Boulevard Hell - Louis Cipher (Brad Dourif) x Reader [Smut]
Synopsis: You’re drawn to a mysterious older man one muggy night in Hollywood.
Notes: This is based on Brad’s character in the 2012 Calvin Harris music video for Drinking From The Bottle. Super random, but really hot. I can't with this video. I want him to fucking light me on fire god he is so daddy
The lights of the Walk of Fame blink and shimmer in your peripherals as you listen to the shouts of drunk tourists and honking ubers. Your head has since stopped pounding from your hangover, so you don't mind the quiet beat of a Calvin Harris song playing on the radio.
You take another bite of toast, and drop the butter-soaked piece back on the plate. You look up. The place is deserted except the older lady scrubbing the counter tops like hell will break loose if she misses a spot, and an older guy sitting two booths down from you.
You stare at him for a little longer, and find yourself focusing in on his lips... his ruffled back salt and pepper hair obviously combed by his fingers, and god, those fingers. His eyes seemed to dart around with a look that seemed too alert for the rest of him.
Fuck it.
You leave your plate, and go sit down beside him in the booth. You had meant to sit across from him, but something strange had compelled you to move closer.
"Hi," you say, stealing some of his pancake mush on an extra fork. He looks at you.
"Oh. Hey! I saw you at the party last night."
You frown, trying to remember where you even were last night. "You did?"
"Yeah, I did. Who could forget a thing like you?" His eyes do a little dance over you, and you decide you like it.
"I didn't see you."
"No one ever really sees me." He probably means to say it as a throwaway, but it's a heart-felt statement, and he looks down bitterly at his sugar inflated pancakes.
"I saw you from my booth. Thought I'd come..." you shrug, "I don't even know what I thought I'd do. It's as if I just suddenly... wanted to talk to you."
He nods boredly. "Funny thing."
"What do you do?"
"I travel."
"Oh yeah? Where?"
"Anywhere. I'm from somewhere hot, y'see. I gotta keep moving."
"How hot?" You smile, thinking of Florida or California weather.
He huffs. "Very hot."
You can't help but feel attracted to him. He's got this devil may care attitude, with a voice like butterscotch burnt to a crisp.
"About last night," you smirk, putting a hand on his knee, "Did we see much of each other?"
He looks down at the hand as you stroke, and starts to chuckle.
"I didn't fuck you, if that's what you're asking." You must have looked disappointed. "--I wanted to, though. Could barely control myself." His hand falls to your thigh, and starts to climb.
You cross your legs. "Really?"
"Oh yeah. It's been a hell of a while, doll, you've got no idea, and you just looked so fucking juicy. A piece of that pie could twist a man's soul."
Your breathing quickens, as you feel yourself getting wet. Yes, he's a bit of a weirdo, but it's getting to you, and not in the way you'd expect.
"You wanna make up for that and fuck me now?" you whisper, lips barely grazing his ear. The old lady stops what she's doing, looks over at you two warily, then goes back to her work. She's seen it all in this place.
"I want to fuck you, yeah," he nods, eyes dropping to your lips.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Til your toes light up like Christmas." You move your hand to his bulge, which is ready growing. You smile.
"Good. I need it bad, from a real bad guy."
He pushes the plate away. "You wanna get outta here doll?" he asks, and you bite your lip.
"Where?"
He shrugs, undoing the top button of his shirt. "Who gives a fuck?"
So you take his hand, and the enigmatic older man from the diner picks you up bridal style, swinging your legs over his forearms.
Star after star passes beneath you two, and you barely register the names. People point and grin at the man's horns-- fuck, you hadn't even noticed them-- and they laugh about all the campy street performers here in Hollywood, CA.
As he carries you, you giggle, arms around his neck, and he grins too, as you lean in and start to kiss him. He reciprocates, somehow able to keep walking straight.
"I'm gonna fuck the devil," you grin teasingly, holding onto one of his horns. He glances down at you, and makes a spooky gesture that sets you off laughing again.
The two of you find yourself in a back alley, behind the walk of fame hostel, Ziggy Stardust painted abstract over brick.
He drops you down then lifts you up against the brick, your legs wrapping around his hips. His lips part as he surveys your body, and your pussy clenches, wanting more, wanting him.
Nobody can see you. Even the hostel windows are shut, oblivious, as you take off your shirt and pull down your panties. Hollywood is a perverted, godless town. Somebody once told you that, and it made you laugh.
His fingers are inside you, working you open, then he drops down to his knees, keeping your legs strung over his shoulders. His lips find your stomach, pressing tiny kisses here and there, teasing you, watching you get wet by the second. He groans when he seals his lips over your cunt. You grip his horns as he begins licking right up to your clit and sucking hard until you feel like you're about to explode. The horns are really glued on there.
He pulls away, and stands with an aura of strength you didn't think him capable of. He holds you by your ass as he pushes into you, breathing hard. You moan, feeling him stretch you, and grin at the night sky, fists pounding the brick wall in pleasure.
"That's right, baby," he breathes, "This is what you need. Daddy's gonna give it to ya." God. How did he know exactly what you like to hear?
He licks his thumb, then drags it down between your breasts, lighting up your whole body. As your orgasm approaches, you're mystified by the glow his horns seem to take on... it's just the stars you're seeing from getting fucked so good, you're convinced.
"Daddy... daddy..." you moan softly, tugging his grey hair.
"Daddy's got you... gonna fuck you nice and good, sweets," he nods, "Daddy's little fuckin slut. Fuckin cockslut."
"Ohgod," you gasp, and gush around his cock faster than you'd ever finished before, watching him pound you with determination and enraptured intensity. The tell-tale drip down your thigh tells you he came too, and you slide down the wall onto wobbling legs, waiting for coherent thought to return to you.
"Wow," is all you can say, and he drapes his arm around you as he leads you out to the moderately populated sidewalk. The late night crowds are out, but you feel safe with him... whoever he is.
"You want a smoke?" he mumbles, taking out a hand rolled one.
"No thanks." He holds his finger up to the end of it and it blazes, distorting your mind. Your heartbeat quickens. That's not possible. Is it?
That smarmy fucking grin gets you again, and you sigh softly as you fall into his arms one more time, opening your lips for him to shotgun the trapped smoke to you. His thumbs run the width of your hips, up to your belly, then his hands reach up to graze your neck in a way that sends shivers down your spine.
When he pulls away, you open your eyes. Where your mysterious older man had been, the cloud of smoke now settles.