Jealousy Problem
MDNI 18+
A/n: ah its been a while! I promise i didn't fall of the face of the earth ive just had a busy busy time! This is a new one for me, so hopefully its not too bad, but ever since my mom took me with her to the theater to see Elvis on opening day, ive been utterly obsessed with both Austin and Elvis! So i thought id try add to the lack of both austin and elvis fics!
Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Reader
Summary: The photo was completely innocent, youd stumbled over a step by the door and the poor guy you'd tumbled into was just making sure you were okay. But Elvis, you think, has a bit of a jealousy problem
Warnings?: smut, mentions of oral (f), slightly sub!Elvis, some swearing, handjob? Kinda, mentions of bodily fluids (cum, arousal, sweat) i think thats it!
Words: 1669
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The first thing you hear coming in the front door is "Really?"
"Fuckin' really?", he repeats, his accent dripping with the unmistakable southern twang. he's flushed pink high on his cheeks, shoulders squared, and he's furious.
Your laidback, lackadaisical Presley is fuming, he never shouts in your presence, knowing it makes you uncomfortable, but boy does he sulk. making life miserable for himself until he works himself all the way up till he has to shut himself away. Playing his guitar, reading or listening to whatever records he can find into the latest hours of the night, and although you didn't usually care to provoke him- what else had you got to do tonight?
His schedule is clear for a rare few days and you've been in a teasing mood ever since he saw some photos in the paper.
Photos of you, his girl, only his, wrapped up in the prettiest summer dress, with one of his friends arms around your shoulders. taken as you left the venue with everyone after one of Elvis's shows.
The photo was completely innocent, youd stumbled over a step by the door and the poor guy you'd tumbled into was just making sure you were okay. But Elvis, you think, has a bit of a jealousy problem.
"What?, whats the matter?" You purr, feigning ignorance, slipping your jacket off as you walk past Elvis and through the front door of graceland. Sauntering round him, you kick your shoes off next to the couch just how he hates and crane your neck to face him.
Elvis gestures at you, hands out, palms up, the universal sign for "what the fuck?", and you quirk an eyebrow at him. He makes a noise in his throat like an angry cat and crosses the room in a few steps, and crowds against you, until your senses are filled with the intoxicating scent of him.
Before you can even think to do anything he grabs your wrist, pulling your body against him, walking you upstairs until your back is against the bedroom door.
He dips down to place his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the perfume you knew he loved, soft strands of your hair falling around his own against your warm skin.
His other hand is still around your right wrist. Tightly but not enough to harm you. just holding your body still as you tremble with excitement.
His lips plant sloppy kisses until his teeth nip hard enough on your neck to feel the tendons and muscles twitch and the feel the steady thrum of your heartbeat in your throat.
That will bruise, you think idly, Elvis is marking his territory, he's jealous. He's also rock hard against your thigh, dark dress pants hanging low on his hips, shoving the straps of your dress off your shoulders and further down your chest so he can palm your breasts unrestricted.
You can't help but let out a quiet whine as he runs his delicate fingertips over your nipple until it hardens, until he has your full attention. And he's jealous.
"You're mine darlin, that's what, " he drawls, almost on cue, and nips at you again, rolling your earlobe gently between his teeth. Elvis's grip on your wrists tighten fractionally as he ruts his hips and stomach against yours , "I don't wanna share you, want you all to myself."
You laugh then sigh, more sunshine drunk than liquor drunk after your day. You free your hand from his grip and curl your arms up around his neck, grasping a handful of his soft hair in your fingers. pulling his head back so his mouth isn't biting you anymore and his face is no longer buried in your hair.
his throat is exposed, mouth half open, and his eyes are clouded with want, watching you from under his dark lashes.
when you do press yourself up to meet him, feeling his cock twitch under his pants and his soft abdominal muscles clench.
when he snaps out of his daze Elvis's hands pull you away from the door and the two of you go tumbling towards the bed.
"Gotta teach you a lesson, Need ya so bad darlin" Elvis mutters softly against your mouth, like you tripped and posed for a photo with a friend holding you upright to make his heart explode with jealousy on purpose. For you both to end up lazily making love on the couch for hours as you intermittently listen to the radio or to make you both frantically fuck in one of Elvis's prized cars on a secluded side street after dinner is the reason you did it.
You laugh again and kiss him, properly, tasting his jealousy. Before undressing each other in between the heated kissing, sighing happily again when he curls his long fingers around each of your wrists, holding you firmly down to the mattress as his warm torso covers yours.
Elvis starts to get more desperate once he's inside of you, until he can't hold your wrists down because he wants nothing more than the feeling of your hands on his body, sliding through his dark hair and scratching his back and shoulders.
Although before he can truly do anything more you've flipped him, sliding yourself back down around him, riding him, fucking yourself down onto him for half an hour or more until you see the tiny beads of sweat on his hairline. watching him savage his pouty bottom lip and feel his hands start to tremble when he runs his thumbs over your nipples again down to your hips.
You wait until he's starting to beg for it with just his breathing, his cheekbones still flushed pink but now for a different reason, before slowing it right down until Elvis's fingers edge down to stroke at your clit, where he selfishly hopes that if you move with your own pleasure you will move enough to make him finish too.
Except your a step ahead, and you edge it for him, keeping his pleasure balanced, loving how his once icy blue pupils are engulfed in darkened lust and the whines and moans that bubble out of his mouth to stay bitten and red.
He's amenable when he's like this. Elvis will do anything, for you, to you, with you, he just wants more. And today, he's jealous.
"Darlin please , come on," Elvis manages to whine out again as you edge it out for him again. Simply because you can feel his shoulder muscles tense and everytime you grind your body down on him to the hilt, he bites his bottom lip hard almost hard enough to draw blood- except he doesn't.
"jus' let me- let me cum, fuck, you should cum 'round me, darlin please, please," Elvis complains as though so far any amount of begging has given him anything.
"You said I was yours," you say breathless, thighs gripping around his hips, pausing your movements as he lifts his hand to stroke your hair back from your face.
Elvis's hands dip, slowly petting at your throat with his thumbs, applying just enough pressure above your collarbones to make her breathing just that bit harder.
He moans quietly into your mouth as he reaches down between your conjoined body's and realizes his thighs are wet from the heat of you, slick and warm.
He just wants to fucking taste you, throw your thighs over his shoulders and bury his tongue inside you until you melt. "Oh baby You are mine," he agrees, "but that doesn't mean I shouldn't make a mess of you."
"You wanna make a mess of me Mr Presley?" You tease as you feel his cock throb as you begin to slide off him. Retreating to the top of the bed where you lay back against the plushness of the pillows, and it's only a split second later until he's got your thighs open and his mouth on you, drinking you in, licking,tasting and sucking until you have your hand clutched in his tousled hair. until his scalp aches and your grinding down onto his mouth.
When you cum, he holds your hips still with his hands, fingers half-slick, waiting for the aftershocks to subside before he leans up and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his silver tongue.
Carefully you wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke, once, twice, before watching him fall apart groaning and letting out almost inaudible curses.
you feel him shudder and his hips beg for you to let him cum, finally, fucking finally. he'd been on edge for an hour and was already half hard before you even got in the front door.
When you dont make a move to fuck him again he looks down at you, half underneath him on a stack of pillows, thighs slick, hair ruined, soft purple bite marks all over your breasts, and he realizes what you mean- you want him to make a mess of you, oh-god, and with that warm hand on his cock all he can do is growl so loud he's sure the world will hear him beg.
He braces himself on the bedhead behind you with one hand and scratches his blunt nails across the back of your neck with the other as he watches as his cock paints you, ribbons of white warmth landing across your breasts and down your stomach. smearing down from your wrist as he slides down onto you, stickiness, sweat, slick and fuck-knows-what-else between you as he breathes in through your hair.
"Fuck baby" You shift, stretching out your legs, and he feels you laugh underneath him rather than hearing it, "You have a jealousy problem."
"It's not really a problem if it ends like this every time now, is it?" Elvis jokes as he removes himself off you, sated, feeling boneless and lazy as he laces his fingers with yours and pulls you off the bed in the direction of the shower.
