Notes: Gabe gets fucked with a sparkly pink vibrator and eats Meg’s ass. AU.
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He wasn’t the brother that Meg had meant to fuck.
That was solidly on the blue eyed, grumpy, tight ass bent over the back counter to get the milk in the under-counter fridge that Meg never wanted in her coffee just the view - who worked the cash register at the new bakery that opened across the street from Meg’s tattoo parlor. That guy, Cas - usually called Casafras, Casalama, or Casabanana by Gabriel - he was definitely Meg’s type. Emotionally distant. Sex hair. Gravely voice. She could imagine him having tattoos under the starched white button down he wore under his pink bakery apron.
She wanted to fucking wreck him.
Gabriel though. He was short and way too cheerful, and Meg hated him on principal at first. The guy wore garish Hawaiian shirts every Friday, made stupid puns on the chalkboard sign sitting on the walk in front of his shop, and apparently was the one who designed the weird smiling cartoon cupcake that was the logo for the shop.
Meg picked up pretty quick that Gabriel flirted with anything that had a pulse. So it was kind of up in air whether he actually wanted to get in her pants or it was just his default mode.
To be honest, Meg kind of liked that about him - it was something they had in common.
Ruby, her assistant at the shop, figured it was funny to keep sending Meg over for the bacon-crumble topped and maple syrup glazed donuts just so that Meg had to endure Gabriel - Ruby had gone on the baked goods and coffee run exactly once - but honestly, Meg didn’t mind if she was getting free coffee out of it.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly when Meg deemed that Gabriel would be fun to try at least once. Call it a personal motto - you can’t know if you like something until you try it - or call it just being a slut, but Meg did end up in bed with him.
Eventually.
First, she ended up perched on the sink in the bakery bathroom with Gabriel making ridiculous slurping noises between her legs, but Je-Sus he knew his way around a pussy.
Bed is good though, especially Meg’s bed, because all her toys are within reach. And it takes a special kind of guy to want to get fucked with a sparkly pink vibrator.
Meg enjoys variety in her sex life, but this has to be one of her top five positions. Straddling Gabe’s lap reverse-cowgirl, grinding down on his thick cock, leaning forward to brace a hand on the black sheets between his thighs so she can work a vibrator into his ass.
Gabe’s a bit hairy for her taste, but he’s always impeccably clean.
He’s really not so bad.
He is noisy though, and that’s one of the things Meg likes best about fucking his ass - it doesn’t take long once something’s in his ass for his inane, pun-laced sex talked to dissolve into stuttering, whining begging.
Oh, Meg likes it when he begs.
“C’mon I know you’re missing it on purpose.”
Meg slaps him on the inside of a thigh, hard enough to pinken pale skin.
“Ouch! That was hard...”
Twisting the vibrator upward, Meg rocks it in deep. Gabe bucks underneath her, hands finding her waist and squeezing tight.
“You know I could make it harder.”
Spreading a hand over the tender inside of his smacked thigh, Meg pushes his leg wider and leans her weight on the sore spot, messy hair falling out of her pony-tail across her face, wrist sore from the bone-jarring strength of the vibrator.
“Yeah, ye-aaahaaaahungh.”
Sitting hard on his lap to pin him, grind her clit against his balls, Meg slides her hand up his thigh to press a thumb against the soft give of his taint while she jacks the vibrator faster. Gabe wails. Legs stretching out straight and tensing, fingers anchored bruise-tight against her hip, he finally slaps her ass to let her know when he’s had enough.
Meg takes her time teasing the vibrator out of him, rocking on his softening dick, warm and twitching inside her.
Gabe slaps her ass harder. “I am seriously tender, ease it...ahhh, yeah.”
Lifting up off him, Meg twists to grab a tissue off the nightstand, wraps it around the vibrator and drops it to the floor before stretching out beside Gabe as he ties off the condom.
Holding up a stubby-fingered hand, Gabe wiggles his fingers, “You want a hand with anything?”
Rolling her eyes, Meg paws blind through the nightstand drawer for her little egg-shaped vibrator. Her best friend and confidant. She runs through at least three of them in a year.
“Maybe your mouth, so you’ll shut up. Seriously, you’re not as funny as you think.”
“Can do, my delicate cherry blossom!”
Sweaty and flushed, Gabe rebounds from climax like Meg hasn’t seen since she was a teenager. Another quality that makes up for his personality.
Crawling between her legs, Gabriel hefts her thighs up over his shoulders and dives in, making submarine sonar noises as he goes. Meg flicks the vibrator on to high and circles it over her clit. Nosing down to keep out of it’s way, Gabe ends up licking over her asshole and Meg clutches her thighs around his head to keep him there. He has a tongue like a dog, sloppy and wet and made for licking ass.
Meg climaxes swiftly between the power of her old-faithful and her new-fuck-toy-boy tag teaming, so she rolls through to keep her high and draws another two orgasms riding Gabe’s tongue.
When she turns her vibe off and unlocks her ankles from behind Gabe’s head, he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth and winks at her. Sandy gold hair all tousled messy around his head shines in the noon sunlight coming through the bedroom window behind him, and she can see the sign for his bakery across the street from the apartment she has over her shop.
That goddam cartoon cupcake was starting to haunt her nightmares.
“So sweetcheeks,” he interrupts her thoughts of murder, “are we still on for putt-putt golf tonight?”
“We’re not dating, and putt-putt is for teenagers.”
“I am young at heart,” he says over his shoulder as he pads to the bathroom connected to her bedroom, pissing and gargling mouthwash noisily with the door open.
Meg takes the breather to straighten the sheets and check her phone. When Gabe comes back, he crawls on the bed to curl against her side. Gabe shoves himself under her arm to pillow his head on her bare chest.
“There’s a difference between youthful and immature,” Meg tells him.
“Ouch, you wound me, my totally mature-has-a-tattoo-of-a-unicorn-on-her-ass friend.”
Meg slaps him on the head and Gabe squeezes an arm tighter across her waist.
“Take a nap, overgrown baby.”
Gabe coos, mouthing at her chest and Meg regrets her words. He’d settle down though, and later - after a nap and dinner - Meg would put on a shirt that would definitely be inappropriate for the putt-putt golf crowd, and they’d go terrorize some teenagers together.
He wasn’t the brother that Meg had meant to fuck and this wasn’t supposed to be a relationship, but Meg knew the score. Gabriel would cuddle her like he never got hugged as a child. Meg would fall asleep, and when she woke up he’d be naked in the kitchen making pancakes. There was a reason that Meg had five (maple, cinnamon, strawberry, pecan, and boysenberry) different kinds of syrup after all.
‘Not a relationship’ status wouldn’t have it’s own shelf in the fridge.
