Local mechanic Curtis and the girl who always wanted him finally give in to the slow-burning tension.
Pairings: Curtis Young x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut, Oral Female Receiving, Oral M! Receiving, Loss of Virginity, Soft Curtis.
It always started the same, me knocking on the side door in my cutoffs and a bashful smile I wore when I asked for help with something I probably could’ve figured out myself. A loose bike chain or just a ride to the corner store because “Mom took the car again.”
Curtis was good. Steady. Older, with grease under his nails and this quiet way of noticing things. He didn’t look at me like I was just a girl — but I wanted him to.
Maybe it was the way he looked at me when I leaned on his workbench a little too casually. Or how I started showing up more, staying longer. Sitting in his garage while he worked on engines like I belonged there.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew he noticed me. The way his eyes lingered, then darted away like he was trying not to burn. The way he cleared his throat when I stretched just a little too obviously. But he never crossed a line. Not once. Not even when I wanted him to.
It was driving me insane.
They were old. Cut so high they barely covered anything. I’d worn them on purpose. Sat up on the counter in his garage, swinging my legs like it was nothing, like I didn’t see the way his jaw tightened when he turned back from the toolbox and caught sight of my thighs.
Curtis didn’t answer. Just gave me a look — the kind that made my stomach flip and my throat dry.
He washed his hands in a small metal sink.
“Want me to give you a ride home?”
“You offering,” I teased, “or telling me to get lost?”
That got a smile out of him. “I’m offering, darling.”
He called me that. Darling. Not sweetheart. Not baby. Something warmer. Older. Like I was his already, and he just hadn’t admitted it yet.
The cab was warm. Quiet. He tapped the wheel with one hand, the other resting loose on his thigh. I kept stealing glances at him — the veins in his arms, the way his curls stuck to his neck, the way his mouth looked when he was focusing on the road.
I didn’t think. I just leaned in.
Soft. Nervous. Lips parted but unsure.
Curtis didn’t move at first. His whole body went still. And then—
His hand found my waist, thumb pressing slow circles into the skin under my tee. The kiss deepened, pulled tighter. He tasted like spearmint and summer and something heavy, something starved.
His mouth broke from mine only to press kisses down my jaw, then my throat.
“You sure about this?” he asked, voice raw.
“Yes,” I breathed. “God, yes.”
His fingers slipped between my thighs, dragging up the seam of my shorts. I gasped — loud — hips jolting. My whole body buzzed.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Relax, darling.”
When his fingers slipped under the fabric and found me, I almost sobbed.
I shook my head, wild-eyed. “No, it’s just—I’ve never—”
I bit my lip, heart hammering.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Curtis swore under his breath. Pulled his hand back like I’d burned him.
“Christ,” he whispered, cupping my cheek. “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want you to stop.”
“I wouldn’t’ve,” he said. “But I would’ve been so much gentler. You deserve that.”
He brought me inside like something sacred. Closed the blinds. Sat me on the edge of his bed and knelt in front of me.
“Still want to?” he asked, voice low. “You say the word and I’ll stop. I don’t care how far we’ve gone. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”
I touched his face. “I want to. I want you.”
He kissed me like he meant it — slow, deep, achingly careful. His hands shook a little as he helped me out of my clothes, trailing his fingertips down my bare legs like he was memorizing me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
I blushed. “You really think so?”
Curtis smiled — soft and wrecked. “I know so, darling.”
He pushed me gently back on the bed, kissing his way down my body like a slow prayer. Hands strong but reverent as they slid my thighs apart. I was already soaked — wet and waiting for him.
He spread me gently with his thumbs and let his tongue flatten against my clit in one long, slow lick.
He chuckled into me. “You’re so fuckin’ sensitive, sweetheart.”
I moaned loud again — hands flying to his hair, tugging, and then down to his bare shoulders where my nails dug in deep.
He hissed, dragging his tongue in slow circles, then sucking my clit lightly.
“F-fuck—Curtis, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he murmured, voice low and hot. “You take it baby. Let me hear you.”
I was. Whining. Moaning. Hips bucking, thighs trembling around his head.
When he slid one thick finger inside me and curled it just right, I nearly screamed. My body arched clear off the bed and my nails raked across his back.
Curtis didn’t stop. He held me down gently, mouth locked on me until my legs were shaking violently.
When he finally pulled back, he looked wrecked — lips slick, hair messy, scratches down his back.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, voice rough. “You taste like heaven.”
Curled against his chest, I looked up at him — eyes still hazy, lips swollen from kissing.
“I want to… do something for you,” I whispered.
His brow furrowed. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I hesitated. “I’ve never, like… done it. But I want to learn. I want it to be with you.”
Curtis’s hand slid to my hair, threading through it gently.
“Alright, darling,” he said, voice low. “I’ll show you. I’ll go slow. You stop if it’s too much, yeah?”
He guided me gently between his legs, helped me wrap my hand around the base.
“Start with your tongue,” he murmured, breath already catching. “Just lick.”
I did — soft, shy kitten licks at first, then a little braver when he moaned.
“Just like that, fuck—you're a natural.”
When I finally took him into my mouth, lips tight around him, Curtis swore loud, his hand flying to my hair.
“Good girl. You feel so good. Hollow your cheeks—yes, just like that.”
I gagged slightly once and pulled back, blushing.
He reached for me, kissed my forehead. “You okay?”
I nodded, smiling. “I want to keep going.”
Curtis looked like he was dying. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
I took him back in, slower this time, and he couldn’t stop the noises he made — low, desperate groans, curses, soft praises over and over.
“Fuck, baby—darling—you look so pretty like this. All messy for me.”
After, he pulled me into his lap, kissing my hair, stroking my thighs.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered again, voice hoarse.
“Good,” I said, grinning into his neck. “I want to.”
Curtis leaned over me, kissing me again, slow and steady. My thighs were still trembling slightly, my lips swollen, body flushed with heat.
“You sure you’re ready?” he whispered against my mouth. His forehead pressed to mine, voice raw with restraint. “We can wait. I’ll wait as long as you want.”
I shook my head, pulling him back down. “I want you.” My voice was breathy, certain. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
He stared at me for a moment, like I was something fragile and holy. Then he kissed me again, deeper this time — with that quiet, aching desperation that made my heart race.
“Okay, darling,” he breathed. “I’ll go slow. So slow.”
He reached for the condom from his drawer — I watched as he rolled it on, my fingers brushing his stomach, nerves humming under my skin.
When he settled between my legs, he kissed my forehead first, then my cheeks, my nose, the corners of my mouth.
“You tell me if anything doesn’t feel good. I need you to promise.”
“I promise,” I whispered. “I trust you.”
Curtis lined himself up and eased in inch by inch.
My breath caught — not painful, just stretching, like my body was learning something new. My thighs tensed. I clutched at his arms.
He stilled immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Just… go slow.”
“You’re doing so good.” His voice cracked, low and reverent. “So fuckin’ tight."
He didn’t move until I whispered, “More.”
And even then, he rocked his hips just the slightest bit, his hand cupping the back of my head, mouth pressed to my shoulder.
I gasped, one arm thrown over his back, the other clinging to his bicep.
He moaned into my skin. “You feel like heaven, baby. Warm and wet and perfect.”
Every slow thrust made me cry out, not from pain — from the overwhelming fullness, the burn of it turning into something good.
My nails found his back again, digging deep when he hit that perfect spot, and he nearly lost it.
“God, that’s it. Right there?”
I nodded fast, mouth open in a moan. “Don’t stop—please—”
“You’re taking me so well,” he groaned. “Like you were made for me.”
The rhythm stayed slow — deep and dragging, his chest pressed tight to mine, our bodies flush and burning.
When my breath hitched again, he pulled back just enough to watch my face. “You gonna come for me?”
“I—I think so,” I whimpered. “I don’t know—”
He reached between us, thumb circling my clit gently, coaxing me there.
“That’s it. Let go for me. Let me feel you.”
And I did — body tensing, thighs clenching around him, a loud, helpless cry leaving my lips as my orgasm hit.
Curtis swore and followed me, hips stuttering, his whole body shaking as he came, head buried in my neck.
We stayed like that for a moment — still joined, still shaking — before he kissed me again.
“You okay?” he whispered.
I nodded, breathless. “Better than okay.”
He smiled, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. “You were perfect.”
He pulled out slowly, tied off the condom, and tossed it before pulling the blanket over us both.
Then he wrapped me up — arms snug around my waist, legs tangled, hand stroking gently down my spine.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered again, softer this time.
“I always was,” I whispered back.
