Challenge
Masterlist
Characters: Cal McCarthy x F!Reader
Summary: When another avid pool player steps onto your turf and threatens to damage your hustle at your usual dive bar, you take matters into your own hands.
Word count: 3.2K
Warnings: NSFW - Implied age gap, vaginal sex, exhibitionism elements, public bathroom sex, praise, dirty talk, dilfy cowboy (damn you jdm)
A/N: Oh boy, it has been SO long since I have been able to finish writing anything, but for the first time in forever last night I returned to one my many unfinished oneshots and somehow managed to finish this one. I'm quite rusty so I do apologise in advance. 😭
Scanning the room for the third time in the last hour you look over the rowdy, mostly drunk patrons of the bar you'd been frequenting for the past month or so, idly tapping the side of your glass as your eyes settled on a particular man. You mostly came here to scope out poor, unsuspecting dudes who would confidently empty their wallets thinking there was no way in hell you could beat them in a game of pool, only for you to do exactly that without letting them shoot a single shot and then collect your prize money whilst your defeated opponent grumbled something under their breath. Rinse and repeat, though tonight seemed to be panning out a little differently. More often than not it was the same guys, a couple of regulars and the occasional newcomers that would let their arrogance get the best of them allowing you to clean them out before they even knew it, but it would seem you had some competition. Cal, as the people who murmured in disdain before handing him their money had called him, was gathering a couple of twenty dollar bills from the pool table to join the plenty of others he had already collected tonight, folding them and stuffing them into his pocket. He sets his pool cue down before picking up his cream cowboy hat from one of the adjacent pool tables, then places it on his head and fishes a pack of Marlboros from his pocket before heading to one of the doors that leads out back. You couldn't tell if it was the irritation that someone was trying to beat you at your own game on your stomping grounds, or if it was the fact that the bastard was handsome as hell too, but you needed to beat him.
Sliding off of the bar stool you'd made yourself comfortable on you adjusted the skirt of your dress that had hiked up a little from sitting down, then retrieved a pool cue and headed to the nearest available pool table, the one that your mystery man had just left. You didn't have to wait too long, Cal returning through the same door he had left from and immediately looking in the direction of the pool table he had just left, which he had also propped his cue up against. He notices you leaning up against it and locks eyes with you prompting you to give him the sweetest smile you can manage, beckoning him over with your hand. When he reaches you there's a grin playing on his lips, and you try not to let yourself be distracted by how much more appealing he is up close. He's wearing a black shirt that's unbuttoned just enough to expose some dark curls of chest hair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal some of the tattoos decorating his forearm, which sit prettily against some of the veins running up his arm too. His grey beard which mostly darkens above his top lip also didn't do you any favours when it came to focusing on the glorious win you were determined to secure. This guy was totally your type.
“Hope I didn't leave you waiting too long, darlin',” he drawls, the accent alone enough to sabotage your entire idea.
“Not at all, I was hoping you're up for a game of nine-ball. Say, fifty dollars to whoever wins?”
He playfully places his hand over his heart and exhales, “A woman after my own heart. You're on, I could never say no to some nine-ball.”
And you knew he couldn't either. In the time that you'd been observing the room, it was practically all he had played. He clearly had a preference for it and you'd need him to feel as though he had this in the bag. He rounds the table to where he'd left his cue and then chalks it whilst you rack the balls, lifting it and setting it aside afterwards. Cal positions his cue ball on the table and then passes you yours, both of you leaning down and then taking your shot to determine who goes first. Whether you got the first go or not didn't matter too much since you planned on letting him win this first game anyway. You needed him to feel confident in a rematch, to get him to a point where he felt as though he could double his winnings without so much as breaking a sweat. Yours was closest to the top rail meaning you got to start, so Cal removed his cue ball and set it aside.
“How long have you been playing for, Cal?” you ask as you lean down and position the cue, you couldn't deny that a part of you was curious about him.
“Oh, a good long while now, probably since before you were born,” he chuckles, which you pretend to find equally as funny. “How 'bout you?”
You take your shot before responding, pocketing the lowest ball.
“Four years give or take,” you reply as you move to a different side of the table and line up your shot, pocketing the second ball.
“That how long you've been playing in bars too?”
You look up at him as you try to calculate your angle, your hand resting on the surround of the pool table.
“Nope. I started in college, mostly playing at stupid frat parties. Eventually, it just wasn't challenging enough for me.”
He ran his hand over his beard as you spoke, the way his eyes were roaming over you as you leaned down to take your next shot making you feel hot all over, but you kept your composure. It was on your fifth shot that you decided it would be best to screw up, positioning the cue so that the ball would only just graze the pocket but ultimately roll back. Cal sucks his teeth as the ball rolls before coming to a stop, uncrossing his arms and making his way to your side. He places his hand on the small of your back and leans in close as if to comfort you, though the taunt that follows does anything but that.
“Well, ain't that just a damn shame. Bad luck, sweetheart.”
He softly patted where he was resting his hand a few times, and you were hoping he didn't hear the way your breath caught in your throat when he removed his hand and turned his attention back to the game. There was no denying that the man was skilled as he pocketed each remaining ball without missing a beat, maintaining eye contact with you as he leaned over and bit down on his bottom lip in concentration whilst lining up his final shot. When he'd cleared the table he straightened his back as an amused sound rumbled from his throat, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sauntered over to you expectantly.
“So, how 'bout that fifty dollars we agreed on, hon?” He reminds you proudly, the statement practically dripping with pride.
He may be one hell of a fine-looking man, but you still couldn't wait to crush him.
“Actually, I have a proposal,” you reply, the response catching Cal by surprise causing him to tilt his head.
“Go on.” He prompted, urging you to elaborate.
“I want a rematch, but this time we play for a hundred dollars.”
It was a no-brainer. Why not double your money by beating the cocky, young woman that doesn't know when to stop and can't even make it past the fifth ball?
“Are you sure? I mean you ain't half bad, but I don't want a pretty lady such as yourself goin' home empty-handed tonight. It ain't too late to cut your losses, doll,” he insists feigning concern, but there's an eagerness in his eyes that implies otherwise.
Great, not only did he pity you but now he was somehow simultaneously complimenting you and brandishing you with pet names all while stroking his ego. And yet, every little term of endearment he threw your way made it feel like the room was spinning, his eyes burning into you from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat leaving you flustered under his gaze.
“Why, too scared to put your money where your mouth is?” you taunt, knowing that would be more than enough to get him to agree to your deal.
He grins and swipes the chalk from the side of the pool table to freshen up his cue, “Oh you're on, a hundred dollars it is milady.”
After chalking up your cue as well you both position your respective balls and lean down to line up your shots, with you putting a lot more focus into it this time. You needed to go first. If you let Cal take the first shot the man would clean you out without giving you a single opportunity to play, hell you'd seen enough of that tonight to know that was exactly how it would go down. With everything riding on that very moment, you take your shots and watch to see whose cue ball ends up closer to the top rail, waiting with bated breath as they roll softly along the felt of the pool table. Yours was closest, meaning you got to take the first shot. You tried to hide your enthusiasm to not raise too much suspicion, but you were pleased that everything was going according to plan.
“Alright sweetheart, you're up.” Cal enthused, taking a seat on a nearby stool and resting the pool cue between his legs while holding it against his chest.
Cal watched closely as you pocketed every single ball flawlessly, not faltering once even when it came to the trickiest of shots. You would glance up to meet his eye now and again only to be met with the sight of him biting down on his bottom lip and a small smile playing on his lips, though his expression was hard to discern. You expected him to be irritated, and part of him probably was which was to be expected when you know you're about to be a hundred dollars down, but instead, he almost looked, impressed. When you pocketed the nine-ball you straightened your back and took slow steps towards Cal, the slightly staggered look on his face only making your victory that much more satisfying. He stands from the stool and chuckles a little in disbelief, a small sigh leaving his lips before he speaks.
“Even if you did play me for a damn fool I gotta give it to you. You sure as shit showed me,” he praises, taking one hand off the pool cue to outstretch it towards you gesturing for a handshake.
You reach out and shake his hand, desperately trying to ignore how nice the rough callouses on his hand felt against your palm and the way your fingertips grazed over the tattoos adorning his knuckles. It seemed the both of you let the handshake linger a little longer than it ought to, your eyes locking in an unwavering stare as though you were trying to read each other's thoughts. Just as you parted your lips to speak he broke the eye contact and started to fumble through his pocket, retrieving a wad of bills and counting out a hundred before passing it to you. You take it with a triumphant smile and shove it in your pocket, setting the cue on the table and crossing your arms over your chest as you turn back to face him.
“So since I won, do you mind if I make a suggestion?” you start, the drink you'd had at the bar earlier providing you some very needed liquid courage.
“Shoot,” Cal replied, his gaze filled with intrigue.
You stepped towards him, wanting to be close enough that nobody else in the bar would be able to hear the filth your mouth was about to spew. With your faces close together, his gaze appearing to flicker to your lips for a fleeting moment, you whispered.
“Why don't you take me into that bathroom, and you can prove to me that you don't suck at sex as much as you do at pool, hm?”
It was bold, but truth be told you were just speaking what had been on Cal's mind the entire time he watched you effortlessly clean that pool table. Honestly? Finding someone who could actually prove to be a challenge and beat him at his own game turned him on, it was invigorating. And he hadn't exactly shied away from checking out your ass whenever you had to bend over to take a shot from the side of the pool table he was sitting at either. Cal takes his cowboy hat off and sets it on the pool table, placing the free hand not holding his pool cue on your waist and leaning in to whisper into your ear, some of his beard scratching against the side of your face.
“Oh I will, and we'll see how cocky you are when I'm balls deep in that pretty little pussy of yours.” He discreetly pulled you against him as he rasped his dirty promise allowing you to feel the bulge pressing up against your groin, a small grunt escaping his throat as you pressed into his jeans providing him some friction.
“You talk a big game, but can you back it up?” you challenged, only hoping to rile him up even further.
His fingers curl around your wrist as he leads you towards the women’s bathroom, sparing a quick look around the bar to see if anyone would notice before he pushes the door open and leads you inside. Collectively, you scan the stalls for signs of any people and rush into the nearest available stall when it all looks to be clear, with Cal locking the door behind you both. The moment the click of the lock was heard he was on you, pinning your body against the wall of the stall and crashing his lips against yours. You work on unbuckling his belt as he slips his tongue into your mouth, the taste of the tobacco on his tongue and a hint of liquor only making you want him that much more. When his belt comes apart he doesn't hesitate in making quick work of the fly on his jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing the waistband down past his hips along with his boxers allowing his cock to spring free. The fabric pools at his ankles as he hikes your skirt up enough to reveal your panties, running a finger through your clothed slit and letting out a pleased hum at the way the material was clinging to your sopping cunt.
“All this just from a game of pool? I think you were made for me,” he remarked on how wet you were, the way his thumb briefly circled over your clit making you squirm a little.
Cal takes hold of your thighs and hastily lifts you causing your arms to instinctively wrap around his neck for support as he traps you between the stall and his own body. Letting one of your legs drop slightly he reaches down to dig his fingers into your panties and push the material aside, feeling a brief prod at your entrance until he lifts his hips, a sharp gasp escaping you as he sinks into your aching hole with ease. A drawn-out groan rumbles from his throat as you take him to the hilt, his breathing heavy as he starts to move in and out of you. He sets a fast, unforgiving pace, pounding into you so deeply that your hands scramble to grasp the top of the stall which was shaking with every thrust of his hips.
“Mm look at you, takin' my cock so good. This what you wanted, baby? Is this why you wanted to impress me?”
You bite down on your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the cries you were so desperate to release, trying to cling on to what was left of your dignity as he plunged into your cunt over and over until it felt like you were seeing stars, his fingers digging into your thighs with a bruising grip as he fucked into you. There was no hiding it now, if any poor person were to walk in they would see the walls of one of the stalls shaking so hard that you were convinced it was going to break. The needy, unbridled moans that you were struggling to suppress spilling from your mouth and reverberating throughout the bathroom. You feel that familiar sensation building as he mercilessly buries his cock inside you, his mouth smashing against yours and muffling your whimpers whilst his moans also bleed into the earnest kiss.
“Fuck me, you're so tight,” Cal growled out, punctuating his words with a few particularly hard thrusts.
Your legs quiver in his grasp, your whole body overcome with a rush of heat as you grip the top of the stall so hard you're sure your knuckles have turned white. With a shameless cry of his name your orgasm washes over you, all the while he relentlessly fucks you through your release in a desperate attempt to reach his own. It doesn't take long before Cal's hips stutter, removing himself from you and letting one of your legs drop so he can stroke himself as he spills onto your inner thigh with a raspy groan. As you both bask in the ecstasy of your release all you hear is the way your heavy breaths reverberate throughout the bathroom, and the wet rush of his load slowly trickling down your thigh. Trying to regain his composure Cal pulls his jeans back up and starts doing his belt up, his eyes lifting towards you as he does. The tired, but satisfied look on your face as you come down from your high makes his lips curve into a smile.
“Best pool game I ever lost,” he notes a tad breathless, the comment making you snort your laughter.
“Yeah? Well, get used to it, because that's not the last time you're gonna lose to me,” you retort as you reach for the toilet paper and start to clean yourself up.
“Are you challenging me, hon?” he replies amused, running his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Oh, you bet your ass I am.” You double down knowing you've already beaten him once and that you will surely do it again.
Cal places his hands on your hips after you've smoothed your skirt back down.
“Do I get to fuck you every time I lose? Because in that case, I might have to start losin’ more often,” he crudely quips making you roll your eyes and playfully hit his chest earning a chuckle from him.
“Hey, if that's what happens when you lose, imagine what could happen if you win,” you tease, a brazen lust filling his eyes as he mulls over your words.
He grabs your hand and unlocks the stall door, a newfound motivation to beat you at a game of pool even more so than he had before.
“Shit, let's go find out.”
