An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Sarah shakes her head hesitantly, grabbing Topper’s arm, yanking him in her direction. “I wanna go down again. I don’t like this.”
Topper rolls his eyes, and before Sarah can protest any further, he has already picked her up against his chest.
“Topper, no!” Sarah yells over the music and the shouts, kicking her feet against his hip. “Let me down!”
With that stupid grin on his face, Topper takes another step forward. Sarah hits her fist against his chest, the other hand holding on tightly to him. “Topper, stop!”
OR
At a pool party gone wrong, JJ pulls Sarah out of the deep end with a possible spinal injury. He has no idea that the real damage—an arterial injury causing a spinal stroke—will only show later in the hospital, or that the girl he once dismissed as a spoiled princess is about to become his best friend.
barry x sarah cameron; cw misogyny re virginity, lackadaisical attitude re safe sex 18+ mdni
everyone say thank you lavi
Sarah’s a treasure trove of little surprises, like how she lets him bite all he wants. Barry knows it’s because she’s good with her makeup, covers up any evidence of their flings with all that grease paint he has no idea why she buys, the stuff she leaves on his skin and wrinkled clothes, but he still convinces himself she doesn’t care about the marks because he’s special.
Except— he’s not. At least, not in the way it matters to Sarah Cameron. Little miss white dresses and unbloomed lilies and pearls on Sunday. It’s all a front, obviously, he’s seen her on more elevated surfaces than he can count, but some of the shit she grew up with must’ve stuck.
He hits the boundary like a brick wall when he tries to get in her pants. Actually, getting her out of them— when it was just heavy petting through fabric and slipping his hands into her panties to make her ride his two middle fingers, all was fine. She pulls up her bikini top and lets him suck on her tits, and she’ll even give him a quick handjob if the moon’s in the right phase. Judging by the way she knows to spit in her palm when she grabs him, he guesses she’s done this once or twice before.
But the first time he flies too close to the sun, the time he tries to work her shorts down her legs while he’s got one hand playing with her tits and his tongue down her throat, he doesn’t even really think about it, doesn’t consider he’s making any kind of great leap. He’s just moving from one step of the process to the next when he gets a pretty girl eager and in his lap. She yelps in surprise, and he pulls his head back immediately.
“What? You see a bug?” Kind of a fork in a kitchen, but he’ll nobly throw it outside before continuing if it makes her feel better.
“No, I—” she hesitates, a different kind of fear flickering behind her gaze. “I just don’t want to… y’know.”
It takes him a second and a half to realize what she means when the poor girl can’t even say it. He’s in no rush, just pulls her shorts back up and leaves his hands on her ass. “Uh, alright. Y’okay?”
“Yeah! I don’t want to stop,” she rushes out before she can be misconstrued. “I’ve just never done that before.” Sarah blinks twice, and adds on, “I’m waiting.”
How virtuous. He’d never guess the Cameron family was so uptight with how her brother acts around town. Who knows if she really buys into the purity ring crap or if she’s just giving a kneejerk response coached by her daddy for when some dirty Pogue like him tries to feel her up, but he’ll play any game that keeps her coming back to his trailer.
“That’s cool,” he nods, goes right back to playing with her nipple.
Sarah’s spine twitches but she lets him keep going. Stares down at him warily, like she thinks it’s a trick. He wonders what bitch boy fucked this up before with her. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”
“It’d take a lot more ‘n that for you to make me mad.” She beams at him and, to back what she implied earlier, leans down to kiss him again. It’s like there was never even a hitch in their routine by the time she leaves his trailer with shaky legs and mussed up hair.
Truth be told, for all of Barry’s depravities, virginity theft is not high on his list of desires. It’s not something he thinks about too intensely one way or the other, just doesn’t do it for him, but— this isn’t some laced-up prude who’ll keep her hands clean until a church gives her the okay. I don’t want to stop, she says, and Barry’s more than happy to oblige because getting Sarah Cameron really, really desperate and denying her when she caves? That sounds a little more up his alley.
It’s like a switch flips. No gradualities, no testing the waters to be coy; the literal next time she comes over, she doesn’t wear underwear beneath her linen shorts. Barry doesn’t have half a fuck to give about her motivations— maybe she’s trying to see if he really meant it when he said he didn’t care, maybe she realized how dumb she sounded once she got home. Seems like either way she’s speedrunning the feigned reticence and they both get off in the end, so he waves her in every time.
He revisits the idea that he isn’t special— he must be, given an entire island of desperate rich boys who’d kill for a chance to feel her up. She keeps going back to his trailer, not for the finest green and purest snow from here to Atlanta (pffft, indoor and shit that smells like gasoline through the bag), but for those tastes of half-sex she could get fuckin’ anywhere. Tenacious girl has her eye on some kind of prize.
Sarah starts coming over so often it overlaps with her brother’s visits, something he’s not exactly keen on explaining to the latter. Rafe swings by late once, doesn’t send a warning text before banging on the thankfully locked front door, and Barry has to push her in a closet and hastily weigh out the eight ball to get him out. He’s pretty sure he goes over a bit, but it’s a fair trade for halfway defiling his sister who had the brains to park behind the house.
He doesn’t touch her clothes anymore, leaves that to her to decide when they stay and when they go. The times they stay taper and he quite enjoys how fast she’s ready to flash her tits when they’re just barely getting started. She’s escalating faster than he imagined, trying to give him head once and honestly not doing the best job until she goes back to using her hand and makes him cum on his lower stomach. He eats her pussy as a thanks— makes her do most of the work by lying back on the couch and guiding her to straddle his face, but it still opens one of Pandora’s boxes when she realizes how good he is with his mouth and starts swiveling down greedily.
When she’s feeling subtle, she’ll “forget” to turn off an alarm, a bell suspiciously going off while they’re necking so she can grab a circular pack of tiny white pills out of her bag, pop out the Saturday, and swallow it down with the beer he’d been nursing when she got there. Then go right back to making out like nothing had happened.
Part of him wonders if she just wants him to take it. Actually, he doesn’t wonder, he’s fully aware she’s baiting him into snapping and tearing off her clothes and bending her over the nearest surface to stuff her full until she cries about losing her innocence. He sees the impressions of a lame plan in her actions— plant the forbidden fruit seed and wait for him to jump on it. Not the worst conclusion to draw with how filthy he’s been with her so far, but she’s still a naïve little thing. He’s literally got nothing but time.
Her frustration peaks when she removes every possible barrier, figuratively and then some. Her tank top and shorts are lost on the way to his bedroom along with her underwear, she’s yanked down his sweats with no clear intention of blowing him, and Barry’s a precise angling and a stroke away from deflowering her. He’s pretty careful, mostly in control but she’s pretty fuckin’ keyed up.
Sarah cants her hips when he isn’t paying attention, and he nearly loses the whole gambit right there when the head of his cock notches against her lips and glides up at the last second. “Please, just… right there, I need it so bad—”
“No.”
“But I—”
“No.”
She doesn’t even flinch at his voice. “We can use a condom.”
Barry laughs at the audacity. And the suggestion itself. Yeah, who’s gonna run to the store to get one? “You don’t know the fuckin’ meaning of that word, huh?”
He should know a spoiled brat of her strain would have more than one trick up her sleeve. Sarah pivots in a blink, bottom lip sticking out a little and eyebrows knitting together. “Why don’t you want to fuck me?”
Such a dangerous girl, whining like that when he can feel her dripping around the head. “You think I don’t want to fuck you?”
“Well, you haven’t,” she snaps, cuts her eyes at him, and it’s so cute he has to shake his head to keep from laughing again.
He takes himself in hand, strokes it a few times with the slick that’s collected at the tip, and lays it against her slit. It’s heavy, and they’re both so hot, sticky skin clinging together and skipping over any friction. “You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how bad I want to fuck you. Are you crazy?”
Her jaw falls open, big ass brown eyes staring up at him. “Wha…?”
“I’d sink right into this pretty little pussy,” he continues, rolling against her cunt with it. “Take my time so you feel me stretching you open.” Barry drops his head down to ghost his lips on the shell of her ear, bites it gently before kissing the skin below it. “God, if only you knew what you were missing. I’d fill you up so perfect, fit nice and snug and you’d just fall apart.”
“Oh my God,” she mewls, and he’s wise enough to press his palm into her hipbone and trap her squirming before it gets any worse.
“Fuck, you feel me, sweetheart?” he asks knowing damn well she can. Maybe she nods, maybe she’s just unable to lie still. “Right there. It’d be so easy too, with how wet you are for me. I could just slide right in and make you feel so good you don’t even know what to do with yourself. Y’want that?”
“Please,” she whimpers, struggles against the hand that pins her down once more.
She can’t see him smile when he lets her final plea hang in the air. It must sting when he mockingly laughs at her with another “no.”
“Why?!” Sarah finally asks, head thrashing to one side. He grabs her jaw and turns her back to face him, and he plants a kiss on her pouting lips before he answers.
“I’m not gonna fuck you because you told me you were waiting,” he reminds her, rocking back and forth, all but going through the motions of fucking her. “And I think that’s a great idea. Gonna keep you ready for your husband, right?”
“No!” she shakes her head, looking down at where he’s grinding. “I don’t know why I said that, I’m sorry. Just—”
“I think this is good,” he decides, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock over her swollen clit in a dirty kiss. “You’ve cum from a lot less, I’ve seen it.”
One last bullet in her mag. “I’ll find someone who will!”
Barry just laughs at her again; her indignance, her desperation, it’s all what he wanted and more. “I guess you could.”
He may as well have stabbed her in the heart. Maybe she’s more used to boys who chase when she storms off, but he’s getting too old for that shit and fine where he is. Before her devastation can twist into retaliation, he tuts at her. “But you’d hate it. Whole time you’d be thinking about how much better it’d be if I was the one workin’ you open. You’ll come crying to me because it was no good, and guess what?”
She must be close with the way her “what?” comes out dragged and half-alert. Barry drops as much as he can without putting all his weight on her and gives a sweet peck to her cheek.
“I still won’t fuck you.”
The slick noise of his cock rutting against her is a perfect harmony to her moans, bodies so together that they’re starting to sweat as one. Barry wets his thumb in her mouth, hung open and nearly drooling, and uses it to play with her nipple while ersatz fucking her through a trembling orgasm.
“That’s it, baby. You didn’t even need my cock,” he praises while she jolts and fights to breathe. Her fists ball in his dark sheets, her legs shake, and if he were a little meaner he’d snap at her to look at him while she cums. He’s been hard enough on her, so he just enjoys the show while she comes down.
He knows he isn’t unschooling anything out of her— she’ll carry on stomping her foot when she doesn’t get her way as long as the sun sets in the west— but getting the most entitled girl on the island to cry by not fucking her? Probably no better feeling in the world, right?
Sarah catches her breath, twitches out once more in a pathetic aftershock. Apparently he forgot the one in the chamber. “What about in my ass?”
