Nobody Does It Better
This is based off a request I received by @clumsycopy combined with some other requests for a dark!fic with Flip and Clyde. Only a week late for Bloody Sunday!
Read. The. Warnings. Dark warnings do not apply until after the fourth ***** break if you want a fun Flip/Clyde thing up to that point.
Nobody Does It Better
Flip Zimmerman x Reader
Clyde Logan x Reader
Word Count: 9.6k
Warnings: NSFW. Language. Smut. Violence. Gore. Murder. Main Character Death. Shameless 70′s Culture References. Dark!Fic.
AO3 Link
Autumn of 1977 was such a happening time to be alive. The heavy drama of the late 60s and early 70s were in the rear view mirror of your Firebird. Jaws made you jump, coke was like candy, personal computers emerged, women rock stars were showing the men how it was done.
Adding to the cultural mayhem, serial killers, it seemed, were all the rage. The Zodiac held California in a state of terror, while Ted Bundy stalked pretty young girls along the west coast, and the Son of Sam kept the City that Never Sleeps even more awake than usual. A violent slasher had also overrun the wilderness of Colorado in recent years, painting the purple mountains red with the blood of countless young women.
The past few months had even given rise to a serial killer in your own hometown. Right there in Boone County, slashing his way through a few unfortunate young women. Fitting perfectly with a local urban legend about a large dark man with a hook who stalked the backwoods dirt roads abducting and cutting lone woman apart.
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Barracuda blasted from the speakers of the radio you had cranked loud as you wiped down the bar top. You had just started working at Duck Tape for a few extra bucks, and, if you were being honest, for a few extra chances to flirt with the unfairly handsome owner and bartender, Clyde Logan.
You had arrived at work early, wanting to impress Clyde and to have some extra time with him. You danced and sang along with the radio as you cleaned and wiped tables, alone in the bar.
At least, you thought you were alone. Having no way of knowing that a man lurked in the shadow of the hallway leading to the back office of the bar.
Clyde leaned against the wall in the darkened hallway, watching you shake your ass in your little shorts and cowboy boots, grooving in time with the music. Watching you bend over the tables as you stretched across them to clean them off, watching the way your tits pressed against the wood.
He had never seen a woman as good lookin’ as you before. You didn’t have to be bent over a table for him to think so, either. Since the first moment you walked through the doors to his bar holding the ‘Help Wanted’ sign, smilin’ wide at him, he thought you were the prettiest damned woman he’d ever seen in real life. He sure liked lookin’ at that actress Rachel Welch, but he thought you were every bit as hot as she was. And you were right here. Right in his bar. Bent over his table.
Clyde wasn’t used to havin’ nice things, including nice woman. He couldn’t imagine that a woman who looked like you would ever give him a second glance. Although, he swore he saw you lookin’ at him when he was turned away, swore that when you smiled at him it was just a little wider and your eyes shone a little brighter. It was probably all in his head.
Sighing to himself, he pushed away from the wall and made a point of exaggerating his boot steps as he walked into the bar, announcing his presence to you.
He expected you to shoot upright with surprise from where you were bent over the table. Instead, you looked back at him over your shoulder as you arched your back to slowly lift yourself from the table. Fuck, if that didn’t make his cock twitch in his jeans.
“I wasn’t expectin’ ya in this early,” Clyde couldn’t keep the hoarseness from his voice.
“I wanted everything to look extra nice for the Friday crowd,” you smiled at him.
Clyde thought that you sure looked extra nice for the Friday crowd yourself. He’d never seen you lookin’ so good.
You were just about to ask him what else he needed help with when you heard Night Moves come on the radio. It was the newest hit from one of Clyde’s favorites, Bob Seger.
Raising an eyebrow at him with a smile, you held you hand out to him. “How about a dance, handsome?”
Clyde would have looked less shocked had you slapped him across the face.
Chewing his lip, he stepped forward as if in a daze and gently took your left hand in his right. Pausing in his motion, he looked at you shyly, as if wondering if you were already having second thoughts.
Smiling up at him, you reached to his left arm and pulled it behind your back. Trailing your hand from his forearm, you lingered on his bicep before bringing your hand to rest on his shoulder.
Clyde slowly started swaying with you, keeping a semblance of the beat. It was endearing how nervous he was and even his sweaty palm didn’t bother you.
“I’m sure you could find someone who’s sure a lot better at dancin’ than I am, Y/N,” Clyde huffed around a pouted lip.
“Don’t you know?” You let go of his hand to bring both your arms behind his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. “I don’t care how you dance. I just wanted an excuse to feel your arms around me.”
“I never would have thought that you...” Clyde’s voice trailed off as he dropped his head to brush his lips lightly along your temple, his arms meeting around your waist and tightening around you.
Finally relaxing against you, Clyde moved with you to the song as you hummed along with the tune.
Workin’ on our night moves.
When the song ended, he even took your hand from behind his neck and spun you around once as he smiled down at you. Twice as he playfully twirled you, almost too quickly, so that he could catch you against his chest when you lost your balance, both of you laughing.
Staring up at him, you waited for him to make his next move.
Clyde chewed even harder on his lower lip as he looked down at you. He had just begun to lower his shaggy head when the front door swung open to admit Earl, one of the regulars.
Clearing his throat, Clyde dropped his arms from you and stepped away like he had been caught doing something wrong. He looked back at you with a guilty expression as he moved to his place behind the bar.
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The Friday evening crowd was rowdier than usual. You were still getting used to dealing with the bar patrons in general, let alone when they were extra rambunctious.
Not only were the usuals more wound up than normal, but the bar was busier tonight than you had ever seen it. Packed with people you had never seen, you were scrambling between tables running drinks and appetizers to customers.
A gang of Hell’s Angels was traveling through and had taken up two tables near the bar. The way those men eyed you gave you goosebumps in all the most nauseating ways.
Standing at the bar waiting for Clyde to pour a round of tequila shots for the bikers, your eyes were drawn to the entrance doors as they swung open.
Watching him walk through the double doors, his large frame filling the space between them, smoke huffing from his nose and trailing over his shoulders as he walked, was even hotter than that first time Burt Reynolds stepped onto the silver screen in your favorite movie, Smokey and the Bandit. But, this man was much much larger, his chest where it peeked through the open top buttons of his flannel much broader, and he was even more handsome than the Bandit himself.
His presence filled the entire room as he paused to survey the bar. His gaze landed on you, unabashedly admiring your figure top to bottom and back.
As he walked to the bar, keeping you firmly in his sights, your thighs tensed involuntarily just from watching his gait. You could tell just from seeing him move that this man knew how to make a woman feel good.
A bottle slammed a little too roughly on the counter as Clyde set the tequila bottle down, intentionally drawing your attention back to the shots he had finished pouring. The pout he fixed upon you turned to a glower as he turned to look at the large man approaching the bar.
Undaunted, the man walked to you both. Walking up so close behind you that you could feel the heat radiating off his huge body, he slammed a large hand on the bar top beside you.
“Jack on the rocks,” he ordered, his deep voice rumbling through you.
Removing his hand from the bar and himself from behind you, he moved to take a seat at the far end of the bar. Back facing the wall, he appraised the crowd and the bartender as he took a deep drag from his cigarette.
As you served the shots to the bikers, you were quick to dodge a sweaty hand that made a grab for your ass. Turning back to the bar, you saw Clyde looming over the bar, one metal hand and one flesh hand planted on the surface, as if he was ready to jump over it and charge the table of bikers. The handsome stranger looked at the table aggressively too, a thick stream of smoke exhaled from his prominent nose.
When you returned to the bar in front of Clyde, he was still leaning over it.
“Ya alright, darlin?” He asked you over the whiskey he had poured and immediately forgotten.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” you winked at him before grabbing the whiskey on the rocks and walking it to the man in plaid at the end of the bar.
Leaning back on the barstool, one long leg steadying himself on the ground, he watched you approach with a steady gaze and a half smile.
“Thank you, miss,” he almost purred in his deep smooth voice.
“Y/N,” you finished his sentence as you sat his drink down in front of his absurdly large hand.
“Flip,” he blew a puff of smoke above your head. “It’s surely a pleasure, Y/N.”
It was almost hypnotic the way he looked at you, unblinking, with eyes that matched the Jack Daniels he swirled in his glass.
You canted your hip just a little more than usual as you leaned against the bar. You couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities between this man and Clyde. They had to be almost exactly the same height and breadth. Clyde was thicker, meatier, with longer hair and a softer countenance. But, Flip had something about him that you couldn’t place. He was older, more confident, but there was something else too. An edge. A dangerousness. It made you shiver with excitement.
“Are you from out of town?” You asked, hoping your voice sounded sultry. “We don’t get many people passing through here.”
“What gave me away?” He teased with a sly smile. There was no shyness or trepidation in this man. “I’m from Colorado Springs. Here on business, you might say.”
“Colorado? I’ve always wanted to see the mountains,” you noticed Flip’s smile grew more genuine at your words.
“You askin’ me for a ride?” His thick index finger circled the rim of his glass. “Through the mountains, I mean.”
“I don’t know. It seems awfully dangerous there now. Unless I had a big strong man looking out for me,” you lilted. “I’ve heard about the serial killer in Colorado Springs. All those murders.”
“I heard somethin’ about those myself,” Flip smirked at you. “In fact, I also heard that y’all have had a similar problem down here the last few months.”
“I guess that maybe I need a big strong man looking out for me here too then,” you smiled coyly at him.
“Hmmm,” something like a purr rumbled through his chest as he inhaled a drag on his cigarette. “What time do you get off tonight? Maybe you could use a big strong man to make sure you get home alright.”
Smiling up at Flip through your eyelashes, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth shoot through your abdomen at the thought.
A glass being thrown too roughly into sink behind the bar drew your attention. You were met with a sideways scowl from Clyde. But it wasn’t directed at you. Clyde was chewing his lip as he glared sideways at Flip.
“He your man?” Flip asked around another drag, eyeing Clyde in his own askance regard.
“No,” you said, returning your eyes to Flip. “I guess I’m just behind on tables.”
Flip’s eyes followed you when you left his company to deliver another round of shots to the bikers.
As you stretched across the table to distribute the shots, the man in front of you shoved a dollar bill toward your chest as a joke. Recoiling, you leveled a healthy slap across his ugly laughing face.
The man and the entire table seemed to freeze. The drunkest man laughed at his friend, the rest sneered at you.
“You little bitch,” snarled the biker you’d slapped, as he stood from the table. A huge burly man, stumbling in his drunkenness.
You looked to Clyde, looming behind the bar. Your eyes implored him to help when they met his, but it was unnecessary. He was instantly in action, rushing to get out from behind the bar to come to your aide.
Before he had reached the end of the bar, you jolted at the feeling of a strong hand at your back, guiding you away. A sigh of relief washed over you when you turned to see Flip’s handsome face turned in an ominous glare at the other man.
“Let’s have a dance, sugar,” Flip’s voice boomed, as he stared the biker down for several long seconds. When the man took no further action, Flip led you away from them and out into the middle of the floor with him. His demeanor brokered no argument from any of the other men.
Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams played through the bar as Flip moved in front of you, his hand at your back traveled to your waist and he took your hand in his. Flip pressed his body close to yours as he danced with you.
He moved confidently and powerfully, his movements too deft for a man his size. The way he held on to you firmly but not forcibly, the power you could feel in his body, the way his hips moved, and the way his chest expanded with his breath, had your pulse racing from much more than exertion.
This close, you could feel the heat from him and inhale the scent of him. His presence surrounded you as his body moved against yours.
You could barely see over Flip’s shoulder, but when you caught a glance of Clyde, you saw him staring at you as he poured an over-full shot. Clyde slammed the shot back himself, his long hair falling wildly around his face when he returned the glass to the bar top.
Flip shot you out to twirl you swiftly, pulling you back to his chest. You couldn’t be sure if your head spun more from the rush of the spin or the rush of being in Flip’s powerful arms.
“I like how you feel in my arms, sugar,” Flip’s voice resounded through you when he lowered his head next to your ear.
You felt Flip tense against you when one of the bikers tapped him roughly on the shoulder.
“‘Bout time for you to share that little tease with the rest of us?” He asked around a mouthful of Copenhagen.
“Bout time for you to back the fuck off, buddy,” Flip’s voice was deep and foreboding. “She doesn’t want anything to do with you, and you damn sure don’t want anything to do with me.”
Flip kept swaying with you, keeping you close to him. He watched the other man like a hawk, his jaw clenching when two more of the drunken bikers came to stand beside their friend.
Dropping his voice for your ears only, Flip instructed you, “I’m gonna walk you back to the bar. You get behind it if there’s a problem.”
Clyde saw the trouble festering too. He walked from behind the bar to stand near to where Flip danced with you and near the three bikers. His concern was for you alone.
“Bar’s closin’ early,” Clyde’s drawling voice commanded.
At Clyde’s words, several other bikers stood from the tables. They had no intention of leaving.
Clyde’s hand clenched into a fist and Flip’s jaw tensed as they each appraised the situation.
Flip still held you, moving slowly with you as he watched the other men. Three men edged close to you and Flip. Too close. Two men loomed behind Clyde. Several other men stood by their table.
Flip looked down at you, smiling wickedly. “I’m gonna spin you a little better this time, sugar.”
The three bikers were now within arm’s reach of you and Flip. Turning quickly toward Clyde, Flip shoved you forcibly into Clyde’s arms.
As soon as you left his arms, Flip slammed a right hook into one of the biker’s jaw, snapping the man’s head to the side.
You crashed into Clyde’s chest, his good arm wrapping immediately around you. The two men behind Clyde rushed toward his back. Clyde reversed his metal arm into the first man. The metal slammed into the side of his head in a splatter of arching blood with the force of a major league bat, the force knocking him sideways into his compatriot, both men falling to the floor.
The biker that Flip hooked in the jaw stumbled to the floor, holding his bleeding mouth. Without missing a stride, Flip blocked an oncoming punch from another man while landing a left straight punch solidly into the man’s nose. Flip’s right fist followed immediately, knocking the man unconscious on his feet.
The third biker lunged at Flip while another rose from the table, rushing Clyde. Releasing you, Clyde turned to face the table, blocking you with his body.
Watching Flip and Clyde tear into the other men was like nothing you had seen. They were both huge, powerful, and highly skilled. Clyde was looming and forceful where Flip was agile and viscous. It was like watching a bear and a wolf tear apart lumbering cattle.
As the biker rushed Clyde, he drove his right fist into the oncoming man’s solar plexus, doubling him over. Clyde’s metal left hand followed, slamming down in between the man’s shoulder blades and dropping him in a heap to the floor.
On the other side of you, Flip reached both his huge hands to grab the collar of the third biker’s leather vest as the biker rushed at Flip. Using the biker’s own momentum, Flip helped him right along. Flip yanked the man to him, slamming his forehead down into the biker’s nose. You watched as the man’s nose exploded like a water balloon hitting pavement when Flip head butted him. The biker dropped to his knees groaning.
Flip looked like a feral menacing animal. His hair wild, blood splattered across his face and fists, teeth bared in a snarl, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Clyde’s gaze was deadly as he watched the remaining men, his own glare deep and aggressive.
In the span of only a few seconds Flip and Clyde had each put three men down for the count. All six of whom were on the ground, writhing and groaning in varied stated of bloodied consciousness.
Four bikers remained. All had stood from their seats, chairs tipped over behind them.
Clyde was closer to the men. He squared his shoulders and fixed them with a scowl. Flip walked next to Clyde, his chest expanded impossibly wide, shaking the other mens’ blood from his fists. Flip’s glare was murderous as he eyed the other men.
“Do I even need to ask if you punks are feelin’ lucky?” Flip growled around clenched teeth. “Or are you just gonna back the fuck off nice and easy.”
The four men exchanged looks before the only smart one in the bunch raised his hands in supplication. “No, man. No more trouble. Just let us get our friends outta here.”
“Ya’ll can pick up some a’ this mess ya caused while you’re at it,” Clyde boomed at the men.
You walked to stand between Clyde and Flip, looking them both up and down for injuries.
“Are you guys alright,” you asked, placing a hand one each of their arms, looking between them.
“I’m fine, darlin,’” Clyde spoke softly to you as he still eyed the other men.
“Just gettin’ warmed up, sugar,” Flip smirked at you. “Come have a drink with me for last call.”
Flip returned his hand to your back, encouraging you to follow him back to the bar.
Clyde loomed over the group of bikers, making sure the starch was taken all the way out of them and that no one wanted any more trouble.
Flip leaned against the bar, watching you as you poured three whiskeys, one for each of you. You dampened a clean washcloth and returned to Flip with your two drinks and the cloth.
Taking a sip of his whiskey, Flip eyed you hungrily as you stood close to him and took a drink yourself. The whiskey pleasantly burned your throat on its way down, making you grimace but bringing a smile to Flip’s mouth.
Nobody Does It Better by Carly Simon came on the radio as you both savored your drinks.
Nobody does it half as good as you.
Setting your glass down, you reached to grab one of his large hands. Holding it in one hand, you wiped the blood away with the cloth held in your other. Flip continued to smile at you as he drank his whiskey, watching you clean his hand.
Baby, you’re the best.
“That’s my song playin,’” Flip cocked an eyebrow at you.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Carly Simon fan,” you teased him.
And nobody does it better.
“I’m not. But the lyrics are all me,” the way Flip grinned at you brought a flush to your cheeks.
“You think so, huh?” You still held his now clean hand in yours.
“Will you give me a chance to show you firsthand?” He stroked his thumb along your hand. “I’ll show you that nobody does it better than I do.”
“What’s ‘it,’ Flip?” You asked coyly.
“Whatever you want it to be, gorgeous,” Flip took another swig.
Smiling at him broadly, you reached for his other hand to clean the blood from it too.
“Let me take you out tomorrow,” Flip’s voice softened. “Dinner. We can see that new movie everyone’s goin’ on about. Star Wars.”
“I like the sound of that, Flip,” you brought his now clean hand to your lips, placing a light kiss on his knuckles.
“Glad to hear it, sugar,” Flip winked at you.
The bikers had just finished carrying each other out of the bar when Clyde turned to look toward you and Flip. His scowl seemed even deeper now
Slamming the rest of his drink, Flip slapped some bills down on the bar and took his exit.
You walked with Flip out to his truck, one of his large arms slung across your shoulders, holding you close to him.
Pausing at the driver’s door, Flip used the arm on your shoulders to pull you around in front of him. His arm dropped from your shoulders to slide down, following your curves attentively, to rest on your hip. Lifting his other hand to your face, he dragged a thick finger softly along the line of your jaw, tilting your face upward.
Smirking down at you, Flip lowered his head to kiss you. Your hands flew to fist in the material of his shirt when his lips met yours. Even whiskey and smoke tasted good on his tongue when he licked into your mouth. His grip on your hip tightened as he kissed you, his lips and tongue moving expertly against yours.
You had never been turned on so quickly by a kiss in your life. In moments, you were pressing your body against his and moaning against his lips while wetness soaked into your panties.
Just as your hands were raising to loop around his neck, Flip pulled his lips away from yours, straightening his back and smiling down at you.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, sugar,” he told you with a satisfied smile.
“I can’t wait,” you smiled back and smacked his chest in playful offense that he broke your kiss.
When Flip climbed into his truck, he gave you a final wink before closing the door and pulling away.
Clyde didn’t say a word to you when you walked back into the bar.
Grabbing a rag, you began wiping down the bar top as Clyde washed glasses in the sink.
“Hell of a night, huh?” You smiled across the bar at Clyde.
He huffed through his nose but he didn’t respond to you.
“You were really something, you know,” you said softly.
Clyde looked sharply over to you at your words.
“You seemed a lot more impressed by that other fella,” Clyde said sourly, returning his eyes to his task. “I’m sure he’ll show ya a real nice time tomorrow.”
“I was impressed with both of you,” you moved closer to Clyde as you wiped the bar. “He was the just the one who asked me out.”
“What do ya mean by that,” he leveled his gaze at you.
“I’ve been here right under your nose, Clyde,” you leaned towards him. “Do something about it if you want to.”
Looking down at the ground for a second, Clyde swallowed thickly, but this time he overcame any shyness. He walked to the bar opposite of you and placed both his meaty hand and his prosthetic on the bar top on either side of you where you leaned against it.
Leaning down toward you, closing the distance between your faces to mere inches, his voice was beautifully deep when he spoke to you.
“In that case, how about you let me take ya out tonight,” Clyde’s voice sent goosebumps up your spine. “Let me show ya good time.”
“I’d love that, Clyde,” you beamed up at him.
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By the time you cleaned up and Clyde closed the bar down, everything else was already closed too. There weren’t any options for him to actually take you out. But, you assured him that didn’t matter to you.
Instead, Clyde had driven you into the woods, down a winding dirt road through the mountains and out to a beautiful moonlit clearing. He had a nice car, fun to ride in. A brand new Trans Am hot rod. He had talked and laughed with you on the drive, seemingly his shyness melting away with each mile.
Even when he parked, the two of you sat in his car just talking to each other over some beers for what seemed like hours. Clyde’s hand found its way onto your thigh, warm and strong, when he squeezed.
Now, the cool air chilled you as you once again danced with Clyde.
This time, it was outside under the canopy of the forest. The heat from his huge body flowed into you, making you press yourself even closer to him.
This time, his shyness had worn off and he held you tight against him as he moved with you to the music. I Heard It In A Love Song played through the speakers of the open doors of his Trans Am.
Tilting your head to look up at him, you found him gazing back at you. Backlit by the starry sky, his features looked even more handsome than you had ever seen them. Maybe it was because of the way he was looking at you now, like you were the only woman he’d ever seen.
“I’d sure like to kiss ya, darlin’” he said quietly.
A shiver of excitement ran through your body as you lifted your hands from where they rested on Clyde’s broad shoulders to wrap around his neck. Pulling gently, you encouraged him to lean down to meet your lips.
Clyde’s kiss embodied everything you thought of him. Gentle, soft, generous with the pleasure he gave you as his full lips kissed you.
Working their way up his thick neck, your hands found their way into his long luscious hair. When you twisted into it roughly, Clyde’s grip on you tightened until it was nearly bruising as he pulled you against him.
Deepening his kiss until you were both gasping for breath, you felt his hand travel under your shirt. He ran his warm palm along the skin of your back. Gentlemanly as always, he only smoothed his hand across your spine.
The feeling of his hand along your bare skin was electric. It made you want so much more.
Drawing back from him just enough to earn a pout on his flushed lips, you smiled at him before peeling your shirt over your head and tossing it onto the hood of his car.
Clyde looked at you like he had never seen anything so beautiful. The desire and awe on his face spurred you on. Reaching behind you, you unhooked your bra and threw it away to join your shirt.
“Oh, you’re just perfect, darlin,’” Clyde purred. “The prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
The cool air peaked your nipples instantly, and he couldn’t resist bringing his hand to one as he leaned down to capture the other in his mouth. You couldn’t decide if his hot soft tongue on one nipple felt better or his calloused palm on the other. The combination of sensations going straight to your pussy.
You backed toward his car, Clyde following. When you reached the hood, you grabbed the hem of his tshirt to tug it off over his head, further tousling his hair. Your breath hitched at the sight of his wonderful, enormous chest.
Running your hands over his chest, you grabbed his shoulders as you leaned back onto the hood. The engine running warmed the metal under your back. Clyde hooked his arm under your back to hoist you up the hood further before planting his left forearm and prosthetic beside you to hover close above you, lowering his mouth to kiss along your collarbone.
Clyde’s hand ran over the front of your shorts, skimming over your pussy to toy with the button.
“Want me to take these off for ya, honey?” Clyde’s voice has husky as he kissed and licked along your throat.
“Please,” you moaned. “I want you so bad.”
Wasting no time, Clyde popped the button on your shorts and yanked them off along with your panties in one quick motion.
A low growl thrummed through his chest at the sight of you.
“Fuck, darlin’ look how wet ya are for me,” he huffed. “Let me help ya out with that.”
Clyde dropped his head, bringing his mouth to your pussy. He made out with your pussy just as passionately as he had your lips earlier. His hair fell wildly around his face and your stomach, jostling with his movements. A pleasured groan vibrated against you, adding to the sensation.
Your hand returned to his luxurious hair as you sighed, “I want your cock, Clyde. Make me cum on your cock.”
Still teasing your clit with his tongue, Clyde unzipped his own jeans and pushed them down his muscular thighs.
When he lifted his face from your pussy, he lifted both of your legs to place your feet over his shoulders. As he crawled back up your body to line his cock up with your entrance you could see just how magnificent it was.
Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his giant cock pushing slowly into you, the feeling of your pussy being stretched more than you thought you could take, filled to brim with his cock.
The angle he chose let him fill you completely. Your knees were almost pressed to your chest when Clyde settled over you, his cock shoved into you to the hilt. He clamped his left arm against your thigh, keeping your hips flush to his, his right hand rested beside your head on the hood.
“Fuck, darlin, I’ve never felt anything so good on my cock,” Clyde praised you as you acclimated to his size.
He started fucking you slowly, rocking into you more than thrusting. He knew his cock was a lot to take and he didn’t want to hurt you.
You thought you could almost cum just from those simple motions. There was just so much of him. And in the position he had you, every long thick inch of him rubbed along your front wall perfectly.
“Ya like my cock, honey?” Clyde grinned down at you.
“Oh, god, I love your giant cock!” You cried in pleasure.
“Then, have a little more,” he teased as he pulled out and slammed back into you, earning a satisfied sigh from you.
Setting a faster pace, Clyde pumped his cock into you more roughly. Each thrust punctuated by his hips crashing against you. Moaning underneath his huge body, your hands reached to his arms. Feeling the rigid muscles tense under your fingers with every thrust sent a new rush of arousal straight to your pussy.
Hair falling around his face in waves, he fucked you hard now. Every slam of his cock into you rocked his car with his force. The pace he set, aggressively hitting your gspot with every movement, had your pussy tightening around him in minutes as taut pleasure coiled in your abdomen.
“That’s it, darlin,’ Clyde huffed, voice strained. “Keep squeezin’ my cock. I wanna feel ya cum for me.”
A hot rush of ecstasy flooded you as his solid pumps into you pushed you into a throbbing orgasm, your pussy clenching his cock in time with the waves washing over you.
Teeth gritted, Clyde fucked you through it as his cock pulsed inside of you. The tensing of your pussy around him had him cumming with a growl. You could feel the warmth of his thick cum spreading into you, the sensation giving you another surge of pleasure.
Dropping your legs from his shoulders to settle them around his waist, you pulled him down to kiss you. Thick black hair fell around both of your faces as he kissed you for several long minutes.
When he pulled back from your lips, you had never seen a look of happiness more pure on anyone.
“That was incredible, Clyde,” you told him as your hands trailed down from neck over his wonderful chest.
“I’m sure glad ya thought so, Y/N,” he said, still smiling down at you.
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The night sky was starting to lighten to black blue as you stared up at it. You had spent the whole night with Clyde and it had flown by. You wished it could last twice as long.
Once you had redressed, you sat back on the hood of Clyde’s car. You scooted back until you could lean back against the windshield, propping one arm behind your head, and gesturing to Clyde with the other. He had just pulled his tshirt back on and you had half a mind to tell him to him to take it back off so you could keep looking at his beautiful chest.
Clyde trailed his hand up your leg as he walked to stand beside the hood of his car where you sat.
“Does this mean that I can call ya my girl now, darlin’?” His hand continued until his finger brushed the seam of your shorts as he squeezed your thigh.
“I’d love to be your girl, Clyde,” you smiled warmly up at him.
He seemed to consider your words, chewing on his lip. But, instead of a smile, his brow furrowed.
“But, how could I be sure you’re really mine?” Clyde’s voice had dropped.
“What do you mean?” You laughed playfully. “Of course, I’m yours.”
“Well, I thought ya were wantin’ me today,” his voice had lost its pleasant tone. “But then, as soon as that smokin,’ plaid wearin’ sonofabitch started flirtin’ with ya...” Clyde huffed a breath. “Ya just forgot all about me, didn’t ya?”
“What?” Your eyes widened at his words. “No, that’s not it at all, Clyde. I didn’t think you were interested in me. Especially when you pulled away from dancing with me earlier.”
Bringing your hand to rest on top of his, you continued, “I’ve had a crush on you for a pretty long time.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about what I want with you for a while too, darlin,’” Clyde told you without smiling. “I have somethin’ for ya.”
Clyde withdrew his hand from your thigh and walked to the back of his car.
“Just wait right there for me, Y/N,” he instructed as he opened the trunk.
You could hear him rummaging for something. When the rummaging stopped, you could hear something that sounded like a cork screw twisting. You had always assumed Clyde was a hopeless romantic. He probably had a special bottle of wine he’d brought to share with you. Closing your eyes, you smiled at the thought, resting your head back against the windshield as you reclined on the hood of his car.
You heard Clyde’s heavy boot steps as he walked back to you.
“There’s only one way to make sure that you stay all mine,” his voice grumbled at your side.
Turning to smile up at him, you were just in time to see Clyde’s face twisted into a snarl, his raised left hand slicing down towards your throat. Only, it wasn’t his prosthetic. Glinting in the moonlight, you saw a massive, pointed, iron double pronged hook, swinging at you with all the force of the huge man behind it.
Adrenaline and reflex propelled you as you rolled away from him with a shriek. You felt the iron slice two lines across your back as you rolled across the hood, before the hook connected with the glass of the windshield.
Stumbling to your feet on the opposite side of the car from Clyde, you saw him growl in frustration as he fixed you with a feral sneer.
You turned and ran for the safety of the woods, only feet ahead of you, as Clyde violently yanked his arm up, freeing the hook from where it was embedded in his cracked windshield.
The rush of your own blood sounded in your ears louder even that your frantic footsteps as you ran through the trees and brush into the forest. You knew which way the main road was. Maybe if you could make it that far, you could flag someone down to help you.
Crashing behind you signaled that Clyde was charging after you. Although he was much faster, you knew that you had enough of a head start that he probably couldn’t see you through the dense foliage that surrounded you both. You were also quieter as you ran than his enormous body crashing through the brush.
As you ran, the sound of Clyde faded behind you. Your thighs began to burn and your lungs couldn’t find the air you needed to keep running.
Turning to look behind you as you ran, you slammed face first into something huge and unyielding. A pair of strong arms wrapped around you and your heart stopped. Until you realized it wasn’t Clyde who had found you. It was Flip. Somehow, Flip had come to your rescue and you were now secure in his arms.
“Flip?” You almost cried from relief.
His huge hand clamped down hard around your mouth.
Spinning you so your back was flush against his broad chest, Flip pressed his own back against the truck of a tree. His arms were tight and firm around you, keeping you still against him. His own breathing was oddly level, you felt his chest rising and falling at your back. He was listening.
A few long moments passed. Silence. Flip’s hold around you loosened. As his arms slackened, you turned to face him, your chest now pressed against him. A sigh of relief shuddered through you when you laid your cheek against his chest. Flip’s large hands smoothed along your back, comforting you.
“He tried to fucking kill me, Flip,” you whispered against his chest.
“You’re safe now,” even Flip’s whisper was deep and rumbling. “He’s not gonna kill anyone else.”
Still, only silence echoed through the woods around you both.
Arms still around you, Flip pushed away from the tree. Stepping away from you just enough to retrieve his pistol from his shoulder holster, Flip moved to peer around the tree.
It was dark in the forest. You could barely make out Flip’s handsome face as he turned back to you, let alone see deeper into the trees.
Holding his gun in his right hand, Flip reached his left out to you. When his strong grip closed around your hand, you felt instantly safer.
“My truck’s close,” Flip assured you as he started leading you through the trees.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that Clyde was still stalking you. He wouldn’t just let you go. But Flip was vigilant as he walked beside you and you could almost feel the alert tension emanating from him.
Holding Flip’s hand tight, you turned to look back over your shoulder. Walking blindly ahead as you looked behind you, you tripped over a log. Flip used both of his arms to steady you.
Both distracted by your stumble, neither of you saw Clyde lunge at you from the darkness on Flip’s right side.
Flip caught the movement of the hook slicing at him through the air from his periphery too late. Simultaneously, Flip roughly shoved you to the ground with his left hand that he was using to help you, pushing you away from the oncoming attack, and swung his right hand holding his pistol toward Clyde.
Flip was a heartbeat too slow. Clyde’s left arm slashed violently at Flip in a backhanded swing that had all of Clyde’s considerable power behind it. His double pointed hook cut roughly across Flip’s chest. You could hear the tearing of Flip’s flannel shirt and the ripping of his flesh as Clyde’s hook carved ragged twin lines across his chest.
A feral growl tore through Flip’s throat as Clyde tore through the meat of his chest.
Clyde’s strike wasn’t just a cut. All of his force was behind it and he pushed through his slash, barreling into Flip and tackling him to the ground.
The two huge men hit the ground hard, a huffed breath forced out of Flip’s chest when he landed on his back with Clyde slamming his hooked arm down onto Flip’s bloody pectorals. All of Clyde’s weight was behind it and you thought Clyde hit Flip hard to enough to break every rib in his enormous torso.
Flip’s gun flew out of his grip with the force of Clyde’s hit and Flip looked dazed for half a second.
Scrambling backwards on the ground, you stumbled to your feet.
Clyde raised himself off of Flip enough to rear back his left hooked arm for his killing blow, aimed in a viscous downward strike at Flip’s face.
Flip bucked his hips up roughly underneath Clyde, throwing his swing off balance. As Clyde canted forward, Flip slammed a violent left fist into the side of Clyde’s jaw. Blood erupted from Clyde’s mouth, raining down onto Flip’s face and chest, mixing with Flip’s own blood oozing from his chest.
You looked frantically for Flip’s gun as the men exchanged crushing blows feet from you.
“Run, Y/N!” Flip grunted to you as he tried to trap Clyde’s left hooked arm with his right.
There. You saw moonlight glint off Flip’s gun a few feet away.
You almost dove for the gun in your haste to pick it up.
Clyde saw you.
As you swung the revolver toward Clyde, your thumb cocking back the hammer, he pushed off of Flip, rising to his feet.
A glint of fear shone in Clyde’s eyes as you leveled the gun at his chest. He threw himself to the side as you pulled the trigger, trying to dodge your shot as he made for the thicker brush.
The bullet caught him in the shoulder instead of the vital area of his center. You saw the spurt of blood when the bullet connected with him and heard the resounding thunk of it burrowing into flesh.
You also knew it wasn’t a mortal wound. But you could hear Clyde crash through the woods as he retreated to his car.
Flip had risen to his knees when you rushed to his side, falling to kneel beside him.
“Oh my god, Flip,” you choked back a sob as you looked at the gaping lacerations across his chest.
“I’m fine, sugar,” Flip grunted, pushing himself to his feet. You rose with him, steadying him as he swayed slightly.
Reaching to grab his revolver from you, Flip flashed a lopsided grin at you. “Good job, gorgeous.”
“We need to get you to a hospital,” your voice shook as Flip again took your hand in his.
“Not before I kill that motherfucker,” Flip’s jaw clenched in resolve as he pushed ahead, leading you through the woods to his truck.
The first pinks of dawn were beginning to streak through the navy sky when you both burst into the clearing where Flip’s truck was parked.
Flip yanked the door open and nearly threw you inside in his haste to help you in. You scooted across the bench seat as Flip climbed in behind the wheel.
He paused long enough to light a cigarette between his lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.
Revving the engine, he looked at you with a wicked smirk, “Seatbelt, baby.” Popping the clutch, he spun out of the parking area in a squeal of crying tires and clouds of dust.
Flip was half a second too late. As he gunned his truck to the dirt road, Clyde’s Trans Am shot by, missing Flip’s bumper by inches. An explosion of dust engulfed you, choking you even as it entered in through the truck’s vents.
With a growl, Flip slammed his shifter down and floored his truck. The engine screamed in protest as he launched down the dirt road, close enough behind Clyde to still be blinded by his dust.
Pressing the gas pedal as hard as he could, Flip tried to ram the back of Clyde’s car, but the Trans Am was too fast. It pulled easily away from Flip’s truck, kicking up even more dust as an insult. Flip growled in frustration.
The road through the mountains was winding, twisting and zigzagging through the steep terrain. Ahead, there was a switchback. The road curved sharply, a one hundred and eighty degree turn that would bring Clyde driving below you as he fled.
Flip saw it. White knuckles gripping the steering wheel, cigarette clenched in his teeth, and murder in his eyes, Flip turned the wheel, diving his truck off the road and down the steep bank.
You shrieked as Flip’s truck careened down the hillside, bouncing violently as it plowed through brush and scrub.
Clyde rounded the corner, surging toward you. You saw Clyde’s face contort in fear and shock as he slammed on his brakes.
It was too little too late to avoid Flip’s perfectly timed assault.
Flip’s powerful arm shot in front of your chest when his truck hit the Trans Am, t-boning the side of it just ahead of the driver’s door and sending the car rolling down the other side of the steep bank.
The truck skidded to a stop in the road as the car rolled several times down the side of the mountain. A thick pine tree finally ended its descent with a resounding smash.
Flip turned to you, cigarette still in his fucking mouth, “You alright?”
You nodded, in a mild shock.
Flip got out of his truck and appraised the damage below him. Smoke billowed from his nose as he seemed to consider his next course of action.
Below, the door of the crumpled car pushed open.
Clyde was dazed as he stumbled out of the crunched door, but he was far from dead. He didn’t even appear badly injured.
Setting his jaw and clenching his fists, Flip set out toward the other man.
Flip walked down the hill in long purposeful strides. He wasn’t rushed. He seemed to enjoy approaching the other man like a looming predator.
Clyde had struggled to his feet and was leaning back against his car by the time Flip was closing in on him.
Clyde fixed Flip with a scowl as he pointedly raised his left arm in front of his face, looking over his hook at Flip. He gave the ragged metal hook a solid twist with his good hand, ensuring it was securely in place. And that its razored points were poised to slice through more of Flip’s flesh.
As Flip closed in, Clyde charged forward. Using the car to push himself off, Clyde leveled a powerful swing of his hook at Flip’s throat.
Flip was ready this time. He didn’t miss a stride. He blocked Clyde’s lunge easily and, ducking low, slammed his left fist into Clyde’s solar plexus, knocking the air from Clyde’s lungs and doubling him over in pain.
Clyde’s left arm continued its swing as he buckled forward, slicing his hook across Flip’s thick thigh, opening a long cut through the muscle.
A devastating punch from an iron right fist knocked Clyde to his knees. He shook his head, dazed. Flip fisted the same hand into Clyde’s long hair, using it as a grip to pull Clyde’s face into a violent knee.
Still gripping his hair, Flip pulled Clyde’s head back as Clyde’s body began to slump. Flip shoved the large man’s shaggy head under his own powerful arm, neck crammed under his armpit. As swift as a bear trap slamming closed, Flip brought his forearm up under Clyde’s throat, to lock his hand onto his other arm before twisting his torso violently. You could see every muscle in Flip’s broad back tense when he snapped Clyde’s neck. The wet crunch reverberated through the valley and back to you.
Clyde’s body went limp, arms dropping slack to his sides. Releasing his hold around Clyde’s neck, Flip shoved his lifeless body back into the door of the Trans Am. Clyde’s body fell, leaning slumped against the car and moved no more.
Flip straightened with a growl, shrugging his huge shoulders back. He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and brought another to his lips. After lighting it, he took a luxuriously deep drag, his chest expanding with his breath, before blowing a thick cloud of smoke from his mouth.
Cigarette clamped between his teeth, he knelt next to Clyde’s body. Flip reached to Clyde’s left hand, unscrewing the jagged double pronged hook. Turning it over in his hands, he appraised it before standing back up and walking back to you.
Flip’s own blood dripped from the tips of the hooks as it swung in his grip while he walked back up the bank to his truck and you.
Standing by the front of Flip’s truck, you still shivered slightly from the shock of it all. But the sight of the man who had just saved your life returning to you victoriously both calmed and excited you in the best of ways.
When Flip reached you, he looped one of his large arms around your shoulders, walking you with him to the side of the bed of his truck.
Turning to him, your back pressed against his truck, you lifted your arms to reach around his neck. Flip smiled down at you. He hooked Clyde’s hook on the railing of the truck bed and brought both hands to your waist.
As he leaned down to kiss you, your arms tightened around his neck. You never wanted to let him go. His lips were soft against yours, soothing and comforting, as he kissed you. His mouth trailed kisses up your cheek as he pulled back to look down at you fondly.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” He asked you softly.
“You’re asking if I’m alright when you’re the one who’s bleeding all over?” Your hands smoothed down to his lacerated chest.
“I’ve had worse,” Flip grinned at you.
You began undoing the buttons of his flannel, the fabric wet and the buttons slick with his blood.
You helped Flip shrug off his dirty bloodied shirt, pushing the damp fabric off his shoulders and down his arms. The white tshirt he wore underneath made the cuts in his chest look even worse, the blood from them having stained the entire front of his shirt. The blood also plastered the thin white shirt against his magnificent chest.
You couldn’t resist pulling him down to you again. This time, Flip closed the distance between your bodies, pushing you back harder against the truck. He kissed you deeply this time, his tongue hot as he licked into your mouth. You groaned against his lips as you felt his blood soaking through your shirt where your tits pressed against his chest.
He kissed you for several long minutes before you had to pause for breath. Flip lifted one hand to rest against his truck beside you. He leaned against his truck, one hand gripping the bed railing as he caged you against the side.
“I’m sure glad I got to you before he was able to do anything to you, Y/N,” Leaning down over you, Flip smiled as he stroked your cheek.
Your eyes dropped from his handsome face as you recalled everything you had let Clyde do to you.
“What is it?” Flip asked gently.
“I should never have gone out with him.” You couldn’t hide the shame from your voice. “I let it go too far with him.”
“How far exactly?” Flip pulled back from you slightly, straightening his back.
“As far as it can go,” with your eyes on the ground, you didn’t see Flip’s expression harden. “You know what I’m saying, Flip.”
“Did he force you?” Flip asked as he lifted the hook off the bed of his truck. “Did he force himself on you, or did you let him have you all on your own?”
“No, he was just...” you choked back a sob. “He was just Clyde. Until after.”
“So, you wanted it?” Flip’s voice was low and his hazel eyes looked hard at you now.
“At the time I did, but not now,” your voice was cracking.
Turning the double hook over in his hands, Flip’s brow furrowed as you spoke.
“I wish I hadn’t. I feel so awful now,” you were trying to hold back tears.
“Well, that’s a damn shame, baby,” Flip sighed heavily.
You finally raised your eyes back to his, “Flip-“
“A woman like you makes a man think,” Flip continued, not listening to you anymore. “Right when I saw you, it hit me like a ton of fuckin’ bricks how much I wanted you.” He ran a hand through his dusty bloody hair, “How I could have a life with a woman like you. I could start over.”
You leaned against him, placing your hands on his bloody chest, “We can, Flip.”
“No. We can’t,” his eyes hardened instantly as he looked at you. His voice now had a brutal edge, “I’m not takin’ any other man’s leftovers.”
You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes.
“It’s a damn shame I didn’t get to you sooner.” He said lowly. The way he was leaning over you was now menacing.
“Flip, please, it didn’t even mean anything,” you reasoned.
“If it didn’t mean anything,” Flip was snarling at you now. “That’s even fuckin’ worse!”
“I regret it, Flip,” you choked. “It was stupid.”
“I regret not being able to save you from him,” Flip shook his head, but there was no remorse in his gesture. “From everything he did to you.”
“We can still have something,” you pleaded.
“That’s what the cops are gonna say, too. When they find out what Clyde did to you,” Flip glared are you. “It’s a damn shame that I didn’t get to you sooner.”
“What are you talking about,” you pressed you back as close against his truck as you could get, putting as much space between you and Flip as you could.
“It’s a damn shame that I didn’t get to you before he killed you,” Flip’s eyes were cold, dark, and unblinking. “Before that fuckin’ copycat slashed you up like the amateur he was.”
A wave of nauseating horror washed over you. Copycat?
Flip smiled evilly at you, as if he heard your unasked question.
“Why else would I be out in the fuckin’ backwoods of West Virginia? I came here to take care of him,” Flip snarled. “I’m not about to let some hillbilly copycat take credit for my work.”
Your blood turned to ice in your veins as you looked at your savior with horror.
“You could have had the real thing, baby. Not some second-rate copycat,” Flip clicked his tongue at you. “And I promise you, I’m better at everything.”
“Please, Flip,” you begged.
“Nobody does it better than I do, baby,” his smile dripped with malice as he violently swung the double hook at your throat.
The last thing you saw was blood spurting onto Flip’s face and chest, staining the remaining white on his tshirt crimson. This time, it pumped from the gaping wound in your throat.
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