouette approach. It was an attractive shape. You tingled all over.
"Sorry," you said as you picked up a stack of files to move to your credenza.
Corey didn't say a word, not "it's okay," not even "hey." He came in and closed the door behind him. You looked up at him and did a double take. There was a different energy about him. More intense. He had a dark, wild look in his eyes, but otherwise, no expression.
His pants stretched tight over his arousal as he lumbered toward you. So fucking hot. He engulfed you dominantly from behind. His hard chest pressed against your back, his hardness into your ass, and you dropped the stack of files. His mouth latched onto your neck as his hands roved hungrily, groping your breasts, hiking up your dress, sliding his hand down your panties and flattening his fingers against your dripping cunt with rolling pressure. He was rougher, more controlling. He breathed heavily into your ear, but said nothing.
You were already throbbing so hard. He pushed the top of your dress down out of the way as he aggressively palmed your breasts, sucked your neck, and rutted into you. He manhandled you over the end of your credenza and yanked your dress all the way up over your ass, turning it into a pathetic tube top that sat beneath your breasts.
His thighs pinned you to the credenza, his massive hand slid between your legs again, and the throbbing hardness in his pants pressed into you forcefully. He shuddered and your nipples hardened, making him grope both breasts, even harder. You felt his bulge swell against you as it rolled into your ass. You ached for him so badly. You pulled down your panties with both hands and he pulled down his pants. He must have looked so hot. You turned to look at him, but his large hand on your back forced you down onto the polished wood surface. You couldn't see the clock.
Corey inhaled deeply and you felt his swollen cock-head slide against your dripping seam, then he shoved himself into you with a primal grunt. Holy fuck, he felt so good. He thrust into you harder, stretching your insides so he could bottom out. And again, filling you to the brim with his meat. The tension inside you was coiled so tight you could have come at any moment. He was impossibly hard and thick. He lowered his chest over your back as he fucked you. He let you rise up just enough for his arms to wrap around you, his large, rough hands feeling you up as he rammed into you. He fucked you like an animal until the tight coil in your core sprang open all at once, sending an intoxicating rush through your whole body each time you pulsed in release.
You came hard. His large, veiny hand clamped over your mouth and muffled your moan. His strong arms kept you almost still as your muscles jolted and jerked. As you pulsed and quaked and whimpered into his hand, he didn’t let up at all until suddenly he was coming, too. He growled almost imperceptibly, milking his cock with your contractions. You were moving as one body, one beautiful machine, jolting together in silent bliss. As you both finished coming, he finally relaxed his grip around you.
His arms lifted your chest up and squeezed you from behind, his cock still inside you. You were both panting. He kissed the nape of your neck, inhaling deeply through his nose, then gently pulled your dress up over your breasts, caressing them through the smooth fabric. His cock didn’t seem to shrink at all. You didn't want him to pull out. Not now, not ever.
But you heard the front office door open. He inhaled your hair deeply and slid his dick out of you. He tugged your dress down and allowed you to face him as he pulled up his pants. You gawked at his thighs. When your eyes met, his were black. He ran his hands down your sides, then over your ass, pulling your pelvis gently into his.
The CO knocked on your office door, "We gotta move."
Corey read your face and vacantly kissed you on the forehead as his cum trickled down your inner thigh. Your fingers itched to caress the scar on his neck, but you didn't dare, especially not this time. His dark eyes looked you up and down, and he left without a single word. The CO's keys echoed more loudly than ever as they walked away.
-
Dark, masculine energy hung in the air even after he left.
What the hell just happened? Not a single word. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it was like he was someone else.
A chill ran down your spine when you realized who.
It was hot as fuck.
-
You received a collect call that night on your burner. Was he going to say something or just breathe into the phone?
"Hey beautiful." It was like nothing happened. When you heard his voice, you wanted to jump through the phone and onto his dick.
"God, it's good to hear your voice," you said.
"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Ah, maybe it was the fact that you weren’t ready for him.
"Yeah," you said, then something came over you. Hearing his voice made you so fucking hot for him, like you needed to chain him to your desk and just ride him all day. "I'm actually going to be leading it."
"Oh," he said. He inhaled and exhaled loudly "hmm." His voice was a low hum.
"Yeah, I hope they're ready."
He let out an aching sigh. "I'm sure they will be. . .hey, what if it's longer than the other sessions?"
Your heart swelled. "I would love that," you said. "there's always more to pack in."
"Ugh," he groaned softly and your nipples puckered. His voice was low and gruff as he said, "Yeah, there is."
-
Wednesday - Day 8
You chose a leather chair with no arms that would allow you to be face to face. You took off your underwear, button-up shirt, and bra, leaving only a skirt and thin spaghetti-strap tank. God forbid anyone else walk in.
Corey arrived about ten minutes earlier than usual and looked at you like he was starving. You nodded to the chair. "Alright," he said your name as he took his seat, manspreading. Your name sounded so hot in his mouth. "Your move." God, the sound of his voice. The look in his eyes. He glanced at the clock. "We've probably got like 15-20."
9:30
"Thank God," you said. It was still virtually no time at all, but every minute with him felt like a gift. You took a moment to appreciate his entire form, from his dark, curly locks down to his huge boots. His muscles. His pre-faded prison tattoos. His almost-snarl. He was so imposing and delicious. You wanted, needed to see more of him. He looked physically pained not to be touching you. He opened his arms and his biceps flexed under his rolled-up sleeves.
You swung your leg over him and straddled him, your throbbing warmth meeting the hardness of his pants right away. He bit his lip as his pelvis rose to greet you and his massive hands ran up and down your sides. His lips hungrily claimed yours, his tongue forcing your mouth open. You rolled your hips into him and his cock swelled harder against you. You physically flinched in pleasure, breaking the kiss. It was almost too much too soon. Corey breathed loudly, and he searched your eyes as you grinded into him, admiring his face. His hands ran from your thighs up to your ass, taking your skirt all the way up.
You curled your fingers under his shirt and he took it off in a flash. Oh my. He held your balance as you leaned back and ran your hands all over his firm, broad chest and he watched your eyes roam his body. You scooted your ass back toward his knees, painfully prying your pelvis away from his for just a minute to take it all in.
9:32
Your thumbs traced between his pecs, down his abs, around his belly button, his happy trail, where you shoved your hand into his pants. You massaged his warm, engorged member and he thrust it into your hand. If this was the last chance you had, you needed to taste him. You pulled his waistband down and got on your knees.
It was your first time seeing his cock head-on, and you tried not to dwell on its beauty while the clock was ticking. You were mesmerized by his fine, red hair. You wrapped your lips around the swollen tip and when you sucked it into your mouth, he sucked air in through his teeth and his chest puffed out. He stroked your cheek with a large knuckle and the vein on his hand looked so hot.
He was delicious. Salty and musky. You inhaled as deep as you could through your nose. Your fingers gently felt the fine red hair above his cock as you opened wide and took as much of him as your mouth could hold. His chest heaved and he moaned. You looked up at him with his cock in your mouth and he was so fucking hot from that angle. His muscles. His Adam's apple. The scar on his neck. His shitty, seedy tattoos. A symbol or vertical zig-zag on his hip bone. You were throbbing so hard you almost straddled his filthy boot seeking friction and you knew it was time to move on.
But first, you slurped his cock further into your mouth. "Fuck," he said in the voice that drove you wild. "Okay," he panted, "get back up here, assuming you wanna fuck before I come."
You looked at him, and he looked at the ceiling. Ugh, that throat.
9:37
You held his hard cock in your hand and tried to memorize his whole groin as quickly as you could. You checked out the tat on his hip bone. Holy shit. It wasn’t a zig-zag, it was initials: "M.M." You were floored and extremely turned on. You ran your thumb over it lightly, and his cock swelled in your hand. His eyes widened then darkened as he looked down at your thumb on the initials, and he got even harder. His cock was weeping in your hand.
As you urgently climbed back onto him, you had to ask. "Is it true?"
He raised his eyebrows, and in the sexiest, hushed voice, he asked, "Do you want it to be?"
You nodded almost imperceptibly and dragged your wet heat against his smooth, naked shaft. His hardness took your breath away.
“Yeah? Does it turn you on?" He asked as he grabbed your ass and moved you harder into him. You slid firmly up and down his stiff member, and each time his tip met your clit, it was a burst of pleasure everywhere.
"Yeah," you whispered lowly, searching his face for an answer. His eyebrows jumped and he smirked ever so slightly as he swelled against you even harder. God, your whole body ached for him.
You aligned your entrance, and his cock nudged it needily. You began to sink onto him, and he gasped. His smirk disappeared and his lips parted. His massive hands on your hips brought you down on him hard.
"Fuck, yeah," he groaned as the enhanced girth of his swollen cock parted your insides.
You had never been so full, and it felt amazing. Your nipples puckered, goosebumps prickled across your breasts, and your arm hair stood on end. His breath was ragged. He withdrew just a tad, then thrust up into you as you sank down even harder. You felt so alive.
As you rolled your hips into his, he moaned and his mouth hung open. His pelvis rose, rocking you into the air. Your lips drew his mouth into yours, swallowing his breathy moans, and he kissed you more ferally than you'd ever been kissed. He held you down on his cock and your aching clit found friction where your bodies met. The motion of your hips together moved his girth inside you in just the right way. His cock would retreat just an inch, then, your body would swiftly reclaim it.
You draped your wrists on the back of the chair and fingered his curls as you rode him, marveling at his beautiful face. He thrust in perfect rhythm with your needy hips. You tore off your shirt and he softly moaned into your neck.
His hot breath on your skin sent you over the edge. Your whole body shook, and as his mouth went to your tit, you buried your lips in the hair behind his ear to stop from crying out. He smelled so masculine. He slowed his pace and shuddered as you clenched around his cock. You finished coming, and relief flooded your body.
9:45
When you looked him in the eyes again, it was like you both had the sudden realization that this was it. He kissed you more desperately than ever, like he needed you to live, and began thrusting into you harder. He sucked your neck painfully hard and held you tight against him. Your bare skin together felt like you should never be torn apart.
God, this man did something to you. Your chest swelled and tension consumed your core again. He slid his arms under your knees, letting them hang over his elbows, gently tilting your hips. Your spine arched and he sloppily kissed his way from your sternum to your neck. He wrapped his arms around your back, pushing your hamstrings up and spreading your legs wide.
In one smooth movement, he stood up from the chair, his cock twitching deep inside you, and laid you down on your desk. He hovered over you, as if his dark eyes were studying, absorbing the pleasure on your face. You wrapped your legs around him and he fucked you so hard and deep. Filling you to the brim each time, his balls slamming into you.
He groaned as he began to pulse inside you. You whimpered, and pleasure burst from your solar plexus, almost blinding you as you came – you saw his face contort in broken flashes. His cock pulsed violently inside you, with a huge swell of warmth in your core every time your walls clenched around him. His body folded into yours heavily as you both finished coming and your legs relaxed around him. He grunted softly in protest when your aftershocks overstimulated him.
He nuzzled his hair into your chest and neck, kissing you sloppily, desperate for more time with you, knowing it was over any second. He hugged you as he straightened his back, bringing you upright with him. You sat on your desk, your ankles hooked around his legs, kissing his pecs, his sternum, his tattoos, his scar, with your hands memorizing each other's bodies. The front office door opened and he hugged you tightly into him, so tight you could hardly breathe but didn't want him to ever let go.
As the keys jingled closer, you both dressed hastily. Your thumb brushed his tattoo as he pulled up his pants.
Corey kissed you one more time, deeper than ever, like he was taking something he knew you’d need back.
9:52
You knew this goodbye wouldn’t be forever. That simply couldn't be the last time. You didn't care what it took - you had a primal need for this man.
-
You felt despondent for a few hours. There were so many things you hadn't done. You indulged yourself in a montage. You wanted to swallow his cum and hear him groan at full volume. You wanted his magnificent nose to linger between your legs and penetrate you, but you hadn't been able to pry yourself away from his cock for long enough. Your eyes welled up with the horniest tears. You scolded yourself for this emotional state, but it's a terrible feeling, the pain of something you can't have, even if it's right in front of you.
Finally, you composed yourself and made the call. You asked about Corey's CO. Your friend in the Warden’s Office said, “I don’t see why not." He even said he'd get the paperwork started. Your tears threatened to return as ones of hope. You went to the bathroom and splashed your face and did a double take in the mirror. Your hand shot to your neck and your face got hot, but then, your heart swelled. You still had him with you. You would savor his marks until you could figure everything out.
-
Day 9 (The Day After) - Thursday
About half the office came back from the conference Thursday. You wore a dress with a silk scarf and blazer. Two of the cooler investigators, Oscar and Kate, who worked in a different wing, stopped by to catch you up. You suspected they had something going on between them, you just weren’t sure what. Neither of them were single. Investigators were pretty good about covering their own tracks and picking up the scents of others. It was a hazard of working with them. You made sure to clean your office thoroughly for that reason.
Oscar sat in the black leather chair where Corey and you fucked 25 hours prior, and Kate sat in the one next to it. You sat behind your desk, the one Corey fucked you on twice. Kate gave you a book, which you put behind you on the credenza where you also fucked.
The first thing they told you about was a guy from the conference. Oscar thought you’d like him a lot. Kate disagreed. You had no interest at all, but you let them tell you anyway. You enjoyed listening to them bicker. It made their sexual tension so obvious. Their banter was one thing you missed after being moved over to this wing. When Kate started telling you about the actual conference, you sat back lazily in your chair and nodded vacantly. Your hand drifted to your neck, grazing the bruises under your scarf. The sexual montage in your head was so distracting that you didn’t notice what time it was.
As Kate yammered on about cyber risk in criminal justice, Corey came into your office and you startled upright, causing Oscar to look behind him at the door and do a double take.
Oscar said, “Mind knocking? We’re kinda busy, man.”
“No, it’s fine,” you said. “Thank you,” you smiled at Corey. “I don’t have any trash, though.” You didn’t.
Corey just kind of looked at you. But what were you going to do, kick your colleagues out of your office so your secret psycho killer boyfriend could feel you up? You looked at him somewhat apologetically.
Kate looked back and forth between you and Corey. Then, so did Oscar.
“You heard her,” Oscar told him. Corey didn’t even look at Oscar. He smiled at you and left quietly.
Oscar turned back around and looked at you, then shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking Corey Cunningham,” he said. “Really??”
You tried to stop your face from going white.
“I had to see it to believe it,” he said.
Oscar looked back at the doorway, then at Kate, then at you again. You didn’t react. He needed to show more of his hand.
“How does Corey Cunningham get work detail?” he finally said. You internally breathed a sigh of relief but also wondered if Corey could hear him.
“Good behavior?” you said with air quotes. Air quotes could imply anything from politics to extortion.
“Oscar, don’t you have that meeting with Frank?” Kate said abruptly.
“Shit.” Oscar left.
-
Kate leaned into your desk and asked, “So?”
“What?” you asked.
“Fucking Cunningham. Details?”
She was studying your face so intently. You were normally as cool as a cucumber and very hard to read, but you wouldn’t be surprised if that had gone out the window along with the rest of your self-restraint.
You shrugged. “He started last week, I think.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Small talk. Perfect gentleman so far.”
“Hmm,” Kate said, still studying your face. Her eyes drifted to the chair Oscar sat in. Surely you didn’t miss a cum stain. You wondered what Kate would do if she knew. Your heart started beating faster. She looked at your jugular vein. Shit.
Her face broke into a smile. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?”
Now, this you could deal with. You answered carefully, “Like. . . objectively?” your face breaking into a smile.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “He’s hot,” she said, laughing and nodding, covering her mouth like she was such a bad girl.
“Right??” You mirrored her demeanor. It was objectively true, so you had that going for you.
“Yeah, I hope they keep him around,” she said in a whisper. “I just wouldn’t want to be alone with the guy,” she added.
“I mean. . .” you raised your eyebrows. Joking about it would mean you had nothing to hide.
She playfully slapped your wrist and doubled over laughing. “I miss you. I wish I worked in this wing.” You were glad she didn’t, even though you missed her, too.
-
You worried about Corey all day and were relieved to get a collect call almost as soon as you got home.
“Hey baby,” you said gently, worried he’d be mad. “How are you?”
“Oh so now you care,” he replied.
“Of course I care,” you pleaded. “Come on, you know I can’t – I had kind of a shitty morning.”
“No, I know, babe. I was just thinking about you,” he said softly.
“I was thinking about you, too. Like all day.”
“Really? What were you wearing?” he asked. His voice was really working its magic between your legs.
“Well, right now, I'm not wearing much-”
“No scarf?” he cut you off.
“Um-”
“You should never wear a scarf. You should be proud of your beautiful neck. Don't you like it?”
“I really do,” you sighed and stroked your painful bruises.
“Oh! I think everything’s going to work out with our friend,” you told him.
His voice brightened. “Good,” he said. “I hope you have a better morning tomorrow.”
“Me too. I’ll do what I can.”
You set a reminder to take off your scarf while he was there, unsure what else you could do about that without attracting attention that would jeopardize the whole situation.
Something else was bugging you, though. Was Corey really not the least bit upset at being shooed away from your office? You wondered if you should be worried about Oscar.
###
Afterword: Luckily, i've taken an oath not to let morality interfere with my writing, but prison labor reform is worth a google if you're interested in social issues.
You can read this as a one-shot, but it's the reader from Laid back. Some time has passed since then. Gender neutral.
Corey is so desperate for you that he doesn’t even notice the vibrator sitting on your nightstand in plain view. It's bright pink and about the size of his gorgeous nose. You wish it was the same shape, too. When the doorbell rang earlier than usual, you were, um, really not expecting it.
If you want to make him whimper and beg 👀. . . It also gets fluffy AF later. 💘 Happy Valentine's Day, Corey fans! I 💗 y'all.
@ethanhoewke (💯concept) @wolvesandvampires
Beefcake Corey art by @cordelium 💞
NSFW - Sexual content
Half-assed self-beta, sorry
It's your first Valentine's Day together. Even though you know he's not that comfortable in public – for good reason – Corey would have been willing to take you anywhere you wanted. He really loves you, even if he hasn't said it. You told him you'd prefer to just do something laid back and the two of you agreed not to get each other gifts. He's coming over to your house and you'll make dinner together.
-
Corey is so, so sweet. You just want to squeeze him sometimes. He's so HOT though, too. Under that shy fluffy exterior, his body is unreal. He seems to only get stronger. It remains a turn-on that he's unassuming from the outside, and meanwhile you know he's a total stud. He's solid as hell - in all the right places, too.
You're lying on your bed thinking about everything you want to do to Corey when your doorbell rings earlier than you expect. You pull on your pants and button them as you jog downstairs excitedly. But it’s not Corey. It’s a stranger. There’s a van from Ben’s Hardware parked outside. You answer the door and the man asks where you’d like the delivery. You tell him he might have the wrong house because you didn’t order anything. He looks at his clipboard.
Before you get it sorted out, you hear the whir of Corey's bicycle coming to a halt. The truck was blocking your view. Corey is huffing and puffing like he was in a real hurry.
He gets off his bike and adjusts his glasses as he addresses the delivery man. “Um, on the porch, probaby, would be great,” he says and points around the side of your wraparound porch. “Just give us one sec first,” he tells the guy. Corey looks down and smiles broadly. He's obviously responsible for this delivery. You can't imagine what it is though - it's from a hardware store?
“We said we weren’t getting each other anything,” you smile and put your hands on your hips in fists. He shrugs. He seems really excited about whatever it is.
Corey parks his bike. He’s in a hurry to get inside but still stops to give you a big bear hug first. His chest heaves against you and you inhale his scent - musk, motor oil, and a hint of aftershave. Maybe a little more aftershave than usual today. Ugh, he's so cute. He pulls you inside, still catching his breath, while the delivery man goes back to the truck.
-
Inside, Corey puts down his backpack and kisses you hello. He tastes minty. It doesn't matter how many times you've kissed - His lips against yours give you a full-body rush. He smiles into your mouth as he kisses you again. He's even giddier than usual to see you.
You ask him how he is and he says, “uh, actually pretty thirsty, it was quite a ride.” He keeps looking toward the window. Is he trying to distract you? God, he’s adorable. It occurs to you this might be the first time he's had a real Valentine.
You go to the kitchen to grab him a chocolate milk and come back and sit on the couch with him. He thanks you. He opens the milk and chugs some. You hear the delivery man’s footsteps and Corey abruptly takes off his jacket. He knows how much you love to see his husky, muscular body emerge from a jacket. He takes off his sweater, too, leaving just a Henley. You run your hand over the bulge of his bicep and nuzzle your head into his neck then give him a peck just below his ear. He holds your hand.
You meant it when you said all you wanted was to spend time with him. You're relieved he didn't show up with a bouquet of flowers or a teddy bear, but what could he have possibly ordered from the hardware store? What's even stranger is that you got him something from the same exact store and that's not exactly a normal place to buy a Valentine. But there's no way you got each other the same thing - It wouldn't be possible.
The footsteps get louder outside and Corey tenses a little. You pull back and look toward the window innocently, curious what he might do to distract you. He takes your head in both hands, looks back and forth between your eyes, and his lips smash into yours uncharacteristically aggressively. His tongue breaches your mouth almost right away and his body pushes you down on the couch. Instant butterflies between your legs.
He tastes and feels amazing. You almost forget anyone is outside. When he finally breaks for air, you say "Corey?" and look at him in astonishment. He says "I'm just happy to see you," and a twitch against your thigh tells you it's true.
"I'm happy to see you too," you say and kiss him deeply again.
You hear more footsteps and the heavy slap of something hitting the ground. In a low, sexy voice, Corey suggests “wanna go upstairs?” You don’t hesitate at all.
-
You ascend the stairs in front of him and he follows close behind you. He slides his hand in between your thighs lightly, then at the top of the stairs, he slides his hand further and massages you between your legs from behind. When you turn around to face him, there’s something different in his eyes. This may have started as a diversion but he's definitely wanting you bad now. He kisses you again in the hall, while slowly walking you toward your room. The truck loudly starts and drives away, but he doesn't stop kissing you, feeling you.
Corey is so desperate for you that he doesn’t even notice the vibrator sitting on your nightstand in plain view. It's bright pink and probably about the size of his gorgeous nose, not that you've thought about that. You wish it was the same shape, too. When the doorbell rang early, you were, um, really not expecting it. The driver probably wondered why you were blushing.
On your bed, Corey latches onto your neck and lays his pelvis into yours. Oh, he's very happy to see you. You continue like this for a few minutes, and you're both just throbbing.
He isn't wearing a belt. You reach into his jeans and massage him through his briefs. He moans softly and there’s a rush of blood to your core. His massive hand comes between your legs and makes your zipper look small. He unbuttons and unzips you. You both take off your pants in a frenzy then he lays back into you again and you roll your hips against each other in rhythm. You take off his henley and he strips you down.
Oh, wow. He is SO fine. His pecs are pumped up, his arms are thick and veiny, his neck is so muscular. Your hands are all over him as you kiss and suck each other's face and neck.
After a few more minutes, it’s unbearably hot and heavy. You slip your hand inside his briefs and he moans again. God, when he moans, it just does something to you. Goosebumps prickle across your whole body and you’re dripping. You could probably come just from hearing him alone - his heavy breathing, his sighs, an occasional whimper, the way he says "fuck" when he'd about to come because he never wants it to end.
Corey reaches to your nightstand and opens the drawer. Before he reaches for a condom, he asks you if you want to do it. He does a double take at the vibrator and you see a small smirk creep onto his mouth, but he forces it away. You hesitate and for a moment because you have an idea. He looks confused and concerned. He comes back fully on the bed and cups your face with his hand.
"Sorry," he laughs. "I don't know what's gotten into me." Your hips rise to meet his and you wrap your legs around his ass, bringing your throbbing groins together again.
"I love it," you say and fluff his curls with your hand.
"Yeah?" He asks and smiles down at you as his head sways into your hand.
“Up for something new?” you ask.
“I’d do anything to make you feel good,” he breathes as his hard girth swells against you. You're aching to hear him feel good.
You take the vibrator from your nightstand. It's one of the small ones that can go in your underwear and it has a remote control but you don't have to use it.
"I was thinking about you earlier," you say saucily.
He smiles shyly and puts his glasses on the nightstand. "You don't have to say that," he says.
"Oh but I was," you say, running your free hand over his pecs. "Um, have you seen yourself? I mean surely you've felt yourself," you say as your hand trails down to his thigh then hooks around and cups an ass cheek on the way up his back.
"Do you trust me?" you ask.
"You know I do," he says. You reach down, place the vibrator in your underwear, and pick up the little remote control. You pull him back in against you, your legs wrapping around him needily. The vibrator is between you and his lower shaft. As you kiss, you turn it on the lowest setting. He jolts and gasps. He freezes for a moment, then kisses you again and his hips rock into you. He sighs and the vibration is pressed harder into you. Fuck. You want him inside you bad, but you want to see this through.
You wrap your arms around his hulking back and pull him in so his broad chest closer. His hands are all over you - slowly but firmly. He breathes so heavily. You roll your hips into him and he moans. This happens every time your bodies press into each other and it becomes rhythmic but no moan is exactly the same. Sometimes he winces with an "ahh," or mumbles "yeah" into your cheek.
He nibbles your neck, and as he switches to the other side of your neck, you lift your hips into him and his face looks almost in pain. You imagine you probably look the same - the tension in your core is unbearable. But you really want to come with him, not before him.
You reach between you and take the toy out of your underwear. You put down the remote and turn it off while you pull down his briefs and you both kick off your undies. Your bare, intimate skin meets, and even without the vibration, you both moan. You're both wet. You're both throbbing. He kisses your chest then takes a nipple in his mouth.
His chest meets yours. You hold the toy at the base of his balls and ask, "is this okay?"
He nods and you wait a second and he starts to say "yes," but he cuts himself off with a deep moan when you turn it back on. His nipples harden against you and you feel his whole body shiver. He grinds his rock-hard erection into you and you're starting to twitch. You know you won't be able to hold off much longer.
He's kissing you again when you increase the intensity and he shudders. You take it away, edging you both. He looks at you like no one has ever looked at you before. His pupils have overtaken his irises and his voice cracks as he says "God, you're hot" and you can't help but smile. He kisses you like he's hanging onto you for dear life.
You reach farther and press the vibrator harder against him, and he whimpers "oh god," panting, "don't you wanna, do you want-"
"No, we can fuck later-"
"-God, I want to fuck you so bad," he whimpers. You've never heard him say anything like wanting to "fuck you." It slipped out like he couldn't help it. It's so hot coming from him. Your core flutters with a desperate need for release. He whines your name. "I want you so bad." He's practically begging, but even his whining is low and gruff. "Please." He is begging. It hardens your nipples and your core is pinched so tight with tension.
"I want you too, baby" you say, grinding into him.
He drags his engorged member against you in just the right place and you roll your hips up into him.
You turn up the intensity and his face contorts more. He whimpers your name and nudges you, pleadingly, right at the entrance of where he wants to be. God, he feels so good.
His Hail Mary almost works, but you grab his shaft and bring it back against you where it was, massaging it with the vibrator. "Uuggh," he whines and puts his face in the crook of your neck. He sucks your neck so hard, then comes up and faces you.
As he pulls his head back to kiss you, a tear falls on your shoulder. His eyes are watery, his cheeks are hot and wet. It's so hot. You run your fingers through his curls. They're a little damp with sweat. You marvel at him as your bodies move in rhythm and vibrate together. He kisses your lips, his tongue desperately seeking yours.
"Fuck," he exhales gruffly, pinching his wet eyelashes together so tight, and that sends you.
You grab his hand tight in yours and dig your head into the pillow as you unravel. Your back arches and your stomach and hips jolt up into his. You feel him pulse against you. He groans and cries in sync with your climax, and you come even harder. His hot cum glazes your lower abdomen, and he stills himself against you. You continue to pulse against his cock as his balls empty onto you. You both come for what feels like at least a full minute before you turn it off.
He takes a few seconds to stop whimpering, while you enjoy aftershocks. You hold his head to your chest and stroke his hair. He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it.
"That was amazing," he says, still panting. He reaches over you to grab a tissue and clean you up.
"You were so hot," you gush. "You want to fuck me that bad, huh?" You tease him. He blushes.
"Yeah, sorry," he laughs shyly, even though you're always trying to bait him into talking dirty.
"No. That was really hot," you say as he nuzzles his curly head into the hollow of your neck. Honestly, it's even hotter than it slipped out in the heat of the moment rather than you prying it out of him.
-
Eventually, you get hungry. You both freshen up and go downstairs to make pizza - a very laid back date, indeed. The afterglow doesn't leave either of you as you knead the homemade dough. You both get covered in flour and take a polaroid to mark the occasion. You stick it to the fridge with a magnet.
Corey presses the pizza dough out into a heart. You look at it, then look at him. He's smiling shyly, concentrating on the dough. Your fingers under his chin turn his face toward you.
"I love you," you tell him for the first time. He does a double take. His face gets serious and he swallows.
"I love you too," he says. "So much." He smiles again and you laugh not to cry.
He gives you the lushest, longest closed mouth kiss and you embrace.
He says, "Like. Sometimes, I don't know how my heart can even hold this much love. I love you so much, it's like." He sniffles. "When you say you love me too, it's like." His eyes are teary. "I don't know, like my heart is overflowing my body. It's more than I knew I could feel." You wipe tears off his cheeks and kiss him again.
He's not going to ruin the moment, but you know from prior talks that part of him still feels unworthy. You just stroke his hair.
"I feel the same," you say.
He nuzzles his head into your neck and you stroke his hair. You're facing the fridge and see the polaroid has developed. In the photo, you both have a rosy glow. There's flour in his hair and on your face. You're looking at the camera, kind of. Poorly. You're smiling wide. His eyes are on you. The way he's looking at you in that photo is. . .God, it makes you even more sure of what you're giving him for Valentine's day.
He composes himself and kisses you again.
"Ok," you say. "I have something for you."
He jokingly scoffs since you already gave him a hard time about getting something for you.
"It was only a few dollars," you smile. "And I stole the dollars, so I technically didn't cheat," you joke.
You open a drawer and hand him a small brown box.
Corey lightly shakes the box from side to side, then hesitantly opens it. Before he looks, he touches it. As soon as his fingers hit it, his eyes tell you he's shocked and overwhelmed. He tries to swallow down the emotion but it's all over his face.
He says your name and you nod. His throat bobs as he swallows again. "Are you sure?" He asks.
"100%" you say. "I really, really want you here."
When he finally looks down at the box, he laughs. The house key is a rainbow unicorn print. You were hoping it would take the edge off. He's speechless and you don't make hi. Say anything. You just kiss and hug.
"Ok," he says. "My turn." He leads you by the hand toward the foyer and picks up his backpack. He takes out a simple paper sack and opens the door. It's gotten a little chillier as the sun has begun to set. Neither of you are wearing jackets,but you're okay.
You walk around the wraparound porch together. There are several bags of soil on the porch and some biodegradable planters. He hands you the paper bag. It has seed packets of your favorite flowers. You're speechless.
"Um, we'll have to start them inside," he says.
Now you're the one welling up with tears.
"It's too cold now, but when it's time, it comes with free installation," he grins.
Your brow furrows. There's a lump in your throat. You know he hates to see you cry. You try not to. You still haven't said anything.
"Like, I'll plant them in the ground when they're ready," he explains. You understand, you're just overwhelmed.
You blink and tears fall off your eyelashes. "You gave me a garden?"
He nods excitedly, then proudly adds, "Oh, and I didn't cheat. Since I've been doing the landscaping on the weekends, I earned a bunch of points, and . . . " He trails off as you cup his face.
He looks back and forth between your eyes. "It's just a garden," he says. He kisses you on the forehead. "You gave me a home." He wraps his big arms around you and rubs your arms.
You really love this man so much. "No, you gave me one," you say. "Right here in your arms."
Smut → Beefcake Action → Smut. You hook up with meowmeow!Corey AND dark!Corey
You have never seen anything hotter than Corey Cunningham’s hefty, imposing figure in a form-fitting jumpsuit, standing feet spread, collar erect, holding Michael’s mask against a beefy thigh. The jumpsuit accentuates the natural bulge of his crotch, too. His gaze is almost seductive, an effect enhanced by his wicked half-smirk.
This picks up where Corey from the Yard pt. 1 left off, but you can read it as a one-shot. @cordelium and @ethanhoewke ordered extra beef with this bloodbath.
18+ Explicit Sexual Content. Canon-Typical (and Canon) Violence
--------
You sleep hard and wake up disoriented. There’s a shape pressing into your thigh. It’s a familiar shape, but you can’t place it right away. Warm and firm. Organic. You know it’s a shape you like a lot but hadn’t felt in a very long time. It swells into you. You begin to throb between your legs.
Oh.
There’s a weight draped across your waist, and a soft and steady breath on your throat, and a head of curly hair in the hollow of your neck, and it’s all coming back to you. It's really been that long for you. You didn’t recognize the silhouette of a nice, hard cock.
Corey’s wood, clad in your own flannel PJs, feels even more solid than it looked last night. You still haven’t touched it or even seen him touch it. He came anyway.
You bring your nose to his hair and inhale his musk and your shampoo. There’s something about feeling your own clothes on his beefy body, smelling your own fragrance in his curls. It's sexy, and in a way, you feel like you're already becoming one with him.
You can still feel your nipples puckering against his hulkish back, and later, his face diving hungrily between your legs. You're getting wet. But then, rudely, the less pleasant details come back to you, and your heart breaks for him. He had such a rough night, you feel like you should let him sleep forever. He’ll wake up in a strange bed, in your PJs, with no phone, and likely a lot of physical pain. Emotional, too.
You pull your head back to admire him. The cut on his nose accentuates its perfect shape. If you had to custom order a pair of lips to please you, nothing you imagined could have come close. He's devastatingly hot. You wonder if you ever would have known the true extent of it if not for last night. You'd like to think it was only going to be a matter of time before you'd wake up one morning like this. Your thoughts return to the bath, then drying his hair.
You’re turned all the way on. You push your ass down into your bed as hard as you can, and your cunt clenches around nothing. He stirs and grinds himself into you, then blinks awake. His brow furrows and his body tenses. His long eyelashes squint. Then, he looks up at you. His lips barely move, but you see his eyes smile. His head gently but heavily lands on your shoulder and his chin reaches to softly bring his lips to your neck.
You should say something, you think. You should ask him how he's feeling. No, you decide, it can wait. Preserving this moment might be more valuable to both of you. It might be the only nice moment he has for the rest of the day or week. You want to make it your business to change that.
You stroke his curls and feel his cock pulse against you. He doesn't move his hips. Maybe he's shy. You turn onto your side, interlacing your fingers with the thick digits still draped across your waist. You push your ass into him, and he instantly pushes back with his warm, stiff manhood. Your core stirs with butterflies.
There he is.
Your underwear has ridden up, and you already feel a spot of wet, soft flannel against your bare skin. Your cunt rapidly moistens as desire floods your core. Your hand, still laced with his meaty fingers, moves your breast. He traces it lightly with his expansive palm, feeling your nipple harden against his calloused skin. He thrusts his arousal against you. His palm flattens your breast against your chest and his thick fingers gently press into your plush flesh.
Grinding his clothed arousal into your crack, his hips become rhythmic but slow, and he kisses the nape of your neck. You ache with a maddening desire to be filled by him. You want to tell him, but not out loud. You lightly trace your thumb down your side and bring your panties with it, lifting your top knee to slip one leg out, then the other. You feel the wetness of your panties against your inner thighs as you slide them off.
You push your soft, bare ass into him. His breath becomes ragged and his wood hardens even more under the flannel. He slowly grinds into you, massages your breasts wantingly, and raises his head to kiss and suck the side of your neck. You can't stand it anymore. You touch yourself.
His large hand lightly drags from your breast down your stomach. You slightly part your knees, making way for several meaty digits to disappear between your legs. His thick wrist brushes against yours as you withdraw your hand. You're so wet, you can feel your slick against your inner thighs.
You're both breathing heavily. His slick fingers gently rub you, a bit hesitant at first, then with dedication. Your hand reaches behind you and claws needily at his, your, flannel waistband. He abides and hastily pulls down the PJs. The hard velvet of his shaft and head hit the top of your crack, pointing up toward your back.
You want him elsewhere. You arch your back, tilting your hips so your cunt is more accessible from the back. His large, sculpted hand follows your cunt back between your legs. You briefly move your ass slightly away from him, releasing his hard cock forward so its head meets your wet, warm inner thighs. You push your ass back into his groin and his rock-hard member slides against your wet folds until the swollen head meets your sensitive bud, where two thick fingers are waiting.
You roll your hips to maximize contact between his cock and the apex of your folds as he thrusts against you, gradually harder and faster. His cock and fingers slide against you from both directions in an overwhelming, alternating pattern. You feel your climax coming and reach back to hold his curly head. He responds by softly biting your neck and planting a wet kiss. He shudders and his breath cools the saliva, sending a chill down your spine and hardening your nipples.
This is the hottest, wettest "dry" sex you've ever had. His hard cock sliding against your slickness feels better than you could have imagined. The pleasure in your core begins to flow into your entire body, then explode. With each burst of your climax, your ass juts into him hard.
His breath quickens and his cock flinches, then he begins to erupt against you, slowing his rhythm. Each emphatic pump sends hot cum between your legs, coating your inner thighs and folds as his cockhead slowly rubs it into every crevice.
"Sorry," he says. You hate that he would sell himself short after the orchestral performance you just experienced.
"Are you kidding?" You rotate so you can make eye contact. "That was incredible."
He flushes and smiles, averting his gaze then meeting yours again. Facing him, you hook your leg over his and pull his body closer. You search each other's eyes as you catch your breath. His massive hand caresses your back and he kisses you on the lips tenderly. You play with his hair.
Both of you quietly bask in the afterglow. You kiss him softly and sweetly on the cheek, then on the nose. He doesn't exactly smile a lot, but his eyes are filled with affection. He sighs and nuzzles his soft hair into your neck.
As you twirl his hair loosely around your fingers you ask, "How do you feel this morning?" He brings his head back to look at you. A thick, dark ringlet of hair hangs in the middle of his forehead and he searches your eyes.
"Perfect," he laughs silently and his Adam's apple moves. He kisses your neck sweetly.
“Mmm,” you smile. "All around?"
After a moment of silence you pull back to look him in the eyes again. Something has changed. He's pensive. "Yeah. . . I’m okay." He asks what time it is. You don't want to know. You don't want it to end.
But, it's after 9 a.m. and Corey is late for work. You don't have any pants to offer him, but he has his jumpsuit and a few things in his locker at Prevo. He just needs to borrow a dry shirt if possible for the walk across the scrapyard. His figure is so hulking that you really don’t have anything warm that would fit him, other than an ugly Christmas sweater that you wear as a dress with leggings. It’s an actual ugly sweater from a thrift store. Probably made in the 90s. Not an intentionally tacky one from Spencer’s.
He happily puts it on and tells you he can bring it back during lunch. You ask for his number, and he blushes and grins. You give him a long kiss goodbye.
-
You’re late to work too and have to skip lunch. You text Corey to let him know, and he responds “no worries. later 😘” Your heart flutters.
You know Prevo doesn’t close until 8 because you can hear the gate close from your bedroom when your window is open. These are some of the last days to enjoy the brisk weather before it turns bitter in Illinois. You meet a friend for dinner and crack your car windows on the way there. You’re almost late - The stoplight nearest to Prevo always takes forever.
You don’t tell your friend about Corey just yet. You know how it sounds. Hot exonerated killer sketchily shows up at your door at 3 AM with his face and clothes all fucked up and makes you come twice. Your mind keeps drifting to the band kids. You must protect Corey at all costs.
You make sure you leave in time to get home before Prevo closes. The light takes forever, and you keep looking at your clock. As you’re waiting for it to turn green, you notice a convertible full of obnoxious teenagers excitedly talking, then arguing about something.
You do a double take. One of them is wearing a band uniform and another is twirling a drumstick. Your heart jumps. You crack your window. The one in the uniform says, “D’UH not here, not when they’re fucking open. God, Margot.”
“Truth,” the one with the drumstick says. The light turns green. “Let’s blow out of here.”
You’re certain these are the kids who threw Corey off the bridge. Your breath is fast and heavy. You suck your upper lip under your bottom teeth and bite down as you think. You want to follow these losers and do something, but you don’t know what, and there are four of them.
You know it’s a bad idea, but your body takes over. Your body feels a lot of things for Corey, and one of them is protectiveness. You can’t stop yourself from following the band kids. They go to a diner full of people. You sit in the parking lot for a few minutes thinking about what you could possibly do, then you look at the clock. Shit.
When you get home, the sweater is laid neatly on the back of one of your plastic patio chairs. You check your phone and see a missed call. His text says. “Sorry, I’ve gotta run home. Thanks again.” Your heart drops. You almost feel like you’re going to cry.
Your response is irrational. You don’t know what you expected. Why does he have to run home, you wonder. You wonder if he’s going to ghost you. It couldn't be possible. He was so vulnerable with you last night, and this morning was so special. You couldn’t have been imagining it. You pray it’s not post-nut clarity.
You wonder if it’s one of those things where someone realizes they were too vulnerable and feel exposed and back off a bit, but they really just need a little more reassurance that you’re a safe person. You text him back “So sorry I missed you [frown][heartbreak]. See you in the yard tomorrow?”
Three dots hop on the chat screen and stop and start for what feels like five minutes but is probably less than one. He responds, “Yes, definitely.” No emoji, but you feel relieved. He adds, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” Your heart swells.
You ask how he’s feeling, and he claims he’s not even sore.
-
Later, you’re lying in bed in yoga pants and an old t-shirt scrolling Tumblr and hear some commotion coming from Prevo. They closed hours ago. This seems bad. You open your window and wrap your blanket tighter as the cool air rushes in. You hear teenage voices but can’t make out the words until you hear his name : “COOORRREEY. COOORREEEY!”
A pit forms in your stomach. You throw on a jacket and boots. It’s too cold to be wearing no bra, but you don’t have time. You try to slow your heart rate as you briskly exit your backyard through a hole in the Prevo fence. You can't. You jog past the rows of old, undriveable cars. There’s a heavy fog in the air.
As you approach the garage, you hear “Billy, get the car!” Followed by the loud clicking and clinking of a large chain unrolling.
In the floodlight you see the convertible from a distance. A skinny guy with a mullet, presumably Billy, is about to get in. Closer to the garage, a brawny shape stands still and watches. You would recognize that beef anywhere. You get butterflies. His thighs and bulked up ass, the way his strong core is framed by thick arms and shoulders, and that thick, strong neck.
That neck. There’s actually something off about his neck. As your eyes move upward, you notice the collar is fully upturned. That’s hot, but also, is his head longer? No curly hair? Is this seriously not Corey? How could two bodies this perfect possibly exist in Haddonfield?
“Corey?” you whisper. He doesn’t respond or face you at first. If he heard you, he seems to want to leave you out of it. He rotates just enough for you to see Michael Myers’s mask. What is going on? He turns and walks away from the light, toward the parked cars. The gait confirms it is in fact Corey, wearing Michael’s mask. You can’t help but admire the way his jumpsuit hugs him as he walks. He’s wound up. His back is hulking. He disappears into the shadows.
The kids bicker with each other. One of them is in the convertible and the others are waiting near the garage. Seemingly out of thin air, Corey approaches the convertible. You hurry to get a better view. Billy doesn’t see him coming. Corey's back muscles stretch his jumpsuit as he leans over Billy. His expansive palm comes behind Billy's head, and his other hand engulfs the kid's fist, which is holding a drumstick. With a swift burst of muscle, Corey makes Billy impale himself in the eyeball. His head droops onto the steering wheel.
“Billy, move the car!” the ringleader says. He waits for a moment, then jogs toward the car.
Your hand floats up to cover your mouth. Corey has disappeared back into the shadows. You turn around looking for him, and–you gasp–he’s right behind you, sturdy as ever, holding a shotgun. Your heart is in your throat. Michael’s mask is pulled up over his face. Dark curls peek out from his hairline. His muscular neck fills almost the entire breadth of the upturned collar.
“BILLY IS DEAD!” the ringleader says in the distance.
You don’t have any words for Corey. Or even thoughts, for that matter, beyond the incoherently impure ones simmering in your core. “Wait here,” he says in a low and husky voice, eyeing the Prevo tow truck. “They’re not getting out of here,” he declares under his breath. His biceps stretch his sleeves as he hands you the long gun.
You put the strap across your chest without hesitation and adjust to the unexpected weight of the shotgun. You watch him climb into the Prevo tow truck, and somehow your only thought is, damn, the cake on that man.
You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You just saw someone get murdered. You correct yourself: You just saw a shitty menace to society get taken out.
The ringleader bangs on the office door, then goes inside. Corey starts the truck and the headlights reveal two panicked girls. The brake lights illuminate you in red, and you walk out from behind it. Your heart is racing. You must protect Corey at all costs. It’s been less than 24 hours since he showed up at your door, and it already feels like you’re a part of him, and he’s a part of you.
“Hey! Hey, you!” One of the girls yells at you. “Help!!!! HELP US!” The tow truck starts moving and they both run for the fence.
The ringleader rushes past you, stumbling, heading for the truck with a long gun. “Come on,” he says. In his eyes, it’s everyone against Michael, as usual in Haddonfield. You follow behind him.
Corey plows the truck through the locked exit, then screeches to a halt, pinning one of the girls to the ground under the fencing. The other girl screams, “MARGOT!” Margot is stuck under a mess of broken chain link and barbed wire.
In the driver's seat, Corey’s massive hand obscures the front of Michael’s mask as he pulls it over his face ceremoniously. He steps down off the truck and his large boot crunches the gravel with a thud. He has a huge wrench that looks standard-sized in his enormous, masculine hand. My god, his knuckles. You hear metal slide against calloused skin as he lets gravity ready the weapon.
The girl who isn’t trapped says “Terry! Margot is stuck!”
Terry answers, “Stacey, NO! Behind you!” She starts to turn.
Behind Stacey, Corey flexes his sculpted forearm, and with little apparent effort, swings the weighty wrench, striking her across the face, knocking her out cold to the ground. When he crouches down, you hear another impact: the squish of skin and crack of bone. With Billy dead, Margot trapped, and Stacey unconscious at best, he starts walking around to your side of the truck to face Terry, the ringleader, the master of puppets. Corey's huge boots land heavily on the ground with every step.
He stops and stands in the headlights of the truck, looking at Terry and you. He removes Michael’s mask so Terry will know who did it. You have never seen anything hotter than Corey Cunningham’s hefty, imposing figure in a form-fitting jumpsuit, standing feet spread, collar erect, holding Michael’s mask against a beefy thigh. The jumpsuit accentuates the natural bulge of his crotch, too. His eyes sparkle in the headlights. His gaze is almost seductive, an effect enhanced by his wicked half-smirk. Arousal stirs angrily in your core. You’re twitching with want.
You’re not sure what Corey’s plan is. He’s not holding a weapon. That wild curl you love hangs in the middle of his forehead. You feel utterly feral with need for him. You stand behind Terry as he nervously raises his shotgun.
As soon as Terry aims at Corey, finger on the trigger, you raise your shotgun butt-down, to take him out with a blow to the temple. On his way to the ground, Terry pulls the trigger. You hear the bullet hit flesh and your heart drops. You look immediately at Corey. He isn't hurt, that’s all that matters. Under the truck, blood pools around Stacey.
You pound Terry again for good measure, then train the barrel on him as Corey walks toward you. Corey stops and looks at Margot. She screams and thrashes under the fence. “Stacey! Please!” She seems to think there’s hope for her friend.
“Nice work,” Corey says, checking you out. His deep, gruff voice has never sounded hotter. You could swear he’s aroused. You know the tone. You want to jump his bones. He adds, “I’ve got him. Go check Stacey.”
You jog around the end of the collapsed fence toward Stacey. As you round the corner, a ragged piece of wire scrapes against your quad, then somehow catches on your inner thigh, ripping the fabric of your foolish yoga pants. Your skin feels hot under the sharp metal, but you don’t stop until you reach Stacey. She’s dead beyond a shadow of a doubt. The night air is cold against your inner thigh, and you look down. Irregular drops of blood have begun to bead in a dotted line.
Corey puts the masks back on and steps onto the bed of the truck to grab a large canister with a hose. “All good,” you confirm. He adjusts the crotch of his jumpsuit and his weight drops from the truck to the ground, landing with a loud thud and crunch of gravel.
Under the truck, you see one of Terry’s arms stir, and you begin jogging back to Terry, holding the shotgun like you’re ready to shoot. Terry blinks awake to the barrel of your shotgun staring him right between the eyes. He coughs weakly. Corey arrives and meets Terry on the ground, setting the canister down with a clink.
Corey sits back on his haunches, and his jumpsuit tightens over his thick knees and quads. He spreads his knees and lands all his weight on Terry's stomach and upper thighs. Terry groans as the considerable weight digs into him.
Corey twists two squeaky knobs on the canister and the valve begins to hiss with gas. He holds the hose in one large hand, and the nozzle with another. He looks up at you and you watch the bulge in his jumpsuit move ever so slightly. He pulls the hose hard against his crotch. He leans into Terry and aims a tapered nozzle at his stupid face, readying his girthy fingers on the metal trigger handle. He tightens his strong fist around the metal trigger, setting Terry’s face ablaze. You watch the horror of Terry’s flaming face for a moment, unaffected. Your gaze quickly returns to Corey’s wide, sculpted hands holding the hose against his lap. You want those hands all over you.
Margot cries. Corey releases the trigger handle and drops the hose. His expansive hands brace himself on his knees as he stands up. You shamelessly watch his glutes flex and stretch the fabric of his jumpsuit. You have never felt this level of visceral, physical longing. You must have him as soon as possible.
Corey’s whole body pumps as he raises a giant, heavy boot above Margot’s face. He holds the boot in the air and you admire his bulging hamstrings. Margo yells through the fence that he’s just a psycho and Terry was right. He brings his boot down hard against the fence. The fencing cross-hatches the plush of her face like a waffle iron.
Corey looks at Margot. You hear him breathe. It's like he's thinking about what she said. Without a word, he walks back to the driver’s side of the truck and gets in. Your heart sinks. You can’t believe he’s leaving. Panic sets in.
“Corey, wait!” you plead. He floors the gas and you chase after him, “COREY!” You shrug off the jacket as you run.
The truck accelerates violently to run Margot over, then stops. A wave of relief washes over you as you catch up. You get it: I'll show you "psycho." You don’t care what he’s going to do, you want to do it with him.
-
Corey opens the truck door and your hand grabs the doorframe, stopping him in his tracks. He's still wearing Michael's mask and is about to get out of the extra large, worn leather seat. You take one huge step into the truck, and before Corey can stand, you’re straddling him, face to face with Michael's mask.
Looking into Corey’s darkened eyes, you feel like you’re in Michael's lap, too, which is hot. But Corey is who you desperately need right now. You reach into his stiff, upturned collar to caress his thick neck and lift the bottom rubber edge. Then, his large hand removes the mask by the face. He shakes his hair. Two wild curls bounce down, damp with sweat, and his eyes hungrily search your face. His masculine features glisten with humidity. His collar is still up.
"Hey," he says lowly. "Come here."
He pulls you close and your crotch meets the ample hardness of his jumpsuit. Both of you inhale deeply through the nose as your lips meet passionately and he drops the mask to feel you with both palms. The satisfaction of finally touching each other again is exceeded only by the desperation to be even closer. Your hips grind needily into Corey and his large hands find your thighs.
His thumb catches on the torn fabric of your pants and his face pulls back. He looks from your eyes to your thigh and back, scanning your whole form. You must be a vision. His thumb drags along your scrape, smearing what's left of the red beads. He takes it between his lips and sucks your blood off his calloused skin. Next, he reaches inside the hole of the fabric with both thumbs and rips it open across the crotch. Cool air hits your skin, but heat is building in your core.
With your wet mess of a cunt exposed, his large hands immediately pull you into him, and the girth of his jumpsuit swells against your clit. Your head falls back with a soft moan, and his lips and teeth latch onto your neck. You frantically unzip him. Even before the jumpsuit is fully open, your other hand reaches in to grab his stiff, swollen member.
When the zipper is down, he yanks your body closer, abruptly, like a reflex. He shudders as your wet, pleading cunt presses hard against his naked shaft. Your clit throbs and your hips buck all on their own. You put your hands around his neck, resting your arms on his plough-horse shoulders. His large hands move your body, rubbing your cunt against his cock. The motion of his wet, rock-hard shaft against your throbbing clit brings you to the brink of climax.
He lifts you up just slightly higher so the swollen, weeping head of his cock slides down from the apex of your folds. You tilt your hips to catch it with your cunt.
His cockhead is nestled against your entrance. You are so close to being complete. It's quite a stretch as it begins to part your folds.
You badly need him inside you, but you’re so close to coming that your cunt is too clenched to take all of him right away. You bob up and down in short pulses on the head of his cock, desperate to take more. His face looks pained, like you’re edging him. He can’t stop his hips from rising to meet you. You take more of his shaft with each pulse.
He tilts his head all the way back, jutting his slutty Adam’s apple into the air. He brings a large thumb to your throbbing clit and has you seeing stars within seconds. Your cunt clenches desperately around the fat head of his cock, and you come, sliding a little more down his cock between every pulsation, the intensity of the pleasure overriding any pain from the girth.
Your walls strangle his cock with every wave. He gasps, moans, and marvels at you with dark, glassy eyes as you finish and your body yields to him entirely. Finally his whole cock is inside you. Half a centimeter more in either direction would have been too much.
Your aftershocks squeeze his stiff member and he lightly rocks his hips into yours. His pupils have overtaken his irises. A large palm comes to your breast. Your nipples are rock hard against your worn out t-shirt.
He feels so good. You want him inside you forever. He seems to look at you like he wants that, too. He hungrily presses his lips into yours, followed by his tongue. His hands are all over you. He devours your mouth, then your neck, then your chest. Your faces come together again and you kiss ferally as the rhythm gradually accelerates and his cock thrusts harder into you. His arms wrap around you tightly.
“Fuck,” he says gruffly. He’s close. His body consumes yours desperately. His brows furrow. He sighs loudly and his cock pulsates. He pulls you down hard and you feel him erupt inside you as he moans your name.
“Fuck,” you gasp, “Corey,” you moan and start to come again. Another burst from him coats your walls. “Oh, god, Corey.” Your cunt clenches around his cock for dear life as it empties.
Your eyelids are heavy, and your body is in another dimension where it’s just you and Corey. You breathe and moan into each other’s mouths. It's overwhelming. You’re on the verge of tears as you both finish.
You rest your foreheads together and breathe.
“Come with me,” he pants, pulling his head back to look into your eyes. He's still inside you.
“Where,” you ask, even though the answer is yes regardless.
His eyes search yours. “Everywhere,” he says.
You nod. Your thumb brushes his sopping wet forehead and nudges that wild curl. It bounces back. He kisses you deeply.
After a long moment, you slide off him and his cock springs out, enrobed in a white frothy blend. Your pants are a wet, sticky mess. The crotch is totally destroyed. It’s pretty hot, but you're also glad your house is close.
“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he says, looking around and starting to zip himself up, but not all the way.
To be fair, you’re sitting in a murder weapon that’s parked on a crime scene.
-------
I don't tend to write condoms into grisly dick but please have safe sex.
i've just learnt about the existence of "coregasms" where you can cum from doing core exercises because of how it engages your pelvic muscles too.
so of course i immediately thought about our resident beefcake, corey💪💗 working out so hard that he cums in his pants. he doesn't even feel bad about it.
something to think about 👀😈
Oh God, yes. Corey is nothing if not unashamed to come in his pants. This is "peak" beefcake. 😏
COREGASM NSFW 18+
By the way, Corey wears eighties-style athletic shorts. Meaty thighs swelling out from under the contrast piping, farmer’s tan blazing, noticeable bulge, even flaccid. Caked-up AF. He used to work out at home in his briefs for so many years that he can’t bear the feeling of his legs covered up. He doesn’t like his muscles to feel restricted. He starts out wearing a t-shirt, but only until he soaks through it, then it comes right off. No sense in letting his nipples get chafed.
God help you if you see him working out. And if you catch a whiff of him, you're a goner.
He has so much pent up tension that he will pump iron until he can barely walk. And then he can finally relax.
So he racks up 100 kg and bench presses, stopping midway through to peel off his shirt. The expanse of his chest glistens every time he brings the bar down and sends it back up with a grunt. He does pull-ups until his broad shoulders and hulking back are shaking.
Then he moves to the floor to do core exercises.
He does a shit ton of situps, with his fingers lightly touching his drenched curly hair as his beastly upper body slingshots up to his knees over and over, making little rolls in his skin each time he folds at the hip. Sweat pours between his pecs.
He feels something building deep inside him, and he keeps going. He gets in a plank position, all that ass flexing on full display, triceps bulging and shaking. His abs are shaking, too. His pelvic muscles, already engaged, start compensating for his exhausted abs. A tingling warmth spreads through his whole lower body, and he's throbbing deep in his ass.
Corey shifts into a side plank and there's a tent in his shorts. The throbbing intensifies. His exhausted body is feeling so many things at once that he can hardly discern one sensation from another. So when his hard cock begins to twitch, it almost confuses him, but not enough to come down from his side plank. Certainly not enough to cover himself.
But then, the way his prostate explodes with such a rush into every inch of his body, he's flat on his back within seconds. His grunt echoes. His ass clenches and his hips shoot into the air as he comes harder than he's ever come before, writhing on the gym mat. The unfathomable load coats the inside of his shorts, and if they were cotton instead of mesh, a dark area would be spreading. Instead, his cum will probably trickle down between his thighs when he stands up.
He's in no hurry, though. When he's finally done, he just lies there catching his breath. Not hiding, not worried who might have seen. It doesn't even occur to him that if his shorts were sitting even a centimeter lower on his torso, the head of his cock might have slipped into his waistband. Cum could have gone all over his lower abs, making a sticky mess of his happy trail.
- - -
Amazing ask. Ty, Anon! ILYSM. SO honored 💞 .
The way my face lit up when I read this ask in the gym parking lot 🥹 then inside, I swear to god, a meathead was doing this absurd pelvic thrusting stretch, totally deadpan, bringing his elbows back each time! I accidentally made eye contact and fucking laughed.
I'm a little sorry if this answer was too ridiculous and obscene to be hot - I was dying when I re-read it, but you know, go big or go home. . . especially with our resident beefcake 💪💗
Bonus: these shorts are totally Corey's, ty @hersweetrevenge
Corey tag list: @ethanhoewke @kuromi2005 @rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires
Something for everyone! Pt. 1: Beefcake Corey pumps iron. Pt. 2: Corey & Michael kill Mulaney. Michael on Corey. Pt. 3: Michael fucks (Y/N). Corey can't contain himself.
Rock Bottom Index - All Chapters
If you don't want gifs, you might wanna read on AO3. Throw me kudos for being a slut while you're at it & subscribe to get the next chapter a lil early.
Outside (Y/N)’s house, Corey walks around to the backyard. He bends down to pick up his heavy wrench from the dying grass. The cold metal slides and clinks into place as he moves. He imagines what it would have been like to kill the sad sack if Michael hadn't gotten to him first.
He goes to collect his backpack and sees a shape in the woods. His heart skips a beat. It feels like Michael is close. The shape walks in the opposite direction.
Corey gets on his motorcycle. His huge hands make it look like a toy bike from certain angles. He cranks the gas with a twist of his thick wrist. It’s a cold ride, and his large knuckles turn red and white.
Instead of going home, he rides to the Allen family’s abandoned mansion. He keeps some things hidden there for whenever he needs to get away from Joan. He puts on clean underclothes and takes a nap before work.
His day goes by in a haze of want. His clothes are clean, but he can still feel the essence of Michael and (Y/N) enrobing his cock.
-
At work, he's distracted and lets the hood of a Buick slam on his masculine hand. It doesn’t hurt, but the shock of it makes him yell. Ronald is worried about him - he's barely been coming home lately.
Corey is assigned scrap duty for the rest of the day. He heads behind the shop to their secondary scrapyard with a clipboard. He trudges through a sea of cars, most of them with no tires, parked on white granite rocks that gleam and blind him and crunch under his boots. Hoods are open, doors are off. A lot of models are from the 90s or 00s but some are older. He updates the part inventory as he walks. It’s boring.
Corey prefers challenging manual labor to tedious paperwork. Being a mechanic lets him use his engineering knowledge and curiosity while getting to touch and explore and fix things. He’s very good with his hands, and his hands are made for the job.
Doing inventory is mind-numbing. He has too much pent up energy and has to pass the time. At the back of the scrapyard, there's a bumper leaning against a 90s Saturn. He puts his clipboard down on the seat of a picnic table in the shade and takes his sleeves off, tying them around his waist. His nipples say it's too cold for this, but he doesn't feel it.
He hauls the bumper on his sculpted shoulder with one massive hand bracing it. He mounts the table, ass-first and his thighs and groin press up into the fabric of his jumpsuit as he scoots back and stretches out into place. He lays back and rests the car part on his sturdy chest. He spreads his thick fingers to get a good grip, then bench presses it.
His stamina is impressive and it takes a minute to even feel the burn. It starts in his hard pecs and spreads to his thick arms. As the bumper grows heavier, he breathes harder, winces, and his feet start to move. His white undershirt rides up and he can feel the air on his lower abs and V. He pauses at the top to steady his arms and breathe, his cheeks puffing out with air. He does a few more reps and discards the bumper.
His biceps bulge out of his white sleeves. The sleeves have ridden up to show his paler skin. He takes a rest then grabs a tire. The veins in his hands pump.
He firmly plants his feet in the gravel and sticks his glutes out for proper form. He holds the tire in front, bracing it with his large hands on each side, his hard triceps flexing. His empty jumpsuit sleeves loosen around his hips as he squats, but the pants are held up by his ass. His quads burn as he digs his boots into ground for leverage and continues squatting.
From the shop, he hears, "Corey! Lunch is here!" He sets down the tire with a thud and lets it roll away. It comes to rest against a Ford Bronco.
Corey pulls on his sleeves and goes to the office. He devours a footlong meatball sub, holding it with both hands, bracing his elbows on the break room table, his forearms flexing, mouth full, jaw and Adam's Apple moving with each bite.
He spends the rest of his break in the garage. He sits with his big legs spread, an elbow braced against his knee and curls a heavy tool box with just three fingers because the handle isn't big enough. He squints with every bulge of his bicep as he pumps, until he realizes his glasses are fogged and his armpits are damp all the way down the sides of his jumpsuit.
After lunch, at the back of the scrapyard, he does lunges, holding a tire. He lunge-walks down a row of cars, turns the corner and comes back through another row. His jumpsuit strains at the seat each time he comes down. He keeps going until he feels his lower back sticking to his jumpsuit with cold sweat, potentially drawing attention to his prominent glutes.
His face is hot. His curls are damp and matted to his forehead. A bead of sweat rolls down his thick, tan neck. He catches his breath and picks up the clipboard again.
-
After work, Corey goes home and instantly regrets it. A few days ago when he didn't come home, Joan was beside herself. This time, she's unhinged. Her northern accent intensifies into a monologue that doesn't end until Corey leaves.
"Who's been taking advantage of my baby boy?! Who?! I can smell her on you, Corey. She doesn't love you! You know none of them care about you, Corey. You're handsome. You're sensitive. They should be so lucky. Your mother loves you, Corey! Come home to your mother! What's happening to my baby boy?!"
His deep, gruff voice interrupts her painful whine. "I'M FINE, MA," is all he says.
"OH MY GOD, COREY, YOUR NECK!"
Corey opens the fridge.
"OH, COREY, I'm so sorry. Let me go buy you some chocolate milk! I’ll be right back, you stay right here." She grabs her wallet and nods to herself like that’s going to fix everything. Then she remembers, "Oh, you know what? Do you want some custard? There's some custard in the fridge!" She puts her arms on his hulking back and arms.
So now boys who keep secrets get custard. Too little too late. “No thanks, Ma.” She grabs her keys off the wall, distressed.
Corey goes upstairs to wash. He plugs the drain and turns on the water. He looks in the mirror as the bath fills. His jumpsuit hugs his broad shoulders and chest. He peels it off, followed by his soaked undershirt. His muscles are still pumped up. His neck is still red from Michael choking him.
His large fingers graze the marks on his neck. It turns him on, but he's saving himself, and he can't relax with Joan like this. (Y/N) hadn't even mentioned his neck. She must have known. His eyes well up as her essence fades away in the bath. Being inside her felt like being sucked by an angel. They’ve barely explored each other. The things they could do.
When Corey pulls the plug to drain the bath, Joan yells right outside the door, "COREY?! Are you alright?!"
“I’M FINE, MA,” he says again. He changes into jeans and a button-up shirt. The stairs rumble as he lets his weight carry him down.
"I've gotta go, Ma." Joan grabs him and forcefully kisses him on the lips as he leaves. It's like she's afraid it's the last time she'll see him. Maybe it will be, he thinks.
-
Corey picks Allyson up on his motorcycle. Her small arms wrap around his ample torso. Part of him would rather feel Michael’s bulky arms, just to know what it’s like to feel small.
Corey didn’t have a dad growing up. By the time Joan met Ronald, Corey was becoming a man. It was all handshakes and pats on the back, an occasional brief hug if he needed one. He’s never known the true embrace of a man’s strong arms.
Being close to Allyson reminds Corey of what he likes so much about her. She has the energy of someone who has lived through hell. She's experienced Michael Myers in spree killer mode. It's clear she came away changed in some way. She must have a dark streak, Corey knows it. He just has to tease it out. The tinder is there. He just needs to light the match.
Allyson's arms feel good around him. He wants to have her as his own, but he also wants to feel understood. It’s not possible for Allyson to understand him the way (Y/N) does. The way he thinks Michael might. If Corey can tempt Allyson onto the dark path, she’ll understand. Then he can have it both ways - someone of his own, and someone who understands.
He longs to bring Allyson over, but the notion also feels dangerous for Michael, and therefore Corey, thanks to Laurie Strode. Laurie is Michael's most dangerous predator.
-
At the diner, Corey pretends to study the menu, but he always gets a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake. What he's really doing is weighing his options with Allyson.
Aside from the threat of Laurie, monogamy is Corey's other point of hesitation. He assumes Allyson would expect it. A few days ago, he would have expected it. He would have embraced it, loved it. It was his natural inclination. But now, he doesn't know if he can help himself.
It's not just Michael that he wants to stay open to. The idea of not being with (Y/N) again is physically painful. He's thinking about her more than he expected. Corey still wants Michael to own him – if that's what it takes. But Corey loves pussy, too. Why can't he have it all?
Corey wasn’t like this before, or if he was, he didn’t realize it. He certainly didn’t act on it. This uninhibited appetite all started with Michael's hands around his neck.
When Corey first met (Y/N) in 2019, that was almost a year after the botched transfer from Smith’s Grove, so she already knew Michael. Michael already knew her. For all Corey knows, she was a choir girl before Michael let her survive.
Corey decides he'll give Allyson a tour of the dark path, and whether she stays on it is up to her. He starts by baring his soul as they eat. He shares enough of his darkness to intrigue her and be truly vulnerable. His dark eyes fill with genuine tears.
He devours his burger, grease dripping down both of his strong, sculpted hands. He listens to Allyson, and she seems to feel the same. He sinks his teeth into the despair that underpins her story. Haddonfield has chewed them up and spit them out. As he slurps the last of his chocolate milkshake, things seem to be coming together.
They each have their own reasons, but it seems like he and Allyson want the same thing, in principle: to burn it all down. Destroy the town that destroyed them. She may not realize what this looks like to Corey, but it’ll come with time. He’ll make a bad girl out of her.
-
When Doug Mulaney tries to start some shit at the diner, Corey knows what he has to do, but he’s tempted to take him on man-to-man right there.
Corey’s always been equipped to handle himself, but there was a terrible irony. Before the accident, he never really needed to defend himself. Afterwards, he did, but he couldn’t risk appearing aggressive or even capable of harm.
Post-accident, he would cower all the time, and when he got bullied or roughed up, he’d take it like a punching bag. He was afraid of hurting anyone. It would feel bad and also be the talk of the town. Things would get even worse for him.
Physically though, he was always more than capable. God gave him a sturdy frame, and on top of that, he works out.
For as long as he can remember, he's been starting his morning with push-ups just to feel the burn in his pecs, then he flips over and brings his fingers to his curly hair and does crunches.
He has a pull-up bar on his bedroom door. He can watch an entire episode of the Regular Show while doing pull-ups and chin-ups. He doesn’t even keep count.
He likes to feel his shoulders and triceps harden; his biceps and forearms bulge. He bends his knees and crosses his ankles behind himself to fit in the door frame. Then, for a different burn in his ample thighs, he brings his legs in front.
He spends his downtime working out, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's doing it. It feels good and it's an escape.
Doug Mulaney, on the other hand, looks like he probably sits in his patrol car all day. While Mulaney is eating donuts and writing tickets, Corey spends his work day lifting heavy objects and using industrial sized tools. His hands and arms are so powerful that he can lift a tire overhand, palm-down, like a tote bag. Doug needs a gun to protect himself. Pussy.
Corey could absolutely take Doug Mulaney one-on-one, but he has to resist. He’s been looking for prey to bring Michael, and he found it.
He drops Allyson off at home. They share a steamy kiss that makes Corey hard. She’s obviously keen to get him into bed, but Corey is too focused. Another dose of the warm and fuzzy hormones will help bring her over where she needs to be, but not right now.
Ch 4 Part 2
Mulaney makes it too easy by tailing Corey on his way home. It will take no effort at all to bait him into the lair. At the very least, Corey will get to watch Michael even closer. If Corey is really lucky, maybe he'll get the (Y/N) treatment - pinned to the wall by Michael's most precious weapon.
Corey is still trying to wrap his head around Michael as a sexual entity. If the kill is what turns him on, Corey needs to be the closest person in vicinity when he kills. He parks his bike under the overpass.
Corey baits Mulaney through the encampment and toward the drain and visualizes what the kill will be like. He reflects on Michael’s last kill - the one he witnessed - and realizes Michael never even stabbed the guy. It was boss the way he strangled him with the floor lamp, but when he finished him off from arm’s length with a single slash, Michael almost looked bored.
Watching Michael kill was exhilarating, but watching him really come to life and stab someone, blood splattering on Corey’s neck – the thought of it hardens him more. With Corey bringing the prey, surely Michael will let him participate in the kill.
Mulaney follows Corey through the sewer, into the cavern, searching with his flashlight and taunting Corey out loud. The bright light lands on devious Corey.
Michael emerges from the shadows but doesn’t pounce. He looks feeble, almost confused, like Corey is interrupting his nap. Or maybe, he's letting Corey take the lead.
Corey has never felt so alive as he prepares to slash with Michael. He weakens and disorients Mulaney, incurring only a bloody nose and mouth in the process. He’s tempted to go all-in, but it's Michael’s turn. Michael moves slowly. Corey can’t wait to see him work.
Michael’s shrunken posture makes Corey look even larger. He urges, "Get up, get up, GET UP!" Michael pulls a rusted knife from the wall and Corey's body tingles with anticipation from his nipples to his groin. "Show me how," he says. "I need you to show me!" There are so many things he wants Michael to show him.
Michael swings. Mulaney stumbles back against Corey's broad chest. They fall to the ground, Mulaney’s weight spread across Corey’s sturdy body. Michael lunges toward them. Corey curls his big arms under Mulaney's, which are thin in comparison. He braces for impact, breathing heavily as he watches the Shape’s every move.
Michael wields the old rusted knife like a dagger. He raises the blade then plunges it into Mulaney's chest. Corey feels the tense body relax into dead weight in his arms. Corey breathes heavily and rapidly, spellbound. He doesn't take his eyes off Michael as the blood drains from their prey. Michael yanks out the knife, splattering blood across Corey's face. His arousal swells.
Something comes over Michael. He tenses and adjusts his grip on the knife. The black holes of the mask seem to look into Corey like the first time they met. Corey understands.
He braces Mulaney against his chest, and Michael thrusts the blade into him again. And again. Corey's eyes follow the blade. He savors the vantage point of Michael shafting into him. It has the same energy as Michael’s final thrusts into (Y/N). Every time Michael plunges the blade into Mulaney, Corey's solar plexus shoots rays of pleasure into his whole body. He could not imagine a more erotic experience.
Michael takes one step back and slowly stands up straight. Corey lets go of Mulaney and the dead weight slumps to the ground. Corey's jeans tighten with desire. His ass tingles. His chest heaves and he wipes saliva and blood from the corners of his mouth as he watches Michael. Corey's cock is throbbing.
Michael rolls his shoulders back and seems to reach an even darker frequency. Corey's eyes gravitate to Michael's crotch, which appears to bulge, just as Corey expected. It's not just his crotch, though. His muscles appear to pump, too.
Michael's arms and shoulders flex and he begins to quiver with energy. The tired old man from moments ago is a distant memory. Corey takes in Michael's entire form. His sculpted arms are visible through his sleeves. The stabbing has reanimated his truest self.
Corey aches to be filled. There's a space deep in his core that can only be filled by Michael. He flattens his massive hand against his clothed erection and winces while he waits for Michael's next move. The base of his shaft contracts and a wave of pleasure blooms deep in his core. He's afraid he might come in his pants, but he's not ready.
The last time Corey was in the sewer, the mask penetrated his eyes. Michael injected something intangible and indescribable into him that day. Corey, who was on the verge of disappearing, was transformed instead. Now he’s dying for Michael to penetrate him deeper. Turn him darker, freer. He can almost feel it happening.
Michael turns his head slightly. The fingers of his free hand twitch. Corey tries not to take his eyes off Michael as he begins to unfasten his own belt, thrusting into his own wide wrist as he does it. He's so hard.
Michael steps closer. His breath is loud behind the mask. He raises the knife. Corey reflexively scrambles to his feet and backs away until his back is flat against the wall. His unbuttoned jeans are held up only by the excruciating swell in his briefs. Michael raises the knife to Corey's sculpted throat and closes the distance between them.
Michael presses the side of the cold metal blade against Corey's thick neck, from his Adam's Apple to his jaw. It’s angled upward, with Michael’s large, leathered hand near Corey’s ear. The blade follows the hickey-like bruises from Michael's fingers. Michael takes a final step, and his foot is between Corey's feet.
Michael's sturdy thigh presses into Corey’s rock-hard, pulsating arousal. Corey can't help but thrust against him. Michael presses the knife harder against Corey’s throat, making him cough.
Corey feels something move against the bottom right edge of his abs. He's overcome with arousal to realize it’s Michael's cock, straining the leg of his jumpsuit, spanning from Corey’s lower abs to his thigh. It's thick and hard, like a warm lead pipe. Corey thrusts his aching bulge into Michael's thigh and Michael further presses the blade.
Corey feels a sharp pang of pleasure in his taint. He dares to grind his hip into Michael's engorged length, but Michael presses his own hip swiftly and firmly against Corey so he can no longer move. Corey is aching for relief. If he hadn't come so much in the past day or so, he's certain the sight of Michael's bulging jumpsuit would have made him come already.
Michael shows no signs of wanting his own release. Maybe it’s true what she said, that Michael loves pussy, but that doesn’t mean anything, because so does Corey. And what’s more, here’s Michael pressing an enormous erection into Corey’s body.
Corey tries again to press his body into Michael’s arousal. He wants to feel its warmth, feel it move. Michael’s hardness grows and his body stiffens further. Corey tilts his pelvis in a few small pulses to create friction and stimulate himself. His pre-cum soaks through Michael's jumpsuit.
A car horn blares outside. Michael looks down and away then relaxes the knife slightly, but keeps it against Corey’s skin. With the knife relaxed, Corey gasps and catches his breath.
Michael steps back, separating his jumpsuit from Corey's jeans and observes the wet spots on both of them. Then Michael looks away slightly. Something is distracting him. He sniffs the air.
-
Dread sets in. What was Corey thinking? Michael let him live and was letting him get close. He trusted Corey, and Corey betrayed him. He must know it. Michael growls almost imperceptibly, as though in agreement, and steps back into him.
Corey feels the blade of the knife rotate and dig in beneath his jaw. Michael could kill him with the flick of his wrist, but he holds it steady. Then, the sharp blade begins to drag slowly, very slowly, but lightly, along Corey's jaw. Corey feels a hot, thin line of blood separate into multiple narrow streams and stream down his neck. This is real.
Corey pleads "no, no, no, not yet" and grinds into Michael’s hard-on as though to show what he can offer. He wants to become one with Michael before he dies.
Michael pauses.
A knock on the drain pipe echoes through the cavern. Michael jerks the blade, slicing Corey's neck as he flings the knife across the cave. Blood oozes out of the slit. It's more than a trickle but doesn't gush. It missed the jugular.
(Y/N)’s voice echoes through the drain pipe. “Are you in there?”
Michael releases him. Without looking back, Michael walks with a purposeful, upright stride to the drainage pipe, then drops to his knees and gets in. It’s the first time he’s seen Michael on his knees, which does something to him. Michael’s lumberjack body fills the drain more than Corey’s, despite Corey’s broad, muscular stature.
Corey suddenly feels cold and unclothed without Michael against him. He listens to the echo of huge, heavy knees on the metal as Michael exits the drain.
Ch 4 Part 3
Rather than follow Michael out of the drain, Corey quickly fastens his belt and tiptoes across the cavern. He hides in a crevasse. Water plinks down from the ceiling. His hard-on is still raging. He’s so high on the kill that he wonders if he’s dead. He can’t believe how well this night has gone, even with blood running down his neck.
Corey killed with Michael. He awakened a higher energy in Michael. It’s nothing compared to the transformation Michael gave Corey, but returning the favor to some small degree makes Corey feel even closer to Michael. Michael not only choked him tonight, but sliced him. Then, astoundingly, pressed his warm, lethal cock against his body.
Corey was lucky. Michael may not have sensed his betrayal after all. The sense of relief dissuades him from pressing his luck any further tonight. He shouldn’t have gotten greedy. He can always see if things escalate next time. Before things go south, he needs to leave.
-
Corey can’t exit through the main pipe or he might run into them. He doesn’t know what (Y/N) would do or say. He’s almost more afraid of her reaction than Michael’s. If she can’t play it cool, Michael will know.
Corey surveys the dark cave for any sign of another exit and makes his way down the main hall, pressing his wrist against his zipper against his aching want. He considers stopping to jerk off but doesn’t.
He walks quietly but briskly to the end of the cave. He approaches the area with Mulaney on the ground. It looks like a dead end, but once he’s all the way at the wall, a very faint, dusty beam of light catches his eye to the right. He goes through the crevasse with the soft blue light, and sees that it’s a grate up above, not an exit.
Moonlight shines down through the squares above, illuminating a round room. There’s a fire pit and a huge, iron spit in the middle. Bones are stacked up around the edge of the room. It’s like a catacomb. Many of them look old, almost dry, but a few look fresh with bits of tendon clinging onto them. Corey walks around the perimeter. There’s a bone saw against the rock wall and a tin of matchbooks.
He approaches the middle of the room. The fire pit is round and made of smooth, pale stones. The spit has scraps of burned meat stuck to it. Corey steps closer. It smells like barbecue. He looks down into the fire pit. Those aren’t rocks, they’re human skulls. The blood drains from Corey’s face. His heart races and he stumbles backwards but catches himself. This is Michael’s Ossuary and Grill.
Thumping and dragging noises begin to echo from the drain pipe. The thumps are irregular. A faint light begins to bounce around the cave. Corey scrambles to find somewhere to hide as the thumps get louder. He finds a nook between the ossuary and another room in the cavern. He can still see into the ossuary. He hopes the ossuary can’t see into him. The echoing thumps stop.
The artificial light brightens. Footsteps start, and the light moves in rhythm with the steps. There are two sets of footsteps. She asks, “Should I call it in?” Silence. Footsteps. Her voice is getting closer. “Okay. Hey, it’s okay. I just wish I knew who killed Nelson.” The vagabond, Corey realizes. He’s lying dead with a flashlight right outside the tent. That was part of his trap for Mulaney.
The lighter footsteps stop. “Wait, there’s already someone here,” she says. Corey’s heart races and he holds his breath. He can’t see them. He doesn’t know how she knows. Maybe she heard him breathing. Shoes scuff the ground and there’s a rustling sound.
“DOUG MULANEY? Jesus Christ, Michael.” Michael never stops walking. “I don’t even know what to say.” Corey exhales. The lighter footsteps quicken to catch up. "Did he find you?" They're very close.
Corey can see two shapes enter the ossuary, the huge one carrying another figure over its shoulder. Michael's breath is audible. There's a rustling and a loud thump. Duct tape rips off loudly, echoing through the cavern. Corey tries not to look, lest their light catch the reflection of his eyes. The light turns off.
He hears the snap of a match and the wind of a flame. A whoosh followed by crackling. The ossuary is gradually illuminated with a warm, flickering, orange light. It’s quiet for a minute. Too quiet for Corey to move. The warmth of the fire barely reaches Corey but is welcome. The room starts to smell like barbecue.
***
(Y/N) is sitting on the ground against the wall, catching her breath. Out of view, there’s a drag of metal on rock, probably the bone saw. She groans in disgust. "Yeah, think you’ve got this,” she says. “I should get going.”
The saw clatters to the ground. Heavy footsteps cross the room. Michael bends down and grabs her by the throat, then drops to his knees in front of her. He still towers over her, even with his knees spread over her legs. He doesn’t pick her up. Instead, he uses his other hand to jerk her toward him. With the hand around her throat, he forces her back onto the ground.
She chokes as he drags her closer, by the throat. Her torso comes to a stop between Michael’s knees. She manages to sit up on her elbows. She reaches out hesitantly, like she’s trying to catch a wild animal. Michael lets her touch his chest. His grip loosens and she gasps for air.
He sits back on his gargantuan haunches, which puts his clothed erection against her yoga pants. She gasps and looks straight ahead. The blood drains from her face. She reaches for his crotch as if her eyes deceive her. She runs her hand down the fabric, feeling his entire length. It must be the size of her forearm.
“Holy shit,” she says. Corey wonders if he's responsible for Michael's enhanced arousal. Blood rushes to his groin.
Michael cages her to the ground and yanks down her yoga pants. She looks apprehensive. She reaches for Michael’s chest. His hand snatches hers and brings it just below his upturned collar.
He slowly pulls down his zipper with her little hand. Corey's heart races. She tries to stop it but is no match for his strength. He grabs the sides of his upturned collar and thrusts his massive chest forward. The collar and jumpsuit fall back and a more precise silhouette of his back and arms emerge. He lets the long sleeves hang to his sides.
The firelight isn’t great, and the angle isn’t perfect, but from what Corey can see, Michael wears a dark, almost too-small t-shirt. His muscles are utterly unreasonable. His arms are the size of her thighs.
Corey looks around frantically but doesn’t find a better view. He desperately wants to see everything, but this is also his best chance to escape.
Michael's expansive back and empty sleeves obstruct the view of his crotch, but his back in itself is a vision, even under the dark t-shirt. He yanks the rest of her pants off and nudges her legs open with a giant knee, making space for himself.
Finally, Corey catches a glimpse of that monster cock. It’s commanding. Michael lowers himself over her before he can see it in more detail. She moans at the feeling of his naked girth hard against her. She rolls her hips. She must be so wet. But as Michael begins to position himself for entry, she begs, “please," she squirms, "it’s too much.”
Corey reaches for his pants and palms himself desperately with his massive hand. He shifts slightly toward the exit of his nook just in time to see her back arch as Michael shoves himself into her. She groans loudly and his enormous hand grabs her throat. His hulking muscles move gracefully under his shirt as he begins to fuck her. Corey can’t pull himself away.
Michael pushes slowly at first, like he’s letting her accommodate his even larger-than-usual size. She cries and paws at his chest. Every thrust is so powerful. Her legs are spread wide with her knees up. Michael never takes off his mask.
Her face hotly twists in pain. He persists. With time, her cries turn into soft moans and occasional gasps. She reaches up to his chest as she stares into the mask holes. His large hand swallows hers. They’re both sweating by the fireside as Michael's hips powerfully meet hers again and again.
Corey tries to ground himself. If he has any hope of moving things forward, he must make it out of this cave tonight. He backs away slowly. His arousal aches terribly, but he can’t indulge it, not right now. He needs his wits about him.
Michael just barely grunts, and it stops Corey in his tracks. It’s the hottest sound he never thought he’d hear. He steps back to where he was. He has to watch, come what may. He makes himself a deal. He can stay a few minutes if he doesn’t touch himself. Corey wants Michael, but he also wants to be Michael inside of her.
Michael grabs her hips and pulls her into him harder. Her feet come into the air and wrap loosely around him. Her legs are so small against Michael’s body. His rhythm quickens and he leans down closer.
Michael’s arms glisten and bulge out of his short sleeves. His strong forearms slide under her. With an emphatic thrust, he pulls her against him and scoops her up. He sits back on his haunches and holds her tight against himself. He grips her by the waist with her legs draped over his hips and continues to pound into her cunt.
He moves her rhythmically against his lap, jamming her down around his cock every time he thrusts. Her feet stick out behind him and bounce in the air each time she comes down on his shaft. She gasps throatily. Michael’s hands dwarf her. She looks like a doll getting bounced around. Michael breathes heavily and wraps his arms tighter.
Corey wants to fuck her like that. He also wants Michael to wrap his arms around him like that. He feels pre-cum seeping into his jeans. His cock twitches desperately.
Michael moves his hands to her ass and she hangs on around his broad neck, her arms grazing the bottom of his mask. He pulls back his speed, fucking her slower but with just as much power and pipe. After a minute, he slides his hands up her sides to her armpits. His thumbs cross her nipples, palms engulfing her breasts. He brings her down hard on his cock and Michael Myers audibly moans.
It’s too much for Corey. He brings his wrist down to his pants, unsure if he’s trying to stop it or get it over with. At the slightest friction, his cock empties itself in dramatic pulses. It feels like it happens in slow motion. A small gasp escapes his mouth.
She looks in Corey’s direction and her eyes widen just as he steps out of view. Michael keeps fucking her, unaware. Corey's heart pounds. His briefs feel full and warm.
-
It’s a challenge for Corey to move quietly. He's a big, burly guy. Every step he takes is heavy. He tries his best to silently slink toward the drain pipe. Sounds of animalistic fucking echoing through the cavern, masking his footsteps.
He hears breathing. Groaning. Rubber soles squeaking against wet rock. Fabric scraping the ground. She wails, he grunts.
Corey reaches the pipe and gently crawls into it. He goes very slowly, one big knee at a time, his large, filthy hands spread out in front of him. His knuckles are white. Moonlight is visible ahead. In the distance, behind him, he hears a whine, a choke, a slap, and a scream.
Then, he hears traffic from the overpass and feels cool, fresh air against his face. Just a little further and he steps out of the tunnel and collects himself. He uses his massive palms to brush off his knees. He jogs out of view of the drain. He sees the red truck, and has the passing urge to get inside and wait for (Y/N). But after such a close call, he's committed to not sabotaging himself, at least for now. She'll be sore anyway.
i beg of you; corey's rampage, but with added sexy emphasis on the Size and the Beef 🥹
Edit: Here's the full post.
Yes. YES.
I love this, so naturally, I am sandwiching it in smut. I will post it this week but here's a preview. Also shoutout to @ethanhoewke for a similar request involving Reader. I will tag both of you when I post it.
Behind Stacey, Corey flexes his sculpted forearm, and with little apparent effort, swings the weighty wrench, striking her across the face, knocking her out cold to the ground. He hits her again and you hear the squish of skin and crack of bone. With Billy dead, Margot trapped, and Stacey unconscious at best, he starts walking around to your side of the truck to face Terry, the ringleader, the master of puppets. Corey's boots land heavily on the ground with every step.
Corey stops and stands in the headlights of the truck, looking at Terry and you. He removes Michael’s mask so Terry will know who did it. You have never seen anything hotter than Corey Cunningham’s hefty, imposing figure in a form-fitting jumpsuit, standing feet spread, collar erect, holding Michael's mask against a beefy thigh. The jumpsuit accentuates the natural bulge of his crotch, too. His eyes sparkle in the headlights. His gaze is almost seductive, an effect enhanced by his devious half-smirk.
