In the midst of Abigail's illness, Jack is visited by entities he would rather forget.
WC: 2.7k
Warnings: SO MUCH ANGST, parental/family loss, death, terminal illness (but not that one), grief, caretaker trauma, mention of violence, paranormal activity, mentions of alcoholism, all the sad all the time
A/N: Be patient with me, I still consider myself new to this. Anyways, enjoy!! Let me know what you think. I'm curious to hear any feedback.
Part I ✶ Part II
It had been a hard, long ride since Jack had left Beecher’s Hope.
Storms rolled into West Elizabeth quickly after he had saddled up. The weather had left him soaked to the bone. Whatever game you could catch in this part of the country were always difficult to find when the poor weather came. His hat could normally keep the rain out of his eyes, but it was so thoroughly soaked that water leaked into them anyway.
“If we had more money”, he grumbled to himself, “I wouldn’t be out in this at all.”
Originally, he had nearly turned back and waited another day. He could live off whatever was left in the pantry, he was sure there was some canned something in there he could survive off until the next time he managed to venture into Blackwater.
But then he thought of his mother. She couldn’t just live off of whatever meager scraps of food were left in the house, not in her delicate condition. “She needs good food and rest, son,” the doctor had explained. “I know that times are hard for the both of you. But she can’t work the ranch or do any more odd jobs. She has ignored this illness long enough that it has taken a serious toll on her.”
He had felt pangs of guilt for not noticing sooner, but the stress of the current situation both he and Abigail were in had led him to spend his time out of the house more than in. Jack only tolerated doing four things in his life: heavily drinking whiskey, lingering around his father’s grave, completing odd jobs for money, and going out into the brush to shoot down makeshift targets. It wasn’t always necessarily in that order. He always tried his best to ignore Abigail’s worry and disapproval, but she was a woman whose words cut deep like a knife.
“Damn it, Jack! You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Jack could see her now in his mind’s eye, with her arms crossed and a stern look on her face. “The cattle are gone. What the hell is pretending to be a gunslinger going to do for either of us? We need to go back into town and find work!”
She was a tough love sort of woman, but strength was always one of Abigail’s best traits, even after John had passed.
Then the cough came.
It had started out so weak, and Jack was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed. But it only got worse, and with every passing day Abigail looked more and more sickly. She was normally very motivated to get up and finish her day's work, but in the past couple weeks her typical steadfastness had soured quickly, so much so that she could hardly leave the house. Jack would have preferred her with her usual biting sass. Abigail kept insisting it was nothing, and that it wouldn't do much good to worry about her, and that it was a waste of their already scarce supply of money to send for the doctor, but Jack scraped up whatever little they had left and asked the doctor to come out anyway.
“Pneumonia,” the doctor said. “I can give you this medicine to help. But it has to be given on a schedule to work. It is imperative you do so.” The doctor had good bedside manners from his years of practice, but Jack could still read his face just as well as the books he used to love so much. The situation had become dire.
This is your fault.
Jack cringed at the thought.
She’s hurting from Pa being dead already. Now you fancy yourself an outlaw, and you’re killing her with the stress.
The thought made him nauseous. For a second he felt tears sting his eyes and his throat catch, but he choked the feelings back as quickly as they came. He took a swig from a bottle and rode on, silently damning the rain to hell the whole ride out.
It took him most of the day before he could track a deer, but the mud from the rain led to unmistakable tracks in the mud. He followed them out close to the edge of the trees near a small valley. He got off his horse, grabbed his rifle, and snuck as quietly as he could through the trees.
Finally, he saw what he came for: a large buck tucked close to the trees, grazing lazily on the wet grass.
Jack pulled the rifle from his back carefully and ducked quickly behind one of the larger tree trunks. He peered to the side and raised his rifle, searching for the deer, but the buck had wandered back behind one of the close trees out of sight. He stepped to the side, trying to be careful to make as little noise as possible, but his foot slipped in the mud and landed on a small branch when he tried to right himself. It broke with a loud crack under his weight despite the damp conditions, and echoed throughout the forest over the pitter-patter of the rain.
The buck’s head shot up lighting fast, his eyes locking on to Jack in an instant.
Jack again cursed under his breath and scrambled to aim correctly at the buck again, hoping it would not run off by the time he did so, but the buck had not budged. It stood like a statue, watching him with an unblinking focus. Any other deer would have bolted by now. In spite of that, they both stood.
Watching one another.
Waiting.
Jack felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
Was something wrong with it? In the time they spent looking at one another, he gave it a closer look. No, he had to be mistaken- it seemed like it was strong and thriving, if anything.
But it still stood like a statue. Jack felt a pang of familiarity just by looking at the beast. He felt stuck in the moment, as though the eerie moment had frozen him in place. Nothing was particularly odd about this situation other than the fact the deer hadn’t run- and yet, he couldn't shake this feeling.
I know you, somehow.
He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He almost didn’t want to shoot the deer, but the thought of his mother with only salted offal to eat quickly changed his mind.
His instincts quickly rushed back to him, and he raised his rifle, took aim, and pulled the trigger.
His aim was true.
It had been longer than Jack liked until he could catch a glimpse of the familiar sight of Beecher’s Hope. He hitched his horse, slinging the buck over his shoulder and heaving it next the front door before stepping inside.
“Momma?” He called out. “I’m home. Found something.”
He heard a small sound from his mother's bedroom, so he walked across the house to her, leaving a trail of water and dirt where he walked from his soaked clothes. He opened the door to see Abigail in bed, clearly having just woken up. A smile cracked open along her pale, thin face.
“Hello, Jack.”
“Hey, momma. Are you feeling alright? Did you drink the tea I made for you?”
“I drank what I could. And you know me, son. I’m fine.” Her brows furrowed then, and she covered her mouth, coughing into her handkerchief. The cough racked her whole body. She quickly tucked the kerchief away, concealing the phlegm that was left on it.
Jack took his hat off and approached her bed, kneeling down and looking disappointedly at the leftovers of the tea he made her earlier. “You gotta drink all of this with the medicine I’m giving you. Doctor’s orders.”
She looked down at the floor. “I’ll start taking the medicine better when you quit tracking earth from God knows where through the house, Jack Marston. Where have you been?”
“I told you before I left,” he sighed. Jack looked down at the trail of muck he left on the floor. “I went hunting and caught a deer. I’m sorry for the mess, ma’am. I’ll clean it up, but I need to make you stew first. You need food.”
He disliked how skinny she had become the last few weeks. He felt like Sisyphus had an easier time rolling that boulder up the hill than he had trying to make sure his mother was well.
She reached out and cupped the side of his face. It was cold. “Sweet boy. Takin’ good care of me.”
Took you long enough. You damned fool.
He repressed the thought and stood back up. “I gotta go and start on that stew. Might take me a while to fix everything up, so shout if you need me.”
She nodded and rested her head gently on the pillow, closing her eyes. Jack again tried to ignore how sickly she looked, but it was becoming more and more evident with every passing day that she was clearly not recovering from her illness. He turned away bitterly and walked to the door.
She’s going to die.
“No,” he gritted through his teeth, “She can’t.”
Abigail’s eyes fluttered open. “Did you say something?”
He turned back towards his mother, his voice softening considerably. “No, momma. Just go back to sleep. I will wake you up when dinner is up.”
She seemed all too happy to let her eyelids shut once more, and he left the room.
Jack wasn’t new to skinning animals, but he wasn’t particularly great at it yet, either. He remembered when his father began to teach him how to hunt and how he had a habit of accidentally making holes in the pelts. John would sigh and ruffle Jack’s hair, much to his teenage frustration. “You’ll get it eventually, son,” he said.
But Jack was far too absorbed in worlds far away from here in his books, where he didn’t have to worry about a farm, or getting abducted again, or any of the other nonsense that tended to happen around his family. Nowadays he certainly wished he had paid more attention to his father’s instruction. What a cruel irony it was that he used to feel so much anger towards John, and now he felt as though he would have dueled a hundred men to see his face again.
His work was slow, but he had improved considerably over the past few months of practice. Eventually the buck was dressed in totality. The pelt had come out perfectly, much to his shock- a rare stroke of luck. Tomorrow, he could tan the pelt and sell it off to the butcher in Blackwater if Abigail seemed stable enough for him to make the journey. It wouldn’t be worth too much, but selling it with some venison would certainly land him a few dollars in between his odd jobs he worked in town.
He carried the venison inside the house and placed it on the counter before heading to his room to change from his wet and bloodied clothes. They landed with a wet plop on the floor. He reached then for a new set of clothes that had been wrinkled of late because he couldn’t care less to iron things how his mother liked. His hair was still soaked, but at least he had begun to feel more comfortable. Once he had changed, he resolved to start on the stew. He was no chef, and Lord knows Abigail wasn’t much of one either, but before long all the meat and vegetables began to take on a fragrant aroma as the stew simmered gently on the stove.
Satisfied with his work, Jack breathed a heavy sigh and walked to the porch. He stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit a match. The cherry red of the tip glowed brightly against the dull grey skies of the afternoon. Droplets of rain pattered gently on the roof, and Jack closed his eyes as he leaned on the wall, gazing up at the angry clouds, exhaling smoke that curled and morphed around him. He felt as though he could finally breathe. The weather was a lot more comforting when there was nothing to do and nowhere to go. He could almost enjoy it. But whatever solace he found in his moment of rest was always fleeting. He looked back down from the dark, bruised sky and his eyes wandered to the right, settling on the barn.
He could see John shot down like a dog, his limbs splayed open. The bullet holes littered his body as he lay in a spreading pool of his own blood.
Rather than recall something he tried to push to the deepest recesses of his mind, Jack’s gaze moved to the right. It hadn’t helped much. It fell instead to the last place Uncle lay, next to the stairs. The gore left there never really came out of the grain of the wood, no matter how hard Abigail scrubbed it. She resorted instead to placing a pot over the stain, but Jack still avoided the spot like Uncle’s corpse laid there to this day. He figured maybe he should just shut his eyes instead.
Then he heard wet tearing on the side of the house. Annoyance washed over him when he realized what he had forgotten.
“Damned wolves found the deer,” he muttered. They seemed to plague Beecher’s Hope since John’s passing, like God’s cruel joke.
Jack peered off to the side of the house. There was a beam that John frequently used to field dress the animals he hunted, and Jack utilized it just the same. He had forgotten to take the deer down and dispose of it someplace, and sure enough, it still hung there by its hocks, stripped of all its meat and fur. The lone wolf’s teeth were sunk deeply into the deer’s neck, hoping to tear off a piece for himself. Jack was shocked the wolf had gotten this close to the house. Normally he hadn’t dared.
Jack quickly drew the old Cattleman from his hip. “HEY! Get the hell outta here! Go on, git!”
The wolf released its grip on the deer as his grey eyes met Jack’s. He licked his chops of the blood that spattered around his mouth.
For the second time today, that unsettling feeling washed over Jack. He had seen and chased this particular wolf away for what felt now like a million times, but never had he ever been this close to him. The wolf was older and far more grizzled than most others that trekked through the ranch. The scars he bore spoke of a hard life well fought for, with tooth and blood.
In the time they both stared at one another, the air itself seemed to fall still. The birds fell uncannily quiet like something was wrong. Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen such intense eyes before. He felt sweat bead on his forehead, and a cold chill blew in, leaving only the sounds of the brush to grace his ears.
The wolf took one careful step towards him, and Jack aimed for between his eyes, hands shaking as he did so. By any right, he should shoot it- had done this so many times before. Hell, he already did this earlier in the day. No matter how he tried to convince himself, Jack couldn’t muster up the courage to kill whatever the hell this was. He instead lowered the barrel of his gun to the mud next to the wolf’s gigantic paw.
He fired, and the wolf pressed his ears flat to his head and vanished into the tree line, disappearing as quickly as he came. Jack holstered his weapon and shakily stepped up to the deer carcass to heft it onto the back of his old nag, its nostrils still flaring from the fear of the predator.
After throwing it over the horse, Jack’s eyes met with the deer’s once again, wondering if that feeling would come back. Instead, he was met only with inky black pools, utterly void of life.
They’re normal animals. You need to sleep more.
He resolved to have some more whiskey once the night was through.
After being abandoned by your ex in the middle of Tall Trees, you head to Blackwater in hopes of drowning your worries in the bottom of a glass. Instead, you find Jack Marston, and what should have just been a one-night stand gets intense quicker than you wanted.
And it might be more than both of you can handle.
★ Word Count: 4.9k+
★ Warnings/Tags (for all chapters): 18+ MINORS DNI, modern!Jack Marston x fem!reader, second person perspective, no use of Y/N, abandonment, exhibitionism, drunk sex, rough sex, unprotected PIV, risky behaviors, breeding kink if you stare hard enough, oral fixation, dirty talk, mention of spit that some might find a little gross (but it's brief), 69, oral sex
★ A/N: this chapter was so hard to write for no reason!!!! fml!!!!!! i'm not totally happy with it but i hope you guys like it.
★ Please click here to view my works on Ao3! ★
To everyone in Blackwater, you figured that you likely looked as though you were not all there in the head. The old man at the register of the pharmacy had raised an eyebrow at your blissfully dazed expression. Most people who buy morning-after pills tend to try to avoid eye contact— but not you. You felt accomplished, somehow. After all, who cared what judgmental strangers thought about your sexual behavior, when you got fucked better than most people could ever hope for?
But the worst part of a high is always the comedown.
You had promised yourself over and over again that the next trip to Blackwater was coming again soon, but the longer you stayed away, the more you began to have reservations about returning to see Jack again. It wasn’t that your time with him was awful— quite the opposite— it was that you were beginning to worry about completely losing your head seeing someone like him. You clearly were not a prude, but you normally prided yourself on making smart decisions and keeping yourself out of trouble. That night was anything but that. The need to feel anything other than empty and the attraction you had for Jack combined to make you into a person you didn’t recognize. You would be lying if you said it didn’t scare you a bit.
To make matters worse, your feelings for your ex had not completely gone away. All the memories of both of you were left untouched from your trip: the photos on the mantle, the leftover Chinese food you shared still sitting in the fridge, the funny joke gift he bought you that was hung up on the wall… it still hurt. The strange part was that it didn’t hurt like it should. Did fucking a stranger really break your brain so much that you could just overlook all these years of memories? In a way, you hated yourself for it. You told yourself over and over and over again that you probably should not return, but thoughts of Jack still lived in your head, no matter how much you tried to purge them. It was too late— you had gotten a taste, and you wanted more.
Days turned into weeks, which turned into two months. On your loneliest and most bored nights, you couldn’t help but give in to the fantasies with a toy between your thighs and his name on your lips. It wasn’t enough to scratch the itch. You needed him.
So one night, in the aftershock of another passionate indulgence, you found a hotel for a reasonable price online in the heart of historic downtown Blackwater. It made you feel a bit sick to give in to your desires once more, but the drive to fuck away your feelings was much stronger than any sense you had.
You could only hope Jack meant what he said.
· ─ ·★· ─ ·
In the dying light of the afternoon, you stood in front of the Prestige once again. More patrons seemed to crowd the entrance than before; the bar seemed full of rowdy blue-collar workers who were relieved to finally be able to leave work and grab a cold beer. You elbowed past a couple who cackled at a dirty joke at the entrance and craned your neck to look for the man you hadn’t stopped thinking about for weeks. It was hard to see past the smoke and countless bodies, but your eyes settled on a familiar figure.
Jack’s hand cupped his cheek as he leaned against the bar, watching an old rerun of some football game that was played last week. He tapped his finger in a rhythm on the scratched wood, almost like he itched to be anywhere else in the world. He yawned and scratched the side of his face before scanning the room, and when his eyes landed on you, they shot open, and he stood up a little straighter. It was too late to slip away now. A mixture of worry and excitement bubbled up inside you as you made your way to the empty stool behind him.
“Hey,” he said with a smile.
The corner of your mouth curled halfheartedly. “Hey, yourself.”
“It’s good to see you again. This time, I’m the one buyin’ your drinks,” he instructed. The same bartender was here from your last trip to Blackwater, and Jack motioned for two more glasses for both of you. She nodded and slid a couple glasses to you both. You thanked her and took the drink in hand.
The two of you sat there silently for a moment, trying to figure out where to pick up your conversation from last time. After a bit of silence, Jack cleared his throat and turned towards you. He looked much like he did the first time both of you saw each other, except a bit more cleaned up. The button-up he wore fit his frame nicely. You couldn’t help but appreciate it, but the collar was a bit out of sorts and wasn’t tucked into his jeans. He still wore that old hat he had forgotten at the bar last time.
You had also made an effort to appear a bit nicer than you had before. Rather than the sweaty clothes and dirt that you wore in shame, you made an effort to put on your favorite going-out clothes as a confidence booster— and it helped that they were a touch revealing. You had found that short skirt you felt confident in shoved at the back of your drawer; your ex had hated you wearing that thing because he felt it drew too much unwanted attention to you. At least it could be put to good use now. Jack was doing his best to keep his eyes from drifting, but he couldn’t help himself. He cleared his throat and shook his head a bit.
“It’s been a while… You had me thinkin’ you weren’t gonna show up again.”
The stoic expression Jack normally carried was present again, but there was something under the surface you could see— the want. Had he really been hoping for you to come back this whole time that badly? He hadn’t even asked about your name or your phone number. You knew him taking you outside the way you did was a thrill, but you never expected it to captivate him quite this much.
“I know. I debated coming back; work has been busy. And the way we left each other the last time had me unsure I was actually going to see you.” You sighed and nursed on your drink. It was tequila, the same as last time. “I didn’t even get your number.”
Jack looked a little guilty at the mention of that, but was still fighting his hardest to keep eye contact with you. “Yeah, well… you didn’t have me thinkin’ straight. How could I, after that? I was disappointed every day I came in here and didn’t see you walk through those doors.”
The admission made your heart skip a beat. Knowing Jack had been hoping you would come back night after night, and sitting watching the door, hoping every woman was you- it filled you with an unfamiliar sense of power. It made you feel attractive and wanted, even if that want was just lustful and had no emotional ties in the slightest. That part of you that had you concerned wanted to see how far he would go to taste you one more time. It wanted him to beg for it.
It was such an appealing thought that it made your face feel hot— but whether it was from excitement or shame, you couldn’t tell.
“Really? You missed my touch that badly? From just one night?”
“You have no idea,” he muttered. “I just hope you missed mine, too.”
You did, of course, but you couldn’t quite make yourself say it outright. Instead, you just hummed gently in acknowledgement before sipping more of your mixed drink. “Sometimes.”
Jack backed off a bit, giving you a once-over. You figured he was likely confused that you weren’t coming onto him the way you did last time.
Walk away, you told yourself. You’re just going to regret this again later. It was one night. Once. Are you really going to let all your brains spill out again over a guy?
When you looked over at Jack, you couldn’t help but notice how nice he looked in that damned shirt. He seemed as though he were pulled taut like a string with how nervous he was. That furrow between his brow had made a return, and you couldn’t help but get lost in his brown eyes again, and the broadness of his shoulders, and the way he bit his lower lip unknowingly—
Oh God, fuck it.
You make sure to spread your legs just enough so that he could get a flash of the panties you wore underneath. Jack definitely noticed, because you could see his hand tighten around his own glass of liquor. He looked back up to you and straight into your eyes once again.
“And how can I make you miss it more?” he asked.
“Hmm,” you mused. You looked around at the shabby bar decor a bit before turning back to Jack. “You might have to jog my memory a bit. I mean, I couldn’t even see you with your clothes off last time, as fun as that all was.” Even though you felt that traitorous throb of want between your legs, the words still felt like sand in your mouth.
“I can fix that,” Jack said. He bounced his leg impatiently as he waited for permission to do something to you. “I didn’t forget about the promise I made to you last time about seein’ you somewhere more private.”
“I booked a hotel downtown. We will have to take your truck, though— I called a taxi here from the hotel in case I drank too much again.”
Jack lit up a bit, seemingly feeling as though he had finally broken through with you. He paid the tab, and you both left the Prestige behind, for better or worse.
· ─ ·★· ─ ·
Jack’s truck was an old Ford F-150 that certainly had seen better days. Some of the paint on the car was smattered with spots of patina, and the shifter was worn with repeated use. The interior fabric smelled of cigarettes. Still, even though the truck showed its age, you could tell Jack tried his best to take care of it as much as he could.
His chest swelled with pride a bit when you told him you liked it. “Thanks,” he said. “It was my Pa’s. I try to take care of it best I can, now that he’s gone.”
His Dad passed away? The admission made you feel a bit bad for Jack, but the feeling was fleeting. You were trying to process how torn you were at the thought of getting your hands on him.
He pulled out of the Prestige’s parking lot and made his way to the Blackwater Hotel. The weekend meant lots of people out and about— drunks from the bars, tourists on ghost tours, and groups of friends goofing off, all of which delayed the drive back.
“Christ’s sake,” Jack swore under his breath. “We are never getting back to that damn place in traffic like this. I’m sorry this isn’t going as well as last time. We are gonna be stuck here a while.”
“It’s fine,” you say. It was true that things weren’t as hot and heavy as the last time both of you met, and being stuck in traffic now was killing what little mood there was.
Then you had another one of your little perverted ideas. You pushed the screaming part of your brain to the back of your mind as sexual frustration and instinct took over.
Your hands found their way to your hips as you reached under your skirt to find the band of your panties. You grabbed hold of them and pulled them down past your knees before finally kicking them off. Jack’s bored expression staring at the traffic morphed into a rosy blush across his cheeks when he caught what you were doing in his peripheral vision. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little harder.
“What are you up to?”
“Oh, you know,” you said, stretching out on the passenger seat a bit more so that your legs were a little more spread. “Just getting comfortable.”
“That ain’t what getting comfortable normally looks like.”
You shrank away from him playfully. “Well, I can put them back on if you want me to stop…”
“I never said I wanted that,” he blurted out. He removed his right hand from the steering wheel and reached out to touch the soft skin above your knee, but you slapped his hand away before it could reach its destination.
“Uh-uh.” You waggled one finger at Jack. “No touching until we get up to the hotel. That’s the rule.”
Jack paused for a second and chewed on the side of his cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”
The way he said that gave you goosebumps. You craved more of it.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Your fingers were quick to find the velvety folds of your pussy, and you mewled out a moan slightly for show. Jack took a deep breath and exhaled. You continued, using your other hand to ruffle your hair so that it fell over your face in a mussed way before using it to rub up and down your thigh. Before long, the hand you used to stroke yourself found your clit, and a bit more genuine of a moan left your lips at the discovery.
Jack’s jaw was clenched tight. He was equally torn between making sure he didn’t crash into the car in front of him and watching you touch yourself for him. He could see you sprawled out in the passenger seat of the car, but the way you were angled made it difficult to get a good view of the show happening under your skirt. The only points of interest he could see were the furrow of your brow and the slight pucker of your nipples under your shirt as you touched yourself.
Jack sighed and shifted in his seat. “You know this ain’t fair, right?”
“I know,” you rasped. “I’ll let you take a peek, if you want.”
“God, please.”
You smiled and turned so that your head rested on the door of the truck. Your left leg hit the back of the seat, allowing Jack to take in the view of your fingers buried deep inside yourself, and the viscous cream that dripped out of you as a result.
He made a sound like someone had knocked all the air from his lungs. You realized then that this was the first time he was getting a good look at you— the last time in the alleyway was far too dark to get any kind of view, and had relied on wandering hands to get the job done.
“You look so good like that. Please let me touch you.”
You shook your head no, and Jack audibly whined, palming the front of his jeans just a bit. You liked being submissive, but having control over him was a different kind of head rush you were all too enthusiastic to embrace.
The longer this teasing continued, the more your pleasure consumed you. What started as very purposeful and methodical actions quickly dissolved into sloppy strokes as you panted and heaved, watching Jack slowly lose his mind in the seat next to you. He muttered under his breath as he shifted in his seat in frustration, his eyes rapidly moving back and forth to and from you. The tension from the torment he was enduring at your hands was driving you crazy, and you felt that familiar fire of an orgasm building inside you, until you felt the truck jerk to a sudden stop.
“We’re here.”
Jack was quick to bounce out of the car, but you made sure to take a bit more time on your shaky legs. He made sure to open the door for you; part of you thought this was gentlemanly, but he also had his eyes fixed squarely on the back of that skirt of yours as you crawled out, like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing access to the sight of you.
The walk to the hotel’s elevator was a bit of a blur. You don’t even really remember pressing any buttons to get back up to your floor, but you snap back into reality quickly when Jack grabs your stomach and presses you back into the front of him, leaving hungry kisses along the curve of your neck. It made you moan involuntarily.
“Jesus— I said no touching until we got to the hotel room, didn’t I?” Your attempt at laying down the rules was very weak, considering you could barely seem to adhere to them when he held you tightly like this.
“That isn’t what you said at all,” he argued. “You said no touching ‘till we got to the hotel.” He bit right under the sensitive skin of your ear, and you melted.
Jack took no time in snaking his hand under your skirt and plunging his fingers into you. Your pussy clenched around him as you clasped your hand over his arm— but he pulled his soaked fingers from you, choosing instead to taste the slick that coated them. He closed his eyes, focusing on whatever taste the essence of you left in his mouth. From your angle, you could see a genuine smile break across his face.
In a sudden spark of clarity, you pushed Jack off of you and grabbed his collar. He looked far too pleased with himself for managing to bend the rules in his favor.
“I’m allowing that this one time,” you murmured. “Just this once. But I don’t want it happening again.”
Jack dipped his hat towards you playfully. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he teased, barely concealing the smirk on his face. “Promise I’ll behave better.”
The elevator door opened with a gentle ding sound, and you smoothed out your skirt before making your way down a hallway that felt far too long, fishing frantically for your hotel key the whole walk. Jack followed closely behind. His presence behind you felt like a solemn promise that the moment you let him gain control again, he wouldn’t be merciful.
When you finally managed to scan your card and step inside the room, Jack took no time in shutting the door behind you. You looked at the fresh, clean linens on the bed, and back at Jack, who waited with all the patience he could muster for you to tell him what to do.
“Come here,” you ordered, and he did.
Jack’s face was so close to yours when he loomed over you, and you were able to get an even better look at him than you did before. You reached your hand up to touch the side of his face and gently rubbed your thumb against his bottom lip. You watched his eyes hold your gaze. You felt an odd, familiar feeling bloom in your chest, but you leaned in to kiss him before he could dwell on it for much longer.
You deepened the kiss nearly immediately. Jack took a firm hold of your waist as he kissed you back enthusiastically. Curious hands drifted to the buttons of his shirt as you slowly undid each one as your tongues intertwined. When you finally undid the last one, you spread your hands over his chest, appreciating all the gentle hills and valleys that made up his form. Even the hair that grew thickest in the middle of his chest enticed you, and you were delighted to discover that the hair traveled all the way down his stomach and disappeared above his belt buckle. Your lips broke from his with a gasp as you hooked your finger in the front of Jack’s pants. He was half hard pressed up like that against the front of your leg.
You took your time undoing his belt, enjoying the feeling of unwrapping him like a present. Before long, his belt was splayed open, and you began to unbutton his pants before Jack put his hands upon your shoulders.
“Please.”
You wrinkled your nose at him. “Please what?”
“Please let me touch you. You promised.”
“Well, I did, but you felt like acting out. You can’t be naughty and then expect a reward.”
You swore you could see Jack’s cock pulse through the fabric. “I’m not sure I can take much more of—”
“Shh,” you said, pressing a finger to his lips. “I never said you were going to do nothing. Sit on the bed.”
Jack walked to the edge of the bedding and sank slightly into the plush fabric, his pants still half undone. You stood in front of him, just out of reach, and began to slowly lift your shirt over your head so that it revealed every inch of you as slowly as possible. You felt the cool air touch your breasts, and when you managed to finally pull the shirt up and over your head, you were left with the sight of Jack looking you over. He was completely breathless and clung to the covers of the bed as if he were about to wake up from a bad dream.
Your skirt gave next, and you stuck your thumbs into the top of the waistband and pulled them down over your legs until you were totally bare.
Jack squeezed the linens between his hands in a death grip and struggled to open his mouth for a moment before the request came out. He looked dangerously close to the precipice of breaking the fantasy. An intense throb between your legs told you you were not far behind him.
“Please.”
You walked forward to him, and his gaze matched every subtle movement your body made. When you climbed over him, you used one hand to gently push him back onto the sheets before taking both of his hands into one of yours. With one swift motion, you pinned his arms above his head. You couldn’t resist the urge to nip and kiss at his neck in turn, causing him to moan and squirm under you.
“Did you like the taste of me you had earlier?” you asked.
Jack swallowed thickly. “Yes ma’am, I loved it.”
“Good.”
He did as he was told, and you scooted forward. Jack realized what you were up to quickly, and you swore you saw a giddy smile on his face right before you angled your hips to sit on his face.
Jack stuck his tongue out to meet your slick folds before you could even fully sit down; he lapped up all of the thick arousal that had been dripping from you for what felt like forever. He took his time exploring every little fold of your pussy as if he needed it to live, gently humming sounds of approval the entire time. His eyes were half-lidded in enjoyment.
It was nearly as arousing to watch Jack eat you out as the sensation was itself; you felt as though you hadn’t seen anyone enjoy themselves quite so much. When his curious tongue found your clit, you nearly yelped and jumped off of him, but he ripped his hands from your grasp and grabbed onto your thighs to hold you down. He gently nudged his head back and forth into you, and the hair from his mustache provided an extra dose of stimulation you weren’t prepared for. You gripped his long hair instead, frantically riding his mouth as the adrenaline hit you hard.
The rules had been forgotten, but nobody was complaining.
You were so absorbed in the slow burn of your want that you realized after some time of riding Jack’s face that there was a part of him that had been left abandoned. When you turned to look down at him, you noticed that Jack was fully hard now, and his uncut cock was lying flat against his stomach. It twitched dramatically when you heard another of his muffled moans, and precum dripped from the dark tip onto his stomach. You remembered then the first time you met— you had dreamed of how he tasted.
He’s suffered enough, you told yourself.
When you shifted so that your slit left his mouth, Jack panted and tried to crane his neck so that he wouldn’t be parted from you. You left kisses and nips down his ribs and over his hips before gently kissing the underside of the head of his dick. Jack covered his hand with his mouth, groaning deeply at the sensation of finally being touched after being painfully neglected for so long.
The taste of Jack was cleaner than you expected, as if he made special efforts to clean himself up before heading to the bar every night in hopes of seeing you again. When you dragged your tongue along the slit at the top, you enjoyed savoring the salty flavor of the thin precum. You continued testing the waters and cleaning up any sign of the white fluid before slowly taking him into your mouth. You nearly gagged when you reached the base of him, but you didn’t mind. Jack grabbed your ass and spread the skin there so he could see every detail of what you looked like from below.
“God— you’re beautiful bent over like this.”
You managed a sort of smile with your lips wrapped around his girth, working up and down in a way that left your spit dripping down the base of him. It put you in a daze, nursing on his cock like this— and the more you took, the more you felt like you couldn’t get enough. It was wonderful enough having your mouth filled with him, but it was even better hearing the strangled noises from Jack as he squirmed under you. The longer you fucked him with your mouth, the more noise he seemed to make. An assortment of guttural cries left his lips as he ran his hands over every curve of your body.
Jack’s hands traced their way up the outside of your hips to the bend of your hips, and pulled you back so that your pussy slid back over his mouth. It was clear to you from the way his body was angled that he was stretching as far as he could to reach your center, and he had to use the tip of his tongue rather than the fullness of it to delicately trace circles around your clit. It wasn’t enough for him; Jack grabbed you roughly as he positioned your cunt back over his face. Your surprise at the sudden movement caused you to release the suction around Jack’s dick with a strong pop, and it was your turn to cry out.
“Hey— I— nng…” your voice trailed off then, as the stimulation sucked away all ability to voice your disapproval at having full access to please Jack the way you wanted. “I—I wasn’t done with you.”
Rather than communicate, Jack responded in kind by angling his hips in a way that gave you easier access. You got right back to work pleasuring him as sloppily as you could. The new angle you found yourselves in meant that you couldn’t take all of him in your mouth, but you compensated as much as you could by grabbing the base of his cock firmly with one hand and focusing on teasing the tip of him with your tongue.
Jack backed off from you and groaned deeply, his breath blowing hot against your needy pussy. He thrust into your wanting mouth more and more before pushing his cock all the way to the hilt, your name falling from his mouth like a prayer.
“I— I’m—Shit!”
You could feel every pulse through the veiny underside of him as he shot ropes of cum into your mouth. Initially, you gagged hard at the sensation, but the joy of swallowing every last drop of him overtook your instinct to pull away. You were nearly over the edge yourself.
When he was done filling your mouth, Jack pulled you back into the position you had before, taking special care to suck on your swollen clit. The stimulation was almost too much— you tried shifting, but the way Jack held you let you know he wasn’t letting you budge until you were shaking and screaming his name.
And when he moved his head and bumped into you with his nose, you did. Your eyelids squeezed shut so tightly you saw white. The sounds you made sounded animalistic as you came hard and ground down on Jack’s face. It felt like an electrical pulse that zipped through your body, and you gripped Jack’s hair again as you rode out the sensation. As soon as you finished, you lost all the strength in your body and fell limply to the side.
For a minute or two, all you could do was pant and stare at the ceiling. Your head reeled as you slowly but surely came back to reality.
How could you do this again?
Jack panted next to you, clearly spent. He had also taken to looking off into space, but when he looked at you, he laughed weakly, and the guilt ebbed. His stern expression had been significantly softened into something a little more joyous.
He looked so handsome like that.
But you couldn’t focus on him for long— the exertion had you exhausted, and your eyes began to close. The last thing you saw was Jack’s blurry form as you drifted off to sleep. And not long after, he followed suit.
Being abandoned by your ex is heartbreaking, but a helpful stranger seems to hold the cure. For the night, at least.
★ Word Count: 6.1k+
★ Warnings/Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, modern!Jack Marston x reader, second person perspective, no use of Y/N, abandonment, exhibitionism, drunk sex, rough sex, unprotected PIV, risky behaviors, breeding kink if you stare hard enough, oral fixation, dirty talk, mention of spit that some might find a little gross (but it's brief)
★ A/N: i felt depraved writing this lol. i'll go fly into the sun now.
Of all the ways your now-ex-boyfriend could have broken up with you, this surely was the scummiest he could have picked.
Sure, what you two had was on the rocks. And sure, you had your fill of screaming, throwing objects, and ugly cries in the shower the past few months. But this last week, it was different— he had mellowed out some, for once. He no longer had been itching to find new ways to irritate you. He seemed contemplative and withdrawn. You hated this phase you had with him, so you tried your best to offer an olive branch in hopes of remedying your failing relationship.
“We never go for hikes anymore. I… I miss that. Can’t we go back to what we had? Just for a day?” It was almost hard to ask this of him, like he had become a stranger, and you despised the feeling.
He grunted in agreement, and you felt a twinge of hope. He mentioned a new spot he had never bothered to take you to before: Tall Trees State Park. The trails were supposedly fantastic, and they had cabins for rent. A weekend in the woods would do you two right.
It was midday Saturday when he turned in past the entranceway for the park. When you asked why he passed the cabins, he reassured you that check-in time wasn’t till 1:00, and he would much rather hit the trail with you first. You felt a warmth bloom over your cheeks. For once lately, you were optimistic about the future.
It wasn’t to last.
He had been laughing at your dumb jokes halfheartedly— God, how you missed that laugh— and smiling for what seemed like the first time in a long while. At some point, you found a shady clearing among the pines, and he offered for you to take some pictures while he relieved himself. You did so happily. When you turned around once more, he was completely out of sight.
And you waited for him to come back.
And waited.
Then you received the text.
There are a lot of things I wanted to say. But I can’t put it into words well enough, so I’ll be blunt. I’m tired of you bitching and nagging me for every little goddamn thing I do. This week, I realized I’m done. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. And no, I am not giving you a ride. You can find your own way back home.
Park rangers found you sobbing your eyes out near the entrance of the trail in the dying light of the afternoon. They took you back to the check-out center to help you find some kind of way home. When you mentioned your ex had booked a reservation for one of the cabins, they checked their log, but they found no recent booking from either of your names.
He really had driven out into the middle of nowhere only with the intention to abandon you.
A kind middle-aged ranger let you hitch a ride with her at the end of her shift, and dropped you off at a rental car company just outside of the woods. Your rental sedan had rust that compromised its hood, smelled of stale cigarettes, and had a tear in the bottom of the seat; you weren’t sure what you were supposed to expect from a rundown rental place in the midst of the dusty plains. You shut the car door, drained and defeated. You craved a drink to drown your sorrows.
The outskirts of Blackwater held the closest bar you could find.
· · ─ ·★· ─ · · · ─ ·★· ─ · · · ─ ·★· ─ · ·
The Prestige Bar and Grille was anything but prestigious. The parking lot was littered with potholes, and the whole building sagged in a way that it shaded the narrow alley next to it from any light in the surrounding area. You tended to avoid dive bars such as this, but the crippling heartache of being abandoned numbed you to any reservations you may have normally held. You entered through the worn doors anyway, against your better judgment. The inside of the Prestige was not faring much better than the outside, with its worn collection of furnishings and people. Most of the individuals nursing their drinks stopped and turned to look when the door opened. They all seemed like regulars, and the way their gaze lingered as you sulked up to the bar made you feel even more alien and unwanted than you had before. They quickly forgot your arrival, however, and the raucous laughter and copious swearing resumed.
Well, all forgot, except for one man. He looked like he hadn’t scrubbed the dirt off his body in weeks, and he seemed to take your lack of company as an invitation for his own. When you slumped into the barstool, he immediately took the seat next to yours. You had hoped your sweaty shirt, mussed ponytail, and red swollen eyes would have been enough to dissuade anyone from trying to start a conversation, but it apparently was not a strong enough signal for him to catch.
You tensed up as he breathed excitedly on your neck. His breath stunk of liquor.
“You’re new around here, huh, miss? I, uh… never seen your face.” The man cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
“I’m really not interested,” you retort. You’re trying to wave for the bartender, but he is preoccupied with a customer who is insisting he hasn’t drunk nearly enough to be cut off. You’re trying your best to avoid eye contact with the man next to you.
“At least let me buy you a drink. You’ll change your mind.” If you didn’t already feel like you needed a shower after your miserable adventure, you certainly did after his pathetic attempt at a wink. You tapped your finger impatiently on the battered wooden bar. “All the ladies I’ve been with always changed their minds when I—”
“I said no,” you barked. Your eyes shot daggers at him. “Now fuck off and leave me alone.”
There was an intensity that crossed the man’s gaze that made you feel uneasy. His jaw tightened, and he leaned his elbow up against the bar. “Listen, you frigid—”
In that moment, you felt a hand clasp your shoulder. Your head whipped around to see a new man. Your eyes were peeled open in shock and confusion, but before you could make a sound, he interjected for you on your behalf.
“Hey, I hadn’t noticed you come in,” he said. “You told me you would message me before you got here.” He turned to the drunk man with a scowl on his face. “Aren’t you a bit past the age to be hittin’ on young women like this, Bryan?”
Bryan scoffed and itched at his patchy beard. “It ain’t a crime. And you should mind your own business, Marston.”
“Well, it is my business when you act like a sex pest with my friends.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did anyone in this bar know how to act like a normal human being? You were sure you hadn’t seen this new guy before in your life. His eyes flitted over to catch yours, and when you read his expression, it all seemed to make sense.
He’s trying to help. Play along.
Bryan laughed mockingly. “This chick has no idea who you are. Nice try on slipping’ into my territory, little Marston, but I have this one marked already.”
The new man shifted his stance slightly, and a new wave of annoyance crept across his face at the mention of the unwanted nickname. You noticed he kept a well-worn pistol at his side, and his right hand inched closer to the grip with every passing second. A fight was the last thing you needed on top of all the other events that transpired today.
“Actually,” you interject, “I do know him.” Your delivery hadn’t been the most confident. Bryan straightened his posture and raised an eyebrow at your poorly delivered lie.
“Really? What’s the bastard’s first name, then?”
You hadn’t thought this through very well. You opened your mouth to explain, but nothing managed to come out.
“Look,” the stranger huffed. “She’s made it clear she don’t want your company. Beat it, before I make you.”
Bryan looked back and forth at the two of you, pondering what his next move should be. His eyes fell to the stranger’s side, and when he noticed the gun resting in the holster on his hip, Bryan let out a heavy sigh and downed the rest of his drink.
“Fuck you, then,” he hissed bitterly. “Both of you.” With the bartender no longer occupied, he paid his tab and stumbled out of the doors into the darkness of the evening.
You let out a breath that came from deep in your chest. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding your breath until Bryan was gone. The stranger had climbed onto the barstool next to you, staring quizzically into the bottom of his empty glass. You looked at him from the corner of your eye to get a view of your savior.
It was only now that you really got a good chance to look at his face, now that the neon lights illuminated his features. He had angular eyebrows and thin lips that seemed permanently fixed in a scowl. His nose and cheekbones were strong and prominent, but freckles were scattered across them in a way that made him feel more boyish than he was. A thin scar graced his upper lip, interrupting his mustache; long, straight, dark hair fell to his shoulders. It seemed like everything and everyone in this dive bar was battered in some way— including yourself, currently.
You motioned for the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please. One for me and one for him.” You turned to face him. “It’s the least I can do.”
His eyes fell upon you. They took you a little off guard; they were a deep brown and seemed to hold a depth that intrigued you. It caused your heart to skip a bit, just for a second, but you pulled away in shame before you could look at one another for too long.
He downed the shot in one go and gave you another once over. “Thanks. You got twigs in your hair, y’know.”
You reached up to feel for them, and sure enough, the twigs were there. You pulled them out quickly, trying to adjust your ruffled appearance. There wasn’t much you could do; you were a mess from sitting on the trail crying your eyes out. Your knees were still smeared with dirt, and one of your sneakers was still left untied.
“Thanks again,” you said sheepishly. “For that. And getting that guy off my back.”
“Ain’t a problem, miss. He’s been a pain in everyone’s ass in this place for a long time. You did me a favor by walkin’ in here, so that I finally had an excuse to tell him off.”
“You have been coming here that long? He did know your name. You seem pretty young.”
“Long enough, I suppose. My father used to come here too, a while ago.”
With a shot in hand at long last, you downed it as well, but with a grimace at the burn of alcohol running down your throat. You weren’t typically a shots kind of girl, but the shock of being dumped had left you feeling a little feral. Maybe your ex had broken your brain. It was pretty uncharacteristic for you to be in worn down towns, taking shots in dirty bars with strangers. You needed some thrills to block out the pain.
“What’s your name?” you asked him.
“Jack Marston.”
He asked for your name in turn, and you gave it to him gladly.
Jack Marston wasn’t always the most talkative person, you found. The more you drank, the more you seemed to open up to him. You couldn’t help but keep thinking that it would be wise to shut your mouth and quite being a bother, but the liquor lowered your inhibitions. He mostly nodded along like a good sport rather than adding anything to your very one-sided conversation. You started crying again when you mentioned your ex, and you could see Jack’s lip curl in disgust when you mentioned how he left you in the woods to fend for yourself.
“He really did that to you? He sounds like an asshole.”
He wasn’t wrong. At least you could see that clearly now.
After dumping all your trauma on Jack, he seemed slightly more willing to open up to you in turn. He left his descriptions of events much briefer than yours. You felt a little bad, because you know you weren’t being anywhere near as good a listener as he had been a few minutes ago. You felt a bit distracted.
As it turns out, alcohol was good at opening you up to other things than talking.
Jack had a few more shots himself, and their empty glasses were stacked next to his arm on the bar. He had gotten some mixed drink for himself now, and you were transfixed on the way he fidgeted with the straw in his mouth. It was a very rhythmic sort of movement, as the straw bobbed back and forth in the corner of his mouth. But you were most intrigued by the way Jack’s tongue darted out over his lower lip and expertly flicked it back into place. You couldn’t help but wonder what else his tongue was good for. A small bit of shame washed over you.
You just got out of a shitty relationship, you thought. Now you’re fantasizing over a stranger like this? What are you, some kind of freak?
Well, maybe, because God was he pretty to look at right now. Jack’s legs were open slightly, and he rested his hand near a hole in his jeans. His old t-shirt had a band logo that had long since faded from numerous washes, but the fabric clung to his chest in a way that you couldn’t help but appreciate. Cowboys weren’t your normal type, but… if they all looked like this, you figured you could get used to it. You could get lost in those brown eyes. You could get lost under those jeans.
You felt a heat building between your legs.
“You doing alright, miss?” Jack asked. He had definitely caught onto your lingering gaze, and he seemed a little more withdrawn as a result. Embarrassment tinged your cheeks red. It was bold of you to check a man out like you did while he was actively speaking to you. There was a fight tearing you apart from the inside; one part of you wanted to go completely wild, scream, and touch this man in a way that would make him moan your name, but the other was begging you to pump the brakes. One-night stands don’t make the hurt go away.
But they could be fun.
“I feel fine,” you say. “But I get the feeling I might be making you uncomfortable.”
“Not uncomfortable. Just… worried.”
You cocked your head at him in confusion. “Why?”
Jack let out a deep sigh and bounced his leg furiously. He sat up a little straighter, then closed his eyes and said, “You have been talkin’ all night about your breakup, but the more you have had to drink, the more you are staring at me like you want…” his voice trailed off. “I just feel a bit like I’m takin’ advantage of you.”
“You’re a little drunk too, y’know,” you remarked. “And you are hardly taking advantage of me. You haven’t even done anything.” A wicked look crossed your eye. “Were you planning to?”
Jack said nothing. It spoke volumes. His body had turned tense and stiff, and he quit playing with that damned straw in his mouth. The tension was thick, but the two of you maintained eye contact regardless. The angry look in his eye had dulled somewhat, and it was replaced with something that you couldn’t quite place. You felt the heat between your legs begin to transform into a dull ache instead. Any desire you felt squashed the remaining doubts you had, and left only the primal desire to touch him. If someone was willing to hurt you in such a terrible way, why couldn’t you do whatever the hell you wanted with your body now?
So you rested your fingers delicately on Jack’s knee. His breath hitched slightly.
“I wouldn’t be mad, you know. Quite the opposite. I may be a bit drunk, but I wouldn’t regret anything you wanted to do to me.”
Jack looked like he couldn’t breathe. When you raised your gaze up to him again, it settled between his thighs. You swore you noticed a slight bulge in his pants, but it was a bit dark to see too clearly. You would have to find out for yourself.
Your fingers trailed up his thigh carefully so as not to move too fast. Jack’s eyes were wide, and he his posture was tense. He looked around nervously to make sure both of you weren’t being watched, but all the bar patrons were so absorbed in their own conversations that nobody seemed to care. Brown eyes locked onto yours again, and a new wrinkle seemed to form between his brow.
Your fingers continued their journey up his thigh before meeting his hand, still resting in the same spot it had been for the past few minutes. You stopped there and searched his face for any more signs of discomfort. His hand was far rougher than yours, and you admired how the veins trailed along his hands and arms. You desperately longed to touch him all over, but you wanted him to signal it was okay first.
Jack swallowed thickly, took your hand in his, and moved it over his growing bulge. The second your hand touched his cock through his jeans, you felt it throb heartily. He muffled a gentle moan at your touch.
You bit your lower lip, hard. You hadn’t expected him to be the kind of man who made much noise, but you were delighted at the discovery nonetheless. You continued your firm touches through the confines of his pants with your heart pounding in your ears. Never had you ever been so promiscuous. You expected shame to come crawling back in at the thought of touching someone like this in public, but it only seemed to light you ablaze instead. You felt completely wet through your panties as you dove deeper into your exhibitionist act.
Jack wasn’t faring much better at keeping himself together. His jaw was tensely locked in place as he bit down on one hand, and with the other, he held his hat so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he began to crush the rim. It crossed your mind then that the look in his eyes was hunger. He wanted you as badly as you wanted him.
And you could feel it with every touch you gave him. It hadn’t taken long before his cock had become fully hard. You could now see it clearly in the low lights of the bar, as it was pinned along his inner thigh, straining against the fabric. You wondered if it tasted like the sweat beading at his brow.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he hissed. Even his voice had changed to be an octave lower in his state of arousal, but he still dared not make any moves towards you.
It made you giggle to see him so undone by your touch. You thought surely the dirty clothes and messy hair would have him off, but Jack didn’t seem to mind at all. “Hardly. I would do so much more to you if I could guarantee I wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency.”
Jack briskly moved your hand away from his crotch and called out to pay both of your tabs. At first, you were worried that you pushed him too far when he shakily handed the bartender the cash, but he grasped your hand firmly in his and briskly walked towards the door. He looked determined to be anywhere but here. A couple of people had now turned around to see him pulling you towards the door, and one older women snickered at the sight.
“Your Pa would be proud, Jack!” she called. The whole table erupted into laughter. But Jack paid no mind, and neither did you.
The silent promise of what waited for you outside was the only thing you could focus on. Your ex was long forgotten.
· · ─ ·★· ─ · · · ─ ·★· ─ · · · ─ ·★· ─ · ·
As soon as both of you had left the bar, you were scrambling to find somewhere private. Neither your rental nor Jack’s weathered truck were ideal, as they were lit up clearly by a lonely street lamp. The darkest and safest place was the dark alley next to the bar, and Jack pulled you in so fast you nearly stumbled over your own feet.
Jack grabbed your arms firmly and backed you into the wall so roughly that you bumped your head on the rough brick a bit. It hurt, but you had more important priorities to be concerned with. The Jack that had exercised remarkable self-restraint at being groped in public was long gone, and replaced by someone piloted by nothing but his base desires, just like you. You could barely see him in the shadows, but you knew from the way he paused for a second that he was deeply considering what his approach should be at getting a taste of you.
When his lips collided with yours, you whimpered loudly and your legs buckled a bit underneath your weight. Rather than keeping his hands clenched at his sides, Jack spent much of his time grabbing at your waist, then your hips, and your ass. Your hands wove into his hair, pulling at his scalp, and it only made him more needy. The kiss was far from romantic, but you couldn’t have given less of a shit about romance in this moment. Your noses and teeth bumped together frequently in the midst of your passion.
When Jack pushed his thumbs through the belt loops of your shorts and ground his hips against you, you swore you could have seen stars. He was already deliciously hard in his jeans, but the feeling of his swollen cock rubbing against the wet spot in your pants was making you claw wildly at his back.
You both stopped momentarily to gasp for breath,and you crossed your legs desperately, aching for any kind of physical touch.
“Turn around,” he said.
You were more than happy to empty your brain of any concerns and obey.
You faced the wall and placed your hand upon it to steady yourself. Jack came up behind you carefully, and reached his right arm over yours to pin your hand to the wall. He gently moaned again when he ground his hips against the curve of your ass, and his other hand snaked up under your shirt and bra to pinch one of your nipples.
“You think you can just tease me like that, with all those folks around, and have me not want to fuck you?” Jack leaned even closer to your ear now, a hint of amusement evident in his voice. “You’re a naughty little thing. Bet you have been waiting for a man to make you scream louder than that loser ever could.”
You squirmed under Jack’s grasp when he tightened his grip on your nipple just a bit harder. You muttered a mix of swears and prayers under your breath, and he took notice.
“Say it louder,” he instructed. “I can’t hear you.”
In between gasps, you bleated out, “Fuckin’ hell. Touch me.”
You heard him chuckle once before his hand traced down your stomach slowly. Jack let the moment linger for an agonizingly long time before his hand plunged under your pants to play with your cunt. It made your hips buck back into his hard dick even more than they had before.
He seemed to take a special enjoyment in unwinding you this way. You were far from the girl you had been this morning; all that was left in her wake was a husk filled with lust and yearning. Jack slipped his fingers between the folds of your pussy, pausing momentarily when he felt just how wet you were at his command. He continued much more confidently after his pause, fixing his middle finger directly where your clit is and giving it a firm rub. The roughness of his hands were like sandpaper, but when he used them to stroke you it was the perfect amount of stimulation to make you cry out.
Jack rubbed your swollen clit for what felt like forever, and your eyes shut so hard that you saw white cloud your vision. As much as you adored him touching you like this, what you really needed was him inside you. You tried to plead a few times, but the words didn’t come easy.
“Please.”
Jack grunted as he thrust against you once again. “Please what? You gotta use your words.”
“Fuck me.”
“Put all those words together, darlin’, and ask politely.”
You took a deep breath and shuddered. “Please. Please fuck me.”
When Jack tucked his nose into the side of your neck, you swore you could feel him smile. “Good girl,” he breathed in your ear. “Stay there a moment.”
You heard rustling, and Jack swore. You turned your head and asked, “What’s taking so long?”
“I— I normally keep a condom or two in my wallet,” he hissed. “They must have fallen out at some point. Shit.” You tried to think clearly about what he said, but a bad idea crossed your mind that just wouldn’t leave. It was too late to pull back now.
“Do I look like someone who cares enough about that right now? Just get over here.”
Jack looked at you, dumbfounded. “I mean— aren’t you worried about—”
“No.”
You heard nothing for a moment, then the frantic rustling of a buckle and zipper let you know what lay in store. Then he came up behind you and yanked your underwear and shorts down in one fell swoop so that they feel to your knees. You could feel the sweat from your body hit the cool air of the night.
“God, you…” Jack was worked up enough where he could barely speak himself. “L-like taking risks, huh?”
Normally, you wouldn’t. You were pretty stringent about being safe with whoever your partner was— but tonight you needed something raw. It felt disturbing and thrilling all at once, and clouded your judgment. Consequences were tomorrow’s problem; tonight you needed to feel alive.
Jack wrapped one hand around your waist, and you nearly jumped when you felt him angle the head of his cock against your folds. It made you gasp, and he swore.
“Look,” he asked hesitantly. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m surely going to explode if you don’t fuck me soon.”
That made him chuckle. Then slowly, carefully, he slipped inside you. You could feel every inch of him stretch you out. When his cock bottomed out inside you, you whimpered pathetically.
“Nng— Christ, Jack.”
He pulled out and thrust back into you once, almost like some sort of test, and it was all you could do not to scream. Eventually, he began picking up the pace, and the alley was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the thick fluid of your arousal dripped a little down the inside of your leg. You began to push your hips into his with every movement so that the end of his length could push as deep into your cunt as possible. You mewled with delight every time he went balls deep.
The door of the Prestige bar opened, and it gave you both pause. There was a real chance now you could be caught, but the thought only made you clench around Jack’s cock even harder. You tried to ignore that.
One of the groups from inside had decided they had enough to drink and were calling for a taxi. They were boisterously drunk, and one had fallen over when he stepped off the sidewalk.
You felt Jack push the other half of his cock back into you, and you opened your mouth to ask what he was thinking, but he quietly clamped one of his hands over your lips before you could say a word.
“Shh,” he said. “You know how to be quiet, right?” The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You weren’t expecting him to be such a kinky guy, but you supposed this is what you deserved for teasing him so much at the bar. When he slid his cock in and out of you at a gentler pace to make less noise, you swore you were trying your hardest to be silent as he requested, but it was all too much. Whimpers and soft moans escaped through the gaps of Jack’s fingers, so he responded in kind by shoving his three fingers into your mouth. The action muffled any cries you might have let out, but stoked your perverted thoughts like a fire. Your tongue swirled around his fingertips, which led to Jack muttering your name under his breath.
The longer Jack fucked you, the more you lost your senses. You were a drooling, shaking, sweaty mess, but you think he wouldn’t have wanted you any other way. If anyone had asked you what year it was, you weren’t sure you could have even remembered. The only thing you had awareness of was the swelling feeling of an orgasm rising in your body. It was hard to stand. You reached in between your legs to touch yourself, desperate to ride this high to its inevitable conclusion.
“Y-you close?” he stuttered. He must have noticed from the way you desperately rubbed yourself desperately.
“Yes.”
“Me too.” Jack leaned in close once again. “Come for me. Please.” It seemed it was his time to plead. Now that you noticed how he sounded, you could also feel that the rhythm of his thrusts were far more unsteady than they had been before. It was a beautiful thing to know you could drive him as crazy as he drove you.
You were right on the edge of orgasm, focusing on that last bit of progress to reach nirvana, when Jack’s teeth sunk into the soft skin of your shoulder and he bucked up into your pussy so deep that you swore he couldn’t sink any further.
That did the trick.
You muffled a guttural cry around Jack’s fingers, a tendril of drool falling to the ground as you did so. Your orgasm beat down on you in waves like a stone in the midst of a rough sea. The world spun, and you sunk your nails into that brick wall as hard as you possibly could, praying you wouldn’t just fall off the earth.
When it was over, your knees trembled. They were barely able to keep up your weight. Your senses were slowly restored to you, which made you acutely aware that Jack hadn’t come quite yet. His nostrils flared as he fucked you shakily. He removed his hand from your mouth and placed it instead on your hip again to balance himself.
“Fuck, I’m nearly there. You felt so good squeezing around me like that. I— I gotta pull out.”
An evil thought popped into your mind. “What? You aren’t going to fill me up after all that?”
Jack let loose the grasp on your hip and grabbed for your ponytail instead. “You’re r-right. That’s what you deserve— you—” his voice trailed off, and he squeezed his eyes shut, muttering your name under his breath before he emptied himself inside of you. You could feel every throb.
Both of you panted harshly, trying to catch your breaths unsuccessfully. When Jack pulled out, you could feel the evidence of his climax drip down the inside of your thigh. It brought a slight smile to the corner of your lip. You pulled your shorts up, hoping it wouldn’t all leak out too quickly.
Jack shoved his softening member back into his pants and zipped them up haphazardly. He stood absolutely dumbfounded, and so did you.
What the hell were you supposed to say after an experience like that?
You cleared your throat. “Hey. Uh… listen, that was great. Thank you.” You felt shy once again, and you scratched the back of your leg with your other foot.
You let this near stranger do things you have never had anyone do to you in your entire life, and now you’re embarrassed?
Jack wiped his brow of the sweat that formed. He still looked great, even when he was a mess. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead stubbornly. “I have would have never thought someone would let me do somethin’ like that to them,” he responded wearily. “Only in my dreams. I should be thanking you.”
“I never expected I would do anything like that at all. I would have thought someone lost it if they told me I would let a guy I met at a shitty bar take me in the alleyway like that.”
He chucked gently to himself. “Feels good to let loose, doesn’t it?”
And it did. It really did. The only negative feeling you had for now was how sore you were, but even that felt pleasurable considering the context.
You looked at your phone after long last, and noticed it was nearing 2:30 AM. Funny, it felt as though meeting Jack and screwing his brains out only lasted 30 minutes or so, but your eyelids were starting to become heavy.
Jack handed you a $50 bill, and you shot him a mildly offended stare. “It’s for Plan B tomorrow, if you need it,” he quickly explained. Fair enough.
Your gaze relaxed. “Thanks. I probably will.” You took the money from him and stuffed it into your back pocket, and he grunted in acknowledgement.
Jack pulled a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it, cupping the flame from the lighter close to his palm. “You got a place to go to tonight?”
“I do. I called to reserve a hotel while I was at the rental place.”
“Good.”
You peeked your head around the corner of the alley, and all was silent and empty. The drunks from earlier were long gone, and the liquor had faded from your system as well. You both emerged from the inky black shadow to stand once again in the light under the lamppost. When you peered through the window in front, you noticed that a few patrons were left lingering in the Prestige. It was approaching closing time rapidly.
Jack suddenly grasped the top of his head, and he cursed under his breath. “Ah, wait here. I forgot my hat inside.” He disappeared through the doors and you picked up on some stifled noises inside before Jack emerged again with cherry red cheeks. Cute.
“What happened in there?”
“I think a couple of people might have… picked up on some of the noise,” he explained. “The walls are kinda thin.” It was your turn now for you to blush.
Jack wrinkled his nose and took another drag from the cigarette. “It’s fine. They’ll tease me forever, but I’ll live.” He kicked at a lonely rock on the crumbly pavement. “Look— I had a great time. Next time you’re in town, stop by here.” He leaned up closer to you, and you backed into the wall again just a bit. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you again in a more… private context? I will have protection next time, promise.”
You grinned and folded your arms defiantly. “And if I can’t find you?”
“You will. I’m here most nights.”
“I may take you up on that, then.”
Jack tipped his hat towards you teasingly. “Have a good trip home, miss. I had fun, and I hope you did, too.” You watched him walk away and climb in his old truck, and you gave him a brisk wave that he reciprocated before pulling out of the parking lot and into the dark.
You pulled up the location for the hotel you were staying at, and as you drove off into the night yourself, you couldn’t stop grinning. At least for tonight, all your worries seemed miles away.
