Summary: After a difficult divorce, you have been spending some quality time at your local pool to ease the stress of everyday life. It's a slice of paradise - getting to let yourself escape reality a bit, and with your irksome children and cheating ex husband off your mind, the only thing of interest to you is the gorgeous, suave lifeguard you've had your eye on all summer.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! Sexual content, minors DNI
“Okay guys, I’ll be home later,” you call up the stairs as you step into your entryway, looping your wicker tote bag around your shoulder and slipping on your flip flops.
You hear the muffled, flat sound of your kids’ voices coming from above you, both of them having locked themselves in their rooms since this morning.
“Libby, you’re in charge today,” you continue, hoping they’re at least partially listening. “Make sure you guys eat your lunch that I put in the fridge. I should be back by dinner, but if not there’s a twenty on the counter and the number for the pizza place. Call me if you need anything.”
“Whatever,” your daughter mumbles as she opens her bedroom door and descends down the stairs, aimlessly scrolling through her phone until she reaches the bottom and looks up at you.
“Why are you wearing makeup? she asks, the glow from her phone illuminating her leery expression. “I thought you were going to swim.”
You frown, trying to hide your sudden nerves with offense.
“What, I can’t look cute at the pool?” you counter, grabbing your sunglasses from the top of your head and sliding them over your eyes so she can’t study you any further.
“I mean, I guess,” she utters, giving you a single look up and down before continuing to walk into the kitchen.
You do one more run through of your things — sunscreen, lipstick, a towel — when you hear Libby slam the fridge door, storming by you and back up the stairs.
“Conner, I told you to not touch my fucking lemonade!” she screams, and you hear the door to your son’s room crashing open, then some rustling and more yelling, before a sharp smack and the sound of your son’s cries.
You freeze, squeezing your eyes closed for a moment to try to tune out the sound of the chaos.
You have given up on trying to intervene at this point. Your attorney told you this would happen — divorce makes children act up. Even though Libby is 18 and Conner nearly 13, they fight like they are still little kids. You’ve tried your best to make the transition as easy as possible, having won the house and a portion of your now ex-husband’s income as compensation. You consider it an adequate deal for having caught him cheating on you with his assistant. Still, it’s been a hard change, especially with the kids having to learn how to split their time between the both of you.
You hear Libby storm out of her brother’s room and slam the door to her own, signaling that the fight is over. You exhale the breath you were holding, grabbing the keys from their hook and heading out the door.
It’s probably the hottest day of the year so far, and you immediately crave the cool water of the pool as you step into your car, the short skirt of your swimsuit coverup lifting so that your thighs touch directly to the scalding hot black leather of your seat. You wince, fixing the fabric to cover your skin before pressing the ignition and blasting the A/C.
You crank up the radio on your way, Aerosmith blaring as you pull into its busy parking lot. You find the closest spot and pull in, letting your A/C blow for a few more seconds as you flip down the sun visor above your head and give one last check of your makeup. You grab your lipstick from your bag, applying a second coat and touching up the corners with your fingertip, before tousling your hair and spritzing a bit of the perfume you keep in your center console. Once you feel ready, you flip the car off and grab your things, stepping out into the sunshine.
“Hey!” You hear a familiar voice call once you reach the entrance to the pool, and you look over to see that it’s Susan, the mother of one of Conner’s friends that you have taken a liking to since joining PTA at your kids’ school together.
Susan wasn’t uptight like most of the parents who you volunteered with, and you loved gossiping with her. You two eventually started going out for drinks after every meeting, which has transitioned to chatting by the pool now that school is out for the summer.
You smile, waving at her as you approach.
“Don’t you look fabulous, is that a new coverup?”
“It is,” you beam, looking down at the bright blue fabric, just sheer enough that you can see the outline of your swimsuit underneath. “I got it on sale last week - it was a steal.”
You two chat as you make your way through the brief line that has formed at the check in desk, before making your way to your favorite spot to lay out.
You drop your bag on the ground next to you and unroll your towel, placing it neatly along the lounge chair. You bend down to grab your sunscreen tube from your bag, listening to Susan go on about how Chuck, her husband, wants to go to their lake house soon and how you’re invited. You pull off your coverup and begin lathering in the thick, white lotion, enjoying the feeling of it melting into your hot skin, the sweet smell of coconut wafting over you. You prop your foot onto the edge of your chair as you begin massaging from your legs, to your thighs, then up to your stomach and chest. You started doing a pilates class a few months back, and you’re pleased to notice how toned your body already looks and feels, your fingers pressing into your firm muscles.
You’re done with the other side of your body and about to attempt your back when you sense someone approaching you from behind, their shadow shifting in your peripherals.
“Need help with that?” a husky voice asks, and you spin around to see who it’s coming from.
To your delight, it’s exactly who you wanted it to be. You have yet to catch his name, but he’s been here nearly every day you come, his slender frame perched on the wooden highchair at the edge of the pool, his whistle dangling from his mouth and safety tube resting in his lap. He’s a young man, as most of the lifeguards here are, and you’re almost positive he went to the same school as your kids, perhaps having graduated a little before Libby since you hadn’t seen him at any of their assemblies in at least a few years.
He’s definitely handsome, and though you’d never admit it, you have stopped to admire him a few times when he’s on duty while you’re here, becoming especially enamored with the way he pulls his long, brown hair up and away from his eyes and into a ponytail or bun, the muscles in his slender arms flexed as he meticulously works to loop the tie around his hair.
“That would be great,” you blush at him, handing him the tube and giving a brief look up and down his frame, hoping he doesn’t notice behind your dark sunglasses.
He always has on the shortest pair of red swim trunks out of all the staff here, his tanned, slender= thighs on full display.
He squirts a bit into the palm of his hand and you turn around facing Susan as you feel his hand caress your back. Susan lowers her sunglasses, raising her eyebrows in a cheeky look before beginning to spray herself with her own sunscreen.
“I feel like I see you ladies here pretty often,” the boy says, and you feel his fingertips brush your hair to the side as he rubs into the back of your shoulders. “But I don’t believe I’ve ever introduced myself.”
He adjusts to the side of your frame, just enough so he can meet his eye with a turn over your head. He reaches out his hand.
“I’m Sam.”
“Hello, Sam,” you smile, grasping his hand with a gentle shake.
You introduce yourself, as well as Susan, who gives him a polite smile.
“I’m gonna go get us some drinks from the snack bar, I’ll be right back,” she promptly says to you, and you barely catch her giving you a teasing look over her shades as she walks away.
Your heartbeat quickens once you’re alone and Sam gets back to work, maneuvering around the strap of your swimsuit to get the middle of your back.
“So SPF 50, huh?” he says, clearly trying to strike a conversation.
You give him a funny, amused look when he peers over at your face again.
“Yep.”
“Excellent choice, you don’t want those sunrays melting you away,” he says, rubbing in a white streak on your side. “We have some regulars here that, to be honest, look like leather couches. It would be such a shame for you to waste your beauty like that.”
You can’t help but giggle at his comment, because it’s true. Just a few feet away sits a group of younger ladies you see here frequently, their skin bronzed from laying out for what you assume is hours a day. While you admit it looks good now, you always make comments to Susan about how they’ll regret that in a few years.
But wait — did he say your beauty?
Was this his way of flirting with you?
No, you tell yourself. You’re old enough to be his mother. He’s only being friendly with you.
You’ve been dolling yourself up in the hopes he would maybe notice you, the thought of him even saying hello seeming like only a daydream. Now, you feel him run his hand along the small of your back, pressing in a few light circles with his fingertips, and you’re convinced that you’re living your wildest fantasy. The touch is so delicate it sends a chill through your body, even in this heat. There’s no way it can get better than this.
“That should be good,” he finally says, and you hear the cap of the sunscreen lid click closed.
“Thank you,” you smile, quickly turning around to face him again, and realize it may have been a bit too quickly.
To your regret, you didn’t realize he had sat on the edge of your chair at some point to apply the rest of the sunscreen – he’s quite taller than you, and likely had to use it for leverage to get the entirety of your back – until he nearly collides with your chest when he stands back up, the sudden movement leading him to grab your waist in order to steady the both of you.
“Oh,” you gasp, squeezing his arms as you regain your balance. “I am so sorry-“
“No, no,” he laughs, releasing his hands from you promptly. “I startled you, that’s my fault.”
You giggle, cupping your hands over your mouth to hide your embarrassment. You can tell the encounter has him blushing too, but his genuine laugh makes you feel a bit less mortified.
“It’s alright,” you blush, grabbing the sunscreen tube from his hand.
“You know, I think I went to school with your daughter, Libby is it?” he asks, and you’ve never been so happy to change the subject.
“Yes!” you exclaim, stuffing the sunscreen back in your bag. “I thought you looked familiar.”
“She must’ve just graduated, right? I believe she was a sophomore when I was a senior.”
“She did,” you beam, the butterflies in your stomach ceasing to let up.
“Well, congratulations to her. Anyway, I’ll let you get to your sunbathing, I’m on duty in five. I’ll see you around, Mrs.-“
“Oh-“ you cut him off, feeling some mix of continual embarrassment and pride before making the correction. “I’m now Ms., actually. My husband and I recently split.”
“Oh,” Sam heeds with a raise of his brow, and to your surprise, you see his lips quirk up in an apparent attempt to suppress a smirk. “My apologies, miss. I hope things are going alright.”
“They are,” you assure, flashing a toothy smile back at him.
“Great. I’ll see you around then,” he grins, before turning around towards the lifeguard station on the opposite side of the pool.
You watch as he switches spots with a curly haired boy who promptly pulls off his rescue tube and hands it to him. Sam climbs up the ladder, plopping down in the seat and adjusting the umbrella above him to his liking.
You almost don’t catch it, but he gives you a small wave once he’s settled, and you smile at the fact that he still notices you from afar. You wave back, before scooting onto your own chair and comfortably situating yourself, your legs sprawled out in front of you. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun hitting your skin.
After a few minutes, you open your eyes to see Susan coming back from the snack bar.
“Piña colada?” she offers, extending a plastic cup filled with creamy frozen cocktail mix, a maraschino cherry sat atop and a pineapple slice on the rim.
“Yes please,” you beam, gladly taking it from her.
Your first gulp tastes almost entirely of rum, and you wince at the sting in your throat.
“God,” you gag, mixing around the slush with your straw. “Did you get an extra shot?”
“Maybe,” Susan smiles, happily sipping hers. “Maybe two.”
“Listen - I wasn’t planning to get wasted today,” you laugh before taking another sip. “I told the kids I’d be home by dinner.”
“I just wanted to loosen you up a bit,” she says with another devious smile. “So you can finally make a move on Sammy over there.”
You nearly choke on your drink, giving her a bewildered look.
“That is absolutely not happening,” you state, setting down your drink on the ground next to you.”
“Oh, come on,” she teases, reaching over to lightly shove at your shoulder. “He is gorgeous, and with the shit you have been through lately you deserve something fun.”
“Susan,” you whine. “He’s half my age, and barely older than Libby- they went to school together! He just told me he remembers her.”
“I think it’s sexy,” she grins, clearly not being convinced. “And don’t act like I haven’t seen you eye fucking him every time we come here.”
You purse your lips, shaking your head to try to deny her, but you know it’s no use.
“I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you say, taking a cheap route to avoid any further meddling from her.
You hear her snicker as you lift yourself off of your chair, leaving so quickly that you don’t even think to grab your towel or coverup, or flip flops for that matter.
The concrete is hot from the sun, so you walk around the tiled perimeter of the pool, the water splashing over your feet as the children playing inside jump and splash around.
You’re about halfway across the length of the pool when you look up at the large lifeguard chair, Sam still perched atop it.
“Come to join me?” he jests when you’re in earshot of him.
“I’m afraid I’m not CPR certified,” you joke, stopping once you hit the very corner of the pool.
You look out in front of you, at the large expanse of white hot ground between you and the women’s restroom. You brace yourself to scurry across, when Sam's voice once again calls from above you.
“That’s gonna burn. Here, borrow mine.”
He motions below him, to a pair of black flip flops that sit beside his chair.
You gladly walk over, stepping into the plush foam, the backs of the sandals sticking out at least an inch or two beyond your heels.
“You got some big feet,” you joke, and you hear him chuckle a reply as you trek over to the restroom, the oversized sandals squeaking with each step and making it a bit hard to walk.
After you’ve relieved yourself, you step over to the dingy mirror, checking yourself over once more before having enough of the humid, sticky feeling you get in every public pool restroom.
You’re exiting the restroom when you hear the voices of two young girls gossiping in what must be the lifeguard’s office.
“I was gonna try to ask him out myself, but I think he’s into older women,” one says, causing you to stop in the tiny corridor that separates the restroom exit and office, holding your breath so you can hear better. “Have you not seen how he flirts with Mrs. Nelson? And not to mention that one lady that’s here today…”
You blush hard, assuming that she’s referring to you, but you also feel a hint of jealousy knowing that you’re not the only woman Sam gives attention to. The other girl giggles, but you step away before you can hear her response, hoping they both notice you as you walk past the office and back into the sunlight.
Sam says something to you once you approach his chair, but you choose to ignore him, sliding off his shoes and placing them back where you found them before turning around and walking to your seat.
You hear him call once more but again you refuse to acknowledge it, pattering along the wet edges until you reach your seat again.
“What happened?” Susan asks as you slump back into your seat.
“I’m an idiot,” you groan, grabbing your piña colada that’s already started to melt and taking a big gulp. “He apparently gets it on with a million other women, it's ridiculous to think he takes any special interest in me.”
“Of course he’s a little player, that’s not surprising,” she says, grabbing a magazine from her bag. “All men are, no matter their age.”
“You’re telling me,” you scoff under your breath, rolling your eyes at the thought of your ex.
“But that still doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun,” Susan argues, but you dismiss her idea with a wave of your hand, wanting to forget about him, and every other man, for a moment.
You lay back in your chair, letting the heat wash over you, and you finally begin to relax.
A few hours later the sun is beginning to set. You glance at the clock on the wall to your right and read that it’s five till seven, which also means it’s five till your favorite time of the day - adult swim.
For two hours, from seven til nine, all the kids are forced out of the water and you get to enjoy it alone — well, save for the maybe five other adults that use the time to get their laps in.
“Are you not staying?” you ask Susan when you notice her begin to pack her bag.
“Not tonight, Chuck wants me home early to help get the kids to bed. He’s gotta be up at six tomorrow morning to fly out for a business trip.”
“Oh,” you frown. “Well alright then, goodnight.”
“Goodnight!” she smiles, lifting her bag to her shoulder and slipping on her sandals. “Let me know if there’s any updates with Mr. Pool Boy.”
You blush as she begins to walk away.
“Don’t worry about that, there won’t be.”
You hear her give a teasing laugh, tossing her head back as she walks away, and you avert your eyes back over to the lifeguard chair. You hadn’t paid any attention in hours, but you hate to admit that you’re slightly disappointed to notice that the person occupying the seat is no longer Sam, but rather a slender blonde girl.
You sigh, silently cursing at yourself for caring at all, as you make your way to the tiny metal ladder at the edge of the pool. You turn around and carefully step down, until your body weight is lifted by the water and you push away, wading in it for a few moments as your body adjusts. The water is a bit cool, but pleasantly so, especially after how hot today has been. You push your body so that you’re floating on your back, shivering at the feeling of the water seeping through your hair and to your scalp.
After relaxing for a few moments, you kick off of the wall and begin swimming down the length of the pool, pushing the water past you with brisk strokes. You allow your mind to clear as you do this, letting the current that rushes past your ears take with it all the worry and stress you’ve been feeling recently. Swimming has become an escape for you, a moment of zen amongst all the chaos that has ensued in your life. You yearn to go back to your days of being young and single, of not having to worry about children or to be tethered to a dejected relationship.
A euphoric sense of freedom drowns any negative thoughts away when you swim, carrying your mind to a blank, liminal space, empty of any emotions or feelings. It’s therapy, getting to unwind like this and forget things for a moment, and you yearn for your next moment of peace each time the whistle blows and those galling children come hurling back into the pool.
You begin to slow down when you’ve reached the 4 foot mark, your working limbs slowing to a halt, your feet finding the solid bottom of the pool.
You’re panting lightly, running your fingers through your soaked hair, when you hear the water splash quietly behind you. You whip your head around, a bit startled since you hadn’t noticed anyone on this side of the pool, to see a figure emerging from under the water right in front of you.
With his hands pushing his soaked, dark hair away from his face, you quickly realize that it’s Sam.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles cheekily, his eyelashes flitting away crystal droplets.
He runs the curve between his thumb and forefinger against the scuff under his nose and past his chin, giving you a quick look up and down as he does so.
“I thought you left,” is all you can think to say, and you blush at how flattered he looks.
“You were missing me?” he quips, and in that moment you remember that you’re supposed to be upset with him.
“I thought you had ran off with Mrs. Nelson, or another lady twice your age,” you snap back, running your fingers along the surface of the water absently.
You see Sam freeze, clearly caught off guard by your accusation.
“Woah, woah, woah,” he derides, his eyebrows furrowed. “What? Where did you hear about that? Nothing is happening with me and Mrs. Nelson. How-do you even know who that is?”
You shrug coolly, trying to fight the smirk that creeps onto your lips. “Just heard some gossip by the bathrooms earlier.”
“Well, believe me,” Sam assures, and you jump when he reaches out to your hand that is still gliding along the water. “There is not a single person here that I am interested in more than you.”
You do a poor job of hiding your blush, flattered by his genuine tone.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you dismiss, pulling your hand from him.
Before you even try to move away, Sam reaches for you again, a little more assertively this time, though his touch remains gentle.
He pauses a moment before pulling you toward him, and you can’t help but oblige. Within a moment you’re inches from his face, close enough to see the specks of dark honey in his irises.
“You don’t think I can handle you?” he asks, his eyebrow quirked.
His eyes dance with mischief, and you feel a nervous flutter in your chest. You glance over at the lifeguard chair that’s now only a few feet away from you, just to find the girl perched atop it absently scrolling through her phone.
“Don’t worry about her,” Sam whispers, turning your chin back towards him with the tip of his finger.
He keeps it there for a second, his eyes training on your mouth. You can’t help but do the same to him, watching his pink lips spread into a crooked smirk. You’re still so close to him that you can see every droplet on his face, his puffs of breath brushing against your cheeks.
“Meet me in the parking lot in ten,” he orders when you don't answer, his hand dipping below the water and finding your waist. “I’ll have my lights on - it’s a dark blue Camaro. Okay?”
He gives your hip a squeeze before releasing you, and you nod up at him submissively.
“Okay.”
He turns around and reaches for the edge of the pool, the muscles on his back flexing to lift himself out of the water.
“Hey Julie,” you hear him call to the girl in the chair, just as you begin swimming back to your own spot in hopes to avoid any judgy looks from her or anyone else around you. “I’m gonna take my break - be back in a bit. Don’t miss me too much.”
~
It took you all of three minutes to gather your things and book it to your car. You slide into the driver's seat, not bothering to even turn the engine on as you once again pull down your visor and touch up your hair and makeup. You wish you hadn’t even gone in the pool now that your eyeliner has smudged a bit under your lashes, but with a bit of buffing out with your ring finger you manage to still look presentable, especially since the sun has finally dipped below the horizon and everything around you has a fallen into a deep, dark shade of blue.
You let out a sigh, butterflies dancing around your stomach. You felt like a teenager, sneaking off with a boy your parents didn’t know about. You never did anything mischievous like that when you were younger, and you hope this occasion isn’t the start to some sort of crazed mid-life crisis. If you heard of any other woman fooling around with a boy half her age, you’d find it ridiculous, but you can’t help but find it exhilarating.
You mutter some words of affirmation to yourself before stepping back out of the car, leaving your things behind in the passenger seat. You had put your coverup on before leaving the pool, but a shiver still runs up your spine when a cool breeze wisps by you, penetrating your still wet swimsuit from underneath the thin fabric.
You’re not exactly sure which direction you’re supposed to be going, and you hope you don’t look too suspicious as you glance around the parking lot, eyeing every dark colored car. A few other people are leaving the pool, so several headlights are illuminated within the lot, and you begin to panic that you won’t be able to find Sam - or worse, that this was all a big joke he’s pulling, and he‘s actually still back in the lifeguard’s office, gloating about how easy you are.
Just when you think you should turn and go back to your car, the brights of a car to your left flick on and off. You jump, your head swiveling to see what car it’s coming from. Sure enough, it’s a Camaro, and when the lights turn off you see Sam in the driver’s seat, arm wrapped around its thin steering wheel as he peers out at you with a slick smile.
You blush, hurrying to the passenger side.
“What kind of gentleman are you, not opening the door for me?” You quip as you pull yourself into the leather seat and shut the door.
Instantly, the smell of cigarettes and weed hits your nose, with hints of a woody cologne and chlorine lingering behind it.
“I’m sorry, gorgeous,” he grins, sitting back in his seat as you get comfortable, his eyes heavy as they rake along your body. “I figured you wanted to keep this inconspicuous. Let me take you out on a proper date one day, and you’ll get all of my chivalry.”
You shake your head at him, a smirk quirking your lips as you nervously play with the hem of your coverup.
At least he had the decency to also get a little dressed before leaving the pool - an oversized white t-shirt with lifeguard and a bold red cross printed across it hangs loosely from his frame, its sleeves cut to the point that the armholes nearly reach his hips, his entire side still fully exposed.
“So how are the kids?” he asks so casually, it’s as if you’re longtime friends, a bigger, sleazy smile spreading his lips. “All tucked in, ready for bed?”
“Hopefully,” you reply, deciding to play along with his game. "I left Libby in charge."
The mention of them makes you remember your plans for dinner, and you glance over at his radio to see that the time reads 7:35. You’re not exactly sure how long this will take — you’re not even sure what this is — but you hope the kids have taken it upon themselves to order the pizza, considering you most likely will not be home in the next hour.
Sam nods, following your look to the radio and flipping it on, turning the knob to a soft volume. "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner is playing, conveniently fitting the tension building between you.
“I’m sorry about what happened…” he says says, soft and genuine now, his hand smoothly reaching from the radio to grip your thigh.
His touch sends a chill through you, your skin prickling in goosebumps that he can surely feel under his fingertips.
“It’s alright,” you reply, your hand resting over his. “I’m a lot happier now.”
“I’m sure you are,” he hums, leaning in closer as his hand travels further up your thigh. “You deserved so much better than that.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, but you lean into his touch, until you’re once again inches from his face. You run your own hand against the soft skin of his exposed side, your fingers caressing the narrow ridges of his ribs. His eyes flick to your lips, before scanning up the rest of your face.
“You deserve to be fucking worshipped.”
You can’t wait any longer — his words make you melt. You pull him into you, your lips crashing together. The kiss becomes heated almost instantly, your tongues taking no time to intertwine, his arm slinking around your waist to pull you even closer to him.
He releases his lips and plants kisses down your neck, gripping at the flesh of your hips through your coverup.
“Take this off,” he orders, tugging at its hem, briefly before lifting himself off his seat and over the middle console.
He falls back into his backseat, sitting back and spreading his lap open, inviting you to follow.
You do as he says, lifting yourself up so you can swiftly pull it off of you, tossing it to the side and climbing over to him as smoothly as you can, your knee pressing against the console to stable yourself.
He meets you halfway, leaning forward to grab your hips and pull you into his lap so that you’re straddling him, his lips once again finding yours.
You continue making out as his hands find the tie to your bikini top, pulling it loose with one swift move. It hangs loosely from your shoulders, and you hesitate before letting the straps dip from your shoulders, the dainty garment falling into your lap.
Sam’s eyes gleam once he takes in the sight of your bare breasts. He massages one in his palm, his hand warm against the cool skin that’s still damp from your swimsuit. He leans towards the opposite one, looking up at you with wide doe eyes before pressing his lips against your hard nipple. He swirls the bud with his tongue, the sensation sending tingles through your entire body. You let out a whimper when he gently nips at it, before soothing it with a kiss.
You run your hand up the nape of his neck, gripping at his hair that’s also still a bit wet from earlier. You begin grinding your hips against him as his mouth pays respect to your other breast, and to your pleasure you feel him harden underneath you. His hand travels from your breast down your stomach, until his fingertips brush against one of the frilly ties on the side of your bottoms. Before you can think, he pulls you off of his lap and to the seat beside him, his arm guiding you down gently. You shiver when your bare back hits the cold leather.
He adjusts himself so he’s sitting up, still between your legs, his hands once again finding the strings laced at your hips. The knots loosen easily, and he takes no time to pull the fabric away, the cool air hitting your soft, sensitive skin. He leans back over your body, one hand sinking into the seat at your side, the other one still lingering between your legs. He presses a gentle kiss to your collarbone, his eyes flicking up to you.
You can’t see what he’s doing, but you gasp when you feel his fingers press flat against your heat, gliding against it with ease.
“You’re so wet,” he hums, pressing another kiss on your neck and sucking gently.
You let out a soft moan, your hips gyrating to increase the pressure. He runs his fingers up and down your slit, just barely brushing against your clit. The teasing has your head spinning, and you decide you want to play with him too, your hand running over the crotch of his tiny shorts. You can feel him straining against the fabric, and you hear his breath hitch when you run your palm against it. The tie of the shorts brushes against your hand, and you pull it loose before lowering your fingers down to your own heat, briefly moving Sam’s hand aside so you can rub against yourself. When your fingers are coated in your own wetness, you hold Sam’s eye contact as you reach your other hand to pull at his waistband, dipping your slickened fingers past it and finding his length.
His eyelids flutter shut as you begin pumping him, the prettiest sounding whimper escaping his lips.
“Feel good, sweetheart?” You hum, and his lips perk in a blissful grin.
His fingers go back to pleasuring you, his thumb honing in on your clit before letting another finger dip into your entrance. His synchronized rhythm feels heavenly, and pretty soon you begin to feel the pressure building deep within you.
He slips in another finger after a few moments, the sound of your wetness and heavy breaths filling the humid air of the car. Trying to fight the urge to let the sensation overwhelm you, you hook a thumb on his waistband and pull down his shorts, his length springing out and slapping gently against his abdomen. He takes this moment to adjust his position, pulling his soaked fingers out of you and stroking himself.
“Can I fuck you?” he asks softly as he hovers over you.
“Please,” you beg, your fingers finding your clit to further stimulate yourself.
He falls forward so you’re chest to chest, his forearm looping under your neck to not fully crush you with his weight. He uses his other hand tie guide his head to your entrance, sliding it along your slit a few times to get you used to the added pressure. He presses a deep kiss to your lips before finally thrusting into you, and you let out a crying moan into his mouth.
“You alright?” he asks, pulling out of you.
“Yeah,” you giggle, a bit embarrassed by your expressive reaction. “I’m just not…used to your size.”
You know his pride swells at the comment, but it’s true. Your ex doesn’t hold a candle to him.
“Alright, I’ll go slow,” he says, before kissing your forehead softly.
The action is so sweet and genuine, you nearly get emotional at the thought that you haven’t been cared for this much in ages. The sentiment quickly escapes you though, as Sam plummets back into you and pleasure courses through your body.
Somewhere amongst the thrusts and moans and intertwining of limbs, you get the chance to switch positions, with your weight now rested on top of him. Though you have to duck your head to prevent yourself from hitting the ceiling, you sit up, his length buried deep inside now that you’re fully acclimated to the intense stretch. You begin rocking yourself back and forth, up and down, pressing a hand against the door behind him to give yourself more leverage as your breasts bounce with each movement. You fall back into him when your legs begin to grow tired, letting him continue to thrust up and into you as the warm pressure once again blooms inside you.
Sam reaches his fingers to rub vigorously at your clit, the intense sensation building more and more inside of you. You feel his own rhythm begin to deteriorate, his thrusts more shallow as you’re sure he’s about to reach his peak too.
“Come inside of me,” you tell him, to which he gives you a bewildered look.
“Really?”
You can only nod your assurance, reaching your peak with one last thrust. The waves of pleasure wash over you, your vision blurring into stars. A moment later and Sam is following your lead, and you feel him fill you up completely, warmth dripping down your thighs. You guide him through it, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as you both twitch and jolt with shared pleasure.
“Oh my-,” he pants once he’s come down. "God."
He pulls out of you, and you do your best to make room for him to lay along the expanse of the seat with you. “That was amazing, really. The best I’ve ever had.”
You both take a minute to calm your heart rate, then Sam sits up and m inspects the mess you two have made.
“Should we go get you a-?”
“Oh,” you laugh, immediately knowing what he’s referring to. “Babe I had my tubes tied years ago, I will not be welcoming any more children in this lifetime.”
“Well, that’s fun,” he breathes, earning another genuine laugh from you.
“Yeah, I guess now it is,” you quip, and he gives you a playful wink before bending down and pressing a kiss on your knee.
He bends further to the floor below to retrieve a beach towel, which uses it to clean the both of you up.
“So you’re planning on being a regular this summer, right?” he asks once you’re both just about redressed.
“I do, I think swimming has become a favorite hobby of mine,” you say genuinely, still working to tie one side of your bottoms even though you suppose it doesn’t matter now that you’re going right back to your car.
Sam smiles at your answer.
“Then I hope to see you again soon, and perhaps do this again?” he offers, the inflection of his voice hinting that he partially expects you to reject the offer.
You bite at your lip for a moment in contemplation.
“We’ll see,” you grin. “Be a good boy and I’ll think about taking you up on that date. I have to say though, it makes me nervous, you know with the age gap and all...”
He smiles bigger, pulling you into him for one last kiss.
“Age is just a number, mama. I’m up for the challenge.”
- During his final high school year, his entire class surprised him with their own firework display just for him. It literally made him cry.
- Even years after he moved to the US, Gakuhou sends him gifts for his bday, usually some small not even expensive stuff. They havent truly made up, but Gakushuu appreciates the others dedication. His favourite is def a knitted scarf that Gakuhou made himself cause he wanted to prove how he is also great at handcrafting stuff.
- Bc he isnt used to naturally smile, he always practices it in front of a mirror but makes sure his father doesnt notice. He would get teased about it otherwise
steve waits until allister has left eva’s room, gives himself a few seconds to ensure he’s in the clear before knocking on eva’s door. he imagines she’s going to be surprised to see him, except this time there’s not a single nerve that’s unsteady, palms as dry as his throat. for now, anyway. as long as he can focus on the wood grains of the door rather than eva’s face. he’s just a little fed up of wishing things weren’t true. “ hi. can i come in? ” he asks calmly after she opens the door.
--- i’m so sry for my absence as of late. decided to take a smol break from tumblr for personal reasons in addition to the fact that i’m MOVING into a different STATE in 2 months, so there’s been the whole finding a new place to live, getting a new job, etc.
--- bls forgive and know that i have my threads drafted and i’m not ignoring them. :> and if u ever want to talk to and plot or write, i’m on discord a lot!! this is just a MINI HIATUS but i’ll absolutely be lurking, and i’ll be back.
