james going absolutely feral when you wear one of his motörhead shirts
james putting his cowboy hat on you while you ride him and his big, warm hands are on your hips practically moving you up and down
james eating you out right before a show as a “good luck charm”
james letting you play one of his guitars (he’s somewhat surprised by how turned on he gets)
let me tell you. the scream i let out was unholy. I FEEL LIKE I CAN'T JUST CHOOSE ONE BUT THE FUCKINGMG COWBOY HAT ONE. it's calling to me. it's saying my name.
I don't know why but i'm imagining it's summer and he's been working on his car out in the sun, and he's wearing the cowboy hat to keep the sun out of his face as he works. He's been out there for so long though, and you've been patiently waiting, sitting pretty in a lawn chair as you watch him, bringing him iced tea every now and then.
But he was taking so long, and you were getting restless watching him, the way his biceps flexed as he worked on the engine, the way he would hum along to to the country and western station on the radio, sweat making his skin glow under the sun.
"James," you call softly from your place on the lawn chair, "Are you almost done?"
He's laying on the pavement now to work on the underside of the car, "Not yet, honey."
He doesn't slide out from underneath to look at you when he speaks, not catching the way you pout to yourself and huff. You only last five more minutes, crossing your arms and standing up to stand over his hips.
When he sees your shoes, he pushes himself out from under the car, still laying on his back as he looks up at you. You're standing with your legs spread, the breeze offering him full view of your panties underneath your sundress.
He falters for a moment, lost in staring up your dress, before he drops his wrench and grips your calf in one hand, "Yeah, sweetheart?"
You falter from just his touch on your leg, bottom lip pushed out into a pout as you look down at him, "You're taking too long."
"What do you need me for, baby?"
His tone is smug, trailing a finger up your calf to your thigh, trace of a smirk on his lips. When you don't answer, he taps your leg for you to move aside while he pushes himself out from beneath the car properly, leaning his back up against one of the doors. He motions to his lap, and you eye him curiously for a moment before he tugs at your wrist to get you to straddle him.
Your knees scrape a little on the pavement but you don't care, settling your legs on either side of his waist and sighing in relief from being able to be close to him.
"I think I know what you need me for," he gently runs his fingers over your cheek and down to your lips, "but I'm real tired from working'"
You cast your eyes down in disappointment, but he tilts your gaze back up with a finger under your chin, "But that doesn't mean you can't take what you want, honey."
That's how you end up with your dress hiked up and panties pulled aside, bouncing up and down on his cock as he watches, eyes hooded and big, warm hands gripping at your hips. His fingertips dig into the plushy skin as he helps your movements, watching proudly as you grip at his t-shirt and take what you want from him.
He takes the cowboy hat off his head and places it onto yours, grinning smugly as he lets himself lean back against the car, watching as you work yourself onto him, lifting one hand up to your head to keep the hat on when you throw it back in a moan.
"There we go," he grunts, "Fuckin' take it. It's yours."
You'd never been more thankful for James' garage being out of view from the neighbours, but the way he grips your hips makes you think you wouldn't care either way.
