#elvis one-shot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mahg-stuff · 9 months

Text

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍

Prompt: "Only God knows why"

Summary: Big Daddy just wants to try exploring new erotic themes with his sweet dolly but it involves a firearm, though she is wary she puts her faith in Elvis and God.

Pairing: bd!elvis x afab!reader

Word count: 13k

Warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, excessive smut, 18+!, gun play, sorta naive reader, manipulative tactics!?, mentions of religion, age gap (isn’t directly stated), certain themes can be disturbing/dark, lots of manhandling, quick mention of Elvis’ health, implied butt stuff f!receiving (only briefly brought to the attention), first time giving oral m!receiving, use of the word daddy, pet names, Elvis at one point calls himself papa bear, might’ve missed a few...

AN: ITS HERE MY LOVELY'S! I know i made y’all wait so so long for this & I just wanna say sorry. Life just decided to get in the way again and took a toll on me but I'm finally back & ready to give you guys this story you so deserve!

Like I mentioned in my previous post this is my literal first attempt of writing something like this and about Elvis, as well as writing about religion. Hope you all enjoy it! I’m no expert so please go easy on me. hehehe (Though I will admit I had this story idea marinating for a quite awhile, let's just say Big Daddy is a handful.)

After wrapping up your usual prayer of gratitude to God for another day of life, something you had started doing since getting with Elvis. You noticed the time on the clock and realized that night was drawing near. Feeling a sense of peace and delight, you closed your eyes, ready to embrace the night and all the possibilities it may bring. You felt grateful for the moment and decided to cherish it. As you opened your eyes, you promised yourself to make the most of the night and enjoy every minute of it.

Getting up from your vanity's desk, striding to the bathroom with some pep in each step, and starting to wind down for the night by getting ready for a relaxing bath. You entered the bath and soaked in the warm water, letting your mind drift as you reflected on the events of the day. You remembered what Elvis mentioned earlier today, that he'd be getting his hands on a new toy for the two of you. You weren't sure what this toy could be at all, but you were excited to find out. You trusted him to surprise you with something delightful, even if it meant not fully understanding it at first. However, as you soaked in the warm water, trying to relax, you just couldn't help but wonder if this new toy would be something intimate and sensual, considering Elvis' comment about it being an "adult" toy. Regardless of your slight inexperience in this area, you felt safe knowing that Elvis would be there with you.

Finally feeling freshened up, you hop out of the bath, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel before heading to the closet. Looking through it, you spotted your new pink babydoll nightie. You couldn't help but beam at yourself, your thoughts going straight to him. Taking it off the hook, you slipped it right on after putting on some simple underwear. You skipped towards the mirror, admiring how the pink satin fabric draped over your curves and how the lace details accentuated your feminine features. You couldn't wait for him to see you in it, knowing he'd be pleased. He always told you how pretty you were in pink and how it brought out the rosy glow in your cheeks. You turned your back to the mirror, looking back at yourself over your shoulder with a playful grin, then blowing a kiss to yourself, feeling like a ditz just at the mere thought of his approval. Catching the time on the clock through the mirror, you gasped, realizing Elvis would probably be on his way right now. You rushed back to the bathroom and applied some light makeup and a little bit of eyeliner, just the way Elvis liked it. Before letting your hair down and brushing it out, your natural loose curls flowing against the midsection of your back. Finishing up and giving yourself one last glance in the bathroom mirror, your hand naturally reaches to touch the cross on your necklace, a comforting habit you've developed over the past months of being with him.

You take a deep breath, and as you are about to walk out of the bathroom, you can hear the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. You feel a flutter of excitement in your chest as you know it's him. You were probably so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear his arrival. Composing yourself, you slowly walk out into the bedroom, and there he is, standing with his side to you.

He turns to you, revealing a better view of his tall and broad frame, slightly pudgy but taut at the same time. As you approach him, you observe just how tall he is, towering over you. His big shoulders stretch out the fabric of his shirt, and his pudgy belly that protrudes just barely over his belt. You can't help but feel small in his presence. Shyly meeting his gaze, you notice a twinkle in his eyes through his glasses, and you can't help but wonder why he held both of his hands behind him. His deep, honey-colored voice echoed off the walls.

You felt a sense of security wash over you as you listened to him speak. "There's ma sweet baby 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍."

You practically pounced on him, embracing him in your arms, they hardly reached to hold him all. You nuzzled your face against his hairy chest that was revealed by his open button up, breathing in his distinctive aroma of musk with hints of cigar and his cologne, feeling safe in his embrace. As he held you tightly, you felt like a kitten being cradled in his large and heavy arms. As you pulled away, you gazed into his eyes but everted them due to his intense stare.

"I missed you." you mumbled as you coyly ran your little digits through his chest hair.

He then held your lower back tightly with one of his broad hands and kissed your forehead.

"I missed ya too, ma sweet angel," he replied in his thick, southern drawl.

As he spoke, you could feel the vibrations of his bass voice reverberating through your body, making you shiver. You knew that no matter what happened, his embrace would always be your safe haven. He looked at you with such intensity that it was practically begging you to look away. You could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he were trying to communicate something without saying a word. It was both exhilarating and unnerving, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Eventually, you broke the silence.

"What ya thinking about, bub?" you voiced as you poked at him in a girlish manner.

He let out a soft chuckle and shook his head, breaking his intense gaze. You felt relieved but also a little disappointed that you didn't get to uncover the mystery behind those blue eyes. You spotted him looking at you up and down behind his spectacles, and you were overcome with a rush of shyness. You were conscious of how little clothing you were wearing in comparison to him—you were just wearing a pair of underwear underneath your babydoll and were barefoot—as opposed to how fully dressed he was. He kept staring at you, and you could feel your heart pounding and your cheeks flushing. While you were already his, it took some getting used to the impact he had on you. Sometimes he left you almost woozy with the way he handled you. You made an effort to keep his stare in your direction, but soon you had to turn away since the intensity of his gaze became too much to bear. He made a muttering noise and stretched out to firmly grasp your chin to make you look up at him. The coolness of his rings and roughness of his large hand on your warm skin was a dangerous sensation you enjoyed but knew you'd never admit it to him. As he held your gaze, you couldn't help but feel excitement. You wondered what he was thinking as his thumb lightly brushed against your lips, making you shiver with anticipation.

"Yur jus tha prettiest lil’ thing, ya know that sweetness?" in a low tone.

You nodded to him with your doe-eyes, trying your hardest not to break eye contact. While holding his gaze on yours, gauging for your reaction, he let go of your face and slowly lifted your nightie to reveal your undies he stroked his fingers over the waistline, letting his icy rings brush across your belly, giving you goosebumps. His face lit up when he saw your choice of underwear, a simple pair of white cotton undies. You couldn't help but be embarrassed by his attention, but you also wondered what else he was thinking as he looked at you. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but you couldn't deny the little thrill you felt of being so intimately inspected. You felt exposed but also desired, and knowing that he was the only one who could make you feel that way made him even more irresistible.

Letting your nightie drape over you once again, he held out one of his hands. You took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his big palm against yours. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck and trailing kisses down to your collarbone that left tingling sensations behind. You closed your eyes, trying your best to hold back any noise that urged to escape.

"C’mon, tiny, give yer ol' man ah lil’ spin," he encouraged whispering into your ear as he leaned back.

You agreed compliantly and did a twirl for him, your nightie flowing up a bit and revealing your clad butt to him, which he whistled at with praise. As you spun around, you couldn't help but feel a rush of giddiness.

He liked seeing you this way, it was like you were his own little doll.

You liked the sense of being entirely in his hands and enjoyed playing, exploring, and being pleased with him. As he continued to admire you, you felt your body responding to his touch, with that fuzzy feeling in your belly and your panties growing slightly damp. You were immediately distracted when you noticed that he still held something behind his back. You wanted him so desperately. The same ache could be seen in his eyes, but you quickly fought the tension that was beginning to grow between your gazes, leaving only want in its wake.

"So, w-what exactly is this new toy you were getting t-today..?" You stuttered out as you wriggled towards the arm behind his back in a kittenish manner, but he was faster than you and withdrew away before you could get a good look.

"Now, darlin’, you go ahead and sit yer lovely self on that bed there and keep those pretty eyes closed f’me, hmm.." was the command he gave in that thick drawl you adored.

With a sneer look on his face, he gestured to the side of the bed, and you realized there was no use in disagreeing with him. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, wondering what he had in store for you.

"Alright, babydoll, now hold out them gorgeous things," he said once you were comfortable on the bed with your eyes shut.

His voice made you shudder, and you extended out your small hands, palms up, as he asked. You could feel something heavy, metallic, and cold being put inside of them, and you couldn't help but want to have a look. You opened your eyes and gasped when you saw a black pistol gleaming in your hands. You were aware that Elvis owned a variety of guns, but since they were lethal weapons, he never brought them near you. You gave him a confused look as you glanced up at him with wide eyes.

"Goddamnit, honey, did I tell ya ta open your eyes?'' He voiced it sternly.

You quickly shut your eyes again, unable to utter a word.

As you sat there in your and Elvis' shared bed with a gun in your hand, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. You had never held a firearm before, let alone a lethal one. Your heart was racing, and you could feel the weight of the gun pulling down on your dainty arms. You knew you had to trust Elvis, even though you were unsure of his intentions. You tried to calm your thoughts, but the fear of the unknown was getting overwhelming.

Suddenly, Elvis broke the silence, seeing the way your hands were starting to slightly shake, and said, "Darlin', now go ahead an open 'em pretty doll eyes f'me."

You slowly opened your eyes, still feeling the rush of adrenaline, and looked up at Elvis. He saw the rushing thoughts in your eyes, making him feel a twinge of guilt but also amusement. He took a few steps back, and it looked like he was admiring the view.

"Would'ya look ah that, mah two stunnin' girls look great together." He gasped as he stared in awe.

The way he referred to you and the gun as his girls sent a shiver down your spine, a strange mix of fear and excitement. You never expected to find yourself in this situation, holding a gun in your trembling hands. But deep down, your assurance in God gave you a glimmer of hope that everything would turn out okay. As Elvis looked at you and the gun, you couldn't help but feel a rush of confused emotions. Elvis was looking at your expression, and he couldn't help but be entertained by your confused state, but then he saw as your expression went from confusion to overwhelm. Your rookie self was sitting there with that cold weapon in your trembling hands, looking at Elvis with knitted eyebrows and a pout. He sensed your emotions were becoming too much for you and quickly moved to ease your distress. With a gentle smile, he reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hands, placing it safely out of reach on the bed.

"I ain't mean ta startle ya, tiny. I ain't gon hurt cha." He said it softly, soothing your nerves slightly.

You nodded hesitantly, still unsure of what was happening.

"Good," he ushered as he stroked down on your hair, putting a strand behind your ear.

You took a deep breath and tried to process what was happening. So this was the 'new toy' he went to get today—a gun. Elvis was known for his extravagant gifts and gestures, but this was different. He had presented you with a gun, and although he said it was out of reach now, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You continued to observe him, searching for answers, but he simply leaned in closer.

"I trust ya, baby," he said, his voice low and smooth.

"And I need ya to trust me too." You couldn't deny the allure of his charm, but the fear in your gut was still present. You had no idea what he was implying here.

"El-" you tried to speak before Elvis interrupted you.

"Now before you say anythin' darlin', lemme explain. Last night, ..." he paused, "it's just I had a thought, and, w-well, maybe I was wonderin' if you'd like ta bring that beaut into the bedroom, hmm? What d'ya say?"

You were taken aback by Elvis’ request and unsure of how to respond. Your gut was telling you to be wary, but you also didn't want to offend or disappoint him. Elvis was now taking off his slightly tinted glasses and placing them on the bedside table. Your eyes connected once again with his sense of urgency.

"I understand if ya ain’t comfortable with it," he said softly, his words rolling off his tongue like sweet velvet, "but I jus thought it'd be fun ta try s-somethin' different, somethin' new, together."

You weren't sure why, perhaps it was the brief tingling sensation that still lingered after your body responded to his touch from the events that occurred not so long ago, but there was something about his request that gave you a rouse deep down. Pushing that feeling away almost quickly and coming back to your senses and reality, you wondered how a gun would do any good in a setting of intimacy, which led your thoughts to race once again. Handguns are made for killing, they are no better for anything else, as you thought.

Building up the courage to speak, you expressed, "E-Elvis, I don't really understand, why, why you'd want to involve an item like that i-in our intimate space."

Elvis looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he let out sternly, "Only God knows why, hon', everythin' appears for ah reason, an that is why this idea was sent to me."

You paused for a moment before timidly looking up at the cross that hung on the wall of the bedroom.

"Sweetheart, look, you may not comprehend it right now. That may not appear ta be fair. But God knows what he's doin'." Elvis interrupted your thoughts.

He took your smaller hands in his big ones and gently squeezed them, speaking, "Trust in the Lord with all yur heart, and do not lean on your own understandin', in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight ya paths."

He had just uttered the following words from Proverbs 3:5-6 as he stared into your eyes. It was clear that Elvis was trying to soothe you and help you find peace in your current situation. Giving the cross another glance brought you back to what you had promised yourself at the beginning of the night after prayer, 'to make the most of the night and enjoy every minute of it'. You pondered for a while and thought that certainly this was truly God's notion, and he was leading you to embrace this unexpected and confusing situation as an opportunity for growth and a test of your faith. He was telling you to fulfill that promise right now.

As you looked back at Elvis, you felt a sense of calmness and knew that with him by your side and your faith in God, you could handle whatever came your way. Elvis gave you an encouraging look after observing your train of thought. You took a deep breath and decided to let go of any doubts or worries and instead fulfill Elvis' request by taking a leap of faith. While you knew Elvis wouldn't harm you, you were still a little wary about what role that particular object might play in the night's events. Eyeing the firearm where it now lay on the bed. You felt Elvis' large hand come into contact and rest on your bare shoulder, and your head shot back to his face as he gave you a reassuring smile.

"Don worry, doll," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and affection.

"I promise it'll all jus’ be like ah playful lil' game."

With a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness, you sluggishly nodded to him, “Okay-y then.”

He then went to remove his heavy blazer, slipping it off and tossing it somewhere on the bed. You flitched a little at the sudden movement but couldn't tear your eyes away from his piercing gaze. The uncertainty in your eyes was replaced by a flicker of fever as he approached, his confident steps inching closer to you. As he stood in front of you, he bent down to meet your gaze as you sat still on the bed. His broad shoulders and tall stature seemed to loom over you, emphasizing how bitty you were in comparison. With a coy smile appearing on your lips, you began to play with a lock of your hair, feeling oh so fragile in his presence. He clutched the back of your head and pulled you in close for a passionate kiss. In your overwhelmed state, your hands fumbled clumsily, unsure of where to go. He pulled back, staring into your eyes, and with a rough motion, reached for your arm, pulling you to stand up from the bed.

You couldn't help but yelp a tiny, "ouch."

His grip still firmly on your arm, he went and sat himself down on the bed. He pulled you into him right away and made you lay on your tummy beside him, he handled you like a ragdoll and pulled you over so your lower body was draped across his lap. Your uncertainty and exhilaration were both palpable as you lay there, consumed by a mix of confusion and excitement. His actions left your mind spinning, unsure of how to react or what he expected from you. You felt his big belt buckle rubbing against your bare thigh, as well as feeling his slightly protruding belly pressing against your upper thigh. In a way, it brought you sensations you didn't understand but liked. You felt his large hand rubbing up and down against your back thigh, going higher and reaching under your nightie to your clad bum as he firmly squeezed it. Feeling your face flush at this, though it wasn't new to you, you still felt shy at his actions. He scrunched the bottom of your nightie, pulling it up and revealing your undies to him.

"My, my, you are jus ah sight for sore eyes, honey." You blushed even deeper as his words sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch, combined with his compliment, made you feel excitement. You couldn't help but squirm slightly under his firm grip. As his fingers traced the edges of your underwear, teasingly exploring the delicate fabric. Suddenly, you felt the coldness of something gliding up your calf. You glanced over your shoulder to see him holding the gun. Your heart raced as a million thoughts ran through your mind. Was he really about to use the gun in such a way? You gulped nervously, unsure of what to expect next. His eyes locked with yours, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he brought the gun more upward across your leg, grazing the tip softly over your delicate skin. You slightly moved to lift your upper body, feeling overwhelmed by this new situation.

Softly you stammered, "Wait... E-Elvis...". His eyes softened as he looked at your frazzled state.

“I want no harm done ta ma baby doll, hmm, it's only ah little fun," he rasped out.

"Y'know I'll always take care of ya.” he caresses you with one hand while the pistol rests in the other along your thigh.

You start to feel more at ease as he reassures you, and gives you an encouraging look. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts. As you glance down at the pistol resting on your thigh, you look back at him and give him a timid but sweet grin. While keeping an eye on the pistol, your gaze shifts to the cross on the wall in front of you, providing a comforting sense that everything will be alright. He steadily starts to bring the gun more upward, grazing it on your back thighs and in-between them, slowly inching higher until it reaches over your clothed backside.

Despite the unsettling nature of the situation, your mind becomes foggy and your senses dulled. That fuzzy sensation rises as he traces the contours of your back thighs and rear end with the cool touch of the gun, heightening a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He brought his other hand to your hair, grabbing it, making you turn to look at him, and the way he ran the gun across your body left a trail of goosebumps along your precious skin.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as you stare into his eyes, a mix of fear and curiosity swirling within you. You watch as he inches the gun towards your undies, dragging it slowly along the fabric, teasingly close to the sensitive skin underneath. Your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest, as you wonder what he has planned next. Every nerve ending in your body is on edge, ready to experience the unknown.

As the gun hovers just above the edge of your undies, you can't help but let out a shaky breath, a silent plea for reassurances. He eyes you as he starts sliding the pistol in between you and the fabric, his gaze filled with both mischief and desire. The cool metal of the gun grazes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand lets go of your hair and brings it to caress the cheek of your face, lightly squeezing it. With one hand gripping the gun and the other now firmly holding your face, he leans back slightly, to admire you. The contrast between his strong, supple thighs and your petite frame as you lay across his lap sends a jolt of anticipation through his body. As you rest against him, you can't help but feel both breathless and eager for what lies ahead. He chuckles softly, enjoying your muzzy state and the way your lips are slightly parted.

"Mah sweet yittle baby is doin' so good f'me." You can't help but blush at his words, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

His deep, even-keeled voice sends shivers down your spine as you obediently keep still, not daring to make a sound. The weight of his hand on your face is both comforting and controlling—a reminder of how much you love pleasing him and giving your all to him. As he continues to stroke your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, you can't help but surrender further to his control. The intensity of his gaze holds you captive, his eyes piercing into your soul, leaving you feeling displayed and vulnerable. Every word he speaks feels like a command, and you are eager to comply, to show him just how much faith you have in him. He lets go of your face and directs his attention back to your clad bottom, the gun still grazing under the fabric on your buttocks as he inched closer to your dulcet parts.

But then he stops and reaches with his other hand, coming into contact with the waistband, and swiftly pulls them down to your mid thighs, revealing your bare ass, and slowly but firmly starts grazing the gun over it. Every nerve ending in your body is on high alert, acutely aware of your every movement.

Each stroke is calculated, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in its wake. As the gun traces its path along your rear, you can't help but feel a strange mix of pleasure and danger—an intoxicating concoction that leaves you craving for more. You feel a tad bit jittery but stiffen as you feel him bring the pistol along your tailbone and drag lower along the middle of your buttocks, going lower until he reaches that sensitive area between your thighs. Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of your quickened breaths.

He notices your state and coos again, questioning softly this time, "Tiny's doin' such ah good job fer me, ain't she?"

Your cheeks flush deeper with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement as you nervously nod to him over your shoulder, yearning for his approval.

As he continues to explore the sensitive area between your thighs, you can't help but feel a ripple of pleasure and shock shoot through your body when he presses the cold metal against your heat.

"Oh—mmph," you gasp lowly, your words muffled by the intensity of the moment.

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before—a tantalizing mix of pleasure and the forbidden. As he continues to tease you with the cold metal, your mind becomes consumed with a dizzying array of thoughts. You find yourself surrendering to the intoxicating pull, losing yourself in the overwhelming sensations that ripple through your body.

Elvis sees this and smirks, his grip on the gun tightens, rubbing it against your sensitive core, as he slowly speaks, "You enjoyin' that doll? See, I knows what's best for ya."

You're too overwhelmed to respond, the mixture of fear and arousal fueling a confusing rollercoaster of emotions within you. He takes a peek and sees how your flesh is pressed against the pistol, he lets out a low chuckle, seeing the slickness of your arousal starting to glisten along the gun.

"Oh, y’dirty lil' girl." he murmurs out in his smooth voice.

The physical sensations and his words, combined with the undeniable evidence of his growing desire against your thigh, heighten your anticipation, leaving you flushed. Your face probably looks like a tomato by now, but all you can do is bite down on your lip from the new sensations you're feeling. Elvis decides to push the boundaries as he brings the pistol back up along the middle of your ass, leaving your throbbing core, but this time he goes in-between your cheeks, catching a view of your small hole. You shift in his lap as you feel the cool air hit it, and your breath hitches in response. The charged atmosphere is heavy as Elvis slowly traces the outline of your anus with the muzzle of the pistol, teasingly applying gentle pressure. Your mind races with panic at the unfamiliar commotion, and you try to slowly crawl further toward the bed and away from his lap. He had never been so close to that area, and the intrusion by gun both jarred and frightened you, you felt it was getting too much for your little self.

"Wha-, no-o, not there!" you shrieked out in a high pitched voice, hoping he would attend to your plea. Elvis smirked, his hold on you loosening.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered huskily, his voice appearing playful.

"Is this too much fer mah yittle baby," he said, as he withdrew the gun from your prohibited area.

You relaxed, still feeling the tingling in your belly but also having scattered emotions. He went and placed his heavy hand on the small of your back and leaned down to kiss your bottom before giving it a light slap.

"Y’were so darn good, f'me doll." He cooed out as he gripped your arm roughly, lifting you up from your lying position along his lap.

You stumbled slightly as he pulled you up, your body still feeling weak from the intensity of the moment. As he guided you to your feet, his grip on your arm tightening, you couldn't help but feel a mix of conflicting emotions, excitement, and danger. You balanced yourself, feeling your nightie drape back down, but then heard the slight noise of your undies hitting the carpet under you near your feet, causing a sudden rush of embarrassment to flood over you. You glanced down, and so did he, both of you eyeing the wet stain you had left on them from the actions that had just taken place. Your cheeks flushed crimson, and you quickly looked away, playing with your fingers.

He couldn't help but smirk at the sight of your damp undies. Elvis stood up from the bed and towered in front of you, his presence commanding the room. You could feel the intensity of his gaze as he leaned closer, bringing his larger hand to gently pet your head. He then gripped your head towards him, his voice low and filled with a mix of desire and control.

"Did ya enjoy that, Tiny?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. Your heart raced as you met his intense gaze, unable to speak.

You nodded silently, feeling a wave of anticipation and curiosity wash over you.

His smirk broadened as he noticed your reaction—a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. Slowly, he released his grip on your head and leaned in, kissing your forehead softly. Then he took your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. As his enormous hands wandered down your body, the intensity of the moment grew, causing your body to respond eagerly. Your brain goes fuzzy once more, as your nipples harden under your silk pink nightie. As his hands trailed down your smaller frame, his touch felt intense and electrifying. His lips left yours and began to trail a path of kisses along your jawline, down the column of your neck, and to the hollow of your throat.

Your breath quickened, mingling with his as he pressed his body closer to yours, the feeling of his pudgy belly and big buckle adding a comforting weight against you. His desire was evident in the way his large hands gripped your teeny waist. His bulge grazed against your upper abdomen, and a surge of anticipation coursed through your veins, heightening the electricity between you. You felt yourself growing hotter, the slick between your thighs was starting to ooze out even more, causing your legs to clamp together involuntarily. Elvis caught this, and his lips curled into a mischievous smile. He leaned in closer, and brought his hand to squeeze your breast over the silk fabric. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you gasp softly. His fingertips danced over the hardened bud, teasing and caressing, as his other hand trailed down your back, giving your ass a light but firm squeeze. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, as the heat between you became almost unbearable. You could feel his desire pulsating against you, almost matching the rhythm of your racing heartbeat. He then dragged his hand down your body until it met the hem of your nightie, his touch tracing the delicate fabric.

The impatience built within you, as you yearned for him to explore further. His massive hand continued its journey, inching lower and lower, until it reached under and to the center of your innermost desires. With a tender yet possessive grip, he cupped your exposed, sopping core, sending a buzz of electricity through your entire being. He starts softly caressing your sensitivity, carefully switching between light strokes and firmer pressure.

"God, darlin', yur drippin' like honey down there," he whispered huskily in your ear.

The weight of his hand, combined with the coolness of his rings, made it impossible to control the rising tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you. As he continued his intimate touch, you could feel the heat building within you, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through your whole body, making your toes curl and your back arch. Elvis eyed your expression, your scrunched eyebrows, shut eyes, the slight agape of your small mouth, revealing just how lost in the moment you were. He smiled mischievously and pulled his hand away from your heat, leaving you feeling a sudden void that sent a shiver down your spine. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze filled with amusement. The air around you crackled with anticipation as he leaned in closer, his warm breath grazing your earlobe.

"How ‘bout we take this lil' nightie off ya, doll?" Your cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nervousness as his words sent a rush of tingles down your body.

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to take control, trusting him entirely.

He gestured for you to lift your arms up, and he carefully slipped the delicate fabric over your head, revealing the curves and daintiness of your body beneath. His gaze seemed to appreciate every detail, from the suppleness of your breasts to the gentle curve of your hips. As the nightie hit the ground, you stood facing him, captivating him with your shy yet alluring presence. He brought his hands to your boobs, kneading them, causing a surge of pleasure to ripple through your body.

He admired them in his large hands, "You jus got tha prettiest, perkiest pair ah titties I've ever laid eyes on," he whispered in his drawl.

You blushed deeply, even though he'd always say the same thing every time he saw them.

He leaned down into your breasts and placed gentle kisses along the curve of each one, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled further down, exploring the softness of your stomach and the curves of your waist. You arched your back, allowing him to trail his kisses down your abdomen, leaving a trail of heat on your soft skin. He started lowering himself until he almost got to your heat.

He looked back up at you as he spoke out, "M'gon take ah look at cha doll parts, ok? darlin'." His voice was filled with a mix of lust and tenderness.

With a mumbled "A-Alright", you watched as he positioned himself lower between your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, before you interrupted.

"W-Wait, I don't want you t'get h-hurt on your knees." Elvis having health issues, you couldn't help but worry and didn't want him putting strain on his knees due to his age.

"Don't cha worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Daddy's takin' good care ah himself." He reassured you with a gentle smile, his hands caressing one of your thighs.

The concern in your eyes lingered, but his words provided some comfort. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to your throbbing heat, and a mischievous smirk played on his lips.

"But right now, I think there's sumn else that needs mah attention," he whispered huskily, "M'doll is lookin' so pretty an pink down here."

You felt a rush of heat spread throughout your body as his words sank in.

His touch on your thigh sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn't help but feel torn between his desire and your worry for his well-being. However, as his hand moved closer to your throbbing heat, you found yourself giving into his touch, unable to resist the temptation that lay before you. He grazed his fingers against your hot flesh, feeling you shudder under his touch.

As he leaned his face closer to your heat, he mumbled, "So perfect, jus f'me."

He stuck his tongue out, giving your cunt a slow, tantalizing lick that made your body arch in pleasure. The intensity of the moment washed away any remaining doubts as you surrendered yourself completely to the passion and desire coursing through your veins. A symphony of soft moans filled the air as he continued to explore every inch of your moistness with his skilled tongue. He reached over and forcibly pulled one of your legs over his shoulder while the other remained balancing your posture and allowing him better access to your throbbing core. His hands firmly gripped your hips, holding you in place as his tongue delved deeper, swirling and flicking with expert precision. He pressed his face closer into your heat, feeling his nose graze your bud, sending electrifying tingles of pleasure throughout your body. The intensity of his actions sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing your toes to curl up and your breath to hitch in your throat. Every sensation seemed to be intensified, with every touch and movement driving you closer to the edge of bliss. Your itty-bitty fingers found their way into his hair, pulling gently as you gave in to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing.

As he continued to devour you with his mouth, his hands roamed your trembling thighs, gripping them firmly as he held you in place. With each flick of his tongue and every gentle nip, the tension within you built, threatening to push you over the edge. You could feel your body arching towards him, desperate for release. The world around you faded into a hazy blur, leaving only its raw intensity.

"Elvis-s...feels s-so good," you managed to gasp, your weak voice barely a whisper.

The words hung in the air, heavy with desire and need. His movements became more fervent, his lips and tongue working in perfect sync to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the slight familiar heat pooling between your thighs, your senses heightened as you yielded completely to the pleasure he was giving you. The sounds of your tiny gasps and the lapping of his tongue filled the room, creating a trance of pleasure that echoed in your ears, only pushing you more over the edge. Your body trembled with need, yearning for release, as the intensity of his mouth consumed you. Every nerve-ending tingled with pleasure, the sensation was electric and intoxicating.

With each passing second, the climax grew within you, the waves of pleasure crashing against your core. Your nails dug into his shoulders, desperately clinging to him as you rode the wave of ecstasy. His hands, strong and sure, held you steady, supporting your weight as you surrendered to the dizzying pleasure coursing through your body. Lost in the moment, you gasped for air, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. His mouth continued its assault on your dripping cunt, his tongue expertly flicking and teasing your swollen clit. Every touch sent electric shocks of pleasure through your overstimulated body, making it hard to think or speak. You tried to push his head away, tell him you needed a break, that you were reaching your limits, but he was stubborn as he continued licking up your release and savoring every drop. The intensity of his actions had you teetering between ecstasy and displeasure, your mind going numb.

As you struggled to regain control of your senses, you found yourself yanking his hair and grasping at his shoulder, trying to bring him back up to your embrace, but he wouldn't budge. The conflicting sensations of pleasure and sensitivity overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably.

Finding your voice, "Too much-h..t'much, daddy-y."

You gasped, your voice trembling with a mixture of pleasure and a hint of discomfort. His actions had pushed you to the edge, and you needed him to ease off, even if just for a moment. As you tugged at his thick hair, you could feel his lips curl into a devilish smile against your skin. His grip tightened around your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to ravish you with his mouth. The intensity of his action nearly blurred your vision, and he pulled away to give you a look. You felt relieved but were still in a gasping and quivering mess as he held your hips to calm you and keep you steady.

"M'sorry doll, seems like papa bear jus can't get ‘nough uh yer sweet honey," he murmured, his voice filled with appetite. You give a timid smile as you try to regain thoughts.

With a strength you had never seen before, he rose from his knees, towering over you. His eyes glimmered with a mixture of hunger and adoration as he stared down at you, you couldn't help but rest your body against his from slight exhaustion. In that moment, he saw you as his cherished doll, a testament to his faith in him and the divine guidance bestowed upon both of you. As he stood before you, you noticed a subtle shift in his posture, he adjusted himself, making his bulge more prominent. You couldn't help but feel a surge of desire as his confidence and craving for you became increasingly evident. And as your fingers grazed across his hairy chest, finally breathing steadily again, he couldn't contain his passion any longer.

He took hold of your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him and gently guiding you towards the bed. Lying your naked, slender body down, grabbing the small cross that hung around your neck, he paused for a moment, his eyes fixated on the symbol. The contrast of the saintly necklace against the sinful scenario heightened the vague nature of it all. With a passion fed by the shared devotion, he kissed the cross, then left kisses against your collarbone and chest, moving lower, leaving a trail of holy desire across your skin. The sight in front of you made you purr with anticipation, every nerve in your body aflame with a mix of excitement and a tinge of fright. And in that intimate moment, the boundaries between sacred and profane melted into an ecstasy that intoxicated both body and soul. As he trailed more kisses towards your belly, he looked at you, eyeing him, he got up from the bed, and you sat up slightly to see as he tugged at his tucked shirt from his waistline and started unbuttoning it.

Your heart races with suspense, desire igniting within you as you watch him undress. The sight of his pudgy yet strong physique only intensifies your desire for him, appreciating every special detail. In this moment, he is perfect to you, captivating you with his raw masculinity and genuine desire. As he finally removes his shirt, your eyes drink in every detail, savoring the sight of his wiry chest and abdomen hair. The beads of sweat already glistening on his skin only add to his allure, making him appear even more irresistible. He watches as you're in awe of his beauty, a smug smile appearing on his face. He knows the effect he has on you, and revels in the power it gives him. Slowly, he walks towards you, his steps deliberate and confident. You can feel your heart race, and your breath quickens.

"Y'wanna try helpin’ me wit these, lil' girl?" His words flowed smoothly from his lips with that mesmerizing southern accent, the drawl adding a touch of charm to his request to help him with his pants.

You sit up more and inch closer, your legs dangling from the bed as you try to gather the courage to respond.

"P-Please, I'd like... to," you stammer at him sweetly in that soft voice he adores , your cheeks flushing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

As you reach out to assist him, your fingertips graze over the firm bulge in his pants, making you momentarily lose focus. You quickly retract your hand, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through your body. He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watches your reaction. Your cheeks grow even hotter as you meet his gaze. He stares into your doe-eyes, his smile never faltering.

"No need ta be afraid, hon’. Y'seen him before," he says, his voice filled with a hint of mischief.

You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure, knowing it would be the first time seeing it so up close.

With a nervous laugh, you reply, "Yes, b-but... not like this."

He can't help but chuckle louder, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek.

"Well, darlin', consider it an introduction then," he teases, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

Despite your flustered state, you manage to regain composure and slowly begin undoing his big belt buckle, the trembling in your hands being noticeable. As you struggle with the clasp, you can't help but notice the stark difference in the size between his buckle and your hands. His deep chuckle vibrates through you, a sound of amusement. With determined focus, you finally manage to loosen the belt, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. And reach over to his zipper, your voice small and shaky.

"C-Can I...can I undo this too?" you ask, biting your lip nervously.

His eyes lock with yours, a mixture of adoration and desire shining through.

"Uh course, my yittle baby can do anythin' she wants," he whispers huskily, his hands caressing your flushed cheeks.

You start bringing his zipper down, and as you do this, Elvis' heavy hand goes and gives your supple breast a light squeeze, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The touch is both gentle and possessive, sending a surge of electricity through your body. You can feel the heat between your legs rise as you continue to undo his zipper, revealing his hard on as it springs out, you can't help but let out a tiny gasp as it captures you with his size and girth up close. Despite not wearing any underwear, his arousal is evident on his glossy red tip as a bead of precum glistens at the slit. Your curiosity grows as you bring your shaky hand to give him a teasing stroke from base to tip, feeling the throbbing pulse of his large member in your hand. The combination of his commanding presence and your newfound control ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart racing, never having done this before, you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Is this-s okay?" you asked in a shy, uncertain voice.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gently placed a hand on your cheek.

In his deep, southern accent, he reassured you, "Doll, ain't nothin' to be shy bout’. Yer doin' just fine. Keep goin' like that, nice an slow."

As you held his cock in your hand, you marveled at its size and how it felt, barely fitting against your palm. With every stroke, you tried to mimic the rhythm you'd seen him do before when he'd spew himself on your tummy. The softness of his touch on your cheek reassured you, making you feel more at ease with each passing moment. As deep, low groans started flowing out of his mouth, you felt yourself grow more wet. His grip tightened on your cheek. The sound of his pleasure, mixed with the rush of the moment, sent shivers down your spine. You kept stroking him as you eyed it in front of you, glistening with anticipation. The sight of his throbbing member made your heart race, fueling your desire even further. His breathing became heavy, and the way his hips involuntarily bucked against your touch made it clear how much he was enjoying this moment as well. As you continued to stroke him, you felt his grip tug at your face to move closer to his manhood.

Panic shot through you as you gazed up at him with wide eyes and knitted eyebrows, unsure of what he wanted next.

"Awh, darlin’, don be scared," he whispered lovingly, his voice filled with tenderness.

"Jus wants ya to give him some gentle kisses, show me how much ya adore me," he said, his words both soothing and tempting.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as you processed his request. This was so new to you, you'd never felt his with your lips or hands before. Slowly, you leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above his shaft. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and with a mix of nervousness and desire, you pressed your lips against him, planting soft, delicate kisses along the length of his throbbing member. As you pressed your lips against him, his scent filled your senses, it was a distinct aroma that aroused you even further, making your heart race with want. The way his flesh felt on your lips was like velvet—soft and smooth, yet with a subtle roughness that made it all the more exhilarating. You could feel his pulse throbbing beneath the surface, echoing the desire coursing through your own body.

He reached out to hold your face, making you look up at him as he ran a swipe across your lips with his thumb, "How bout' cha give him ah lil’ taste, baby," he whispered in a low, commanding voice.

The words sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned with a mixture of nervousness, knowing it'd be your first time taking him in your mouth. With a shaky breath, you obediently parted your lips, allowing him to guide his throbbing shaft towards your waiting mouth. As the tip grazed your tongue, a surge of electricity shot through your body, causing your senses to heighten and your arousal to intensify. You could taste the saltiness of his arousal mingled with a hint of his musky scent, a heady combination that intoxicated you further.

As you slowly began to take him in, your mouth stretching and adjusting to accommodate his size, a mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort washed over you. You were a bit clumsy and couldn't help but gag a little at first, trying to relax and focus on your breathing. Your rookie inexperience was evident, but you were willing to please him. Slowly, you went just past his tip trying to find your own pace and rhythm. You felt him buck into you, making you tense up a little and unconsciously attempt to back away a little, he then firmly brought his broad hand to the back of your head.

"Relax, f'me doll, jus wanna feel more of tha pretty little mouth," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to panic as you looked up at him with your big eyes.

His grip on your head tightened slightly, guiding himself deeper into your mouth. Starting to gag, you struggled to maintain control and suppress the instinct to pull away. The taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and the musky scent of his skin filled your nostrils. As his hand continued to grip your head, his pace quickened, and you could feel his desire building. Your mind raced with a mixture of fear and arousal, unsure of how to navigate this new territory.

His other hand went to caress your face, giving it a soft slap, "Doin' so good, tiny," he groaned out.

The sensation of his hand connecting with your cheek sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through your body. You felt the corners of your mouth starting to burn due to the stretch from his size, and you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to handle, but you liked this, you liked the thrill of exploring uncharted territory with him. It was a delicate dance between pleasure and pain, and you found yourself surrendering to the unknown. As his hand continued to explore your face, you felt him trying to horse himself in deeper, but you weren't letting him as you brought your hands up to rest against his upper thighs.

He brought his large palm to stroke your throat, breathing out, "C'mon, baby, r-relax tha itty-bitty throat ah yours."

His voice was low and velvet-like, sending shivers down your spine. You hesitated for a moment, but you did as he said. As you did this, he bucked straight to the back of your throat, almost fitting his whole shaft inside. The sudden intensity took you by surprise, causing a gag reflex to kick in. You fought against it, as you let out a tiny cry that sent vibrations to his cock and only seemed to heighten his pleasure. The tip of your nose is just barely grazing against his pubic hair. The sensation of his soft curls against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through your body, fueling the fire that was already burning within you.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his arousal filled the air around you.

As he thrust deeper into your mouth, your eyes began to water. The taste of him, slightly salty and intoxicating, lingered on your tongue, further abusing your senses. Your mind became a blur of sensations, the taste of him, the pressure against your throat, and the sound of his ragged breaths. He groaned above you, the sounds of your sweet muffled yelps and his cock hitting the back of your throat seemed to just rile him up more. But just as he was reaching the edge, he suddenly stopped himself. Harshly, he pulled out of your mouth, his length glistening with arousal and your saliva.

"Goddamn, honey!" he panted, his voice filled with lust.

You gasped for air, your lips still tingling from his intense assault. Your eyeliner smudged from the force of his movements, matching the chaotic state of your mind. The taste of his saltiness lingered on your tongue, intertwining with the bitter sensation of adrenaline that coursed through your veins. You went to wipe your lips, feeling the mess of him and your drool covering your soft lips and chin, but he grabbed your hand before you could clean yourself up. His eyes locked with yours, and he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, sealing the taste of him on your lips in a deliciously filthy embrace. He pulled back, seeing your puzzled state, and reached up to clean some of your smudged eyeliner with the pad of his thumb.

"Lordy, girl, ya sure make this old man feel young again," he chuckled, his voice laced with passion.

You felt a rush of warmth surge through your body at his words. Not having a chance to answer, he gripped your face closer, giving you a harsher kiss.

As he pulled back from the kiss, his grip on your face tightened, and he forcefully guided you back down onto the bed. You let out a low gasp at his sudden roughness as you lay there, arousal coursing through your veins. The sound of his pants and buckle hitting the carpet was heard in the room, only making you more aware of the intensity of the moment. You couldn't help but bring your hand and rub your small digits over your cunt, the ache almost paining you. Elvis saw the way you were growing needier and needier, and he let out a low chuckle. As he climbed onto the bed, the mattress shifted underneath you, sending shivers down your spine. You glanced up at him with your doe eyes, feeling both needy and shy at the same time. His gaze intensified, and his lips still formed a smirk, he brought his hand down over yours and pulled it away to catch a look at your throbbing core, glistening with desire.

"M’god, yur all rosy an swollen," he teased, and he went to cup it in his hefty palm, relishing in the wetness that coated his fingers.

You felt your body jolt at his touch, showing just how sensitive you were. Your breath hitched as he continued to stroke you, his fingers dancing lightly over your pulsing center. Giving your pussy two light slaps to heighten your arousal, he chuckled lowly, reveling in the way you flinched. He pulled his hand away and positioned himself in front of you as he pulled your legs apart and made them bend so that your knees were raised, exposing your most intimate area more to him. You watched as he reached for something, a dark glimmer in his eyes. As he retrieved the pistol another time tonight, a rush of anticipation and fear coursed through your veins once again.

"It's alright, doll. Only wanna have more fun wit cha." The mix of arousal and trepidation overwhelming you.

"O-Oki," you mumbled softly after some time, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your racing heart.

You watched as he moved closer between your legs and raised his arm over to your face, grazing the barrel along your cheek and slowly moving it towards your mouth. You look at him, and he gestures to open your mouth. You're hesitating, but comply. He swiftly inches the cold metal into your hot mouth as it grazes over your tongue, it tastes metallic and foreign. You can feel the weight of it against your tongue, the coolness spreading throughout your mouth. He slowly moves it in and out of your mouth, staring at him, his expression filled with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. As the cold metal continues to dance against your tongue, you feel him withdraw it as a string of your saliva comes along the tip of the metal. You can't help but shudder at the sensation, a mixture of discomfort and a strange, illicit pleasure. He brings the gun down along your neck, brushing against your necklace, then to your chest, tracing a chilling path along your skin. The metal's touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Bringing the gun to your breast, he traces it over your hardened nipple. You let out a shaky breath.

"Daddy-y," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desire.

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he replies, "Does it excite cha, doll?"

Your heart races as you nod, unable to form words.

Your body hums with anticipation as he continues his tantalizing exploration. The cold metal trails down your abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape your lips. He stops the gun just above your lower abdomen, his fingers gently tracing circles across your sensitive skin.

His voice drips with seduction as he murmurs huskily, "You want more, don't ya, tiny?"

Your breathing quickens, as you notice how close he is to your aching cunt. Gulping, you watch as he hovers it just above the bundle of nerves with a quick motion. You reach to stop him, your mind filled with hesitation. But he was quick to raise his hand with the gun in his grip.

“Aye now, none of that babydoll, hmm.” he asserts firmly.

You brought your balled up fists to rest on your chest and gave him an understanding pout, letting him graze the gun on your bud. As he does, a mixture of fear and excitement surges through your body. The dangerous thrill intensifies as you feel the cool metal brush against your hot, sensitive flesh. Your soft whimpers escape in short gasps as he rubs the barrel along your outer lips. As the tension builds, his touch becomes more deliberate, tracing the outline of your entrance with the cold barrel. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you feel yourself tense up as you feel him trying to push the gun inside you.

"Wait, wait!" you stammered, your voice trembling with nervousness.

"Is-isn't.. this, too dangerous Elvis?" you stumbled over your words, feeling hazy and disoriented.

The rush of adrenaline mixed with fear creates a dizzying sensation, clouding your thoughts and making it difficult to articulate your concerns. He looked at you with a stubborn expression, his gaze unwavering.

"Come on, darlin," he said, his eyes gleaming with desire.

"'Member why wer doin' this hmm, the Lord struck me with this vision, and I ain't one ta ignore His call." His words echoed in your mind, intertwining with the doubts that swirled within you.

The weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders, he leaned in towards you. Placing his forehead against yours as his grip on the gun continues toying with your entrance for access.

"No, no," you stammer, your voice shivering.

"I don't— f-feels wrong."

Fear grips your heart as his eyes bore into yours, a flicker of anger crossing his face. His grip tightens around the gun, pushing against your opening.

"Don't cha understand?" he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and fervor.

"This is tha path we must walk together, doll, guided by His will."

Your mind races, the conflicting emotions tearing at your soul. You look into his eyes and see a glimmer of hope—of someone who believes in something greater than themselves. In the midst of the intense moment, mingling with your feelings of desperation, you seek divine guidance. You hold onto the belief that, through this unsettling path, you and Elvis are bound by a higher purpose, walking together under the will of a greater power. As the intensity builds, Elvis places a hand on your cheek, seeing how your racing thoughts are slowly starting to disappear.

"Attagirl, trust in Him, in Me." he uttered in his soothing drawl.

As you look into Elvis' eyes, you find solace in his words and the comfort of his touch. In that moment, you give him a nod and surrender to the newfound growing faith, allowing yourself to trust in a higher plan. The pressure against your center intensifies as he continues rubbing it with the gun. Despite the unease, you remain connected through the shared purpose and the touch of his hand on your cheek. You feel as he retracts the gun from your entrance and backs up along your clit trying to give you pleasure in the midst of your discomfort, his movements becoming more deliberate and controlled. The combination of unease and pleasure leaves you bewildered, yet strangely more aroused. Your mind struggles to comprehend the conflicting sensations, but your body responds instinctively, arching towards his touch. He watches as you enter a state of bliss once more, the pistol getting easier to glide along your folds from all your slick. Inching the gun back towards your entrance, he presses it against you with a firm yet gentle pressure.

"Quit clenchin', honey," he grumbled, his breath tickling your ear.

You try to relax, and let go of the fear that still lingers in the back of your mind. As he eases the pistol's tip inside you, the cold metal sends shivers down your spine, contrasting with the warmth radiating from your core.

"Look at cha tiny, yur doin' purfect." he purrs out as he lifts himself from hovering over you to take a look at how your cunt clenches at the muzzle.

As he begins to move it in a slow, rhythmic motion, you can't help but be amazed at the conflicting sensations overwhelming your body. The fear that once gripped you tightly begins to fade away, replaced by curiosity. The coldness of it all sends shivers down your spine. Elvis feels a mix of satisfaction, desire, and a hint of surprise as he sees how your body responds to his actions. He puts more of the pistol's barrel in, so you're taking about two inches of the gun. You hear him chuckle as he sees how wet and heated you are, and your face flushes deep with embarrassment. He moves slowly in and out at a delicious pace that has you letting out low gasps and moans of pleasure. As the pleasure intensifies, every movement of the pistol sends waves of ecstasy through your body. The combination of fear and arousal fills the room, creating an electric and forbidden ambience. With each thrust, you tighten around the barrel, your soft gasps and moans blend into a symphony of pleasure, driving him to push slightly deeper into you. The sensation of the cold metal against your walls only heightens the intensity of the moment, as you surrender completely to the dangerous passion enveloping you.

"Daddy-y..I-." You start to feel that heat pooling in the low part of your belly, spreading through your entire body, reaching your fingertips, and curling your toes.

Elvis sees that you're on the brink of pure bliss and pulls the pistol out of your throbbing heat, leaving you feeling empty, his eyes filled with hunger. With a mischievous smile, he grazes the pistol against your folds and up to your bud, and you can't help but shudder with anticipation. The cool touch of the metal against your sensitive clit sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. As Elvis continued to tease and taunt, you grabbed his wrist with both hands, barely able to wrap around it and pressed the side of the barrel more firmly against your bud while slowly moving your hips upward.

Elvis saw this and was amused, smirking, “Look at cha honey, goin' crazy over ah piece of metal.’’

Lost in bliss, you didn't pay attention to his words, you were so drowsy from the feeling and trying to chase that sensation you craved again. This ticked something in Elvis though, he had gotten jealous over the thought of something else but him giving you such grand pleasure. He yanked the gun from you with a growl, and threw it across the room, you let out a whine while looking at him dumbfounded.

"N-no, Elvis-s!" You stammer, your voice laced with nerves and frustration.

"W-Why did you, you do that-t? I was almost-."

His eyes narrowed, and his voice was filled with annoyance.

"You was almost wha, huh? Y’were gettin' lost in some dang stupid piece ah metal!"

You bite your lip, the familiar sensation of nervousness coursing through your veins.

"but.. but you.." you stutter, confused.

He shakes his head, his bitterness evident as he moves over so he's resting against the headboard, "I jus... I don like seein' yur little pussy gettin' all soppin' wet if it ain't cause ah me. I ain't gotta be competin’ with no damn gun."

Your heart races as his words sink in, a mix of desire and uncertainty swirling within you. You bite your lower lip, feeling a sudden rush of excitement coursing through your veins as you sit up and crawl in front of him.

"But," you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

"I-I was only feeling so, so good b-because you were there w-with me." you said quietly.

His eyes darken with a dangerous intensity, and a smirk plays at the corners of his lips. His mood instantly switching again.

"Is that so, doll?" he growls out.

"I reckon, ya c’mere nd make me feel better then," he gestures you over to his lap with a swift motion.

Your heart races as you obediently move closer, your body trembling with desire, but nervous hoping he wasn't still angry. As you straddle his lap, you can feel the heat radiating from his body, igniting a fire within you. His strong hands grip your hips firmly, and you can't help but let out a small whimper as you hover above his hard throbbing cock.

"Why doncha give me ah sweet ride, darlin' '', his blue eyes dark with want.

You gulp, feeling the weight of his words and the intensity of the moment. With a raised confidence, you slowly lower yourself onto him while holding on to his broad shoulders for support, gasping at the slight stretch. Still not quite used to his size, you feel your legs quiver. His deep groan echoes in your ears as he tightens his grip on your hips, guiding you lower.

"Lord, honey, this lil' pussy needs sum stretchin'," he blurts out in a low tone.

You let out a pitiful cry as you took him in fully, your bodies becoming entirely intertwined in a passionate embrace.

"Oh...oh god," you whine, your voice trembling with pleasure.

You feel Elvis slowly beginning to thrust upward into your dripping heat, filling you completely with every movement. Each thrust sends waves of intense pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you powerless to resist his advances. As the intensity builds, the rhythm of your bodies matches the beat of your racing hearts. With each deep thrust, you can't help but surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, your senses consumed by the touch of his skin against yours.

Elvis whispered in your ear, his voice filled with lust and desire, "Y'feel so good, tiny. F-Fuck, can't get enuff of yuh."

His words sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already intense pleasure you were experiencing. As he continued to thrust into you, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate, Elvis let out a low moan that echoed through the room. The sound of his moan only fueled your own desire, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your body arched against his, seeking more of his touch, more of his passion.

The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of his musky scent mixed with a hint of sweat, a potent aphrodisiac that heightened the atmosphere. Each breath you took seemed to draw you deeper into the moment, as if surrounding yourself with his essence would somehow bring you closer to him. The sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin echoed through the air, creating a trance of pleasure that drowned out all other thoughts.

As your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, you couldn't help but run your hands through his chest hair, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips. His groans filled the room, fueling the fire that burned between your legs. The feeling of his large arms wrapped tightly around your small waist provided a sense of security. You felt him ram into you deeper and couldn't help but let out a wail of pleasure as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed you. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, building towards an inevitable climax. His lips found yours, their touch igniting a fire within you that matched the one consuming your every sense.

You pulled away, “Oh, I, I can-n feel it in m’tummy.” you softly cried out.

"Is ma yittle d-dolly feelin’ all good in... er t-tummy?" He panted, sending shivers down your spine.

"Mhmm," you moaned, barely able to form words as the pleasure intensified.

As his thrusts continued, the sensation in your stomach intensified—a delicious ache that made you yearn for it. You could feel the tension building, the coiling of desire ready to explode into an overwhelming release. He held you even tighter, his thrusts becoming more passionate. Your vision blurring, you felt his other hand glide over to your bundle of nerves, pushing you to reach your peak of ecstasy. Each movement drew you closer and closer to the edge, until finally, you couldn't hold back any longer. With a breathless cry, you shattered into a million pieces, waves of pleasure washing over you and leaving you completely spent. Collapsing onto his hard yet soft chest, your legs trembled above him as you both basked in the impact of your intense orgasm. You could tell he was still yearning for release, his need was evident as his cock still throbbed and thrust inside you.

Catching your breath, you felt him shift underneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He flipped you over onto your stomach, positioning you exactly as he desired. You gasped in shock, but your jumbled mind prevented you from fully comprehending the situation. The aftershocks of your orgasm only made you struggle to process what was happening. As he entered you again, every thrust sent waves of pleasure and confusion coursing through your body. His hands firmly gripping your waist, he guided the rhythm, leaving you vulnerable and powerless to resist. Although your mind was clouded, your body arched in response to his commanding touch, willing to surrender once again to his insatiable desires. The weight of him pressed down on you, enveloping you in a delicious mix of pleasure and submission. Every movement seemed to blur the lines between pain and bliss, blurring the boundaries of your own identity. His chest brushed against your bare back, adding an extra layer of sensation to the already electrifying experience. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch and mingle with his own ragged exhales. The occasional sound of a low, guttural growl escaped from deep within him, further fueling the fire that consumed both of you. And then, unexpectedly, another climax crept up on you, taking you by surprise and leaving you gasping for air.

"E-Elvis" you wailed out.

Your voice cracked with desperation, and your body quivered with the force of the pleasure coursing through you.

“Mmf, h-hang in there, baby.” He comforted trying to soothe your overstimulated mind and body.

He continued to move against you, his own release imminent, but he didn't falter in his rhythm, driving you to the edge once again. As your mellow moans filled the room, the air crackled with a raw and primal energy, and you could feel the intensity of his desire he was clawing at. The world seemed to blur around you, your senses consumed by the blend of pleasure and drowsiness. Your mind was clouded, lost in a sea of sensations that left you highly sensitive.

Every touch, every stroke sent electric currents coursing through your body, heightening your pleasure to an almost unbearable level. The intensity became too much to handle, pushing you to the edge of sanity. You felt your body exhausted and your mind going empty, the only thing you could do was clench the sheets beneath you, desperately trying to ground yourself in some semblance of reality. The room around you felt like it was spinning, a dizzying carousel of colors and shadows. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, the air feeling heavy and suffocating against your skin. He lets out a gnawing grunt, pulls himself out, and sits up on his knees. Swiftly stroking himself until he spews his release onto your ass. You feel a sense of relief and soreness as you try to come down from your powerful orgasms and still your breathing.

He chuckles weakly, spreading his cum over both of your cheeks with his smooth tip, "T-Tiny, yer lil’ booty sure looks even p-perttier covered with mah babies." he pants out.

If even possible, your face heats up even more at his witty comment, and you gather the strength to look over back at him through half-lidded eyes, the feeling of drowsiness and contentment consuming you.

"D-did I do good, b-bub?" you murmur, your voice carrying a soft, low tone. He smiles wearily, his hand gently stroking your hair.

"Y'did more th-than good," he slurs, his voice filled with exhaustion yet affection.

You are can feel his weariness as he lies back against the pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily as beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. The room is filled with a comfortable silence and your breaths as you both bask in the aftermath of the erotic, hazardous experience. Slowly, he reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch tender and loving.

"You were perfect…perfect f'me, sweet, yittle, doll," he murmurs, sleep already taking him.

As his hand caressed your hair, you couldn't help but feel a sense of divine connection. The words wrap around you like a warm blanket, and you know that you have pleased him, fulfilled his message. The intertwining of the pleasure and fear you faced made you question the boundaries of your faith. Still drowsy, you inch closer to Elvis and rest your head against his fluffy, warm chest, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. You looked up at his face, his eyes were closed in peaceful contentment. The room is dimly lit, with the soft glow from a lamp in the corner as you both lay in each others mess. On the wall, the cross hangs, casting a shadow that dances alongside the gentle sway of his snores. You close your heavy eyelids, cuddling closer to his warmth, succumbing to exhaustion from the nights events as sleep overtakes you both.

- This is the only account I have and the only platform I’ll be uploading my stories on, just informing in case my stories get stolen and re-uploaded somewhere else.

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙇𝙞𝙨𝙩

₊ ⊹ Taglist: @18lkpeters @doll-elvis @eliseinmemphis @prompted-wordsmith @rockstarg1rl @dkayfixates @livelaughelvis @honey6578 @girlblogger2002 @justinlovewithjulesvaughn @velvetelvis

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presleyhearted · 1 year

Text

Just in Time | one-shot

・❥・Pairing : Elvis Presley x reader

・❥・Genre: Time Travel!AU, angst, fluff,'70s!Elvis, loosely based on the TV show 'Timeless.'

・❥・Word Count: 7.6k

・❥・Summary: You are a part of a small team of people whose job is to time travel to the past, to prevent someone and his gang from changing history. But on a mission to protect a certain famous figure from the '70s, things take a turn. You are left to face the consequences of bringing the king of rock 'n roll himself to the year 2023.

・❥・Ratings & Warnings : SFW. A lot of angst, mentions of death, brief period of Elvis being unconscious, mentions of health conditions. Nothing too major though, don't worry.

・❥・Author's Notes: Hi! So this is my very first one-shot, I guess? I've never written one before and I have no idea what is the appropriate word count for one, if I'm being honest. This can also be read as Austin!Elvis if you prefer. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! Also I want to mention that this is not cross-posted anywhere else. This is my writing, please do not copy this.

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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“They are taking too long, “ You said, as you nervously fiddled with your fingers.

“They’ll be back soon. Don’t fret too much Y/N, “ Your boss, Francine, replies with her arms crossed as she portrays all confidence and calmness. You still can’t believe that it’s been three years since Francine recruited you as part of her team, and how long it took her to convince you that it wasn’t a practical joke.

After all, who the hell would believe someone who tells you that they are offering you a job to be a time traveller? It sounds like a classical plot from a sci-fi movie, you thought. But something in the corner of your mind, perhaps that wishful thinking of the child version of you - brought you to call Francine from the number left on the business card she gave you.

Once she met you at what she labelled the headquarters, which was really an underground bunker that seemed to be reminiscent of the dystopian movies that were once popular, you began to believe her. Well, and then she showed you a circular-type of metal vehicle with it’s contents inside involving three seats with multiple seatbelts and all the technicalities of the engine and the buttons to operate it. Then and there, Francine told you it was the time machine - and the only one ever in the world. She then told you that it has been test-driven before by herself and the scientists and engineers involved in its creation.

And so, you accepted.

It turned out you weren’t the only sceptic though. Francine approached two other people to be part of her team, and eventually, just like you they accepted. The actual job itself was not time travelling for the sake of time travelling. Each mission entails that you and the two other people - Ashton and Colin - were to prevent a particular man by the name of Max and his gang from changing history. They were ruthless and would go above and beyond to create havoc. With each mission, you held your breath and hoped and prayed that the three of you would return to the present time unscathed. That and successfully completing the mission.

The three of you would always go on the missions together, as without one of you - it’ll be harder to achieve the aim. Until Francine noticed that you were more tired than usual and had a fever running, which she then decided that Ashton and Colin go ahead without you. It is not that you didn’t trust them, it’s just the anxiety of the waiting.

And so, here you were pacing back and forth.

“I should’ve gone with them.” You looked at Francine, in which she shakes her head.

“You and I both know that you weren’t well enough.”

“But I’m perfectly fine now!”

“Now, yes. But a while ago you passed out on the couch.”

You know that she has a point, but it still didn’t settle the nerves in your stomach. Like something has gone horribly wrong with the mission.

You sighed, “I just have this sickening feeling that something did not go well.” You admit to her.

“The mission was simple.” Francine argues.

You shake her head, “No, it’s not. Going back to 1972 to track down Max and his gang from possibly murdering a famous star - is anything but simple. What if they got themselves caught? Got themselves killed? What if they did more harm than good?”

“Have faith, Y/N. Ashton and Colin have done this a thousand times.”

Despite her efforts to calm you down, your anxiety cannot help but build up and you spill your thoughts.

“Not without me they haven’t.” You say, running a hand through your face now.

“I mean, if I’m being honest why the hell is Max targeting Elvis Presley?” You shoot Francine a confused look.

“I don’t know. We don’t know. But I do know that Max is a deviously smart man. He doesn’t do things just because.” Francine answers.

All our past missions that you embarked on were self-explanatory. Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, The Watergate Scandal, Henry the VIII, The Second World War, The Moon Landing etc. If you ever had to protect a specific historical figure, they were mainly previous presidents, part of the government, members of monarchy for example. Never have you and the team ever encountered a mission whereby the focus is on an entertainer. Sure, it is undeniable that in the world of performers and actors, they are some that are famous no matter what. Those ones that are still so well-known despite no longer being on Earth. Elvis Presley is one of them. But you are so frustrated on why you cannot figure out why target him? Of course, there is no denying of his impact on music. But music is simply just music.

Also, not to mention, you have been an Elvis fan since you could remember. Growing up with your grandparents endlessly playing his records whenever you would be at their house. So, although you cannot visit as often as you used to when you were younger, those same records played in your own apartment. This in itself just adds to your frustration because how could you, a very dedicated Elvis fan - not have even an inkling of an idea on why Max and his gang would target him?

“They are coming!” One of the tech people behind the computer yells, both altering you and Francine who share a look of alert.

A strong gust of wind blows against everyone as the time machine appears out of thin air, effectively standing still on the empty ground just opposite you, Francine and the team of tech people and scientists behind their computers. You smooth out your hair from the havoc caused by the strong wind. The engine stutters to a silence.

You feel your heartbeat racing impossibly faster than ever. This is it. Once the door opens, you’ll have your answers to your questions. But what those answers may be - that you are unsure of.

The door to the time machine slides open, revealing the people inside. You sigh in relief to see your colleagues and friends - Ashton and Colin. Both are breathing and are very much alive, but are sweating profusely and appear to have gone through hell and back. In summary, both are alive but it was definitely not an easy mission. But your breath gets caught up in your throat as your eyes cast over the unconscious figure that has their arms wrapped around Ashton and Colin’s shoulder.

“Please, do not tell me that’s who I think it is.” You say in warning, clearly rhetorically. Because anyone, you don’t even have to be a fan to know that is definitely him. Sure there are hundreds of Elvis tribute artists out there, but knowing what you know in the nature of your job - that is most certainly an unconscious Elvis Presley that they are carrying. He is wearing that infamous white jumpsuit, the one with all the intricate details of the gemstones and a blue silk scarf wrapped around his neck. Rings upon rings adorned his fingers.

“Surprise?” Colin says half-joking, half- terrified at the glare you are shooting them two.

“You-”

“We can explain.” Ashton interrupts, putting his hand up.

“I defended both of you against Y/N’s concerns, you better have a good explanation for this.” Francine speaks up, her forehead suddenly knotted.

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“. . . now do you see why we had no choice?” Ashton finishes explaining. You have been listening to their explanation for the past thirty minutes, as the famous rock ‘n roll star remains unconscious on the bed. His chest rising and falling.

Initially, they were both sent there to protect Elvis Presley and to do it quietly. But in a turn of events, both reasonably couldn’t have avoided, they had no choice but to carry him to the time machine and just go, just as the bullets of Max and his gang rained on the exterior. They hoped to find Elvis Presley awake, but Max had other plans and planned to hurt the star while he was in his slumber in his Las Vegas penthouse. Luckily, Ashton and Colin were a step ahead and figured his plan out - but they had no second to waste. They had to act fast, with no time to really think about the consequences. And now, after hearing their story, you really couldn’t blame them for their choices. You feel that you would’ve done the exact same thing.

“I just heard word that Max has time jumped again. November 22, 1963 Dallas,Texas.” Francine reports.

“The assassination 0f JFK.” You respond quickly.

All three of you begin to stand up from your seats, ready to head towards the wardrobe to change into clothing suitable for the period of time that you are about to enter. Francine, however, stops you all from getting to the door before anything.

“Ashton and Colin go. Y/N, stay here.” Francine says.

You begin to protest, “What? No-”

“You watch over Elvis here. You know the most about him compared to all of us here, plus you are medically trained.” Francine says.

She was right. When Elvis wakes up, it’s not like there is the option of rushing him to the hospital in case of anything. And the usual doctor and nurse that were hired by Francine, have already left as Friday evening is quickly approaching. It was only down to you. You graduated with a bachelor’s in History and then went on to graduate from nursing school. It is only logical that you stay behind and look after Elvis.

But, you being naturally stubborn, still persist to protest.

You were about to argue that Ashton and Colin may need to rest as well, but seeing as they luckily obtained no injuries, left out that argument.

“But they won’t have a historian with them.” You attempt to argue.

Knowing that Francine saw how anxious you looked while awaiting Colin and Ashton to return, she must hear you out this time round. You don’t think you can bare another moment of that nerves of knowing it was only them two navigating their way through such a point in American history. It can’t be handled lightly. There is no way.

“She does have a point, Francine.” Ashton says.

“Yes, they will.”

“Who?” Colin speaks up, curiously asking.

“Me.” Francine smiles confidently.

“I-”

“Come on, it’s only one trip. I am a historian myself, should I remind you all.” She explains, which is true. You asked her yourself when you were newly-hired on why she hired you, when she could just go on these missions herself. Her reasoning was that she was the main manager here. She is handling and managing not just the team, but the other employees and the entire operation. So, she went on to look for someone who will solely focus on fulfilling the role of historian. Luckily for her, she found you to be well-versed in history and medically competent.

After a while of back and forth conversation, you sighed in defeat and agreed to Francine’s decision. All three of them soon boarded the time machine and disappeared into thin air. You just hoped and prayed that they all come back successfully soon.

As Ashton and Colin have explained, they escaped with Elvis when he was in deep sleep, which he still is. Although he is not injured in anyway, you believe that it doesn’t hurt to still do your checks on him when he wakes up. It is not everyday that someone from the past travels 50 years into the future. And not to mention, someone who you know has several health conditions.

Now that they were gone, your focus was solely on the raven-haired star that remained asleep on the bed. There were only three rooms in the underground headquarters, in case anyone in the team wanted to sleep here instead of going back to their own house. Even whilst asleep, you cannot help but admire him. Tanned skin, infamous black hair, and not to mention his many jumpsuits. You feel that even without all the glitz and glamour, he would still look effortlessly handsome.

A groan disrupts you from staring at him, a sound that came from him.

Shit. You think to yourself. You were still so caught up in trying to process the happenings of the last few hours, you actually haven’t mentally prepared a script or something on how you’ll respond from his questions. Because you know he’ll have questions, any sane person would.

“W-Where am I? Goddamnit, Red! Why is the damn light so bright in here?” He curses, his hand quickly shielding his eyes from the brightness of the light above him.

“Um. . . I-I’m sorry. I’ll dim them a little.” You say, hardly recognising the timidness of your voice. You go to the light switch and click the button to lower the brightness, then frantically go back to your chair beside him.

But now it’s different. Now Elvis Presley has his eyes open, a beautiful blue that you only saw in photos and old videos on youtube. His eyebrows are quirked up in confusion with his eyes squinting at you, as if trying to make sense of the situation.

“What. . . “ He trails off, “You’re not Red.” He mumbles.

“No, I’m not.”

He begins to sit himself up, but you were quick to stand up and gently encourage him to lay back down.

“Please, lie back down. I promise I won’t hurt you. I-I just need to do a few checks.” You say, attempting to bring back the confidence in your voice. But with his gaze so fixated on you, as if he is studying every inch of your face, you feel yourself heat up.

He fortunately follows your instructions, but his questions spew out.

You get out your pen-light from your pocket and shine it into each of his eyes, noting down ‘pupils equal and reactive.’ You then instruct him to try and push back from your hands, and to raise his arms and legs. This is to test his strength and ability to follow instruction. You note down that all are normal and are competent.

Elvis sighs, “What’s your name, honey?” He says, southern drawl prominent and you feel a weakness in your knees.

“Y/N.”

“Beautiful name. Y/N, can you please tell me what’s goin’ on?”

You nod, still avoiding eye contact, “I will. I just need to check your vitals, okay?”

He nods.

You fit a blood pressure cuff around his arm and take a stethoscope, listening intently to the systolic and diastolic beats. You are aware that due to his cardiac condition, he is hypertensive. The reading shows ‘140/90.’ Although you do not know his normal range, your clinical judgement says that these figures ring true with hypertensive patients.

You then continue on to check his other vitals; heart rate, respiratory rate, oxygen saturation, temperature. All seem to be within his normal range, although he is presenting a little tachycardic - which is normal for him, and as you have yet to tell him what’s going on, you are sure anxiety mixed into it too.

“Okay. All seem to be fine.” You conclude.

“Can I sit up now, doll?” He asks, and you finally look at him.

“Yeah, of course. But take it slow.” You warn him and decide to place your arms around him, helping him sit up. Once he does so, he leans against the wall and you return back to your seat.

He looks around the room and you know that look in his eyes. The look that he is aware something bizarre is happening, his face glances to the modern technology. A flat screen TV and laptop on the table.

“I’m not in the hospital, am I?” He asks a smart question as you have just performed a nursing assessment on him.

You shake your head, “No, you’re not in the hospital.”

“Where then? How’d I get here?”

You took a deep breath, “Some people tried to harm you and so, my colleagues, they had no choice but to bring you here. You are safe here.”

“Where exactly is here, honey?”

You bit your bottom lip, contemplating on how to explain it all to him. Or how much you can really say to him, as it is already such a danger that he is not in his time now. But then you remember the device that Francine told you about, a device that will help him forget about all this before he goes back.

So then you explain it to him as best as possible, leaving out a few details of course. You tell him that he is in the year 2023 and about the nature of your job. You then tell him that someone was out to get him, and that’s the only reason why he has been brought here and now. You of course left out the details about Max and his gang, and also did not mention why you have this job in the first place. You simply told him that you time travel to protect history, to make sure that everything is how it is. No further detail. Afterall, once you return him back to his time period, he will naturally forget about all of this.

Surprisingly, he took it better than you thought. Well, he initially thought that he was in some form of afterlife due to the unusual presence of modern technologies he had never seen before. But then you reassured him that is very far from the truth. Then he thought that someone was playing a prank on him, one of the members of the MM as he said, but you quickly shut down that theory of his. But then pretty soon after all that, he was calm and believed the truth of the situation. As a fan, after reading through many books written about him, you knew that Elvis was an open-minded person. He always believed that there is always so much more than what there is, so it didn’t come much to a surprise to you when he eventually did believe that time travel is real and he is indeed half a century into the future. That and also, unbeknownst to you, how could you not believe someone so beautiful and gentle with him? He was checking you out, and you oblivious as ever, did not even realise it.

Elvis reveals that he is hungry, just like you predicted. The entire staff has decided to do a group order from a fast food place, in which you ordered two burgers, one coke, and one pepsi. A knock resounds on the door as one of the tech people hands you what you’ve ordered, so you thank him and settle back down to your seat.

You hand Elvis a burger and a pepsi, “Thanks honey, I could eat.” He says to you, a grin finally showing on his lips.

You smile back at him and eat your own burger. He is quiet for a while, savouring the flavours of the food in his hands.

He takes a sip out of the Pepsi and smirks at you, “Hmm. . . how’d you know I like Pepsi?”

You should’ve seen that question coming. You didn’t even ask what he wanted to eat and drink, and yet, you have gotten it exactly right. It can be seen as a lucky guess, but the fact that you are a fan of his - now that is a much more believable reason.

“Uh, lucky guess I suppose, Mr Presley.” You say, completely lying to your idol. You decided you didn’t really want to reveal to him that you were a fan of his, it did not seem to be professional.

He whistles, “Mighty guess that is. Please call me Elvis, Mr Presley is my Dad.” He chuckles, and you nod.

“Right. Sorry, Mr Pre- uh, I mean Elvis.”

You avoid eye contact again, feeling flustered by his intense gaze. You take a sip out of your bottle of coca cola.

“You look out of sorts. C’mere, honey.” He says.

“What?” You turn your head back to him, so much out of avoiding eye contact.

“Sit next to me. “ Elvis says, patting the empty spot next to him on the bed.

You hesitate. Sitting across from him in a chair was already making you flustered, and now he wants you to sit beside him? You don’t know how you could cope - the fanatic in you and the work version of you are suddenly at war.

“C’mon, I don’t bite. “ He smirks.

And so you sigh in defeat, standing up and sitting beside him on the bed with your back leaning against the wall like him. He smiles now in triumph.

“How are you feeling?” You ask a reasonable and professional question.

You have never brought back someone from the past to the present time. Lord knows what the possible side effects could be, what those could do to the person’s body. Even more so, someone you know is already experiencing challenges with his health back in his time period. It does not go unnoticed by you that Elvis’ breathing is abnormal and it is evident in the way he talks, how he would mumble his words before pronouncing them clearly. But you know that this is not a time travelling side effect, this is how he was back then - his known respiratory issues. Nevertheless, you feel your heart pinch at the reality of seeing it all before you.

“Better now I have something to eat. Now, I’d much prefer to talk about you.” He says his flirtatious ways are not a surprise, but nevertheless you feel your face heat up.

You spend the next hour just talking with Elvis. You find yourself mentally pinching yourself every now and again, as the reality of it all feels incomprehensible to you who is an Elvis fan. You find him stuttering from time to time and mumbling his words, but that boyish charm and that all too well-known southern drawl in his tone. You found yourself laughing, and you are pretty sure that your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You’ve heard about Elvis’ sense of humour, but experiencing it yourself is a different matter.

However, you found that no matter how much you try to divert the conversation back to him, he persists on getting it back to you. In which you found yourself involuntarily blushing as he gazed at you intently, his eyes drifting from your eyes to your lips from time to time. An action you know could very well indicate something, but before that could really go anywhere - you turn your head away very swiftly and clear your throat.

Reminding yourself that this is work. You are at work. Work that so happens to now involve being in a room watching over Elvis Presley.

“I-uhm-” You sputter, trying to find something, well anything really to change the subject of conversation. Your prayers seem to have been answered by the door opening and in comes Francine.

“How’d it go?” You quickly ask her.

She nods, “Good. All good.” Francine replies, going with a short answer knowing that she needs to be cautious with her words, as confidentiality is key with someone from the past being in the room.

You sighed in relief at the news, “I’m glad.”

Francine shuts the door behind her and approaches Elvis, they exchange introductions. But you know that Francine will receive a report from you later on about how he is really doing, in terms of health.

“Y/N, can I please talk to you outside?” Francine asks, glancing back at Elvis very briefly.

You nod and look back at Elvis, “I’ll be back, okay?”

He smirks, “I’m not going anywhere, honey.”

Once you exit the room and are now in Francine’s office, you are shortly joined by Ashton and Colin. They proceed to explain the details of their mission, but all your brain could focus on is the rock ‘n roll star that is sitting down by himself only a few feet away from you. Nevertheless, you pay attention to their explanation enough to know that the mission was a success.

“So, how has he been?” Francine asks, you know she’s referring to Elvis.

You nod, “Fine. Nothing too crazy, which is lucky, given that he was dragged into a time machine and dropped 50 years into the future.” You emphasise, as you shot both Ashton and Colin a look.

They both just shrugged.

“Hey, that’s good news right.” Ashton says.

You sighed, “We need to get him back as soon as possible. Keeping him longer than necessary, well the fact that he is even here at all is already madness itself. “

Even though deep down in your heart, your fan heart, you didn’t quite mind that you get to spend time with him. But you know that this is not his time, he has to go back.

Francine nods at your words, “I agree with Y/N. The longer we keep him here, the more possible consequences it could have to the past. We can’t have that.”

Colin speaks up, “But how do we know that Max isn’t going to go back for him?”

You become quiet. He does have a point, one you didn’t really think over. If he is returned now, how do we know that Max isn’t just going to repeat what he already attempted the first time around?

You all grow quiet for a few seconds.

It was Francine who was the first to speak up, “We can’t be certain. But I do know that Max’s patience is not the greatest. If he does go back, he would’ve done it by now while we are here talking. Look how fast he time jumped to JFK. I have a feeling he won’t be returning for Elvis.” She confidently concludes.

Colin slowly nods, “Fair enough. But I say we wait a while before returning Elvis back, just to make sure.”

“Yeah, I agree with Colin.” Ashton says.

You all then conclude that Elvis will have to spend three more hours before he is returned back to 1973. It is now just gone 10PM, which means all three of you need to go home now and get some rest, because you never know when Max time jumps again and you need all the energy you can when that happens. On that note, Colin and Ashton go home and you are now walking back to the room with Francine to say goodbye to Elvis for now. Francine informed you that she has called back the Doctor and Nurse to watch over him in the meantime, while you go home to rest.

You both enter the room to find Elvis has fallen asleep. You quietly approach him and tap his shoulder gently, preparing to say your goodbye. He instantly wakes up at your action, as you know that he is a light sleeper - as his chronic insomnia being one thing he tried to fight.

“Hi, darling.” He instantly grins at you.

“I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He frowns at your words, “Goodbye?”

“Only for the meantime. I need to go home to get some sleep, but I’ll be back in a few hours.” You smile at him.

But your words don’t seem to ease the frown on his lips.

“Can’t you just stay here?” He asks, voice soft.

Francine clears her throat and you almost forgot that she is in the room.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Presley. I have the most competent medical professionals that will look after you while Y/N is resting.” Francine says.

But Elvis shakes his head, “No thanks, Ma’am. But I’m perfectly fine with Y/N.”

You sigh at his stubbornness.

“I assure you, they’ll take good care of you.” Francine repeats again.

“I need to rest, Elvis. You’ll be fi-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Elvis grasps your hand and you gasp.

“What if I come with her?” He asks, looking at Francine.

You and Francine both share a look of shock, eyes widened.

“Elvis, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You say, knowing that this is an insane idea and judging by the look on Francine’s face she’s sharing similar thoughts.

“Mr Presley, with all due respect, I don’t think that is a safe option for you. Y/N will return after three hours, and then we’ll get you back home.” Francine explains, hoping that it is enough to convince him.

Elvis’ eyebrows furrowed, “You’ll take me back to my time in three hours?”

You nod, “Yeah, the hours will go by fast.”

He is silent for a while, his head down low in thought. You exchanged looks with Francine, perhaps he’ll finally agree.

“Even more reason why I should go with Y/N.” He speaks up and you sigh.

“Ma’am, I appreciate your concern about my health.” He looks at Francine, “But I-I’m most comfortable with Y/N. She’s the one I know the most since being here. I promise I won’t be trouble. It’s like you say after three hours, I’ll be gone.” He pleads, eyes hopeful.

You slightly understand his stubbornness now. He does have a point somehow, if you look at it all from his perspective. It’s not a normal circumstance at all, and the person that he really knows was you. He only trusts you. And who can blame him? It was such an unusual situation, and you know in yourself you’d be acting the exact same way if you were in his shoes.

You are snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Francine finally say something.

“Alright. I trust you to keep your word, Mr. Presley.” Francine says, giving him a look of warning.

Elvis smiles in triumph, “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Francine then turns to you, “Are you okay with this, Y/N?”

You nod, not really being able to say anything right now.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Oh my god, this is actually happening. You say to yourself, trying to calm down and not freak out. Before leaving the headquarters, Francine was quick to warn you. She knew that you were a fan of Elvis, and of course by him being in your apartment - that is definitely crossing the line you’ve made between work life and personal life. But this is it.

The drive to your apartment was anything but quiet, as even in the night time, the difference between the ‘70s and 2023 are strikingly standing out. This of course meant that Elivs was gawking at the difference in buildings, and the signs, the clothes people wore, and not to mention the cars that you drove past. It made your heart hurt a little to see him so excited, knowing that this will be the only time he’ll really live to see 2023.

You’ve planned to go home to rest, but you really do think you won’t have much sleep. You’ll be too busy trying to worry about Elvis. You break out of your thoughts as you open the door to your apartment, letting Elvis enter first and then you. You quickly lock the door and flick the light on.

“Make yourself at home. I’m just going to get changed, okay?” You tell him.

Elvis smiles, “This is a cute place you’ve got here, honey.”

You change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable - the typical sweatpants and sweatshirt. You then opted for letting you hair down, out of the strict ponytail it was previously in. You quickly to your night skin care routine, and went back to the living room.

You see Elvis not on the couch, as you expected, but in front of the Google Home Hub that was on your kitchen counter. His eyebrows were furrowed as he muttered curses to himself, frustration so evident. You bit back a smile at his confusion.

You walk over to him, “Hi, what are you up to?”

He looks over to you, his eyes briefly glancing at you from head-to-toe and not in a subtle way either. He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and points at the Google Home Hub.

“This. The hell is this thing? What’s a tiny television doing on your kitchen counter?” He asks, and you can’t help but laugh at his assumption.

“It’s not a TV. It’s like a um. . . how could I describe it,” You mumble to yourself and then snapped your fingers.

“It’s like you know a very thin computer screen? Well, it’s that. You can search any information that you want to know, it’s like an encyclopaedia. But instead of having a keyboard attached to it, you can just tap with your fingers. But on this version, you can use your voice.”

Elvis tilts his head at you, “Honey, I don’t know what the hell you just said.” He laughs.

You cannot help but laugh at his adorable confusion.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your eyes open, awakening from slumber. You yawn, quickly glancing at the clock in your living room as it reads 12.30AM. In just thirty minutes, you’ll be meeting back up with the team at the Headquarters - ready for Elvis to go home. Speaking of, you look around in a slight panic, but sigh in relief once you see Elvis on the couch with his eyes wide open as he stares at the ceiling. You originally thought about just sleeping in your own bed, but decided it wasn’t the best idea if you wanted to keep an idea on him. Instead, you opted for sleeping on the other couch right across from him in the living room.

You spoke for a long time before you fell asleep. Both of you are so caught up in your own conversation. After of course trying to explain to Elvis the technology of today, in which he failed terribly at, but you both just laughed at it. He then went on to ask about what other ‘future things’ are available that differs greatly from the 1970s. But you also explained to him that some trends have been going in cycles and are coming back, like fashion for instance. He was quick to find your collection of vinyls, which inevitably led to him discovering your numerous vinyls of his records. He was quick to tease you about it, in which you shyly admitted that you were in fact a fan.

But then the conversation turned from light-hearted to something a little heavier. You just weren’t prepared for it at all. Elvis noticed how whenever he would make a comment about him being an ‘old man’ in this time, you would grow silent very quickly and refuse to look him in the eye. Then again when he would question and wonder how he’d be living in this time period, so far from the young man that bursted into the scene in the 1950s. On how many people really are a fan of him, how many people remember him. Remember his music, he means. As he presumed that he retired from the music industry and just settled into family life. That is all his presumption of where he is in 2023.

But then he caught you simply nodding hesitatingly at his theories, and he knew then and there that there was something you were hiding. You knew that before he leaves this time, his memories will be erased anyway, and so you told him. You told him about his unfortunate ending in this world.

It was difficult for you to tell him, as you saw how watery his eyes got in seconds and how he was shaking his head in refusal of the truth. You couldn’t help but approach him and wrap your arms around him, wishing and hoping that it was different. You know that hugging him is not professional, but this one time, you had to make an exception.

You saw that it was already 11PM now, it was time to get rest. You knew that your eyes were growing heavy, but you were worried about Elvis, knowing that sleep never was easy for him. But he assured you to not mind him, and just close your eyes.

Now, it was 12.30am and you are curious to know if he had any shut eye.

“You’re awake.” You say, and he turns his head to you with that smile of his.

“I woke up just a little while ago, don’t worry.” He replies.

You nod and you are unsure of what to say. Your last conversation before falling asleep was a heavy subject.

“You know, I wished you lived in my time.” He jokes.

“Why?”

“I-It’s hard to find people to talk to about all the stuff I wanna talk about. You know, they brush it off and are never really interested in it all.” He says, referring to earlier times when you let him speak extensively about all the spiritual books that he’s read and his questions about the universe, and the world in general.

You are unsure how to respond, “I’m sorry. “ knowing that he always found it difficult to have someone to talk to about his interest, as everyone, even his closest friends laughed at him and didn’t really listen.

“It gets so lonesome sometimes.” He continues, and you feel pain in your heart for him.

“And I ain’t stupid, you know. I know when a girl is pretending to be listening to me just because they want something else from me. But not you. And I don’t think it’s because it’s your job,” He shakes his head, “I think it’s just cause you are a good person. I can see that.”

You smile, glad that he feels that way.

“Thank you, Elvis. But you really are smarter than you give yourself credit for. Nothing you ever say can be too much or crazy.” You say to him, and he stands up and approaches you.

He is silent, but his gaze keeps flickering from your eyes and your lips.

“Damn, how I wish I’d met you in my time.” He whispers, and then slowly you find him planting a kiss on your cheek. Your face heats up as he pulls away, and he is grinning at your flustered expression.

Not long after, you receive a call from Francine that it’s time to meet back at the headquarters. You quickly change into your work uniform, grab your car keys and head out the door with Elvis. The drive back to the headquarters was quiet.

Once entering, you immediately are greeted by Ashton, Colin and Francine. Francine tells you that she has decided that you join the team now in returning Elvis to his time period, after all, he’ll forget about this all anyway once you land there. Francine instructs you that to wipe his memory, you’ll have to wrap a bracelet around his wrist, which will make him fall into a slumber. Once he is asleep, the bracelet will shine green indicating that his memory from this event has been successfully removed, and you can then take off the bracelet.

“Well, it was nice seeing 2023 even if it was short.” He says, grinning and then goes on to thank Francine.

You were surprised at first on why Francine told you that Ashton won’t be coming on this trip. It will only be you, Elvis, and Colin. But Francine explained that Ashton opted out to get more rest, and besides, there’s only three seats in the time machine. Colin and Elvis went ahead on being seated and putting seatbelts on.

This is when you pull Ashton aside, “You are the most energetic person I know, Are you okay?” You bombard him with questions.

Ashton chuckles, “I’m more than okay, Y/N. “

“Then why did you-”

He leans over to your ear to whisper, “You are a huge fan of his. This will mean more to you than it will to me.”

You look at him in surprised, “Thank you.” You say to him sincerely.

He simply smirks and ushers you to hurry, “Go, now. Before the machine leaves without you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

It was quick. Next thing you know, you have landed. After regaining initial shock from being in the ‘70s, you feel yourself become upset at the prospect of saying goodbye to Elvis. You know that you have to do this. But from all the conversations you’ve had in such a short period of time, being that close to him - you wished it never ended.

But it will now, because now you are both standing in his hotel suite. Colin already said his goodbyes, as he waited outside the door.

“Quickest trip I’ve ever been on, a plane has nothing on that machine.” He jokes, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You simply chuckle.

“So, this is the part where you’ll make me forget?” He confirms, eyes downcasted.

You nod, “Yeah.”

He has already explained how the bracelet will work.

“Do you have to?” He asks, voice soft and gentle and you almost want to say ‘No, I don’t want to.’

You smile a little at him, “You know I do. It’ll mess-”

“Mess history up, I know.”

Silence.

“What if you stay?”

How you wish it were that easy.

You shake your head, “You know I can’t do that, Elvis.”

He sighs, knowing you are right. He belongs in this time and you belong in yours. It’s just such a cruel thing that the one person he feels connected to, more than anyone else, happens to be you - a girl very, very far away from him. He almost cursed at the universe on why it had to be this difficult.

“Thank you for everything, Y/N. “ He finally says, as he takes a seat on his bed.

“It was no problem at all. “ You say, words are suddenly hard to find.

“Are you ready?” You ask, in which he nods and takes a deep breath.

You place the bracelet around his wrist, and in a matter of seconds - his eyes close. You were quick to hold onto the back of his head, as you gently placed his head on the pillow. You then propped up his legs, so now that he was in a comfortable position as he sleeps. The bracelet turns green, and you remove it from him.

Perhaps you didn’t realise it then, but now you do - tears spill from your eyes, slowly staining your cheeks. A whirlwind of emotions escape your heart - the last hours of being with him, and the reality of his ending. You wished you didn’t have to make him forget, in hopes that he’ll change his ways and live longer. But you knew you couldn’t do that.

As you look at the raven-haired man in front of you, you gently leave a kiss on his cheek and whisper to him, “I’ll always remember you.”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Elvis is awoken from his sleep by Jerry, who tells him that rehearsals start soon and he should get something to eat. But Jerry’s words escape Elvis’ focus.

“E.P?” Jerry says, trying to catch his attention.

“Yeah?” Elvis replies.

“You okay?” Jerry asks, worry evident on his face.

Elvis furrows his eyebrows, “Yeah, I'm good. I just had this really strange dream, man.”

“What dream?”

“Well, I can’t really tell if it was a dream. It was dark but there was this voice, a woman’s voice.” Elvis explains, his forehead knotted in confusion.

Jerry wanted to ask if it may be his mother.

But Elvis confirms that it’s certainly not, “It wasn’t my mama. No, this voice is different.”

Jerry crosses his arms over his chest, “What was the voice saying?”

Elvis shakes his head and looks back at his friend, “She kept saying the same words over and over again.”

“Which is?”

“I’ll always remember you.”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

It has been a few weeks now since Elvis returned to his time, and so you went back to your normal life. It was hard at first, trying to process the reality of everything that happened. You know it’s different now though whenever you listen to his music, a different kind of feeling.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that again?” You say into your phone. You were on the phone to your best friend, who was planning a surprise for their partner, and so he needed your help. Now he was saying the address to the surprise location, and you frantically were trying to find a piece of paper to jot down the address.

You go through magazines and post-it notes filled with phone numbers and random lists written down. You finally find a small blank piece of paper, slipped in the very corner of one of the magazines on the coffee table. You click your pen and are ready to scribble down the address, but pause when you find out the paper isn’t exactly blank as you remove it from inside the magazine.

Your eyes quickly trail off the words written, “Um sorry, can I call you back?” You say to your friend on the phone, in which he agrees and you both end the phone call.

You gasp in disbelief because there on the paper was his handwriting. It read:

‘Thank you for listening and being there for me. You helped me more than you think, Y/N. Don’t forget me.’ E.P.

You were certain that it was his handwriting. You can’t believe it. There you were thinking that you’ll only have a memory of him, but now there is this. Something that you can treasure forever and you can’t help, but think that sometimes life has it’s way of gifting you small miracles. . . just in time.

#elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis fics #elvis x y/n #Austin!elvis x reader #elvis one-shot #elvis presley #time travel #angst #fluff #astralheart21 #elvisfanfic #70s!elvis

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angelinajoulie · 1 year

Text

At his mercy.

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: dom!Austin Butler x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary: Austin fucks you in his ‘The late late show’ suit.

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT. this is PURE FILTH; age gap; austin is definitely a DOM in this (you can't tell me otherwise); swearing; pet names; fingers sucking; oral (m receiving); size kink; praise kink; austin referring to himself as daddy (just twice); unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it); creampie; cockwarming (sorta??).

a/n: English is not my first language, this is the first time I’ve written from Italian to English and after two months of writing and translating this work I really don't know what came out, so please forgive any mistake✨ leave a comment down here and let me know what you think✨

Enjoy!

It's late at night, the lights outside are already out, and the street lamps are the only ones left to light the wet road while everything around is sleeping and waiting for a new day to come. Not a sound, not a noise is bothering the atmosphere outside except for the sweet rustles of trees on the street as a black Range Rover nears the driveway.

Shortly after, the sudden noise of a door opening makes you skip a beat, taking you off-guard and waking you from your sleep. He is back.

Your eyelids open slowly and you instinctively look at the alarm on the nightstand. 1:30 am.

"As usual," you think.

It takes you a little to realize that you fell asleep too early and didn't wait awake for him— as you always do, but you had a very stressful day at college and you couldn't help yourself to give in to the comfy bed beneath you.

So you decide to wait for him to make his way into the bedroom before you can close your eyes again.

You hear him from upstairs while he tosses the keys on the side table at the entrance, then a series of muffled noises follow.

And then, again, silence.

You feel your eyes getting heavy and you know that you'll fall asleep soon. But not without him.

And noticing he's still not gone upstairs yet you decide to get down to him.

You rise from the bed and a breath of wind wraps around your shoulders as soon as the blanket leaves your body, leading you to wear your white satin robe before going downstairs.

Your bare feet meet every cold step unnoticeably, the high temperature difference between the two floors causing you to shrug.

You're searching for him, your eyes are looking at every corner of the living room while waiting to catch his figure until your feet finally touch the ground.

You see him.

Standing in front of the cupboard against the wall, bottle in his hand as he pours himself a large glass of whiskey.

Austin.

He is wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit from Prada that perfectly matches his blue eyes, the jacket left open to reveal a black mesh shirt, half undone and barely covering his toned, tanned chest.

It suits him heavenly.

His eyes look up to meet yours as soon as he feels your presence.

“Hey” he murmurs in a low and raspy voice.

“Hi” you respond and get closer to him, trying to greet him properly.

Seeing you lean in he puts the bottle back in its place and in no time you feel his arm around your waist. Austin lowers his head for his lips to meet yours in a chaste and tender kiss, the first one after an entire day away from each other.

Your hand travels up his spine, reaching the nape of his neck and starting caressing it, your fingers sneaking between his hair gently as you hold yourself closer to his chest. His body is so warm against yours, his warmth filling your heart completely and making you feel safe in the tight grip of his strong arms.

You’ve missed him so much.

The last period has been very exhausting for him, every day passes between interviews, photoshoots and premieres and he's terribly busy, and considering that you too have your things to do with college and all, you're both forced to be apart from each other. But despite all of this, you always try to do your best to support him, following him at the events when possible or watching him on TV, waiting for him until he gets home— like you should've done today too.

Soon your lips move away with a tiny 'pop' and your eyes meet, a shy smile appearing on both of your faces.

“How was your day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Great, just a lil tiring” he sighs, caressing your hip gently “have you seen the show?”

You nod without hesitation.

“Of course I did,” a sense of pride overwhelms you seeing him smile slightly at your obviousness “just for you.”

“Really?” he grins, pretending to be surprised as his eyes look down at yours and you nod again.

“Yeah”

“Good girl” he places two of his fingers under your chin, lifting it up for your lips to meet his again in a quick kiss before he pulls away from you and takes the full glass of whiskey in his hand.

You shudder thinking about the pet name.

Good girl...

“And what about you? How was college today?”

Your gaze never leaves him, following each one of his movements while he reaches the couch and takes a seat between the black leather cushions. A shiver runs down your spine, stopping right on your lower stomach. Your mind gets fuzzy, distracting you from his question.

Legs wide apart, broad shoulders resting on the back of the sofa, his right hand on his knee and thigh as the left one brings the edge of the glass towards his mouth, needing a sip. The bitter and yellowish liquid runs down his throat, and his eyes shut just for a second until he swallows it, licking his plump lips after.

You feel yourself throb around nothing at the sight of him manspreading, and your thighs instantly rub together at the thought of every single time you've seen him doing that same thing: eyes closed, lips and tongue wet— not from whiskey.

You don't know why, you don't even know how to explain it to yourself, but seeing him like this sparked something inside you since you saw him on ‘The Late Late Show’ tonight. Something able to keep your mouth shut and your eyes glued to him.

He looks so confident. So dominant. So powerful. Right now, he could move mountains at his pleasure just by lifting a finger if he only wanted to.

And that damn suit... God, you want to sit on his lap so bad.

You'd do it immediately if only you weren't so shy to stand still at your place, merely biting at your lower lip while fantasizing about the mighty man in front of you, a gesture so simple but not enough to go unnoticed— not to him. Not to Austin.

His icy eyes linger on you again and this is the exact moment where you come back to reality and blush.

“What's up?” your awkwardness leads you to open your mouth and talk before you can remember a very important detail.

You still haven't answered his question.

“I asked you” he emphasizes, his tone sharp and deep as he takes in another sip and his tongue runs over his lips to wipe them more slowly and languidly than before, never taking his eyes off of yours “how was college today, angel?”

A mischievous grin appears on his face, the name that always knew how to make your stomach twirl makes you understand everything.

You got caught.

“G-good...” you stutter, coughing slightly as your cheeks are on fire for both arousal and embarrassment in front of that one clear consciousness.

You have a lot on your mind at the moment, a thousand thoughts are running through your head and Austin can read every single one of them.

And you know that he can, you know that he knows what you're thinking about.

Austin knows everything about you.

Because he knows you too well.

He can see from a mile away that something inside you snapped. Your body language is enough to let him know what you want and what you need.

He's tired, the only thing he needs at the moment is to finish his drink, take his clothes off and go to sleep with you, but seeing you wearing nothing but that white silk robe that barely covers your thighs as you bashfully bite your lip, thinking about all the shameless things you want him to do to you, is enough to drive him crazy too.

Because he'll never get enough of you.

He lifts his right hand and two of his fingers gesture you to get close.

“C'mere” his order is like liquid gold for you. You walk towards him without blinking, reaching the couch, stepping in front of him as if you've been waiting to all day.

Austin quickly swallows the last drop of whiskey, leaving the now empty glass on the table before grabbing your wrist and putting you between his spread legs.

His fingers manage to undo the tight bow of your robe, taking it off of you to reveal a lovely black satin nightie under it, one of the many he bought you to make up for the many others he ripped off of your body: soft to the touch, lightweight, with thin stripes and lace hems, short enough to leave your ass exposed.

No doubt that it's his favorite one. You're a goddess in it.

His forefinger traces a line up your thigh and reaches the hem of your nightie, your cheeks reddening as soon as he lifts it up, giving you goosebumps.

Austin feels his cock throb in his pants at the sight.

You aren't wearing panties. As he wished.

“No panties, mh?” you shook your head no, feeling the heat starting to pool right on your bare center and your heart pounding in your chest.

You feel so exposed under his touch, so weak, so small, so vulnerable at the feeling of your skin burning under his lingering hot gaze. Your body is completely at his mercy, poorly covered by that tiny piece of fabric while Austin still has his suit on, fully clothed from head to toe, looking at you like an uncompromising master who's thinking about the right treat for his good submissive. And in the darkest and deepest part of yourself, you're loving it.

You love that he always wants to be in control. You love being controlled by him.

At the moment you just want to follow his rules, please him, worship him, be punished if needed, because you want to be a good girl for him and him only.

“Get on your knees, angel.” and when his order comes, you can do nothing more than obey.

Your knees fall to the floor with a soft thud, hands anchored on his thick thighs as you're face to face with his crotch.

Austin's fingers are under your chin again, a gentle reminder for you to pull your gaze up to his face, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

His baby blues are darkened, filled with craving and lust as they meet your shy and innocent ones waiting for mercy, for him to choose their fate and what is better for them.

Like an angel at God's feet.

“You're such a good little girl for me, you know this?” his voice gets deeper enough to make you feel soaked as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“So submissive” he praises you in a whisper, his calloused digits moving to caress your cheek, allowing you to surrender to his touch by resting your head on his thigh.

“So responsive” the intense feeling of the cold gold of his rings hits your warm skin and your spine tingles.

His voice is so soft, yet so firm while he praises you that a weak moan leaves your parted lips, Austin taking advantage of it to shove two of his long fingers in your mouth. You know what to do so you embrace them with no hesitation and start sucking, wrapping your lips and tongue around his knuckles as the metallic taste grows strong in your mouth.

“So greedy...”

You are a vision to him, you look so tempting that his hand falls on his crotch to palm himself, his growing erection begging to be freed from his slacks and swallowed up by your throat.

“Bet your pretty little head's just thinking about one thing since I came home, doesn't it?” you nod frantically, his wet digits still in your mouth before he retracts them.

“Use your words.” authority drips from his tone and you sigh.

“Y-yes...” not enough.

“Yes what, angel?” your head lowers again in front of his request but he holds you still in place, grabbing your jaw “Look at me”

“I...” words get stuck in your throat, too shy to let them slip out easily.

“C'mon, don't be shy. Wanna hear you say it” he spurs “what's on your mind?”

Your heart keeps pounding as never before, and at this point, you don't even know how but you say it.

“I want your cock.”

“And where do you want it, angel?” he smirks as he adjusts himself between the cushions, your thighs clenching together to hide the wetness between them.

You love everything about him and the thing you love most is that he's able to read your mind without talking, but right now it seems like he has forgotten about this ability of his own. And you're hating him for this.

Because you know he's doing it on purpose.

He wants to hear your voice.

He wants to hear you beg.

He wants to hear your innocent mouth tell him the dirty things you want from him, the things he knows that make you feel all small and weak.

For this reason you swallow thickly, and gasping with your heart on your sleeve, you answer.

“In m-my mouth.”

“Then take it.” his words are the only green light you needed to put your shyness aside and leave room for the actions you're going to do in silence.

You reach the fly of his trousers with both hands, unzipping it and slipping between the black fabric of his briefs, freeing his cock.

You take it in your hand, he's already hard as it springs free against his stomach, the contact of your fingers against his weak flesh making him gasp.

You feel him. Long, warm and veiny, the tip already reddened and leaking with precum.

Your mouth waters at the sight. You need to make him feel good so bad.

You sit better on your own thighs, adjusting yourself to avoid the feeling of your knees pressing against the carpet before running your hand along his shaft.

Your strokes are slow and gentle, your fingers applying a small amount of pressure, making him breathe heavily.

“Angel...” he's so eager to feel you, the way his hips are bucking up to meet your strokes is silently proving it. So you decide to indulge him.

You lean forward and your lips start kissing his length from the base to the tip. You tease his slit with your thumb before starting to leave kitten licks on his head, feeling his salty taste exploding on your taste buds.

“Mmm, little one...” a deep groan falls from his lips and goes straight to your soaked center, making you shudder in your place “I love feeling your mouth on my cock...”

He seems so much weaker than before, and a strong sense of power washes over you.

“Fuck...” he swears, adjusting the blonde locks falling on his forehead.

The sensation of your warm mouth around his girth already sending him into a state of pure bliss “I'm not going to last long”.

You take a deep breath through your nose and start sucking, slowly moving your head up and down his cock as far as you can, trying your best to please him. His hand ends behind your head, his fingers holding you close to him as he'd never let you go.

“Yes, baby” he grunts “you feel so good”

Arousal is growing more and more inside of you, your pussy getting wetter as juices start flowing out of you because of hearing him moan.

You feel so bold right now, a sense of euphoria takes over you all of a sudden and makes you grind uncontrollably, searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs while your head bobs faster around him.

“Yes, just like that, keep going baby...” you do as you're told. You keep sucking, and Austin's grip between your hair tightens.

The cool metal of his rings presses against the nape of your neck, his knuckles turning white and his protruding veins popping out as he applies more pressure to guide your hips at his own pace, making you feel trapped under his grip— under his control.

Right now you're the one giving him pleasure but it doesn't matter. He'll always know how to control you and be in charge.

Your throat is becoming sore and dry, some locks are covering your sweaty forehead and falling on his pubic bone as little tears are forming at the corners of your eyes.

You're a complete mess.

“My pretty little angel- shit, I'm going to fuck your pussy so good” his promise hits you right at your core and a choked moan escapes from your lips, the vibration is so intense against the head of his cock that he jerks frantically.

“Oh god!” his eyebrows furrow, his tight grip around your neck forces you to swallow more of him until he's hitting the back of your throat.

You can't take it anymore. You pull away from him, your fingers never stopping to rub his cock. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you breathe feverishly, searching for air to fill your lungs but Austin is quicker than any move you can make and leans toward your lips.

“Wanna cum inside you.” he tugs you into his mouth hungrily and you moan in both surprise and excitement. You are both panting at the same pace, his tongue slides into your wide-open mouth starting a steamy make-out session where your lips crash between grunts and bite each other without mercy.

Austin moves both his hands on your covered back and you sit up to climb on top of him. Your legs surround his thick thighs and your hands run everywhere on his sweaty chest and around his neck.

“I love you” he breathes on your lips, between heated kisses “so much”

“I love you too, Aus- ah!” his throbbing cock pushes against your soaked folds, making you gasp and jolt. The thrill is too much, you're so desperate that you start grinding against him, searching for friction to stop the hundreds of shocks running down your spine and hitting your womanhood repeatedly.

Your skin burns under his touch. You want him. You need him. You crave him.

And he knows it.

His hand stops on your asscheek, underneath the fabric of your nightie as his teeth keep biting your bottom lip voraciously, his fingers squeezing your flesh before grasping the hem of your nightie.

Austin takes it off of you and tosses it to the side.

Now you're fully naked on his lap, your breasts are pressed against his half-covered chest and your stomach shakes at the sensation of being so exposed while he's overdressed.

He leans forward a bit enough to bring his hands behind his back and take off his jacket.

“No!” your voice leaves your throat in a worried shriek, bringing out a primal emotion hidden in the deepest part of you.

Austin halts and looks you in the eyes, urging you to give him reasons. You blush.

You can't run away.

“L-leave it on...” you swallow thickly, hair falling on your face, hiding your awkwardness from him. Right now you're ashamed to death for this implied confession and his silence is not helping to ease your feeling.

He simply keeps staring at you, with those damned eyes that know how to make you melt, and without saying a word he kisses you again.

His tongue hungrily pushes itself into your mouth, giving you goosebumps as his fingers slide down straight between your folds, coating in your juices.

Now he can feel it.

“Fuck, you're dripping” his touch is so slight and lasts only for a moment, making you moan against his lips "all this wet just for sucking daddy's cock and seeing him in this suit, mh?"

“Please, Aus...”

“Who knew a stupid suit would make my little girl so eager?”

You don't answer and your shyness seems to no longer exist.

You just keep grinding against him, more desperate than ever while his tip rubs against your throbbing clit; he grasps his cock with his hand, adjusting himself on the couch and lining up with your slit, teasing it as your heart aches in eagerness and you can do nothing more than keep begging him shamelessly.

Hearing you beg is making him crazy, he swears he could stand still for hours only to hear you beg with your tear-filled eyes, but right now he just wants you too much to do it.

“Please, I need you”

You don't need to say anything else. His tip pushes inside your cunt and right after he grips your waist forcefully. His entire length slides inside you slowly, your mouth curving in a perfect 'o' from which nothing comes out as you pull away from his lips. Your breath hitches as he makes you sink onto him until you feel his pubic bone hitting against your swollen clit.

You're stuck, unable to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shout and cry out.

“Oh!” you feel so full. Full of him.

He gives you a few seconds to get used to his presence inside you and a heavy breath releases from his chest.

“Shit, you're so tight” he curses under his breath, bottom lip between his sparkling teeth and eyes closed for pleasure.

And then he starts guiding you onto him and you let yourself get carried by his hands, feeble like jelly as you meet his thrusts, moving slowly, moaning weakly.

“Aus” you whimper, each one of your moves against him only stretching you open more.

“Shh angel, you can handle it” he coos softly in your ear, leaving sweet kisses behind your lobe, helping you to ease the pain.

Your thighs are trembling as they wrap around his and your fingers slide between his blonde locks, trying to hold him closer than ever.

From this position, you can feel him completely. Every inch, curve, vein, and single part of him is inside you to the brim and is filling you perfectly with a combination of pain and pleasure that only Austin can give you.

You open your eyes and look at him. He's already staring at you and now your gazes lock together, making you both feel more connected with your soul than just your bodies and skin.

Your breaths mingle, your lips only a few inches distant from each other and ready to touch again with each thrust.

“You're taking me so well” he murmurs.

His forehead is sweaty, his lips are plump and red like yours, his jaw clenching as he watches you fall apart on his cock and babble something in response before moaning, struggling to take him.

You feel that familiar coil growing in you, your walls clench around his girth and you feel the base of your stomach burn every time his tip caresses your cervix.

It's too much for you. You stop, ready to surrender to his touch, but Austin holds you in place.

“Ah-ah. Stay still, pretty girl.” his fingers force you to sit straight, impaling you more and more on his cock.

“I-i can't...”

“C'mon little one, don't be a brat” he warns you as he starts guiding your hips again, with slow but intense strokes, the stimulation leading a whine to escape your lips before you stop again.

“Hmmph... t-too much...” you babble, it's the only thing you're barely able to say. You can't even talk.

It's so good, you just wish you had the strength to ride him faster but his cock's hitting you so deep you swear you could die in his arms.

Suddenly something draws his attention and forces him to look down.

You feel his hand press on your belly and you gasp in surprise. So you lower your head as well and see the outline of his cock poking out of your stomach.

The vision makes his cock twitch and your walls squeeze around him. He's in your guts.

“God, you look so hot like this” his gaze is burning on your skin, and you can say he definitely loves the sight in front of him. His pupils are dilated, and his breath is getting heavier. He's addicted “Small, desperate, and full of my cock”

You moan hard, turned on by his words and seeing how much he's going deep inside you with every stroke.

“‘s so deep inside you, uh?” he mocks you, his thumb rubbing your tummy as your eyes meet each other again.

“Y-yes! S-so deep” hearing your voice cracked and desperate leads him to one conclusion.

“Think you need daddy's help” suddenly his grip on your flesh tightens and with no warning he pushes you down onto him brutally, slamming his cock into you, bucking his hips upwards to start thrusting deeper, harder.

In a matter of seconds, your nails dig into the back of his hands and you scream, tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Aus- oh, god!” you moan louder, your mouth wide open as ecstasy takes over you, leading you to shake uncontrollably against his hips, making him grunt and moan.

“Keep moving, angel, don't stop...” he whispers as you try to follow his orders as far as your body permits you.

His cock is buried in you, he is fucking you so good you're barely able to move properly.

“Yes, just like that, baby, you're so good” his words keep hitting at your core, only spurring you to push yourself to your own limits as he starts leaving wet kisses on your throat “My good girl...”

"Please, please, please!" the fire inside you is ready to burst, your peak is getting closer and you want more.

“You wanna cum, angel?”

“Yes, yes please, n-need to cum!” hot tears start streaming down your cheeks and you moan again, again and again, scratching his hands and leaving bruises on his knuckles.

Everything seems to be so intense. Sweat is soaking your bodies, immersing you both in a hot-as-hell shower. The wet sound of bones and skins slapping floods your ears, your juices flowing down your thighs ruining the fine fabric of his expensive trousers.

You're so close and so is he. You feel in heaven.

“Then cum baby, cum around my cock” his voice shakes you inside, his tip hits that sweet spot in you and your vision goes blurry.

“Austin!” you cry out, your throat rips apart for the strength of your climax. Your orgasm washes over you and you convulse, the shocks running through your body are too strong and leave you powerless as you collapse on his chest.

“Fucking god” soon a growl of satisfaction slips from his throat, and his abdomen tightens underneath you. His grip loosens, thick ropes of his white cum spill inside you and paint your walls, making you shiver.

The room is now filled with silence, interrupted every now and then by the racing breaths escaping from both of your lungs.

You're exhausted.

“You did so good, angel, so good” he starts caressing your head gently, his praises warming your heart as you try to recover from the passionate fuck you two just had, but before you can say anything he picks you up and gets off the couch.

You whimper in surprise, finding the strenght to tie your legs and arms around the soft fabric of his suit as Austin's cock is still hard inside you.

“Let's go t' bed, baby” he announces, a wicked grin crossing his face “Wanna see how deep I can fill this pussy if I let you ride me on the mattress”

a/n: okay sooo… what do you think? would you like to read anything else? i got five or six ideas to write in my drafts already 👀

Tag-list: @pennyroyalcreep @bcofl0ve @houndogsblog @gigisworldsstuff @emmaolsen @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @fuckhoes1123 @cchl @auranightangle @spirited-away-to-mandalore @donnamarie23 @ab4eva @dancer4j @kibumslatina @denised916 @faeolwen @alqvarde @lilmisswoo93 @oldermenluverrr @eliseinmemphis @purejasmine @lillypink @sournatromanoff @lukedorkyhemmings @claudia-barnes @bo-burnhxm @lilac-presley @onlyangelssing @amorx

(the tag list is OPEN, comment down here if you wanna be added!)

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floralcyanide · 7 months

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˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day ten ⛧ mutual masturbation

Austin Butler x F!Reader

A little naughty fun ensues with you and your boyfriend, Austin.

warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, masturbation, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, nipple play

word count: 612

author's note: I'm soo sorry this is so late jfc but I'm catching up rn. I've been super busy but I'm finally on fall break lol I hope yall enjoy!! I appreciate feedback (:

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

You’re laying on Austin’s chest, lightly running your hand along his toned skin. Your cheek is pressed into him as you watch him lazily stroke his cock, and you can feel his breath hitch when he flicks his wrist slightly to change his rhythm. You lick your lips as you see his cock harden more, his tip reddening. Running your fingertips along Austin’s torso makes his skin jump, and you glance up at him. He looks down at you, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes begin to glaze over. Austin notices how you’re rubbing your thighs together under the sheets.

“Are you not gonna touch yourself?” he asks.

You hum, removing your hand from Austin. You open your legs, tossing one over his stomach as you slip your hand between your thighs. Slowly, you rub your clit through your underwear, kissing the skin of Austin’s peck that’s by your face. You groan as your fingertips rub the bundle of nerves just right. Moving your underwear to the side, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of pleasure coursing through your belly as you circle your bare clit.

“Think you can fit a finger in that hot cunt of yours?” Austin asks, his voice deep with lust.

“Yeah,” you say, nipping at Austin’s nipple playfully, causing him to jerk into his hand.

“Do that again,” Austin sighs.

As you slip a finger inside your wetness, you wrap your lips around Austin’s nipple, sucking lightly. He moans quietly, moving his hand along his shaft a little faster. The sounds he’s making cause you to clench around your finger, your walls fluttering as you curl the digit. You’re panting as you lap at Austin’s nipple, watching his face contort through your lashes. You push another finger inside your pussy, flipping over on your stomach as you keep your leg over Austin. Being spread open further allows your fingers to reach deeper inside your cunt, your free hand playing with your clit. You’re still positioned over Austin’s chest, biting and sucking his nipples and supple skin. He lets out small noises of pleasure as he fucks his hand quickly. You feel yourself getting close to your release, the sound of you and Austin’s moans blending together. Watching Austin as he pumps his cock makes your urge to take him into your mouth stronger as each moment passes. So you do, catching him off guard. You swirl your tongue around him, hollowing your cheeks and letting him fuck into your face.

“Fuck, get on top,” Austin ushers you to move.

Fully removing your underwear, you slide on top of him, lining his cock with your soaking entrance before sinking down on him. Austin grabs your hips and guides you up and down his length, your moans urging him to thrust into you faster. He grunts as he brushes your cervix, and you clench hard around him. Your nails graze his chest, clipping his nipples and causing him to thrust into you further. You’re bouncing as fast as you can on Austin’s perfect cock, relishing in the feeling of his tip slamming into you. As he fucks you, he hits all the spots inside you that are sending you closer to the edge. Slamming down onto Austin harshly as he pushes deeply inside you, your toes curl as your orgasm washes over you. Your orgasm triggers Austin’s as he empties his cum into your pulsating cunt. You’re catching your breath as you ride Austin slowly, letting both of you finish your highs.

“We have to do that more often,” Austin grins, letting his hands roam your body.

“That was so hot,” you pant, “We definitely should.”

taglist:

@jessica987 @justafangirl @amanda08319 @works-of-fanfiction @topperscumslut @cranesbathtowel @butlersluvbot @nela-cutie @straykids-gives-me-life @ineedmyaccountback @itsbebeyyy @blankbedroom @purejasmine @mrsbutler99 @tiredkitten @ab4eva @kai-wifey @dynamitehacke @arieslost @your-nanas-house @shynovelist @darknight2202 @crackheadwithtoes @lyss-111 @lilymurphy03 @faebirdie @yongi-lee @specialstay @greatkinglulu @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @scribbuluswrites @langdons-slut @pplanetoparis @generalvoidthing @banshailey @straykids-gives-me-life @flwrs4aust @richardslady121 @hellocals @coco-bitch @oh-kurva @cece05 @poppet05 @eliseinmemphis @buttrry11 @meds4beatlemania

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader smut #austin butler imagine #austin butler one shot #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #floralcyanide kinktober #floralcyanide's kinktober #floralcyanide's kinktober 2023 #floralcyanide kinktober 2023 #austin butler x you #austin butler x you smut #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x y/n smut #floralcyanide writes

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stephstars08 · 3 months

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Jealous

Austin Butler x Reader

Warnings: Long Intro (Sorry!), Angst, Mention of Jealous!Austin, Some Adult Language, Tension, Suspicion, Mention of Cheating, Fluff, and Possibly Some Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Summary: Y/N is a photographer who takes pictures for movies and tv shows. Y/N and Austin met on the set of Elvis and became a couple right after the production of the movie wrapped up. They have been together ever since then and everything had been going great between them till Y/N hired a male assistant that causes fights between her and Austin due to his jealousy.

Word Count: 2,188

Author’s Note: Here is my first Austin Butler one shot for all of the Austin girls out there! I hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you all think!

Y/N is a photographer for celebrities who star in movies and tv shows. She’s worked on a couple small films that got released on streaming services. The biggest movie she has worked on so far in her career so far is Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis. Y/N took all the pictures of the cast and did all of the promotional photos for the movie. She even got to take pictures of the cast behind the scenes as well.

Y/N got along well with the whole cast and crew especially the star of the film, Austin Butler who played Elvis. Austin was the first actor Y/N met on set and they instantly connected. They were always around each other on and off the set. Since Y/N and Austin were staying in houses that weren’t that far away from each other they would take turns hanging out at each others residence.

As time went on everyone knew that Y/N and Austin were quickly falling for each other hard. But, as the production continued neither one took the big step which was ask the other person out on a date. The only thing that has happened between the two is just flirting.

As time went on Y/N really wanted to go to the next level with Austin but she was too shy and is never the type of girl to ask a hot guy out on a date. Y/N was always hoping that Austin would make the move but she also knew that right when Elvis started production he had just got out of a long term and serious relationship with someone else, so he was most likely not ready for another relationship.

As the production of Elvis was coming to an end, Y/N really thought that nothing was going to happen between her and Austin till the last day on set, Olivia the actress who played Pricilla in the film, convinced Y/N to just take a chance and just ask Austin out on a date. Olivia told her that it was going to be her and possibly last chance to do it. Y/N knew that Olivia was a hundred percent right, so she used all of the confidence she had and asked Austin out on a date and he said yes. Ever since that first date, Y/N and Austin have been together as a couple.

They live together in a condo that’s right on the beach in California. Even though their careers have made them have a long-distance relationship they were still unbreakable. Everything had been going perfect till just two months ago. Y/N had hired an assistant named Drake. Since Y/N was getting hired to do so many photoshoots she was having trouble doing everything on her own so that’s when she hired Drake.

In the beginning Austin had no problem with Y/N having a male assistant till he met Drake. Every-time Austin was around Drake would act super rude towards him. The only time Drake played nice with Austin was if Y/N was in the room. It drove Austin crazy. Austin also couldn’t help but get extra jealous when Drake would be spending so much time with Y/N because he hated the way Drake looked at Y/N and the way Drake acted around Y/N. It’s like Drake is being rude on purpose.

Austin feels like Drake is trying to push Austin out of the picture. However, when Austin would mention Drake’s behavior to Y/N she would just brush him off which always led to an argument between the couple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was peacefully sleeping when she got woken up by her alarm clock blaring. Y/N let out a soft sigh as she opened her eyes and snoozed the alarm. When she rolled over onto her back, she saw the other side of the king-sized bed empty. Flashbacks of her fight with Austin last night flashed through her mind.

This was the worst argument they have ever had. It was so bad and intense that Austin decided to sleep downstairs on the couch. Of course, it was another stupid argument about Drake. Y/N doesn’t understand why Austin gets so jealous. He is the only one she wants to be with. Austin always tells her that she is so oblivious to Drake’s actions.

Y/N could feel her eyes start to water due to the flashbacks, so she wiped the tears away from her eyes and got out of bed. She got changed into a fresh pair of clothes and went into the bathroom connected to the bedroom to brush her hair and teeth. She decided to put her hair up into a ponytail since the photoshoot she’s working on today is going to be outside and since she moves around a lot, she gets hot real fast. After she finished in the bathroom, she walked back into the bedroom to put on a pair of her comfy sneakers. She grabbed her phone off the charger and put it in her back pocket of her blue jeans. She grabbed her big bag that had her laptop and camera in and wrapped the bag’s strap around her shoulder.

Y/N walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When Y/N walked into the living room she saw the pillow and blanket Austin used last night laying on one end of the couch. The blanket was placed on top of the pillow that was laying flat on the couch cushion. She knew that Austin had to be in the kitchen. Y/N took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen where Austin was sitting at the kitchen island drinking a cup of coffee.

Y/N immediately felt the tension between her and Austin right when she walked into the room. Y/N didn’t say anything to him as she walked over to the counter where the coffee machine was. She got out one of her traveling mugs from the cabinet and poured some coffee into the mug.

“Do you want me to fix you something quick to eat?” Austin asked breaking the tension that was floating in the air. “No.” Y/N answered not looking at him. “I’m just going to stop somewhere before I go to my office.” Y/N added as she put the lid on her cup.

“Listen Y/N about what happened last night I- “Austin started to say but she cut him off. “Austin, I have a big photoshoot today so if you want to continue last nights conversation you can wait till, I get home.” Y/N told him as she looked over at him with a stern look in her eyes. Austin just gave her a nod and took a sip of his coffee.

Y/N grabbed her keys off one of the hooks on the wall and walked out the door. She didn’t have the energy or motivation to say I love you or goodbye to Austin which did scare her. What if the next fight she gets in with him it’s so bad that they end up breaking up?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N just finished up her long photoshoot for an upcoming film and was packing up her equipment with the help of Drake. After they packed all of the equipment into Y/N’s car they got into the vehicle to go back to Y/N’s office. Y/N let Drake drive since she was so tired from the shoot. The whole car ride back to the office was quiet which concerned Drake since she actually hasn’t spoken much to him all day. Right when they got back to the office, they carried all the equipment inside.

“Are you okay?” Drake asked her with concern in his voice as Y/N was packing her laptop and camera back into her bag. “You’ve been really quiet today.” Drake added which made Y/N let out a sigh. “I just had a rough night last night.” Y/N told him looking over at him after she zipped up her bag. “Another fight with Austin I’m guessing.” Drake said which he got a nod from Y/N as the answer.

Drake is the person Y/N talks about all of the arguments she has with Austin. “This fight got so bad he slept on the couch.” Y/N told him.” Damn, sorry to hear that.” Drake said as he shook his head.

“I don’t know why he gets so jealous of the bond we have. He should know that I would never cheat on him.” Y/N said with nothing but frustration in her voice. It hurts her that Austin would ever think that she would cheat on him. Especially with how long they have been together. They have been through a lot together.

“Yeah, if anything it should be the other way around.” Drake said which quickly confused her. “What do you mean by that?” Y/N asked him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity in her voice. “If one of you was to cheat it would be him.” Drake told her which took her by surprise. “No, Austin would never cheat on me.” Y/N told him in a stern tone which made Drake let out a harsh laugh. “He’s an actor Y/N. Isn’t that what always happens. He could get casted in a movie with a pretty girl and end up cheating on you with the actress behind the scenes. It’s happened so many times throughout Hollywood.” Drake told her.

Hearing Drake say this about Austin wasn’t just taking her by surprise, but it was also pissing her off. “Get out!” Y/N hissed now taking him by surprise. “What?” Drake asked her in shock. “I’m not going to let you stand here and talk shit about Austin when you don’t even fucking know him like I do so get the hell out!” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. “You’re firing me?” Drake asked still in shock. “That’s what I mean when I say get out!” Y/N told him as she folded her arms over her chest. “Get your shit and leave! Last time I’m telling you!” Y/N told him in a warning tone. Drake grabbed all of his stuff and left.

Y/N let out a big sigh as she ran her hands down her face. She couldn’t believe what just happened between her and Drake. Now she knows that everything Austin was telling her about Drake was true. Y/N couldn’t help but feel bad, but she also knows she has to make it right as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was driving home in her car. After what just happened with Drake she couldn’t wait to get home and see Austin. After firing Drake, she felt a weight that has been on her shoulders be lifted off.

Y/N parked her car right behind Austin’s vehicle that was parked in the driveway. She turned the car off and did a sigh of relief. She took off the seatbelt and grabbed her bag from the passenger seat. When she got out of her car, she locked the doors and put the strap of her bag around her shoulder. She closed the car door and walked through the door that led her inside and into the kitchen.

She noticed right away that the lights were dimmed and there were rose petals scattered all over the floor that was leading into the dinning room. Y/N took the strap of her bag off her shoulder and sat it down on the kitchen island counter. She followed the rose petals into the dinning room where Austin was. The table was all set for a romantic dinner. Austin had cooked her her favorite dish which made her heart feel all warm.

“Welcome home.” Austin said walking over to her. “What’s all this?” Y/N asked him in a curious tone. “Not that I’m complaining.” Y/N added in quickly which made Austin laugh. “I wanted to apologize for all of the fighting and accusing you of picking Drake over me. I shouldn’t be taking my jealousy out on you. To be honest I shouldn’t even be jealous.” Austin told her. “Actually, I should be the one apologizing.” Y/N said which made Austin look at her with confusion.

“Drake was talking a lot of shit about you, so I fired him.” Y/N told him which took Austin by surprise. “You fired him for me?” Austin said in surprise. “I don’t want an assistant that is rude and talks shit about the best boyfriend in the whole world.” Y/N told him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned in and connected her lips with his soft lips.

The kiss was full of love and and passion. Y/N felt her heart flutter in her chest when Austin put his hands on her hips. It’s been a while since Y/N and Austin have shared a kiss that was filled with so much passion. When they released from the kiss they stayed into each other’s embrace.

“I love you so much.” Y/N told him as she stared up into his memorizing green eyes. “I love you more.” Austin told her staring back into her gorgeous eyes.

They shared another sweet kiss and then sat down at the table together to eat the lovely meal Austin made for them.

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precious-little-scoundrel · 5 months

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Gigi -the unbaked thots:

• Bath •

Summary: I’ve had so many requests for this universe (including a bath time which this includes) and I appreciate all of y’all’s patience. I find this universe the hardest to write for and create entire scenes and fics out of so in order to keep it from dying out I intend to loosen up a little and start throwing out headcanons for y’all to enjoy in the meantime, you can watch for them with this header above. For now enjoy a trash bit of nastiness I wrote in under an hour in the middle of the night last night -kudos to the minxs @eliseinmemphis and @stylespresleyhearted

Warnings: Explicit! 18+ Bath sexy times, grinding, fingering, praying during sex, age gap, slight degradation, voluntarily drinking bath water containing cum. Yup.

Era: September 1977

Well here they are. On the dreaded tour.

But for now -there are bubbles. So many bubbles. And the heavy rumble of the bath’s jets and the golden glow of the dimmed bathroom lights in the hotel suite and the slippery bulk of Elvis as he grumbles beneath Gigi while she writhes amidst the foam of his rinsed shampoo.

“Sloppiest lil rider I ever-“ his face is shining in a heated glow, he is awash in pink cheeked arousal and Gigi persists, wearing herself out for his little gasps and the twitches of an eyebrow here and there. Bouncing adamantly atop his thick thighs in the swirling water and trying her avid best to slip his fat length inside her. She’s been trying since day one and every time it’s

-“not yet, Gigi, not yet, s’posed to be special and you’re special baby girl, not somethin’ to rush with someone special like you, see, I uh, i-i-it’s special-“

Gigi thinks having his rock solid cock inside her would be special enough.

“ ‘member the other night,

daddy?” She asks him in a huff, winded from the exertion as she pins his throbbing length against himself and grinds her clit against the hairs on his rounded belly, full of desperation born of youthful overexubernace, “remember how -how - when you were teasing me -and you pressed against my little hole?”

Elvis lets out a long groan in reply, slapping his hands against the sides of the tub in sexual frustration, causing his rings to clank and his bracelets to jangle against the porcelain. He can feel himself swell even more, the ache in his balls nearly unbearable at the proximity to snug tightness that he’s been denying himself for a myriad of reasons that are making less and less sense now, the more Gigi’s glossy wet tits slap his face silly.

“Oooh, oh I feel you-“ she gasps, as that redundant piece of meat between his thighs gives a hearty little twitch at the memory of her tiny hole and it’s fluttering need.

“You son of a bitch,” Elvis hisses to his traitorous little friend who’s acting very stalwart in his determination to find nothing but a tight cunt sufficient stimulation for release -it was easier back when little Elvis was a limp and useless dong: “this is the one time i’m asking you not to work. C’mon, don’t fail me now I-I- hell… O-o-our father. Who art in heaven-“

Gigi buries her face into the steamy crease where his cheeks meet his throat and licks at the salt there that not even the bath can remove. His hands fly to grip her hips and he yanks her up and down, grinding harshly against her raw little center as her breasts smash against his broad chest.

He regularly complained to the boys about her voraciousness and got no sympathy, not even when they saw it for themselves with the way he could barely get his seat in the limo, have his water handed to him and a towel before she was taking off his belt, unzipping his jumpsuit and inevitably giving lil Elvis some strong mouth suction. The boys had gotten used to ignoring him dumping a load down this little girl’s throat in the blurry blaze of street lamp lit nights and cranking up the radio to hide her moans every jet flight. Nothing about it was fitting and it wasn’t even to his tastes -so Elvis insisted- but it was real nice to be so wanted, even if the voraciousness of it was all a little alarming and out of hand.

Yet, God knows Elvis wanted Gigi badly. It half scared him sometimes and the rest of the time it kept him alive.

As did Lisa in an entirely different way and between the two girls tearing up his sedate plans for self mortification and permanent hermitage, Elvis found some zest for life returning to his soul as August became September and tabloids went from calling Gigi “the new girl” to calling her his whore and the colonel went from not answering his phone to leaving a perpetual red light on the message box and it went from kisses and snuggles in his Graceland bed to frantic grinding like this after every show that had her caterwauling in his arms begging to be torn open by his cock and him grunting like a bear in heat as he spurted against her belly and smashed the button for the tub jets to stop.

Wouldn’t do to circulate superstar spunk in a Cincinnati hotel jacuzzi.

“Mmm, that feel good daddy?” her sweet voice asks as the singing angels dim and the sense of time and space and his spent cock bring him back into consciousness.

“Uhuh. Feels real good.” he admitted sheepishly and felt her plump lips pressing to his bashful grin.

He returns it, pouring his love into her with the cradling of her head in his hands and the flick of his tongue against hers and the languid massaging of lips.

Gigi swirls the milky strands of his spend in the bath water between them, giggly and invigorated. She gets this way after climaxing and Elvis can only blearily smile and indulge the way she drags him around and makes him stand and get out of the tub, how she pats him down with towels like he’s a boy child and chitters to him about backstage gossip, praises for his performance of the night and Tammy’s latest tips for making Jerry’s life a living orgasmic hell. All while pressing kisses to every single part of his body as she goes along.

She’s found goosey places on Elvis that he didn’t even know existed.

Gigi is drying his shoulders when she sees the last remnants of the tub water cycloning in a swirl towards the drain, precious pearly strings cavorting like ribbons in the eddy.

Her conversational chatter ceases abruptly with a regretful -“oh no!“

She drops the sodden towel.

He watches her kneel, crouched and bent and glorious in a soft line of naked beauty from the back. Thought his maidenly idyl is shattered as she faces away from him and in what seems to be an impulsive moment of adoration, Gigi leans over the tub, hard porcelain lip digging into her sternum as she ducks her head and dips her mouth to the tepid bathwater.

He can hear her slurping.

Her graceful bracing in position and the greedy working of her throat suggest competency at this vile practice that makes his stomach lurch and spent cock swell thickly against his thigh. Without autonomy he hears himself grunt appreciatively.

“Fuuuuck me.” he drawls in disbelief, shuffling closer to watch the whole of it, the working of her sweet mouth sucking up his diluted seman and the arch of her back showcasing pink little pussy lips glistening from the back.

It’s sick and he’s terribly in love.

“That’s my good baby girl,” he finds himself praising this heinous degradation, hand coming to rest on the dip of her lower back, “not lettin’ m’lil contrition go to waste.”

It makes her strain to get as deep in the tub as she can, legs taut and face red from the blood rushing downwards to her cheeks as she chases gravity against the flow of the drain, his hand heavy and encouraging as it palms her ass, the pinch of his rings and the grunting, savage, male appreciation for her wantonness making her squeeze her thighs together in hopeless dissatisfaction.

A sting jolts her as his hand collides in an approving slap across her plush backside. The desire to make him proud eggs her on and she crawls further over the ledge, hair dragging in the drain.

Elvis’ hand once groping her butt moves until he’s peeling her apart and sliding in the long lengths of his middle and ring finger into her tight heat, meanly stabbing inside her as she’s bent double, tonguing at the drain for the last of his essence.

“You done this before.” Elvis’ voice is low, without a shred of questioning.

“Yes.” she moans, rosy cheek pressed to the wet floor of the now empty tub. “I always do this when you leave some left over, daddy.”

Elvis watches his fingers sink into pink plushness again and again, rings acting like stoppers at each culmination, spearing her until Gigi is sobbing and spasming over the tub edge, mouth wide open screaming for him with a tongue white from his spend, as broken as he is over the need to fuck her.

Sore and puffy, he assumes he’s learned her a lesson.

Standing her back up tenderly with all gentlemanly grace, Elvis wipes at her slimy cheek with his hands, pleased to find her smile as irrepressible as ever, the only thing on this godforsaken tour that hasn’t disappointed him yet.

“When is soon?” she whines into his kisses as he presses against her, bath quite redundant with the way he has her pinned between the door and his weeping cock, freshly spluttering his devotion against her bare pubic mound like he’s twenty years younger and fit to be such a minx’s lover.

“What?” He questions, murmuring in happy confusion.

“You said you’d make love to me soon.” she insists like a child reminding their senile parent of promises for ice cream after a trip to the dentist. “When is soon?”

Elvis grins through his grunt as he slides against her puffy clit, effortless from her slick and close to coming from images of her drinking his bath- “Soon, little baby,” he pronounces with all the gravity of a wiseman and the authority of a deadly opponent who his hand engulfing her fragile jaw, “-means soon.”

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oh-austin · 2 years

Text

lift a finger (austin butler)

summary: in which you're heavily pregnant on the set of elvis and austin is set on making sure you the most comfortable you can be

ask / prompt : Hi! Can you please do one where the reader is pregnant and Austin is just super overprotective and cute! You choose if you want to include the birth and make it extremely fluffy. I just thought this would be amazing.

authors note / warnings: mentions of pregnancy and vomiting! I chose not to put the birth and labour in because I have another piece planned for my inez and austin series coming soon!! we love dad!austin here <3

────── ∘◦❀◦∘

Nearing the end of your pregnancy, you thought you had faced the worst of it and it would be smooth sailing from here on out. Boy were you wrong.

It was hard being pregnant and married to an actor, the busy schedules and flying from location to location was hard to keep up with, but when you’re married to the man portraying Elvis Presley.. that’s a whole other story.

Austin constantly doted on you whenever he was given the opportunity, but since you were often at home whilst he was shooting- you never really gave him the chance. But since you were met with braxton hicks last week, your doctor has recommended always being in someone’s company; Austin made sure he was that someone.

If Austin was filming a scene in the hot sun, you were sitting under a sunshade in his chair. If the call time was until eleven o’clock at night, you were asleep nearby. Austin made sure he always had you close and somewhere that he could see you.

Usually, you wouldn’t complain about getting to see Austin work. Watching him in his element was truly something special, but over the last few days you’ve just wanted to lounge around in bed and maybe finish the nursery. But here you were, sat next to a bail of hay nearing nine pm as Austin and Tom filmed the carnival scenes.

“How you feeling, mamas?” Austin looked just delicious walking over to you in his black lace shirt. Reminded you of how you got pregnant in the first place. “You’re glowing,” He complimented you.

“I don’t feel like I’m glowing,” You admitted to him. It was a warm summer night in Queensland, the humidity was not your friend. Being in the northern parts of Australia came with its perks, the heat wasn’t one of them- especially when you’re eight months pregnant. “Your child has been kicking me all day,”

“My child, huh?” Austin laughed, he almost seemed offended. “How’s your stomach? Still feelin’ sick?”

“I don’t know if I’m just nauseous because I’m pregnant or because they’re moving so much,” You rubbed your hand over your belly, “But I’m starting not to care,”

“Did you want to head back to the trailer? Have you got water?” Austin looked around, “I asked to get you water like three takes ago,” Austin’s voice became frustrated when he noticed you only had your bag next to you, no water in sight.

“Hey, it’s okay! These people are here for you, not me,” You reminded him, “I don’t need water, I’m fine,” You reached for Austin’s hand the best you could and placed it on top of your belly. Like your baby knew that their daddy was there, a strong kick made you jolt in your seat.

“Hey!” Austin laughed, “You should be asleep, little miss,”

“We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet,” It was true, your gender reveal idea was canned as soon as filming picked up. Everyone that you really wanted to attend was in a different country anyway, so there really wasn’t much of a point. That and Austin loved surprises, but he was set on your baby being a little girl.

“Oh, she’s a girl,” Austin crouched down, giving your belly a kiss, “Ain’t that right, Pres?” Austin had been adamant that you were going to name your child Presley. She was made on set baby, only fair we name him after the man who brought us here, he would argue. You weren’t letting that happen.

Austin Butler, the man who played Elvis Presley named his daughter after him? You could see the headlines now.

“We’re not calling her Presley!” You tilted his chin up to look at you.

Austin’s face broke out in a cheeky grin as he stood back up, “You said she’s a girl,” He sang. As Baz called him back over to reshoot the scene, Austin danced away from you joking whilst softly chanting ‘girl, girl, girl’. You shook your head at him and laughed.

Soon, Baz had Austin film some solo shots at the carnival, making use of the set whilst they were here. Whilst Austin was busy shooting, Tom soon made his way over to you.

“Y/N, how are you?” He asked. Tom might have been one of the most genuine men you had ever met. Soft spoken and kind, he had the ability to make anyone feel safe and calm.

“I’m tired,” You admitted to him, “Probably not as tired as you are in that costume,” Tom looked barely anything like himself, it was incredible really.

“You get used to it,” He chuckled, taking a seat down in the chair next to yours, “How much longer now?” He asked.

“Three weeks,” Your eyes widened, your heart would always race whenever you admitted it out loud. Soon, you and Austin would no longer be a family of two- forever three of you.

“Wow!” He marvelled, “Not long then. The first one is always an adventure,”

“She’s been a pretty big adventure,” You laughed, patting your belly, “I’ll tell you that,” You felt a kick back in response.

“So you’re having a girl! How exciting,” Tom sat forwards the best he could, he was always so attentive in any conversation. “My second child was a girl, I love being her dad- Austin’s gonna love it too,”

“Well, we don’t know if it’s a girl, Austin just thinks it is,” You told him. Tom watched as you looked across the carnival and over at Austin, he could see the admiration in your eyes for him. Reminded him of his wife and himself. “We don’t even have a name yet,”

“Well what names do you like?” He asked.

You thought to yourself for a second, “I like Harper for a girl, Austin doesn’t like it though,” You laughed, “He says it doesn’t ‘work’”

“You’ll know when you find the right name,” Tom admitted, “You’ll understand what he means when he says ‘it works’, I promise you that,” He laughed.

“Thank you, Tom” You turned back to look at him. After a few more minutes of conversation, Baz called Tom back for another couple scenes and you were sat alone once more. Well, not completely alone- and your baby was definitely trying to remind you of that.

The longer that you sat, the more sick you began to feel. Your stomach felt like it was cramping and turning at the same time. You tried some deep breaths to calm yourself down, but you couldn’t.

Austin’s manager noticed that you weren’t feeling well, once you had to rest your head in your hands.

“Y/N, you okay?” James leant down and spoke with a quiet voice, knowing you weren’t someone who wanted the attention on themselves.

You shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I think I’m gonna be sick,”

James, with a gentle hand on your back, lead you back to Austin’s trailer and helped you into the bathroom. It was hard for you to get close to the ground these days, but at that moment- your body knew you needed to.

You threw up your dinner, your throat burned as you dry heaved over the toilet. James was kind enough to hold your hair back for you. After a few minutes, you were rested against the wall of Austin’s bathroom, James passing you a bottle of water from the miniature fridge. You thanked him softly and apologised to him.

James asked if you would be okay as you begged him to go back to work, not needing people to watch over you. You were pregnant, not helpless. So James went back to set as you sat there taking slow sips of your water.

As Baz yelled cut and announced that they were now wrapped for the night, Austin was relieved that he could now spend the rest of his night with his wife and their baby. But as he looked over to where she was supposed to be, he found his chair empty.

He should’ve noticed you were gone. Austin mentally cursed himself, always his own biggest critic. He was too invested in filming the scene he could spare a single glance over at you, he was so stupid, he thought to himself.

“James!” Austin called over to his manager. James looked nervous as he rushed over to Austin.

“I’ve just come from the trailers,” James explained, Austin noticed his uneasy nature, “Y/N has been sick, so I’ve left her in there to rest,”

“Shit!” Austin sighed, already leaving the conversation once he heard you weren’t well, “Why don’t people come and tell me these things!” He shouted back at James, “She’s pregnant!”

Austin wasn’t an angry person, he wasn’t someone to express his feelings of frustration. Rather keep them to himself and write them down in his journal later. But when it came to you and his baby, it was a different story.

Austin was overcome with anger when he saw you sitting on the bathroom floor, struggling to get back up. “Mamas, what are you doin’ down there?” Even when upset, the Elvis drawl stayed with Austin. He rushed over to you and put an arm underneath you, ready to help you to your feet.

“I was sick, I’m just trying to get up and brush my teeth,” You explained to Austin. As soon as you were back on your feet, your ankles ached once more- oh they joys of motherhood.

“Sick? How bad?” Austin put his hand to your forehead, trying to feel for a fever, “You need me to get the doctor? She’s probably not left yet-“

“Austin,” You cupped his face with your hands, “I’m okay,”

He seemed to calm down visibly in your embrace. Austin leant into your soft touch. “Promise me you’re okay?”

“I promise! I’m just pregnant, pregnant people throw up” You talked slower to try and bring Austin back down to earth. You took a few breaths with Austin before letting go of his face, going to grab your toothbrush from the bench.

“No,” Austin beat you to it, “You’re not allowed to lift a finger for the rest of the night, you’re on my time now,”

You rolled your eyes at him, taking your toothbrush back. “Aren’t you on the clock?”

“As of five minutes ago? No, no I’m not,” Austin smirked, “So, brush your teeth and get in bed,”

“Did you want to brush them for me?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Shh,” Austin grabbed your face softly and kissed your head, “Get brushing,”

Although Austin was doting and protective over you, you knew that Tom was right- Austin was going to be a great dad to your little girl.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #austin butler one shot #austin butler x reader #austin butler fluff #austin butler drabble #dad!austin #celeste writes fics

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foreverdolly · 2 years

Text

baby-bliss | daddy!austin butler x reader

summary: it's austin's first interview since the birth of his son, and he can't keep from gushing about you and your new bundle of joy. will he regret it later? most definitely. did it feel good? oh, absolutely. will he ever hear the end of it from you? probably not.

pairings: daddy!austin butler x mommy!reader

word count: 2,809

warnings/notes: this is just tooth aching fluff, austin is literally the best daddy ever, and he worships the ground that you walk on, he refers to you as "his ole' lady", i wrote this in record breaking time.

masterlist | requests are currently open for business !

It was physically painful to leave you and his newborn at home. It had been a month and a half of baby-bliss, and despite the fact that neither of you had gotten over five hours of sleep in weeks, part of him wished that it would never end. Austin had always known that he wanted to be a father, ever since he was a little boy. To say that his life now felt complete would be an understatement. Things felt perfect, and for the first time in his life, Austin was fully content. All good things must come to an end though, and so whenever his manager called him over the weekend to tell him about his upcoming interview, he wasn’t necessarily shocked- just disappointed. Leaving you, even if it was just for a few hours, seemed absolutely impossible. What if his son did something cute that he missed out on? What if the two of you fell asleep on the floor in the nursery again and he wasn’t there to take pictures of it? What if there was an emergency and you needed him? His protective instincts over you had always been pretty crazy, but now? He felt like he could lift a car if need be. Becoming a father had completely rewired his brain.

Austin was a nervous wreck as he walked out the front door, turning around to get one last look at you. “I’ll be home soon.” He assured you, watching as you smiled and nodded your head. “I know.” He started to make his way down the porch steps, stopping only to turn and face you once again. You had already started to close the front door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll have my ringer on the entire time.” He could hear you chuckle under your breath before you nodded your head, flashing him one last good look at the tiny bundle in your arms before shutting the door behind you. He groaned the entire way to the site. He just knew his son was doing something adorable without him there to see it. He could have thrown his phone the second that he checked it once he sat down in the makeup chair, seeing the pictures that you had already sent him. You had put the bear onesie on him- the one with the ears- and his heart nearly imploded.

“Do you want to see something cute?” He couldn’t help himself. He needed to get it off of chest now before he sat down for the actual interview. The makeup artist was patient enough with him to stop what she was doing, but was quick to grab his phone to get a better look once he showed her the pictures. Pride swelled in her chest as he watched her eyes widen, her pointer finger sliding from side to side as she went through each and every one you had sent. “Oh, he’s absolutely precious.” He took the phone from her whenever she handed it back. “Isn’t he? Look at this one,” He chuckled at the picture of him glaring at the camera, obviously very annoyed about you having the hood pulled up and over his little head. “This is my first time being away from them in a month.” he closed his eyes as she began brushing a sheer powder over his nose and forehead. She hummed as she closed the compact, taking a step back to get a better look at him. “Well you should be back with them in no time,” Once she had made sure that he looked matte enough for the bright camera lights she flashed him a kind smile. “When I had to leave my twins for the first time I thought that I was going to die. I understand how you feel completely.” He stood up from the chair, brushing out his light wash jeans before nervously running his thumb against his wedding ring. He twisted the gold band around and around his ring finger, taking a second to ground himself.

“So the new daddy finally leaves his cave.” Austin turned to face the source of the voice, wrinkling his nose at his manager’s teasing. The older woman walked up to him, giving him a tight hug. “Congratulations. y/n did absolutely phenomenal.” And god had you. For the first few weeks you had been horrified by the thought of unavoidable pain and had told him as well as your doctor that you would be having the baby in the hospital. You’d even gone as far as to have a consultation. As the months passed, so did your fear. Ever since you had first gotten pregnant you had gone a little crazy with making sure that everything was as clean and as safe as possible. You insisted on getting all of your produce from local farmers markets, made sure that next to nothing either of you ate came from a can, and threw anything away that might contain microplastics. When you had told Austin that you wanted to have an at home birth he had brushed it off as you just nesting. The weeks flew by, and your mind never changed. It wasn’t until the birthing tank was delivered to your house that it finally set in for him that you were really serious.

You delivered your son with absolutely no medication. Even the midwife was shocked by how well you handled everything.

Austin didn’t think it was possible for him to love you anymore than he already did, but the second he saw you holding his son? He knew for certain that he could never go even a second without you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. There was absolutely nothing that Austin wouldn’t do for you or provide for you. He reminded himself that this very reason was why he was at the interview in the first place.

“The ol’ lady did amazing.” He gushed, before he began to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. The faster he got this over with, the sooner he could be home with you. “Are they ready for me?” The woman nodded before ushering him through the hallway and into a tightly packed room.

The blue eyed man was familiar with the interviewer, and recognized her the second that he saw her. She was younger than he was, probably in her early twenties, and was most known amongst other actors for asking rather intrusive questions. Austin rolled his eyes, grabbing his manager by the arm and pulling her closer to his side. “Her? Really?” His manager’s eyebrows furrowed as she briefly made eye contact with the young woman across the room. “What’s wrong with her? I’ve heard she does great work.” She was quick to defend. Austin shook his head, leaning down closely to her ear so that he wasn’t overheard. “Did you see that interview she did with Tom Holland? If I were him, I would have stormed off camera.” The mousy haired brunette’s jaw dropped as she finally put two and two together. “I can see what I can do-” He cut her off by simply shaking his head, waving her off politely with his hand. It was too late now. He was already here, and the interviewer was staring at the two of them curiously now, no doubt wondering what they were whispering about.

He stalked over to the empty seat across from the young woman, being careful that his long legs didn’t get tangled up in any of the loose wires. “It’s nice to finally be able to meet you.” The woman reached a hand out, flashing him a bright white smile. He slowly returned the sentiment, extending his palm so that he could give her hand a quick shake.

After a few seconds of the crew moving the cameras around to get the best angle, the interviewer dropped her cue cards onto her lap, her lips pulling up into a dazzling smile. Austin shifted in his seat uncomfortably, dreading what was to come, but returned the smile nonetheless. “The Elvis biopic has finally made it to theaters after nearly three years of tireless work. I saw it with a few friends of mine the other night and was absolutely blown away by your performance.”

“Thank you so much. This has been such a rewarding experience, and it was an honor to work alongside Baz and Tom.” She nodded her head, her eyes flashing down to her lap for a second. It was obvious that she had some sort of an angle that she wanted to go with this interview- he just prayed that he had the patience for it. “The film was shot in Australia, so I know that you had to largely uproot a lot of your life in order to prepare. How hard was it to upkeep personal relationships during that time- especially with Covid.” Her perky voice was grating. He was functioning off of three hours of sleep, and he could already feel a headache coming on.

“Covid made everything a lot harder, but it wasn’t too difficult. I made sure to call my friends and family on a regular basis, so it wasn’t too bad. It was sad not being able to visit California as much as I would have liked to during that time, but it also gave me the opportunity to go more method with the role as well. Everyone’s reaction to the accent for the first couple of weeks was pretty funny. I wanted to make it sound as natural as possible though, so I kept up with it.” He smiled through the question, folding one leg over the other as he leaned his back against the folding chair.

“Your girlfriend went with you to Australia, right? I follow you both on your socials, and her pictures always make me smile.” His eye nearly twitched, but he schooled a sweet smile on his face. “Wife.” He corrected her gently. The woman’s eyes widened and she was quick to try and recover. “Wife, wife- right! Speaking of that, congratulations are in order.” You and Austin had thought about keeping the pregnancy as private as possible, but after the first few months the two of you were bursting at the seams. By the end of it all, it was all you two could really talk or post about. The same thing goes with all of your close friends and family. His best friend, Ashley Tisdale, had visited again last night and had posted at least ten pictures of the three of you on her Instagram story. You were both first time parents, and you wanted to get the full experience. Despite the fact that most of the people that messaged him to extend their love and excitement for him were strangers, it still felt great.

He was willing to talk about his son, as long as the questions stayed respectful. “Thank you,” He couldn’t wipe the excited smile off of his face, staring down at his hands for a few seconds before glancing back up at the interviewer. “We’re both over the moon. It’s been a huge change to our lives, but a good one.”

“Well I’ve seen a few pictures and he’s beautiful. He’s a perfect mix of the both of you. He’s got your forehead and nose.” A genuine laugh bubbled out of his throat, and the other woman seemed to feed off his excitement, happy that the interview was naturally progressing into something a little more feel-good than anybody was anticipating.

“That’s what I keep telling y/n! The second that he opened his eyes I thought I would die though. I have a feeling he’s going to look more like her as he gets older, so I’m enjoying him being my little twin while it lasts. She’s the most gorgeous person on the planet though, so I wouldn’t be too upset about it.” His tiny features had been a constant source of teasing over the last month. You claimed that your son looked more like you than he did him, but Austin begged to differ. He would be sure to gloat about this once he got back home to you.

“Was it hard juggling everything though? I mean. . . playing the leading role in such an important film all while your wife is pregnant must be stressful.” The young woman was beginning to grow on him. He usually didn’t answer questions this personal, but she had caught him during a time when he wanted to gush about his life. Would he regret saying so much later? Oh, definitely. For now though, he was content with bragging about you.

“I’m sure she was upset about the long days without me, especially during the earlier stages, but she never let it show. She can get rather nervous at times- really get in her own head about things- but she was great the entire time. Really, really great.”

“And hey- natural birth, right?”

He beamed, nodding his head quickly. “Natural birth. She’s an absolute god. I’ve heard about dads getting phantom pains, but I never really believed in any of it.” The young woman was already laughing, and Austin began chuckling right along with her, placing a hand against his stomach as he remembered how awful he had felt during the majority of the delivery. “Oh god, the sympathetic pregnancy symptoms were real for me.”

“Well I’m sure you guys must be good with just one child for now, right?” She threw her head back with laughter as he shook his head animatedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Us? No way. We want an entire Butler tribe. Our goal is to populate a small village.” He could see his manager covering her mouth to stifle her own laughter at his teasing.

“Well it was a delight to finally get to meet you. You guys need to see Austin Butler in the role of Elvis if you haven’t already. It’s in theaters everywhere, so make sure you get your tickets now. Seats are filling up fast.” Austin gave one final wave to the camera before the cameraman loudly called ‘cut’.

“Thank you for your time.” The interviewer shook his hand one last time before he walked over to his manager’s side. “See? Painless.” He hated to admit it, but she was right. He was in and out in just under an hour and a half, which was better than he could have hoped for. “I don’t have anything else scheduled, right?” He asked hopefully. The second that the woman shook her head he was practically jogging through the halls and out into the parking lot. He wanted to catch you before you put the baby down for his nap.

You were shocked when you heard the front door open, Austin’s voice calling up to you from the living room downstairs. “Baby one and baby two! I’m home!” You rolled your eyes, slowly making your way down the stairs. “I’ve been trying to get him to go to sleep for the last half hour, but he’s wired.” Austin was quick to take him off of your hands, giving his fuzzy head kiss after kiss. “Oh, I missed his smell.” With gentle hands Austin pulled his son away from his chest, holding the small infant out in front of him so that he could get a good look. You still had him bundled up in the onesie. Your husband was quick to look at you, his bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. “How can something be this cute? Hey buddy. Were you a good boy for mama while I was gone?” His constant baby talking made you chuckle. “You didn’t pull her hair, did you? We talked about that yesterday.” The interview was posted the next day, the internet practically exploding with new hashtags, screen grabs, and reposted pictures of you and your small family. Austin spent the entire morning mumbling his apologies for being so personal in the interview, but you didn’t mind much. It felt good to know that everyone saw what a terrific father he was. What a terrific husband. “New daddy alert! Austin Butler gushes over son in latest interview.” You read one of the article titles out loud, hearing him groan from the other room. You scrolled through your phone for a couple more seconds before you found what you were looking for. “Austin Butler calls his wife a ‘god’ after the natural birth of his son.” You could hear your baby cooing from the other room. “I get it! I get it! You can stop with the news articles.” He called out over the sound of the running bath. “Daddy Austin Butler is a whole snack. Women are going crazy after the latest Elvis-” “Stop it, woman!”

the prequel to this fic is now posted !

#austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #daddy austin butler #dad austin butler #elvis 2022 #austin butler one shot #austin!elvis x reader #imagine #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfiction #foreverdolly

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romantiqueofthemind · 2 years

Text

HOLY HELL 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

#austin butler #elvis the pelvis #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis the king #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler one shot #austin butler owns me

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marinas-drafts · 7 months

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Road Head

A Sarge & lil Mama scene

Summary: Elaine plays the loving spouse, the avid groupie, the shy novice -all in the time it takes to please her husband while pondering exactly what her life has become in the Amphetamine blur of their third nation-wide tour.

Warnings: 18+ rough oral sex (m. receiving) drug mentions, mentions of drinking, angst, role play of a sort (pretending the wife isn’t his wife), some obvious marital dissatisfaction, some disassociation, slight degradation and cum on the face -I swear this isn’t fully miserable but please proceed with caution, this is rather universe a-typical with its smut, not much tender loving care except faintly at the end, if you get my drift

Fully Co-Authored with @elvisabutler in a single, angst-fueled evening

Masterlist

Date: 1974, somewhere on Tour

It was right about now that Elaine realized she’d succeeded in reinventing herself just a little too well.

It was the look of recognition or lack of recognition that led her to that realization. The man above her was Elvis Presley but the woman where she knelt was not Elaine Presley. She wasn’t even Laney or Tink, she was just another girl on her knees looking up between overdone eyelashes and perfectly coiffed hair at the man with hips and lips to kill for. She felt shame then, at that realization, but odder still was the relief that flooded next. Here was no standard of behavior to reach, no image to match up to, no history weighing her down, there was only the heat then and now the musky smell of his stage sweat and the unrelenting grip of his hand on the back of her neck, keeping the rhythm he wanted without a second thought to what might suit her.

How was he to know?

She was a stranger, and strangers haven’t got tastes that men like Elvis Presley would deign to cater to. Moreover even if they did, even if men like Elvis Presley did deign to cater to them, it would be at the expense of doing something for him. It would be at the expense of catering to a whim or a mythical fancy that his drug-addled mind had dreamed up.

No, this was better, Elaine can become the lips he wants stretched across his cock. Elaine can- Elaine can play the virgin who doesn’t know how to take an uncut cock between her perfectly done lipstick. Elaine can play the experienced road girl who hasn’t ever had an uncut cock but oh Elvis, I can do it, I’ll make you feel good. Elaine can be everything but little Elaine Presley who wants to nuzzle at the patch of hair at the base of his cock like she had when they were first married.

Elaine would like to think that the little Mrs. Presley of days gone by wouldn’t recognize this tour hardened woman with spit and precum coating her throat and chest in a glistening film, messy in a deplorable, filthy, back alley sort of way that only the basest of masculine desires could appreciate -but she knows she would. Always so eager to keep his eye on her even back then, anything for Elvis, anything at all. Anything to keep the man who was so obsessed with her that he pushed her against her father’s door and asked her to marry him. Promised to give her everything she ever wanted. Anything to keep the man who she thought she lost forever after she lost Jo, the man she’d thought she’d won back with Marie.

But do ya love me, Elvis? Me?

This is what that little Mrs. Presley had led her to: a life of pleasing and chasing after a man who’s supposed to just be hers. It’s as pathetic as some of the papers would make it seem and yet it’s not. It’s worse because this wasn’t how everything was supposed to go. She should be happy and round with another baby. She should be riding him in the bus and reminding everyone to get out so she can enjoy her husband, with him laughing at how ‘y’all heard Laney’.

Instead her knees are on the floor and her tongue plays with the slit of his cock as her hand plays with his balls lazily inhaling every bit of his sweat soaked musk as she can. Taking comfort in the burning gag of him pushing too deep too fast, perking up at every “fuck yeah” he groans, contenting herself with making that left leg of his shimmy -it’s still him, slight belly paunching above her, and at least it’s still her and her stupidly hopeful heart when he hisses fast and frantic,

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“ tapping her cheek hurriedly because she knows this routine well enough to not be so foolish as to keep him in her mouth for this, her willingness to swallow yet again wasted on a man of such peculiar tastes.

Instead she makes sure her eyes are smiling along with her mouth, not too stiff and not too knowing, just the right sorta cheerful blankness he can tug the last bit of his pleasure to before coating her hair like a teenaged boy.

The first few times there was a twitch to her eye as the warmth of his release started to slide down to her forehead. The sensation making her gag more than his cock ever had but now this has become an old hat, a parlor trick she could show off.

See? This is how you keep a man like Elvis Presley.

You let him come in your hair after you sucked him within an inch of his life and you let him maybe take care of you, talk like one of the boys and mention how your beaver needs attention. Or maybe it’s just how she keeps him, pretending she isn’t his wife who wants more kids and who asks for them only to be brushed off. Pretending she isn’t his wife who hurls an insult or five at him when the champagne courses through her.

Of course, it’s got its comedic side, every tragedy does, and it fuels her grin as she waits patiently on her knees for his eyes to focus and his voice to rasp the inevitable, “c’mon let’s get ya up honey, let’s take care of that widdle pussy”. Because the joke is only a wife of nearly two decades would know which uppers he took based off of the time it took for him to blast off. No backstage girl could make a mental note that it was the New York doctor’s blend if he didn’t last longer than ten, and the Californian’s if they were creeping up nearer to forty. Her jaw aches tonight. Valuable as this information is she wishes idly as his cum stings her eye that she could somehow apply it to his general health. His boners seem to be doing fine, and it comforts her ego, but it’s his heart she frets over more and more each day.

She’s gotten wonderfully good at that -fretting. Elaine does it at all hours of the day and night, can multitask with another endeavor and keep at it like a champ. There’s a couple hundred photos of her on this tour smiling her best wifely smile and all the while her mind is awhirl with worry. She assures Elvis it annoys her even worse that it annoys him, this worrying she does. When she’s tipsier than she would like to admit she sometimes lets out a sneered “someone has to.”

Because even while she’s on her knees she worries for Daisy, worries her daughter is making a life similar to this Amphetamine blur she herself lives in, somewhere on the rock n’ roll Highway but not with a man who’s promised her what Elvis has promised Elaine. Her daughter would probably scoff at Elvis’ promises. Most of their children might by now and she wishes that kept him up at night alongside her.

Maybe that’s why the pills are necessary after all.

It’s only after the uppers start to wear off and her champagne runs her down that she’s curled beside him, hair and face devoid of his release and as clean as the day she was born that he seems to remember who she is. He seems to remember who she is and whispers against her hair. “Ya a‘right, Tink?”

To his credit he asks, he always asks and the answer should be easy, she should say she doesn’t know. She should say the truth that sits on the top of her tongue but she’s his wife and she wants him to be happy. “I’m alright, Naughty.”

Maybe if they say it enough, maybe if she believes it enough she can make it true. Until then the lies will do.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #sarge and lil mama #70’s Elvis #elvis smut #elvis on tour #elvis fans #Elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis history #elvis one shot

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youaintnothinbuta · 22 days

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Lunch with his family — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: Elvis invites you to his house for lunch because his family is having lots of their friends and family over.

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 586

Warnings: none!! Fluff, cute lil one shot

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The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom as you finished tidying up. Just as you were about to head downstairs, the jingle of your telephone broke the quiet stillness of the house. Rushing to answer it, you recognised Elvis' voice on the other end.

“Hey, honey, you free today?” Elvis' smooth drawl filled the line. You couldn't help but smile. “Why, do you want me to be?” You teased, a playful tone in your voice.

“I'll pick you up in half an hour,” he declared, his words making your heart skip a beat. “Mama's having a big lunch in the yard, the whole family's coming round,” he continued.

With a flutter of excitement, you agreed, hanging up the phone and hurrying to get ready. Before you knew it, there was a knock on your front door. Straightening your skirt and smoothing down your hair, you rushed to answer it, greeted by the sight of Elvis' handsome smile.

Arriving at his Audubon drive house, you were enveloped by the tantalizing aroma of his mama’s home-cooked recipes and the sound of laughter carrying through from the backyard. Elvis' mama greeted you, bustling around, fussing over you with a motherly warmth. Elvis took you through to the table in the garden, where everyone soon got settled to begin eating. His mama couldn’t contain her curiosity about the date Elvis took you on. She bombarded you with questions about where he took you, what you ate, was he gentlemanly, and whether you enjoyed yourself.

Elvis, ever protective, stepped in, gently chiding his mama for overwhelming me with questions. “Mama, ease up a bit, you're making her nervous,” he said with a chuckle, shooting you an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay, Elvis.” You assured him, cheekily taking the bite of tomato fritter off his fork.

“Thank you so much for lunch, Mrs. Presley,” You said, after finishing off your plate, turning to Elvis’s mama with a warm smile.

She waved off your thanks with a gentle smile. “Oh, honey, no need to thank me. You know you’re welcome here any time,” she said kindly, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

Before you could respond, she turned to Elvis with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I made a chocolate mousse for you and your sweetheart to share for a little dessert if you wanted,” she said, her voice tinged with playful teasing.

Elvis stood next to you, his hand soothingly rubbing your back, he could tell you needed a bit of alone time away from all the excitement of all the guests over.

“Thank you, Mama,” he said with a charming smile, coming up with an excuse. “We might go sit inside the house and eat. It’s getting a bit warm out.”

With his arm around your shoulder, you made your way inside the house, leaving behind the chatter and laughter of the outdoor gathering. Once you were settled on the couch, Elvis retrieved the chocolate mousse from the fridge, along with two spoons.

As you indulged in the creamy dessert, the rich chocolate melting on your tongues, Elvis wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

Between mouthfuls, Elvis spoke softly, his voice filled with tenderness. “So, for our next date, should I surprise you, or do you want to tell me where to take you?”

You smiled, “Surprise me.”

With a grin, Elvis squeezed your hand gently, his eyes sparkling. “You won’t be disappointed,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours.

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

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Even Educated Fleas Do It

A Sarge & lil Mama episode (wedding night)

Warnings 18+ -smut! breeding kink, innocence kink, cream pies, unfortunately historically accurate portrayal of female naïveté regarding sexual acts, male entitlement to female bodies, copious dirty talk, virginity loss. This is mostly fluffy and tender and sweet with a few VERY rabid moments and feral sentences. 20k of smut and it’s surrounding auras…I have a headcanon that Baby Elvis resorts to being a bit of an ass in order to maintain his slipping control, whereas a more mature era of the man he only chooses to be a bastard out of the fun of it

Credits: my supreme thanks to the indefatigable @prompted-wordsmith for editing this mammoth and her few choice additions of sentences, and also to my discord wives: Christi, Ally and Birdy who cheered me on and really made this happen with their feedback, suggestions and enthusiasm. Lastly, to all my darling readers who’s hype for this has carried me through and now we are all saddled with this monstrosity. Y’all are the best, I live off your comments and love. Xoxo, Marina 🌹

Elaine’s fingers glide admiringly against richly black, quartz marble countertops, glinting back at her almost as brightly as the gold mirror and the gold faucets and gold tub–everything is golden up here in the master bathroom. Even the sink is gold plated, she realizes with a giggle, and stares at her reflection in the basin, flushed face and curls hanging about her features as she looks downward, distracted by the opulence and the shininess and the ability to finally breathe. An endeavor which would be aided if she obeyed her new husband—heavens to Betsy, she has a husband!—and took off her wedding gown and girdle.

She chose a simple dress to be married in, long and slender, the style and measurements entrusted to the Smith cousins and delivered by them with remarkable effect. Demure yet elegant, she felt it was a nod to the silhouette of the future, prom crinolines and ball gowns abandoned for a more streamlined effect that set off her waist to perfection, or so her wedding guests told her. And for tonight’s purposes, it had a handy zipper down the back of it that she now tugged loose to her immense relief.

It was a little puzzling, the way Elvis had torn her away from Dodger’s admonishments and hurried her upstairs to sleep, only to then shoo her into the bathroom to undress herself. Some silly part of her thought he might kiss her when they arrived up there alone, maybe dance a little, maybe help with the zipper. But he had looked very feverish and a little scared when he told her she was looking worn out, and then ushered her upstairs as the whole house party fell dead silent below them in their wake. Funny, the whole thing had felt a little funny, and they’d been having such a nice little party after the vows, daddy had been a little weepy and Elvis had looked so handsome and she had to pinch herself a dozen times that this event she’d planned was her wedding.

Her wedding—it didn’t feel real. Not without mama here, she realized, that was the missing part to it all. Mama. Hers, and his. They were both missing them. She worked at the brassiere clasps and stifled the little cry she felt coming up her throat, memories flooding in of the first time she saw Graceland.

Elvis had tore down to the studio in his fancy car, begging any and everyone to see the place he bought for his family. Father had been too busy with Cash but mama was not. So, she and Elaine had piled into his pink Cadillac and let that happy puppy of a boy whisk them away to a world of antebellum dreaminess for the afternoon. Gold, there had been so much gold even then, and Mama had ribbed the boy mercilessly about his decor choices as only Mrs. Phipps could get away with,

“Elvis dear, it looks like a tart’s bedroom up here,” she had teased him in the master where Elaine’s groom was now waiting for her daughter to make an appearance.

He had turned bright red before dissolving into hiccuping laughs that her mama had joined. He hasn’t changed the decor, gaudy chandelier hanging above a gold damask bedspread, gilt mirrors everywhere on the walls with black padded headboards and doors. It was… unique, and a little ominous if she was being honest, although maybe that had been her nerves over him rushing her up here so fast, so…urgently.

“June’s gonna love it, E!” Elaine recalls gushing to him on that first house tour, entirely unsure if June would indeed love it, but certain that anyone would be honored to be mistress of such a place, though that honor had then been firmly Miss Gladys’s right at the time.

Now it’s all hers.

Elaine swallows hard and rubs at the angry red lines on her belly and breasts that show in the mirror from her girdle, thinking of the weight of that. Thinking of how she had been wrong. This—kingdom—wasn’t for June, this had been for her.

Elaine pulls on the silky, shimmery slip he had given her the money to treat herself to, watching it as it spills over her curves and drapes her kindly. The soft baby blue color makes her skin look tan even in the wintertime and her eyes shimmer dark and smokey in the dimmed vanity lights. It takes her aback a little, the prettiness of the picture she sees in the mirror, hair freshly loosened from its pins and looking like it does when he’s had his hands in it. The kiss-nipped red of her lips is no cosmetic allusion, he’d devoured her lipstick right off a few minutes into married life, clutching her to him in the foyer, acting like hiding by the front door made them discreet.

She touches their puffy vibrancy with a small smile, thinking of him, thinking of being loved. Thinking of mansions and gold sinks and graves dug, thinking of the boy outside the door who did far more than fall in love with her. He provided, and he did it with intent. A great deal of intent. Her heart does a flip at that.

It gives her the bravery to fluff herself in the slip and ignore the nervous tremble threatening to keep her holed up in here, her skimpy attire making her blush for reasons she doesn’t know. Such silliness. She looks pretty, and she is loved. She sets her shoulders back and turns the knob.

Elvis has been pacing a furrow in the plush carpet of his bedroom and berating himself for many things, chiefly having shooed his wife away into the bathroom the first private moment they’d had together.

He is an idiot, he concludes, a prize idiot.

He should have trapped her against the door and kissed the daylights outta her, maybe laid her out all romantically on the bed and caressed her like the movies taught her to expect. At least helped undo the damn zipper. But no, no he panicked, and trying to be a good man, he had sent her into the bathroom alone to strip while he talked his heart and cock into some semblance of restraint. He tears at his hair and tosses his suit jacket on the chair and tries to think of what he’s gonna do, how he’s gonna manage this. He had come across Dodger and Elaine in a tête-à-tête and heard the words from his Grandma:

“Make sure that boy licks ya nice and good ‘fore he tries to stick his pecker in—”

and had proceeded to panic and grab his new bride and hustle her upstairs for “sleep”. He’d caught Mr. Phipps’s pleading eyes on the way up and now he felt like a first team all American pervert. Gone was the sweet, comforting weight of the wedding vows, the religious aura the day had carried with it. Replacing that was a deep seated shame for how often he’d wanked to the thought of this night and all it entails.

In his dreams it had been fun to shock the girl by bending her over and putting it in, watching her eyes go wide and her struggle under him to adjust, but that was before he loved Elaine, he thinks. Now he tears at his hair, paces his bedroom eyeing the bathroom door like it’ll open and release a lion, and wonders how he’s gonna cherish her like he should, when his wants and his adoration keep vying for the upper hand. She boils his blood, shoots lightening up his spine and keeps him stiff at all times, and simultaneously, he is warm pudding when she smiles, and bluer than robin’s eggs when she’s sad.

The weight of getting all he ever wanted, the weight of actually having married himself off, the weight of mama’s hope coming true and her buried right under the window—he feels a little unhinged by it all, and he starts mumbling out incoherent prayers for guidance and self control and a capacity to not fuck up Elaine Presley’s first time. Because that’s just it: she’s Elaine Presley now, and he has a duty to the woman he married ‘afore God to make it good, t-to…

The bathroom door opens and the shimmering vision of Elaine and her feminine assets clad in nothing but a silk slip stops him dead in his tracks, his mouth liable to catch flies it gapes so at her beauty. She looks poised even jiggling and nipple perked in a light drape of silk, and he inwardly curses when her initial confidence seems to flag upon noticing the state he’s in.

Fully dressed with just his suit jacket discarded and here she is near naked—it’s not kind, he knows that, and curses again at his self absorption.

He looks like he’s gone a little mad, she thinks, and she can tell he’s been tearing at his hair in that fidgety way of his when he’s working himself up to a frenzy. It won’t do him good, she knows him, knows he’ll start hyperventilating and that always panics him.

It’s this urge to calm him that has her forgetting her bashfulness and crossing the floor to embrace him, his warm and clothed body pressed against hers in a hug he returns fervently.

“Ya look like an angel,” he rasps his praise in her ear and she is so pleased by that, and by the look of awed admiration on his face that makes her forget to blush, too pleased to be coy.

“Do ya have a new bird, Elvis?” she asks him, trying to distract him from whatever it is that has him so anxious she can near feel him vibrating against her.

“Uh, umm, a bird?” he is truly thrown by that and more than a little distracted by the feel of slippery silk curves molding to him in his arms.

“Dodger was saying—”

Dodger was talking about “peckers” he recalls, and is fast to cut her off in a great rush,

“No, no uh, I haven’t got no bird—sides you,” he jokes weakly and fails to add more, just staring down at Elaine in his arms, Elaine who stares back, her expression curious and amused and maybe a tad unsure.

Of course she’s unsure, you fool, he berates himself after finding his way back to steady thought. God, he should… do something.

“Elvis,” she pipes up and her voice is small but hopeful, “can I help you get comfortable?” and she thumbs at the ruffles of his dress shirt.

He feels his flush paint his neck and his body feels like it’s alight, but it’s perfectly reasonable for her to ask. It’s just that he knows her sweet confidence stems from her not even knowing enough to be bashful, and that’s… heady.

“Yeah,” he croaks and squeezes her to him once more before letting her set work to undoing the ruffled shirt he wore, sans tie.

She’s methodical and steady undoing the shirt, even as she flicks those lined eyes up at him, desperate for his assuring little nods and pleased smiles. He takes to stroking her cheek, running his knuckles across the high bones there and over her bitten lips, she kisses them with each pass.

Last button undone she spreads the fabric apart and places her hands on his chest, a wild delight showing on her face as she runs her hands across his pecs and collar bones, down to his belly, swooping up and down his arms, taking the shirt with it.

It falls to the ground and yet her hands continue to glide across his fevered skin entranced by the warmth and the contours. She’s wanted to feel his heartbeat for a long while now. Watching that tattle tale vein in his neck thump was the closest thing she could content herself with all these months. Her hands drift to his neck and sure enough, it’s thumping like a race horse at a gallop.

She excites him. That thought makes her eyes flick down to his trousers, recalling that strange spurt against her backside on the swing. He’d called that excitement, too.

She moves to open the button of his slacks and his belly sucks in with the breath he holds, she can feel it against her knuckles as she undoes it. She rubs her knuckles soothingly against the fine trail of hair disappearing into his waistband, it makes him shudder instead.

So far, everything on display she has seen before at the pool with him, but more, the prospect of more makes her heart speed up and her curious mind whirl. She’s a little preoccupied with all this as she starts to push the pants over his hips and while he doesn’t prevent her, his motion is a bit jerky when he clasps his hands around her jaw and tilts her eyes away from his hips and the curious bulge there, up to his face.

She hears his belt and the fabric thud to the floor just as his lips descend to meet hers, and then she grows distracted by the kiss he melts her with.

“Hey you,” he whispers hot and breathy against her lips, pillowy plushness rubbing together, kiss-slick and scorching.

And he’s right, it feels like finally seeing each other for the first time today. They’ve a decent rapport together when surrounded by friends and acquaintances, a very seamless dance of social politeness and steadying closeness. But nothing compares to the way they sizzle and melt when it’s just the two of them, like their inner selves are finally allowed to make a showing on their faces in the form of dazed smiles and in the slump of their shoulders, the bellies no longer held in nor the sighs longing to spill out.

“Oh, Elvis,” she manages to gasp, grinning and huffing at the proximity, the way her nipples rub against his chest from the crush of his embrace, just a silken layer between them, and it sends electric static down to her very toes.

“Ya happy?” he dares to ask because she is grinning so silly and sweet right there in his arms.

“Terribly happy!” she doesn’t bother with aloofness, her hands kneading his shoulders and he breathes again, recalling that this is Elaine, sweet Elaine who has gentled him back into the land of the living these last few weeks by simply knowing and caring for him, and while it’s a terrifying responsibility to do right by her—it’s also the best thing to ever happen to him. Elaine, here, in his arms, in his room, as his wife.

“Just ya wait till I get some champagne in ya,” he teases, waggling her chin in his hand and she looks surprised and a little excited by that.

“Elvis I-I’m too young,” she whispers, a guilty and hopeful little thing that suggests she is very amenable to champagne.

“You naughty lil thing, I see that hopeful glimmer in’ya eye,” he clicks his tongue and she giggles, “It’s lawful if your husband pours it for ya.”

“Is that so?” she bites her lip and her eyes twinkle up at him, falling easily into the banter, “Then I’d like to try it—since it’s lawful and all.”

“Mhmm, champagne, an’ a record, that’ll set us up jus’ right, I think.” He’s nearly buzzing himself, feels a little drunk even though there’s not a drop of alcohol in him.

“Don’t want ya to have to go down to the kitchen and leave me, though,” she admits, a little shy. His gut clenches at the confession, the way her lashes dip and fan over her cheekbones. He’d get beat by his mama if’n she knew of the unholy thoughts the pout of her lips made him think. He reels himself back to the present with a persistence that few things in his life made him exercise. For Elaine, his patience was boundless, because she doesn’t wanna be alone, or, rather, she wants to be alone with him. The simple acknowledgement sends his heart racing in hope that he’s managing to do something right, enough that she can’t bear for him to even pop down to the kitchen for a minute.

“Guess what, sugar?” he grins while fluffing her hair away from her face and she perks up, that mouth lifting inquiringly, “I got a refrigerator in the closet.”

“No!”

“Yup.” Elvis’ boyish grin grows until it’s a dazzling, proud smile and he begins to back up, she goes with, still clinging to his arms and giggling in excitement as he backs them into the gargantuan changing room.

“Where?” she cranes her neck this way and that, soon spinning in his arms as she tries to spy a refrigerator amongst the rows and rows of custom suits and well stocked shelving.

He holds up his finger for her attention, and gathering all his showmanship, backs away from her until he reaches the built-in cabinets and with a dramatic flourish flings open the wooden door to reveal his mini Frigader.

“No. Way,” she enunciates dramatically as her pretty mouth hangs open in delight and his own heart clenches and-

-God! Elaine! I can give you so much, he thinks, hang in there with me, I can give so much, I'll make ya fall in love.

He throws her a wink before bending over and retrieving the planted bottle and chilled glasses from inside. The fact he’s bent over double in just his briefs only registering when he’s already got his head half in the refrigerator, and her burning stare threatens to light his ass on fire. He straightens up and spins round to present her with his ribbon adorned findings, noticing her blush scarlet and flick her eyes back to his face.

-My, my, Miss Elaine, what a curious little mind you have.

He kicks the fridge closed and closes the distance between them again, handing her the glasses while taking her other hand in his and leading her back into the dimly lit bedroom. She sets the glasses on the sideboard top and goes to put the needle down on the record after he tells her “Ella’s already on there”, while he smoothes down the profusion of crinkle ribbon around the bottle neck in preparation to open it.

Elaine adjusts the needle and gets the record going and soon Ella Fitzgerald croons warmly:

-Birds do it, bees do it

She turns back around and watches as Elvis begins to gnaw on the champagne cork with his million watt, pearly white money-making teeth.

“What on earth are you doin’?” she protests, hurrying back to him. He’s like a rabbit with the thing, she thinks humorously.

-Even educated fleas do it,

He pulls the spit slicked cork away from his mouth to explain in a loathing huff, “Forgot to bring an opener up here.” And he doesn’t want to leave his baby, goes unsaid, doesn’t wanna leave her since she said she didn’t want him to leave.

-So let’s do it, let’s fall in love

Elaine’s lip wobbles into a fond smirk even as she tries to maintain some sternness, “You’ll break a tooth, E!” she warns even as her heart throbs at the sweetness of it.

“Nah, nah I’ll get it, my baby wanted champagne n’ she’s gonna have it,” he insists as she makes aborted little movements with her hands to try to aid him but is unsure of what to do or hold. “Here, hold the end, I’m gonna try’n pull it out, probably gonna gush so, be ready.”

And so Elaine finds herself in a laughing fit, holding onto the bulbous bottom of a champagne bottle as Elvis Presley himself buries his nose in the thatch of ribbons and gnaws the cork loose, like a dog with a bone, yanking this way and that while growling playfully around it.

“This is the silliest thing—” she wheezes even as his jaw’s yanking motion makes her feet slip closer, her light weight losing ground in this tug-o-war until suddenly there’s a pop and down he goes, flat on his ass, cork in mouth, champagne showering him from above.

He’s curled in on himself at her feet, all long tan limbs contorted and white briefs quickly becoming transparent, crunched in half from the force of his laughter and partly to shield his eyes from the alcohol rain. She watches in a bit of a state, though she’s unsure of what kind, as golden alcohol glistens over that heart, pools in every divot of him and even sparkles tauntingly on inky lashes.

“Quick, quick catch it baby!” he waves at her frantically through his wheezing hiccups, “With your mouth, put it in yer mouth!” he explains and she suddenly snaps her attention away from watching his underwear cling to him and brings the bottle up to her mouth.

She chugs on command, her throat working rhythmically and her eyes wide at the new taste, bubbly spillage glossing up her chin and chest and down her slip, a dark trail that makes his mouth dry out with thoughts of other things. She pulls away with a gasp and a wet pop as he struggles to his knees, cupping himself like that’ll detract from his obvious outline, thanking heaven his jitters seem to have kept him half mast.

“Here, it’s fizzy,” she informs him like that’s news to him before bringing the bottle down to his lips and tipping the champagne into his slack mouth. His hands fly out to rest on her hips, steadying himself as she pours the celebratory drink down his throat. “Cheers!” she giggles as he taps out his max capacity on her hips, his breath fully gone and his cheeks bulging with the fizz.

“Here’s to you, Mrs. Presley,” he gasps after his swallow, smiling up at her stupidly sweet.

Elaine isn’t sure if it’s his breathlessness, those fathomless blue eyes looking up at her adoringly or the way he’s proving he’d do anything to please her, but she’s suddenly filled with a burning compulsion to eat him up. And she acts on it, bending down to slot their mouths together, one hand gripping his sticky shoulder and the other still holding onto the bottle neck.

He rises to his feet in an effortlessly smooth motion, hands dragging up the curve of her as he goes until they tangle in her hair, his arms criss crossed over her back and then the real kissing begins, the kind he had figured he’d gentle her into but she seems to have already found a taste for. It’s open mouthed and sloppy and she nearly lets the bottle slip from her hand as she seems to levitate right out of her skin and upwards to some hot and hazy sphere where a pink tongue dances with her own.

And sweet Lord, she loves the way he kisses her, large hands yanking her head back by her hair so he can pour his passion into her keening mouth from above, his arms encompassing her shoulders and pressing her to him, his plush mouth working her up to a frenzy. She squeezes his shoulder, in retribution or encouragement, she doesn’t know which, for the ache he always manages to spark in her belly. Speaking of, his soaked underwear is pressed to her belly and dampening the fabric of her slip so it, too, becomes tacky and drags as he shifts against her, almost like they’re riding waves together, grappling in a gentle struggle for leverage in this caress.

-electric eels, I might add, do it, though it shocks ‘em I know,

She’s a responsive little thing, his new wife, and fiesty in her affection, too. Her nails dig into his back and make him hiss pleasurably and he finds he can’t help but hump the little curve of her belly beneath the silk, wet briefs tantalizingly coarse against his cock. It occurs to him this is a precious moment, for many reasons, but particularly for the fact that never again will she kiss him without at least some anticipation of more to follow. What’s a kiss that goes nowhere? A kiss that devours and consumes and grapples and bites but has no destination? Her whole body conforms to his in an effort to get closer as they sway in the middle of his bedroom floor, but she knows of nothing after this, she doesn’t know it’s leading anywhere. The kiss is all she knows. It’s like she has an incomplete map, one he gets to draw the big red ‘X’ at the end of. He wonders if a body can combust if kissed long enough, if he can make her shatter apart just by ignorant need and a searingly good necking. He pours more energy into plundering her mouth and ignores her whimpers begging for a breath.

Elaine finds her free hand sliding from his shoulder down the plush side of his ribs, tacky with champagne, and thumbs at the soaked waistband of his briefs. It makes him break their kiss at last, near drowned for air and his eyes wild as he rears back to study her face.

“You’re getting me sticky,” she whispers smilingly and watches him lick her spit from his lips with a languid tongue.

“Ya could just say you want me nekid,” he quips, and nearly swallows his tongue in horror right after, holding his breath to see how the joke lands.

Elaine is… taken aback, judging by the way her eyes widen and her cheeks flame bright in the dim light of the bedroom, but she truthfully shrugs and murmurs while staring past him, “I would really like to see ya, E.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he whispers back earnestly and she flicks her eyes back to meet his before her smile returns and she makes a motion to one handedly strip him before thinking better of it.

She takes another chug from the champagne bottle instead and he chuckles, making a motion with his hands to hand it to him when she’s done. She gives it over and he gulps down the liquid courage while trying to go somewhere else as Elaine begins to carefully peel his soaked tighty whities down his legs. Her yittle fingers make it mighty difficult.

-God, I hope she’s at least seen a penis before, he prays. Or, or actually no. I hope she hasn’t, I hope she has no fuckin clue about any other man, most certainly no trimmed up, affluent, all American, circumcised one.

While he’s busy making his nose burn with the bubbles he’s downing like water, Elaine takes a moment to feast her eyes on tan thighs and the boney cradle of his hips, defined by a lean belt of muscle descending from his abdomen and that faint dusty trail of hair that was pointing downwards to a destination after all. He’s pink and soft and harmless looking down there, very much like the anatomy sketches she’s seen in the medical books. A limp little tail-like thing that hangs between his legs with a sheath of skin covering it, pillowed atop a very heavy looking sack that’s a couple shades darker than the shaft thingy. Maybe men have a bladder on the outside, she ponders.

She finds herself a little relieved, and also stupidly endeared. It’s his privates, she should let him be, they’re not like hers that have a dual purpose of child bearing and peeing. They’re just his soft parts and he’s terribly sweet to let her satisfy her curiosity about them, and so she rises back to her feet with a pleased sigh, having refrained from the stupid impulse of reaching out and grabbing hold of them. Elvis lets out a ragged sigh of his own and looks like he’s trying to read her brain as she presses another kiss to his lips.

“Thank ya,” she chirps and he raises his eyebrows in surprise that this is going so well.

It goes well until it gets weird. And by weird Elvis means his sweet young wife starting to circle him like he’s a damn statue, her hand trailing over his skin and letting out appreciative little noises at the way his muscles twitch beneath her fingers. His ribs tickle and his arms jitter and his back tenses and then there’s that throat closing feeling of her palming the swell of his ass, admiring and entitled as you please. He feels a bit like a prize horse, being eyed up at auction, Elaine the buyer that’s testing to see if he’s a well-bred stallion. Seeing if he’s a good breeding partner, if he’s made of good stock.

Elaine’s appraisal halts at his other side, she’s got a hand gliding up his sternum like the feel of sparse chest hair is equal to the most priceless Persian rug, and her other hand keeps petting the swell of his ass as she presses kisses to his shoulder—oh god help him, he likes it, much as it makes him squirm, this entirely unexpected review of his assets has him standing at attention and hoping she approves. Something else starts to try to stand to attention and it’s through a helpless sort of mortified resignation he feels little Elvis twitch in earnest. The sorta twitch that’ll lead to precum sputtering out soon enough.

She notices. Of course she does, he feels her lips fall away from his shoulder so she can peer over it at the growing developments, and with unerring accuracy she repeats the motion she had just made, expecting a similar result if providing the right equation. His cock is feeling benevolent if a little demure tonight, and he can’t help but flex his hips as the next rush of blood makes the thing move again. Oh damn, he thinks, they’re getting somewhere now, and he’s not yet given a single lesson.

Elaine had long harbored a rather inordinate curiosity about the male figure, her swimming hole adventures and glimpses of mechanics stripped down covered in grease had all inspired a rather alarming curiosity in her girlish head as to what the male form looked like… unimpeded. She thought it silly that there was such emphasis on men’s tastes being visual, on pinups and advertising girls selling dish soap that had nothing to do with the bikinis prominently filled out. For her, Marlon Brando swaggering around in a sweat soaked singlet had done more to convince her to move to a New Orleans tenement than all those skimpy dressed floozies ever had ever convinced a regular ole father of three to buy Lucky Strikes. But to touch? To feel searing hot masculine blood pumping right beneath that terribly smooth skin and the dip and give of his muscles beneath her palm? Her chest aches and her hands move of their own accord, wondrously eager to make him wag between his legs again, like a happy tail swelling and jerking with each squeeze she gives his butt.

“Elvis, you’re so pretty,” she gushes the admiration swirling around and around in her mind and feels the whole long, lean, glorious length of his shudder at the comment.

She’s enchanted with his body, he realizes, he’s pleasing to her, and her hands flutter in a hopeless want to touch him everywhere and it’s all he can do not to seize a dainty hand and wrench her away from this sweet perusal and make her grip him here he needs it. He wants, needs, filthy things from her. And she just thinks he’s pretty. The moan he stifles with his hand is only fuel to her fire.

“Uh—” he begins, figuring he better get somethin about the mechanics of things out before this sweetness turns him feral and the tempting thoughts to just… sneak it in her… take precedence in his brain.

“What’s it doin’?” she interrupts instead, and he savors the feel of her holding his bare waist while he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking steady breaths, forcing some blood back up to his brain.

“I-i-it’s, it’s gettin’ excited,” he figures is an honest start, “F-firmin up.”

“Why?” she asks curiously, sounding ever so child-like, still petting his sides like, like—like he’s her pet.

He wouldn’t mind being her pet. He’s foolin’ himself thinkin’ he isn’t already, she’s just embracing her role with innocent confidence, unencumbered by silly knowledge of roles and shit, like he is.

“Well, uh, it’s, it’s—” he bites his lip harshly before gently grabbing her arms and moving her round to face him, stroking her neck soothingly while keeping her at a safe distance where her silk clad belly won’t encourage little Elvis any faster. “It’s gotta firm up as, it’s, it’s, it’s my key, baby,” he explains gently, watching with burning concentration for any flicker of understanding flitting across her earnest face.

“Your key?” she repeats gravely, that nagging feeling returning that there’s more to this… marriage business… then she’s been told, and she’s about at the end of her patience with being fobbed off the topic. “Elvis—” she goes to appeal for an answer to his generous nature, the lush set of his features above her sweet and sultrily eager as her own, encouraging her that he’ll humor her—

“Elaine, we gotta have a business meetin’,” he declares, effectively cutting her off, and it’s the voice he uses at conference tables with the colonel or with reporters but she knows it’s him scrambling to grab hold of some control. Ever wary of the delicate state of his emotions these days, she holds her peace. “Bout, b-bout marriage,” he clarifies and for the first time since coming up here, a cold shard of fear slices through the gooey warmth of his presence.

“Alright,” she agrees, firmly supportive, squeezing his arms to emphasize that she’s on his side in this, she takes her cues from him. It’s what good wives do, and it’s what all of humanity does when Elvis Presley starts to direct a thing.

Her compliance has the intended result of soothing him, his jitters calm under her hands and the light beam of her encouraging smile. He gives a few small nods of his head as if agreeing with an unspoken suggestion, and Elaine is entirely certain he’s got a self affirming monologue running up there in that pretty head to drown out whatever has him so panicked.

Alight with her touch, with thoughts of her and her lil house and making it good, making sure it takes, of finally having what he’s dreamed about for goin’ on two years now, he feels his knees near buckle and he murmurs hurriedly,

“Let’s sit on the–the bed for a minute.”

Hand in hand, and at a head clearing distance from each other, they mosey over to the canopied wonder that is his bed, decked out in black and gold, tufted pockets of down beckoning for a bounce amongst, and Elaine can’t help herself. Maybe it’s the champagne or a stubborn desire to keep the jubilant atmosphere alive but she slips her hand out of his with a parting squeeze and launches herself into the downy sea of gold.

His stride falters and he watches with a fondness he feels deep in his gut as his Elaine bounces into the bed like a giddy child, her long limbs splayed artlessly and the swell of her ass rippling under baby blue silk, a sliver more of inner thigh visible as it rides up, kicking her footsies gleefully for good measure before she lifts that darling face and grins at him beckoningly through a curtain of chocolate curls.

God he loves her. And this is what he’ll get to see and feel and love for all the coming nights, for the rest of his life. He moseys up to the bed and reaches out, caressing Elaine’s shiny locks back in place, matching her smile in an endeavor to help keep this mood as joyous as it should be. She grabs at his wrist that is petting her hair and pulls him atop her. Weak and wanting, he goes, registering with searing clarity the first feel of his long limbs being pressed atop every inch of her smaller frame, the bedspread tufting beneath their combined weight.

He is burning hot atop her, and so much larger than her own body, she realizes with a thrill that tingles down to her very toes. She resumes her petting of the wings of his shoulder blades, smooth and sweaty beneath her hands and she wiggles beneath the new sensation of his thighs pressed to her own, and his hips cradled by her hips, fitting together effortlessly. It’s delightful and she acts on the urge to tilt his face out from the bedspread and seek more kisses from those cherry red lips of his.

Elaine keeps undulating under him, spurred on by a thousand heady new sensations, slippery as an eel in her silk, and Elvis’s mind blanks at the feel of her eager and squirmy body beneath his. He forgets about lessons and marriage and sacred duties and instead acts on his most natural instinct which is to kiss her back ferociously and buck against the cradle of her hips ‘till his cock weeps for joy at finally being heeded.

As natural as riding a tandem bike, after the initial wobble for balance, Elaine quickly finds his rhythm and grinds along with him in a unified dance for propulsion, feeling something besides his champagne-sticky skin begin to slick up her nightslip.

That’s the wet smear of his excitement, she realizes, and rocks up more vigorously to encourage him. His penis is a throbbing pipe between them, and while she can’t see it, she can feel the thing growing and digging into her belly and she thinks of keys and she wonders, and aches. The whine her groom lets out, once hazily recognizing the fact she’s actually trying to aid his pleasure like a good wife should, is pulled from deep in his gut into her open mouth, sending a triumphant shudder through her.

“Sweet—lord—fuck—Elaine,” he blasphemes into her ear in a pained cry, his hand a mere agent of his cock as it fumbles between them frantically to pull up the hem of her slip.

Her hot breath fans against his face in shocked gusts and if he cracked open his screwed shut eyes he’s pretty sure he'd see her looking a little scandalized, which is why he doesn’t open them. He’ll save that for when he’s balls deep inside her and there ain’t a lawful thing she can do about it. For now he just doggedly hikes up her slip until it’s halfway up her belly and his balls are rubbing amongst the pettiest thatch on a beaver he ever did see. Not that he sees it now, mind you. No, his eyes stay closed and he forces her into another kiss lest she protest, but he recalls the particulars of her cunt like that addled inspection he made of her lady parts was yesterday and—

—her lil house, his promise, his duty! It all comes crowding back to his mind with an icy damper just as her hands glide down to land with a strong and naively lecherous grip on his ass and he—

—he might have made it if it weren’t for that grab. It’s not a good precedent to blame one’s wife for a loss of control but he’s afraid that’s just what it is, a precedent when, heedless of her confusion, he grips her delicate shoulders in each of his hands and leverages up, one pump, two pumps, three pumps amongst the slick petals of her pussy and then, then it’s white hot satisfaction and… Elaine.

Elaine, Elaine, Elaine—oh how I love you, oh how I want you, Elaine, Elaine, Elaine, you drive me nuts.

“Oh, oh wha—oh,” through the ringing haze of busting a nut against her, Elvis can hear her bewildered enjoyment as he spurts and slicks her up real messy, grinding against her pearl with powerful, heedless strokes.

He stops his whimpering moans and sucks in a breath, still somewhere else in his bliss and utterly unmoored, but not so useless as to stop moving along to her guiding hands on his butt.

Her breathy gasps are—they’re everything he’s ever fantasized about, and to make up for blowing his load like a green boy, he keeps up the pace she wants, slippin’ and a’slidin against her, listening intently as her pitch spikes when his cock smudges her clit with his head. She begins to replace each gasp with a noisy inhale.

“Wha-what’s oh, Elvis what’s—” she finds her voice just enough to babble as her head thrashes in a confused protest a few times amongst the golden tufts.

Then her hands clench on her handful of backside before the head of his cock slips in its glide and snags against her untried door. The bitten off shriek of surprised ecstasy she lets out, and the cruel bite of her nails in his butt, the rigid spasm of her thighs beneath his, tells him she’s gotten a taste of the heaven he just indulged in early.

“That’s it, that’s it, it’s nice feelin’, ain’t it?” he preemptively shushes her worries, the ones that gather even now on her brow the minute her pleasure ebbs away enough for rational thought to raise its pesky head.

“Elvis, I—what was—” she pants and can’t find the words or courage to finish her question, she just blushes beneath him instead, and for the first time tonight he can sense her feeling insecure.

“That was actin’ married, baby,” he answers simply, cupping her face and letting his thumbs rub soothing circles in her hairline. “You alright? Did I scare ya?” he whispers, terrified in suspense as Elaine seems to give his question thought, reviewing the recent memory of her first orgasm with typical, analytical detachment.

“It felt… tingly,” she decides, having to acknowledge no harm was done and this sated feeling of her melting into a puddle beneath him is rather lovely. “I liked it,” she decides, then insists as he still looks down at her, chestnut hair falling into his eyes and his worried mouth wobbling like a scared baby’s. “I liked it a lot.”

“Ya liked it?” he perks up, his lip curling in a smile, eager as a puppy, and she remembers him asking her the same thing, in the same eager way, about the grand staircase when he first showed her Graceland.

“Yes, yes I did,” she nods emphatically, ignoring how something seems to hang in the air about them now, something more that prods her to ask, “What now?”

Because “more” feels like a third person in this room and her curiosity has been too long deferred.

“Now we have that business meetin’,” he replies gravely, as if he suspects her of plotting against the meeting and its solemn necessity.

He tries to pitch his voice down in a bid to sound authoritative, but all she can think of are his pitiful little whimpers as he wet her belly. She smirks and reaches up to push his hair out of his eyes. “Yessir, Private,” she teases, immensely pleased with herself when he lets out a throaty laugh and rolls his eyes in response.

He pulls his body away from her, forcing himself not to cringe at the goopy mess he made of her pussy, or the resiliently adhesive string of spunk that refuses to break the connection between them as he pulls away. She is watching his every expression, he knows, every movement, the bat of his eyes, all being used to form her own opinion of this and he is careful not to show any reaction that might have her embarrassed, or worse, thinking the act gross. Sex is nasty, and he fuckin’ loves it for it. And if he can help it, so will she.

He twists off her and rolls on his side, sitting up where his legs dangle off the bed and he flips her slip back down in what he hopes is a subtle but swift enough gesture to be considered gentlemanly. She sits up beside him and folds her hands expectantly in her lap, her legs swinging off the bed beside his own and if he thinks too long about the fact he’s probably dribbling down her primly closed thighs, he’ll go insane all over again.

Get this part done and then you can go nuts, he tells himself, then it’s free reign. Or, well, nearly.

“Elaine baby,” he begins, this time his voice is naturally deep and earnest as it often is when discussing something very important, she recognizes it and gives him all her attention, “Do ya know anythin’ bout what mamas and daddies do when they go to bed?”

Her head is still fuzzy from whatever trickery they just engaged in, the way his hand now descends to her thigh making the pounding between them worse than ever even as the pleasure is sharper, more satisfying than any she’s achieved. It clouds her mind and stalls her reply. She thinks that she could answer smartly that he just showed her what they do, or she could say she knows they sleep, or she could rattle off a buncha scared suggestions that might make her seem a little less lost, a little less dumb about this whole thing. But she trusts him, trusts him to be kind and patient, to want to be married anyway. So she bites down her pride and shakes her head adamantly, not a shred of flippancy left.

“Well, part of bein’ married is makin’ babies, right?” he responds, “And that happens in a marriage bed, or least—that’s where it happens first time ya try,” Elvis explains the best he can, his voice gentle and his drawl persuasive like it had been when he showed her cords on the guitar. “Now we uh, we’ve talked bout your lil house already,” he notes and she nods with sober and locked on fascination, waiting for him to drop a hint of something that will make practical sense, “and I done told ya bout my key. You felt it gettin all firm, yeah? Then sprayin’ ya belly—sorry bout that, jus’ got me so excited, went ahead of myself—well, baby, ya see…” He twists his lower lip with his fingers in one last pained procrastination before getting the rest out in a measured slur, “To make a baby the daddy’s key has gotta go inside the mama’s house a-a-and unlock her.”

He holds his breath and watches this lesson land home on her sweet face. He takes note of each stage of comprehension as it morphs her face. First there’s her squint of concentration, then the eyebrow quirk of confirmed speculation, then the lip bite of second guessing his meaning, then crystal clear compression that seems to freeze her features in one of disbelief until they reanimate in a frenzy of emotion that culminates in her heavily fringed eyes darting down to stare at his recently spent, half mast cock. His key, he corrects himself, and like a damned pet, it wags under her wide eyed study.

“Oh ha, oh.” She tries to master her gasps and they just come out in a tumble anyway, staring at that strangely animate part of him that is nothing like any one of hers. The longer she looks the larger it grows, the sheath drawing back and revealing a tender looking tip, so vibrantly red it matches the flush splotching down his chest. It looks like it’s aches, and she suddenly has sympathy for the eager thing. At her aborted movement to touch it, she sees it sputter out clear fluid, as if weeping for her attention.

A great many bits of hearsay, of anatomical layouts studied, some Bible passages about “goin into her” and a few racy lyrics flash through her mind like star witnesses confirming his account of married life. She suddenly wants to laugh at the absurdity of not putting it all together until the wagging heft of the thing swelling beneath her stare makes her suddenly hope he’s wrong. Or, or -teasing, he’s gotta be teasing.

Oh course he is! Her shoulders loosen up and she lets out a great big sigh before meeting his stormy eyes and poking the soft rolls of his belly warningly, “You had me there!” she tsks and begins to laugh the more she thinks of the idea of him shoving his… his pee pee… up her to make a child.

Elvis doesn’t laugh, he looks suddenly quite alarmed and her merriment dies on her lips, stuttering out at the sight of his earnest face.

“You. Are. Teasin,” she repeats with a pleading diction, “You don’t really -oh gosh y- you ain’t pullin’ my leg, Elvis?” she almost whimpers, her mother’s proper nomenclature gone right out of her pretty mind at the idea of that chubby snake thing inside her.

“I ain’t pullin’ your leg sweetheart.” he swears, no hint of mockery in his voice, “That cream ya felt…coming out, the sticky stuff, i-it shoots up in ya a-a-and fertilizes y-your eggs. I-it’s called making love, baby, cause it’s-it’s makin…love.”

Elaine feels her face growing hot at that visual and would like all these components to make less sense right about now. It all comes together in her logic like a missing piece of the human puzzle, but far from being the Devine enlightenment she was expecting, she finds it’s a sticky, bobbing, whining, gushing, squelching process that isn’t remotely medical or Devine. It’s comedic, and her jaw clenches in protest at the absurdity of it all. God really must enjoy a good laugh, forcing folks to spew and shake apart like idiots just to keep the human race alive.

“Why’s it growin?” She demands hotly, resigned to the logic but quite unappreciative of the fact that the more excited about making babies his key gets, the more likely its growing size will make it impossible to fit inside her.

“It’s getting firm so it can go in,” he defends his offending boner as meekly as possible, eager to get back in her good graces and refusing to listen to little Elvis’ cries of offended honor, “A-a-and so it’ll feel good inside ya.” he makes sure to tack on and notices her incredulous left eyebrow shoot up to her hairline.

“That so?” she asks, utterly sarcastic.

“Yes!” he pleads and her face softens a little at his hurt tone, at his obvious honesty, “Once inside it’ll rub ya all nice like it felt a minute ago. ‘Member that? this’ll be like that just… even better.”

“I-I-I do, I do recall,” she softens at his worried face, realizes he thinks she’s gonna back down from this and curses the fact she’d really rather. Impotent anger rises up in her for a brief flash that she didn’t have more time to prepare for this, that no one told her so she might settle her terrified little belly to the thought of him—

—it’s too awful to be pondered for long and she takes a great deep breath and holds it in the way she learned at the hospital, to calm a bout of panic, staring off across the room at the portrait of Jesus he has hung by the closet door. She thinks about how best to fly away while he does what is necessary, she thinks about babies, she thinks about how pretty and sweet he is. She thinks about her mama, and wonders if the procedure is so awful, why didn’t she and every woman in her life warn and prepare her for it? Now her aunt’s words make sense. Be good and let him do what he needs to. If this is what he needs to do, then she reckon’s she’ll just have to let him see to it.

“Elaine?” he begs her to look at him, his warm hand gently grabbing her chin and turning her face to his like an ornery mule by its bridal. “Elaine, what’s in that pretty head? Talk to me please,” he puts his face all up in her own’s business, hands cradling her face and noses brushing, she can feel the brush of his lips when he speaks again softly, “Ya don’t think God would tell folks to be fruitful then make it awful for ‘em, do ya?”

It’s as if he’s read her mind, her own rationalization on the subject and she gives a slow nod of dissent, “no,” she agrees, and realizes due to her watery voice that she must’ve started crying somewhere along the way. It rankles her, being so skittish, being so troublesome for her groom when she’s not even been married a full day.

Lord, instead of being angry, he’s nuzzling her tear tracks across her face and swearing never ending tenderness to her. Her heart does another flip as his lips trail down her neck, and she warms again, her ache returns and it reminds her of his own. She tilts her head so he can better suck at the soft skin of her neck and casts her eyes down to his lap, finding him still eager. His key looks so desperate and needy, and despite her grievance against its size, her hand darts out instinctively to swipe at the leaking mushroom head like she would anyone’s tears from beneath their eyes.

It has a rather startling effect on her young husband.

Elvis lets out a choked cry and crushes her arms where he holds them, his kiss bitten cry turns into a chomp on her shoulder as the shock of his reaction makes her squeeze his member harder, eliciting a yet greater amount of pleasurable anguish from him. The way the previously dribbling precum gushes over her knuckles is entirely the most heady thing she’s ever managed to feel in her life. That molten warmth in her belly ignites again, and she kisses his own neck in delight at the responses he gives her, even as she drags the flat of her palm up and down his key, taking notes on the way he bucks against it.

“Elaine—” he garbles into her throat and she kneads his neck comfortingly even as she continues to watch the way this new friend throbs and gushes under her tiniest attentions. Like a personable pet or a responsive baby, it’s a joy to have something react to her with such inordinate eagerness.

“Alright, I believe ya,” she whispers soothingly as she thumbs at his leaking slit and strokes down his foreskin, noticing a definite ridge and then a puffy head differentiating the head from the rest of the shaft, “Just the tip has to go in, right?” she surveys the bulbous little head and calms herself. It’s not that big, just awfully wide. She can manage it, for the babies.

“N-no baby.” he stutters into her throat, miserable and worried sick about repeatedly having to be contrary, “S’all gotta go in.”

“But, but you can just spray up once it’s in!” she cries out, laughingly incredulous and a single sentence away from reverting back to suspecting him of playing a trick, “Why’s the whole thing gotta go in when it shoots the stuff a foot or more?”

That’s- that’s a worrisomely valid point, he thinks, but he can only deal with the logic of her hand fondling his cock right now and so he insists, “No baby, it’s gotta go deep, way up in your belly so it don’t get lost with all the cake ya ate.”

“That ain’t gonna get very deep.” she’s rather unimpressed with his length and it brings him right back down to earth with an Elaine shaped thump, “It’s the girth that’s unnecessarily…plentiful.”

“Ya sayin’ God didn’t know what he was doin when he made me?“ Elvis feigns outrage and pulls away to grin at her, to confirm she’s grinning, too.

She rolls her eyes, then that famillair, sweet smile overtakes her face as she flits her eyes all across the lean yet soft, pale yet golden, masculine yet boyish whole of him, -she finds him very good. “I reckon he knew what he was doin’,” she murmurs wryly, her stare dragging up his form, “I just object to the practicality of so few brains and so much—”

“Elaine!” he growls, gripping the back of her neck, “Kiss me, woman.”

She kisses him with the same gusto he’s previously seen her reserve only for football matches on the lawn. She catapults forward and it knocks the wind outta him, lands her solidly in his lap, a smooching, hair tugging goddess of a mad woman, and he scrambles to keep up, to assist the gearshift that just occurred. Zero to sixty it seems. Elaine can’t seem to hold still when she kisses, always leveraging up and wiggling around and it makes for two of them writhing, to the immense satisfaction of his cock that gets wedged between his belly and hers during this heavy make out.

Eventually she seems to notice -Elvis wonders what gave lil Elvis’ position away: the incessant twitching or the gallons of precum dribbling down the front of her gown.

She pulls away from the kiss and looks down, suddenly reaching and straightening his cock against her belly and through the haze of ball tingling appreciation for her touch he realizes she’s measuring the depth against her belly. That thought makes him spurt so violently he’s not sure if he’s cummin’ a lil or just, just gushin’ like he’s never seen himself gush before. Thank God this sweet little girl seems to like the fact he’s a messy, sensitive, uncut hick of a boy.

“We’ve just gotta try our best, hmm?” he stifles his anticipatory giggle at the size comparison to her abdomen and thumbs at her throat coaxingly, “I’ll try’n get it real deep, and you’ll be good and lemme, right?“

She will, for the babies, he already knows that. Knew it the minute she agreed to marry him. It’s why he wants her.

“Right.” she agrees and tries to not make it sound like she’s being condemned to torture, “I’ll be good for ya.” Be good and let him do what he needs to.

“And I’ll make it nice,” he swears adamantly and she nearly believes him, “It won’t hurt much, not at all after the first time, I’ll make sure you enjoy it, baby. Have ya begging for it in a few hours, you’ll see. It’s gonna be nice, remember?”

“Yeah.” Her tone is unsure but she waggles her eyebrows conspiratorially.

Then, before another promise can be made, she bends away from his lap and flops on her back, legs spread, baby blue silk riding up to show her wet curls, hands serenely crossed across her chest, face expectant. “Well, c’mon, gimme those babies.” she eggs him on, somehow keeping the wobble out of her thin voice.

“Elaine, honey, you’re shakin’,” he worries, noticing the visible battle in her body between desire and fear.

“I am a little chilly.” she replies very decorously, and with a liar liar pants on fire smile of assurance.

“Bullshit, you’re terrified,” he murmurs, petting her spread legs that are still partly in his lap, sliding his warm palms up her inner thighs and noting with satisfaction the way it makes her nipples pebble helplessly beneath the silk. She even rocks her hips towards his soothing attentions and that’s perfect, that’s how he’s gonna handle this, just soothe her into it, her entirely absent prudery a great aid. Although this next little detail he’s gonna teach her may push her to the limit.

“Now, ‘fore I go in, there’s a great deal of prep’s gotta happen or else I’d not be a husband, just a mean bastard, you understand?” And he watches closely as Elaine’s chest heaves in relief that she’s got a little more time before the main event. Come to think of it, he should buy her more time, maybe a bath to get her all loosened up and pliant. “How bout we take a bath first, ya wanna take a bath, baby?” he suggests and knows that it was entirely too random a segue the minute it leaves his mouth.

“Not–not right now.” she whispers honestly, her hands still crossed across her breasts and she makes a motion that hikes the neckline a little higher, telling him all he needs to know about her shyness. He’ll let her leave the slip on for now, the fact her cunt is considered husbandly property but her breasts are sacred maidenly assets makes him feral with want. “I’d like to just get this over w- to, experience it,” she does a decent job at damage control of her initial sentiment but he figures it’s understandable to want it over and done with, like a procedure, like a tooth being pulled. “Honestly Elvis, I’m too nervous to enjoy anything till we do it,” she admits, no pretty turn of phrase, just that precious honesty he appreciates so much about her.

Boy does he have a surprise for her, then. He grins and he nods understandingly, “I getcha, baby, we don’t gotta do nothin you don’t want,” he swears, “Just gotta prep ya then we’ll get on with it. Hey, stop shruggin’, ya just might like it.” He pinches her thigh and it makes her giggle, she gives him another unconvinced shrug that he takes as a gauntlet thrown to turn her into a whimpering cock slut.

“I-I’m gonna pull this up a lil,” he narrates gently, figuring it might put her at ease as he matches his words with the action of rolling her hemline up to her ribs. Her soft belly caves in with the breath she’s holding and he lays his searing palm on it, coaxing her to settle for him.

She can feel his calluses and the grounding weight of his broad hand on her womb, and the rightness of it turns her body pliant. That dreamy submission he first coaxed from her to make her sleep after her mother’s funeral -she can feel it coming over her again and settles glady. He’s never steered her wrong yet, and he’s let her keep her breasts modest, a sweet concession she is eager to thank him for with obedient compliance. She focuses on his large hand and the way it’s now petting, no, more like digging gently, with his fingertips into her lower belly, little digs and pulls upwards over and over again. She can feel each tug downstairs in her little house, like his fingertips are tugging at her little button’s string from the outside in. Her head truly sinks back into the gold tufted comforter and she absently palms a heaving breast. This part of being married is lovely.

The awed look overtaking Elvis’ cherubic features as he stares down at the freshly undressed slit between her legs is reward enough for her. Life is suddenly dreamy and hazy, like she’s viewing his rich coloring and decadent face through a stocking over a lens, like the girls do to minimize their pores in photographs. He looks like that naturally, too rich and pretty and lovely to be true, now muddled and smeared from the feelings his hands excite, he looks otherworldly and she lets slip a moan of appreciation.

“You’re so pretty.” she babbles again, unsure if any of it actually made it out of her head. It seems very pressing to tell him, maybe in lieux of the “I love you” he’s dying to hear but made her swear she wouldn’t say till she meant it.

For Elvis, the entire picture of Elaine, melted ivory skin with a halo of chocolate curls and a wisp of sea foam silk covering what he’s dying to see -she is like an erotic painting brought to life just for him to lick and squeeze and split open on a sea of gold. He shudders and keeps his finger tips massaging her giving belly, this ole trick of Johnny’s obviously not half bad, judging by the way she goes boneless and her long legs begin to spread of their own accord, knees bending out and her pink petals beginning to make an obvious flutter beneath the curls.

“You recall what Dodger said.” he asks her very softly, mumbling it into the soft skin of her inner knee as he gets her used to the feeling of his lips creeping closer to the place he’s about to devour, “remember her sayin I was to lick you?” he prods, knowing that bringing up his grandmother is not ideal seconds before slurping at his wife’s beaver, but he guesses rightly that he might benefit from some moral backup for what he’s about to propose.

“Y-yes, yes before a pecker o-“ Elaine’s already a little incoherent as he permits his hand to stray from her belly and scratch amongst their curls, digging and tugging at her outer lips from afar, making them glide against each other in a soft stimulation, like a foreskin getting rubbed over the glans.

“Pecker’s jus’another word for key.” he whispers into the butter soft skin of her twitching thigh and her hips jerk from the tickle of his voice.

“Oh is it?” she manages to laugh, even as it’s a far away little sound, “dear Dodger.” is all she adds.

“So like she said,” he carefully moves himself to a crouch, taking care not to jostle her out of her docile trance, crouching like those mountain cats between her legs, he carefully replaces his hand with his cheek as he rubs his face against her belly -entirely cat like, “like she said I gotta lick ya. See, cause….’‘fore ya use a-a key in a new lock ya gotta grease, it, right?”

Elaine Presley is so bewildered and terribly hungry for something, anything, Elvis could suggest just about any sort of fuckery right now and she’d agree. As is, she thinks she’s read in the Bible about a man kissing his woman down there, a vague reference to pomegranates that King Solomon might’ve thought real slick, but wasn’t subtle. There was certainly more of an illusion made to it in the good book than anything about chubby snakes going up inside a girl. She has no qualms against it, also very few brains at her disposal right now it seems, and she finds it’s nice having one’s mind wiped blank after such a hectic two weeks of planning and organizing.

“S-so I’m gonna lick ya down there, a k-kiss sorta a-“ Elvis is explaining, unnecessarily thorough in a pained, urgent, desperate whisper that he uses when he wants a thing bad but he wants you to think you want it badder and she-

-Later on in life, later on the next day even, Elaine could never quite tell or explain where the urge or the bravery or the biblical amounts of entitlement to his services she suddenly felt in that moment. All either of them had was the memory of her fresh as a daisy self, steering her groom by his hair till he was face planted between her legs, doing his duty. Licking her open, pink tongue wriggling and lapping.

Terrified shitless that somehow, somehow he’d mess up the one thing he was certain he was remarkably good at, Elvis’s skilled tongue had bolted into her wet heat like a colt through the starting gate with a lot to prove. And he maintained that ferocious pace and fervor for a undocumented and unrecalled amount of time. He was not sure how he managed to breathe down there for the hour or more he spent sucking and licking and jabbing his tongue into Elaine’s long dreamed of cunt, living off fumes from the sweetest pussy he’d ever tasted, hair tugs of gratitude his only payment and the sounds of shock and awe spilling out of his new wife at every bout of pleasure he tore from her.

The sounds she was making -they were the same as when the two of them went down to the flower festival in New Orleans, while he was on set, where she’d gasped and cried and exclaimed joyously over five street blocks worth of Lilies and Dahlias and the stringy flower bushes Elvis’ didn’t retain the name of.

“So, so nice, oh, oh right there”. This frantically happy compliance, this unabashed enjoyment by a virgin girl smashing his face into her snatch -it was more than Elvis’ wildest, most self indulgent fantasies could have hoped for.

He had noticed in Elaine a peculiar sort of common sense that most people didn’t have in common. If a thing was not harmful or explicitly forbidden, she had no objection to it, in fact, she considered it free game. And bucking her hips up to meet his tongue and utilize his nose against her button -was obviously one of those non prohibited joys of life. And he set about to make it so addictive that she would be collaring him for a lick every day of her life for the rest of their days. His hands slowly gravitated up her belly, squeezing and appreciating the firm give of her sides and up to her breasts that she still guarded with panting lassitude. He didn’t know if he had snuck his hands under hers to knead the firm mounds or if she’d allowed him under of her own accord, and placed her hands atop his in blessing. But either way, he stayed bent like that, hands groping at her tits and jaw near unhinged to swallow her down, his own hips rutting into the mattress, the seams of the bedspread chafing his cock pleasurably.

“Can I have another?” she would ask eagerly after having shook apart and dribbled over his tongue for the tenth time.

Who was he to deny her?

He worked his fingers in gently, but after the amount of spit and slick they had produced together, it was a mere pinch for her when he snuck in first one long finger, then another. Careful to keep her revving, he dallied for a while with just the two, scissoring them and spitting inside the tight little hole until her objectioning mewls turned to breathy sighs again. Working in the confines of her wet heat near drove him mad, feeling how tight she was around just a few digits had his cock aching and groans of his own came pouring out of his mouth, buzzing her clit and causing her to writhe.

He took to curling his fingers inside her, her walls giving under more readily after his patient coaxing and he rubbed the calloused pads of his fingers up and curled untill he found a soft, giving little spot unlike its surroundings, spongey in a way he’d only ever heard about. Her reaction to his touch there was also something that had before only been mere hearsay from the boys on the road. Her hips leveraged off the bed like she was possessed, and through the smash of her thighs about his ears he heard her scream, and perverse determination was entirely to blame for the way he forced his fingers to keep curling as her little house clamped down around them and suddenly his head was being crushed like a melon between her legs and a jet of sweet, Elaine flavored goodness was spewing at his grinning face.

“Sweet Jesus would ya look at tha-“ Elvis heaved in a dozen breaths the minute her legs fell apart again, propping up on his forearms and watching his stunned wife tremble violently, her belly and thighs shaking like they were motorized, her pussy still gushing feebly and her hands patting herself down as if to make sure she was still all there. He’d only ever heard of squirting, and here he was now, half blinded by her spray.

The sight of the teary eyed, mortified yet pleasure dumb confusion clouding her exquisitely clever face had given him no other option. He had to have her, had possess her, had to take, had to fuckin’ take his due. Now.

She was in no position to deny him, shaking in pleasurable shock and splayed out boneless and unsuspecting. Through a tunnel of starry spots she saw his glistening wet face come in to view, hovering over her own, and felt the warm weight of his body settling over hers, famillair and steadying. She tried to raise her floppy hand to pet his rosy cheek, to somehow convey how lovely he made her feel, but her hand wouldn’t respond beyond flopping around a few inches from the mattress like a beached fish. She began to giggle and could not stop, thinking she should stop so he could kiss her: ya can’t kiss a giggling woman as her lips aren’t available when she’s giggling and he’s gonna kiss her —

—he didn’t kiss her, instead he had gripped her cheek and it steadied her enough for the giggles to die out almost as effectively as the sobering feel of a blunt, slippery, heated thing pushing at her entrance.

“No, no, no” Elaine’s mind whimpered in betrayed protest, “no, no it had been so lovely, it had been so lovely, it had been nice acting married.”

Tears that had gathered and spilled from the nerve wracking ecstasy he had forced out of her, now spilled afresh down her splotchy cheeks. Her dark eyes glittered like dazzling pools of hurt, her head tilted to the side in disagreement with his plan.

Of course, of course, she thought, there’s always something more to be asked of a woman, a banquet can be enjoyed but there are always dishes afterwards, you get your pretty breasts but you have to bleed every month for them, you can have your house licked to madness but it’s only so that a hungry boy can more easily split you apart.

No, no, why? it had been so lovely…

Elvis had of course thought about fucking Elaine Phipps until she cried, he sometimes dreamed about her thrashing from too much pleasure her eyes streaming tears and her mouth twisted as she tried to let him finish, as he made her enjoy it more than she thought she had the capacity to. He’d thought of it, but it wasn’t the same as trying to push into a hole belonging to a girl mindlessly whimpering “No, no” beneath you.

Having an innocence kink, Elvis was discovering, was a lot sexier in theory, before stupid feelings emerged and pesky consciences nagged and the shuddering terror of your wife beneath you was abundantly tangible. That was a fantasy best kept between himself and his fist, and rock hard as he was, and nearly unhinged from waiting, he just couldn’t manage to do it this way. That old insecurity, that burning awareness that he had always wanted her more than she had wanted him came crowding into his mind, making his own eyes burn in rejection and fear.

“Shhh, shhh baby, it’s alright’ sweetheart, hey, hey it’s me, me c’mon, look at me.” he had begged her, hands engulfing both sides of her face, “I’m sorry, Elaine, I’m sorry.” it spills out in cry of his own because he doesn’t know how else to admit his long harbored expectations of her, the carnal weight of what he has wanted all this time, and all the wasted years he’d never told her he worshiped the soundboard her yittle fingers so cleverly levered , “I’ve loved you ever since I came back and found ya grown. I’m sorry, I’ve -I-I’ve wanted to have ya for years. You’re the most perfect thing alive. I-I-I just gotta have ya, I just gotta. I-I’ll d-d-die if ya don’t want me, too, honest I’ll die.”

When she looked at him then, looked and truly saw the soul of him stamped on his face -suddenly she saw everything she once doubted existed. He loved her. Elvis loved her and she was at peace.

It was Elvis. Dear ole Elvis, the boy at the studio who liked her sandwiches, the boy who she could most likely find sitting on the couch with his mother talking about his day, the boy who brushed her hair out for her the day they buried mama. It was Elvis, who was gonna give her babies, who’s gonna make sure she never wants for a thing, who is never going to let her be lonely or purposeless again. Elvis who was the most beautiful, exquisitely potent man she’d ever known, laying on top of her, shaking in desire to be inside her. He wanted to be inside her, so badly in fact, that all his power and his verve and his pride were shaking and shuddering above her.

“Oh my darling, you made me feel lovely.” she whispered to him, wanting that said before he split her open and took away her innocence. “Your love makes me happy, so happy. How could I not want that?“

“You want it?” he begged against her lips, he begged to hear it again while grabbing his tip and smudging against her clit, making her jerk and bow up in his arms. A reminder of what he can do to her, what he can give her, why she should be obedient.

“Yes, yes I want it.“ she repented of thinking anything unkind about her husband’s cock that’s gonna water her garden and grow her a family, that’s going to pry her open so children can pass through.

“Alright, ok.” he gathered his wits one last time, terrified to think of how he’s gonna lose all grip on himself once inside her after expending so patience beforehand, “Here's what we’re gon- we’re gonna let you control it.''

His brain pumped out fragmented explanations but he managed to sit up and bring her with him, landing her in his threatening lap, his arms cradling her little self, and he scooted higher in the bed until he was sitting upright, the padded black headboard at his back.

“There, here… we’ll, we’ll get it in like this.” he took to referring to his own body like it was a stranger, heaving in ragged breaths like a snorting racehorse. “At’cher own pace, baby. Ya-ya can…ya can sit on it.” He was no longer bothering to make sense, and thank God she seemed to realize that.

Being naive did not mean she was a fool. The novel concept now explained it was abundantly obvious in mechanics. Elaine grasped the slippery length of him firmly again, relishing the aliveness of it, holding it as she had when measuring him against her tummy.

She bit her lip with savage determination. Babies, he’s gonna give her babies.

Her husband’s face was all lash fanned anticipation, his pouty mouth grimacing in barely contained fervor and his eyes crinkled in a wince of pleasure from her grip. She saw a single tear escape his thicket of lashes and run down his prominent cheekbone, headed towards his hairline. She swiped at it tenderly with a thumb and had her hand grasped by him in response, tremblingly guided to his shoulder.

Leverage, she realized, he was giving her leverage and she raised up with her thighs like she would in the saddle, felt his hand meet her own down there to line him up, the size of his head against her giving her a thrill of horrored excitement.

Gently hovering and squatting, she gentled the puffy, leaking head of him in. The burning little sting of it only served to confirm that Elaine was about to be split apart when the rest followed. Now nestled far enough to need no guide, he grabbed at her other hand and put it in place on his shoulder, their noses touching, their legs bent atop the each other’s, arms encircled -suddenly this embrace made it feel completely essential to Elaine that they be connected in that remaining way. As if he could feel her submit around his first inch, his eyes flew open and a hungry azure gaze burned her up as her hair curtained around their faces and—

“You were made for this.” he reminded her as she whimpered at another little bit of length inserted, “You w-w-were fashioned u-up i-in heaven f-for this m-moment.” and the young man who couldn’t be made to stop wiggling in a Church pew tried to hold still as his drippingly tight wife cringingly lowered herself more, “In the doll factory u-up above, h-he m-m-made this lil house to t-the direct d-demensions t-t-to squeeze me d-dry —oh fuck, baby c’mon! That’s it, m-more come on, take me. Take more of me!” he groaned, his head bowed and watching where he began to disappear inside of Elaine, the culmination of all his madness.

“God Elvis it’s-its already awful.” she admits, staring at the stupid black headboard and registering every pulsing inch and vein and ridge of his rock hard, half jammed penis inside her tiny canal. “I dunno if i can-“

“Aww no ya don’t! No -don’t ya dare.” his snarled and gripped her hips as she began to raise up and dismount -it was only going to make it worse to try again and he was gonna make her finish this for her own sake, “Good wives don’t get off their husband’s cock till he says so. We’re ruinin’ ya for anyone else, babydoll, course it's gonna hurt something awful first time. Gotta see it though, don’t ya lose our progress.”

He saw a vicious emotion flash across her face -and he recognized it. It was the one from the mirror before a show, that wretched look of ambition that keeps him from fleeing from a crowd when all he wants to do is hide and puke his nerves away. He barely had time to brace his back before she was impaling herself on him again with teeth gritted ferocity, seething in his ear something about how she’d rather get kicked by Trojan -her gorgeous quarter horse. It made Elvis think of horses and her thighs working in the saddle and horses and stallions and stallions mounting mares and fuckin ‘em full and he-

“You’re gonna, you’re gonna take me.” he declared inexorably as she whimpered, “You’re gonna do what God made ya for, you’re gonna take my cock.”

“I can’t.” she wasn’t even whining, she could just feel him hitting a barrier and she couldn’t take more. “Please E, be nice, I-I ca- it’s not gonna fit, E!”

“It will, you’re my wife, ya will. You’ll take it all.” he kissed her check while reminding her steadily.

Then he snapped his hips up to meet hers in a powerful pump that tore her right through. She landed flush in his lap, a gush of virgin blood pooling between them, full to the brim with his thick cock nestled inside. Not even a cry let past her lips, just open mouthed shock, as if he’d punched the scream right out of her diaphragm.

Holy shit, his mind supplied, she was the tightest, most spectacularly tight -tightly wet pretty- tight woman. His whole body shook in delight at the wet, moldable grip of her walls, and he held her closer, blessing her for being so perfect, mumbling in between her still clothed breasts that he was gonna ruin her cunt for any other fella.

Elaine recalls just trying to breathe, even while clutching at his shoulders and listening to the filth pour out of his panting mouth, filth that confirmed his confession that he’d had designs on her body long ago. It made her shiver, which rubbed him inside of her and she doubled over into his chest, whimpering at the fullness and the burning sting of her stretched entrance. A thought flashed across her mind that he was mean to make her take all of him, the tip would have done just as well, and now she feels like she’s impaled on a pipe and his hips won’t stop squirming to force it that much deeper. He sounded like he was enjoying himself, maybe even having a vision of heaven buried inside her, and in that alone she took joy and made herself disentangle from him enough to glance down at the marvelous union they’d made.

It made her gasp in awe. She had swallowed him whole with her own body, taken him down to the root, his sack warm and full beneath her petals, absorbed him till there was no longer a he and she in the bed, but merely them. The Presley’s.

“Lord almighty, you’re tighter than hell.” Elvis moaned in appreciation of the absolute restructuring of her privates that he’d just done, gripping her back with his sweaty hands and letting his eyes roll into his skull in ecstasy.

“Tight yes -great balls of fire E, it hurts like hell.” she reiterated, a little petulant over his enjoyment of her wounded kitty, but he could tell even now she was recovering from the initial tearing open. “It’s not, it’s not supposed to -I can’t believe it fit.”

Curious despite herself, Elaine snuck a hand between them and gingerly felt the stretched ring of her hole and the thick base of him where they were flush, dark curls meeting together. He put his hand on top of her own and encouraged her exploration, making her pet herself and making her squeeze him despite the pained whimper she let out each time her pleasure made her please him.

“Jus’ ruinin ya for anyone else.” he repeated and she shivered in his arms, flicking her eyes up to meet his and sensing a beastial sort of claiming in them she had never seen before, “My wife,” he gloried in the title as his hips began to gently rock her in his lap, making her mewl, “my pretty wife, my good wife, look at you takin’ every damn bit of my cock, look at ya makin yourself useful, pleasin your man, ya like pleasin me dontcha? I know ya do, I’ve felt ya shiver when I praised ya before, I feel ya watchin me to make sure I like a thing you do. I know you, ya might not love me but ya love to please me, I know what you want. You wanna please me, always have since I first saw ya. Ya know what pleases me baby?” he tilted her face to his by her chin, her cheeks wet with tears and her mouth panting as he ground inside her deep and hard as granite, ignoring her whimpers -only her eyes showed the wild revelry she was feeling at being spoken to like this, “Know what makes me happiest?”

“No sir.” she gasped, respectful and suddenly aware of how helpless she was in his lap as his huge hands engulfed her plush hips and made her to swivel and grind on him, the motion tugging her lil house apart even more.

“Pleasin’ God by pleasin myself by filling you up. That’s what. That’s what makes me happy” he stated, the look of girlish shock she showed at his language shooting straight to his cock and making him jab up into her body until she clung to his shoulders and wailed, painfully aroused by the concept and terribly hurt by the process.

“Please, please.” she sobbed into his neck as he gripped her ass and leveraged her up and down on his thick shaft, his groans mounting joyously and her body trembling at being used so presumptuously. It’s too much, he’s too much of a man and her womb aches from his thrusts.

“Please use me?” he grinned into her neck wildly, “That wha’ you’re tryin to say, lil one? can’t get it out with a cock in ya, can ya? So yittle I bet I’m clean up through to your throat, ain’t I? My poor lil wifey.”

It was his glutted acknowledgement of the fact he knew she felt like he was spearing her beyond her capacity, yet he wouldn’t stop, loved her too much to stop driving himself into her, making himself fit in her. He wanted to be a part of her so bad he’d grab her wrists and bruise her hip with his grip and snap his pelvis against her own ruthlessly -just so he could be close to her. Just so she would be his.

It had her moan again, this time from something besides pain.

“Elvis.” she moaned out, trying to tell him, to somehow alert him to the fact she was willing and good and could feel her body had begun to give into its natural purpose, she was slumping into his chest, and her pussy still burned and ached but had surrendered to the veiny little conquerer plundering her depths. “Elvis I-I- yes, yes, use me.” she managed and was given a proud and searing kiss in return for her submission. “You’re so pretty.” she said it like it was some dazed explanation for her obedience.

With Elaine’s pussy giving and wet from blood and slick, he knew he could begin in earnest now. So, gently, he tipped her backwards out of his lap again, laying her on the golden sheets and falling deeper inside her as he got back on top, never pulling out through the whole maneuver. Her eyes rolled back as she felt him lay atop her, buried to the hilt, her legs pushed apart to bracket his waist and allow him deeper. She threw her arms around his neck and breathed in like she was about to be dropped on a rollercoaster, some imminent adventure obviously looming as he buried himself deep and got a thorough grip on her shoulders before kissing her ardently.

It was when she was kissing him back and thinking how wonderfully sweet he was that she first felt those famous hips pull back, then drive himself inside of her with shocking precision. It made her cry out, and before she could suck in breath to replace her cry he was pulling out and pumping in again, little gusts of shock mined out of her at each powerful and measured pump and her back began to rub against the bedspread, her whole body seemed to shake from the force of absorbing his vigor.

“Thank me.” he required, aiming to find that spot that had made her spray his face, determined to wipe that pained grimace off her face and replace it with pleasure.

“Thank -thank you?” her tone was dazed and he wasn’t sure if her confusion stemmed from what she was supposed to be grateful for, or if she disagreed. She gripped the comforter, hands above her head and out to the side, absorbing the ripple he drove into her flesh.

“I've made ya a woman.” he reminded, proud and smug as only a 23 year old boy can be when tumbling his pretty young bride in the sheets beneath him, “So thank me.”

She pensively watched him as he swayed above her, blocking out the gaudy chandelier, his hair flopping into his eyes and moving with the cadence of his body, his body was unforgiving and driving into hers with a steady, slow beat, but his face was still desperately insecure, searching for approval and a hint that he was doing well. She loosened one hand from the counterpane and brought it to his cheek. He melted, a huffed out whimper of his own, in sharp contrast to the rigid power of his desire.

“Sweet man.” she whispered, “So good to me, always so good to me.” she assured, and he gave her a wet kiss full of wanting, letting her pet down his neck, over his back, stroking the swell of his flank, remembering the reaction it had elicited in him and figuring she’d thank him once he managed something worthy of it. Which he was very close to doing, she sensed, if he could relax himself. “Elvis,” she nuzzled his nose with hers, propping herself up on her forearms, to look down the length of her belly at the place where he speared her, “gimme those babies, and I’ll thank ya.”

Her daring grin had the intended effect, his nostrils flared as he heaved in a breath and his pupils blew wide, he pried her other hand from the bedding and interlaced it in his much larger one, pressing the knuckles to the mattress,

“I love you.” he swore before gripping her hip and tilting her pelvis off the bed, to the angle of his satisfaction before he drove his hips in with the purpose of finding that place that made her wild, the one his fingers had discovered and got her to spray for him.

He knew he’d brushed it when her face went from sweet compliance with the discomfort and placid curiosity for the proceedings to eyelash fluttering shock.

“E!” she gusted out urgently and a little unsure, unsure that this horrid taking of him could really be morphing into the spine tingling thrill she was now feeling each time he drove in, the tug and ache of his size still apparent but almost serving to heighten the aliveness of her feelings down there. “Right -right there it’s, it’s oh, it’s-“ she hadn’t a word for it, as the feeling was growing in strength and any moment there might be some shift that turned it back to pain, his speed was picking up and it scared her as much as it excited her. Like when he started speeding on the winding roads of North Carolina just to hear her shriek, conflicted between excitement and fear.

“Yeah?” he huffed, shining with sweat and heat above her, his hair darkened and his eyes darkened and his lips darkened and he- he looked so flushed and dark and decadent and she moaned at the sight of so beautiful a creature possessing her, pleasuring himself with her body, like any animal or male would do with a mate. He could have just hunted her down on a forest floor, chosen her for her scent alone, pinned her fist to the ground and her hips up to his pelvis and -it was that primal. She loved it. Like all the energy and raw potency of life he had in him when performing was now being driven into her aching belly. “Yeah? Yeah that’s where ya like it? Tell me how ya like it, jus’ tell me and I’ll do anything. Anyhtin’ for ya, Elaine. I done told ya, told ya I’d make it nice.”

Nice was a pathetic word for what he was making her feel and she found herself wishing she had an extra hand to stifle the sounds that began to wail out of her throat at his unforgiving depth. His own moans and breaths were shuttering across her face and the intimacy of what they were doing filled her with a serene joy she’d only felt on crisp, tea drinking early dawns in autumn. It made her squeeze him closer and she could just feel the comfort he took in it, his whole body melding to hers. Elvis’ slow and long pumps had her adjusting well and the unerring accuracy he maintained when noticing something she liked soon had her clenching from pleasure rather than pain.

“You’re in me.” she stated the obvious with a little shock in her voice, turned silly beneath him as he shuddered and pumped in her, “Oh god you’re in me, and, and it’s, it’s -you’re so good at this…”

There was a kind God above after all, and she let out a giggle at the joy of it, at the joy of taking Elvis Presley to the hilt like she’d been born to do. The pride on his face came through the feral pleasure painting it, his hands beginning to map her own body, feeling the jiggle and give of her as he fucked her up the length of the bed, shock coming across his own features as he registered something new that first made a flash of panic burn through him.

He was in her, entirely bareback. And, well, he knew that of course but suddenly, the mind bending intensity of sensations around his cock made sense. It was the first time he’d been inside a woman without a barrier, no condom to distract from her silky grip, his precum gushing and spluttering, slicking up the way for his cock to drive in, turning their love making into a lewd cacophony of sounds that made the man in him exult. It’s my wife, he reminds himself both jubilantly but also to keep the reflexive panic of going in raw at bay, it’s my wife and I need to give her babies. To keep her I gotta fill her up.

“Look at that perfect face.” he groaned aloud to himself, and he meant Elaine’s “taking-cock” face, which he had imagined a million times, but her open mouthed, eye fluttering, hands in hair image below him was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in all his life, “Look at that perfect fuckin lil face.” he repeated as he forced himself in her all the way, bumping at her crevice and making her let out some form of sob.

“Y-you’re in deep enough?” she gasped out an inquiry, suddenly able to recall what this was all for, accepting of her purpose and close to feral in desire to accomplish it well.

“Ya can take more?” He asked, truly about to lose all grip on himself and wanting her blessing for it, “Gonna lemme get deep, baby? Make me a daddy, hmm? Gonna make me a daddy?”

He sped up with each sentence, her frantic nods and her “yes, yes Elvis, give me more, all of you!” spurring him on till he was driving into her and making those gorgeous breasts of her’s bounce wildly beneath her much abused silk nighty. “Get it deep, please, please get it deep.”

In theory he knew she wanted his swimmer's up past the cake she ate, his own perverted lesson suddenly coming back to bite him with a vengeance as her pleas sent him careening towards his own orgasm faster than he had any intention of blowing. But he was a man, and all his cock heard was “deeper.” And so he drove in deeper and harder.

“S’good.” she continued and her perfect diction was now slurred, her tongue heavy in her mouth and nothing but Elvis Elvis Elvis in her view and in her mind and in her body. “Gonna be good, it’s so good I-come on E, gimme those babies, please please, yes, you’re so good to me.” she was looking up at him in awe, her body spasming and shaking so hard he wasn’t sure if she was coming constantly or having one terribly intense build up. The sweet darling certainly had no clue, and that thought made him grip Elaine harder and he felt his mind grow hazy at her praise, “Elvis you’re, you’re so pretty like this!” she cried out, her neck strained as she clasped her hands around his face and stared deep into his eyes as he plowed her, those carmel colored eyes holding an intensity he’d never seen in a woman.

It shook him to the core and plunged him somewhere deep and subservient, the world felt like it was tilting and he was fading to a place where he was a pretty boy and a useful stud and he-

“Fuck! Elaine you-“ he wanted to tell her she couldn’t, she couldn’t say such things to him, it would turn him mindless, he knew the symptoms. He’d no longer be the strong husband she needed but her goddamn slave, a whimpering pathetic mess. He was going to come.

He pulled out abruptly, and as if his cock stuffing her pussy was filling the whole of her with strength, like a doll with batting. she deflated against the bed in confusion at the sudden halt and withdrawal.

“Baby?” she questioned him in a forlorn whimper, her entire consciousness begging for more as he patted her thighs soothingly and fought to grapple his sanity back in place. He couldn’t slip and turn ‘little’ tonight, he simply wasn’t able to do that to Elaine. He stared down at her freshly gaping little hole and swore he didn’t mean to be an ass, but he was just a man, and she was his wife to do with what he wanted. She wanted his babies, and she didn’t know better than to let him do whatever it took to give her that. And right now, he couldn’t handle the adoring looks and innocent dirty talk pouring out of the mouth of a virtuous girl he had long harbored such obscene intentions for. It turned him very desperate and perhaps a little mean.

“Forgive me, mama.” he muttered when leaning over Elaine and kissing her hard before he gripped his bride’s delicate waist and flipped her onto her knees. “It’s better for breeding this way.” he gritted out at her confused gasps, palming her ass where her slip had ridden up to expose her. He lined himself up with her pussy and watched with savage enjoyment as his girth slowly stretched her pretty pink rim beyond all seeming capacity and her following whimpers were music to his ears, her trill of confused enjoyment as he slid to the full, the cutest thing imaginable.

Immediately she missed the sweet intimacy of his embrace, the pleasurable sight of his face above her, also. And this angle, this method, it was deeper and tugged again at the petals of her house that had just gotten used to his usage. She thought to object, to tell him she didn’t like it this way -he had told her to tell him what she liked. She assumed, hoped, that stood for what she didn’t like, as well.

Elvis is a good boy, she heard her father say in her head, Elvis is a good boy -even as this good boy lined his inordinate organ up with her sore little place and thrust inside again. She was going to have to tell him she didn’t like it this way.

That is, until she lifted her head from the sheets he had tossed her in, belly first and face down, and noticed the mirror hanging opposite them. In it she saw a perfect view of her own face, a face she knew but hardly recognized, so…matured…was it in the gilt reflection. Her face was flushed and richly colored and her mouth gaping like one of those steamy movie posters where the woman has succumbed to the man’s embrace-and god knows whatever else it was the man was doing to her below the waist where the posters always seemed to cut off. The man was snapping his hips to push himself inside the woman, that’s what they were all doing. Now she knew, and she watched enthralled as Elvis mounted her from behind like a damn stallion, his broad hand gripping her shoulder and yanking her back against him as he snapped forward, the other fiddling under her hemline until he found her little button and began to play.

Nevermind, she thought, focusing on trying to breathe as he began to set a demanding pace again, pain and pleasure in this act equal parts for her as she propped up on her forearms and watched him watch what he was doing to her virgin hole, -nevermind he can keep at it, she decided.

His calloused fingers were petting and swirling and tugging so perfectly in her little nub in time with his strokes she began to happily anticipate the next thrust, rocking back on her own accord, feeling the bliss build again but this time stronger than what he had given her before with his mouth. In the mirror she could see how the strap of her slip had fallen off her shoulder and now lay partway down her arm, her gaping neckline now exposing a whole breast showing how it jiggled obscenely with each of his movements. It made her cheeks burn.

Elaine tried to right the strap but holding herself up with one arm made her nearly wobble face first into the sheets again and it made him lose his rhythm and suddenly it was entirely too good like that, face in the bed and hips propped up, and she needed that hand to stifle her shrieks of pleasure as he pounded into her without a hitch at the new position.

“Ya like it like that, hmm?“ he gritted out as she folded and screamed beneath him, speeding his fingers up on her clit as her thighs began to clamp shut. “God look at these hips, anythin’ but cradlin’ babies would be a goddamn waste of ‘em.” he squeezed at their plush width while yanking her back on him again and again.

“T-t-they’re gonna hear me.” she wailed once, and he realized she meant the guests downstairs, that once she realized that he wasn’t going to stop just because her pleasure had her in a place where she could no longer be in possession of herself, she had begun to fear for their reputation.

“Let ‘em.” he growled, taking his wet hand from between her thighs and running it up the length of her bowed spin, relishing the way she was drenching his thighs too, “They all know what I’m doin’ to ya. They knew what you were signin’ up for, even if you didn’t.” that thought made his balls tingle and he knew he close, that and the fact Elaine’s had her pretty little face barely propped up enough to watch them in mirror, watching as he plowed her from the back in tear stained, shocked, pleasured obedience to his wants, “Whole world’s gonna know what a good wifey you are, soon enough. They’re gonna see ya swellin and fillin out and they’re gonna know how good you are for me, how well ya take me, how much ya enjoy splittin’ yourself on my cock.”

“Oh God!” she screamed at the thought and at the thrill of his praise and buried her face into the golden bedding in abject submission and ecstasy, no longer able to compute the image of her dear, sweet Elvis mounting her body and snarling in pleasure in the mirror as he used her to chase his relief.

Elaine, to his lust clouded mind, had the prettiest ass on earth and it filled his hands perfectly, and her overstimulated shrieks and mewls and squeals sounded every damn bit like a Disney Princess. And somehow, that thought really did it for him.

Elvis hadn’t given it a lot of thought before, mind ya, hadnt spent time contemplating what it would be like to make Snow White touch her toes while getting skewered or how it would be to push Cinderella’s sweet face into the sheets. But he was pretty sure that if one of those doll-like little ladies had ever been made to take cock after true love's kiss, they’d sound rather like the squeaking little thing writhing beneath him right now.

He jabbed harder just for the fun of that, just for the enjoyment of the fact he was balls deep in a virgin cunt about to blow his load inside a woman for the first time ever. His jabs and swivels and fucks made she squeal more, clinging to the foot of the bed, no rich alto moan left in her with every inch he made her take.

She sounds like Tinkerbell, if Tinkerbell ever had the sweet misfortune to be loved on by Elvis Presley. He grins at the mirror, grins at the bowed figure of his little wife, gives a passing prayer of thanks for this perfect woman he is gonna spend the rest of his life loving in this way.

Take this, Tinkerbell, he thinks excitedly, ramming home once more and feeling himself drain inside her at last in long, pulsing, gushing spurts.

She knew that feeling, she realized in a daze. Yes she had felt it just this night when they were writhing against each other but -this hot gizer of warmth shooting inside her… the porch swing. He had wasted his seed in his pants on the porch swing. He wasted so much wanting her without telling her, it makes her heart ache for him. She spreads her trembling legs apart and tries to wiggle him in deeper, pushing back onto his key as he shudders to a halt, trying to be of help for him, to get it where it needs to go. No more waste. No more pining. It makes him sob and groan as she milks him, her sweet boy returning as he drapes over her back, a boneless weight before gently rolling onto his back and taking her with him, still impaled. A stopper of sorts, to keep it from leaking, from wasting.

There is not a single part of her body that does not tremble, nor of his either, they cling to each other, fully equal in post-coital vulnerability now and try to remember what world they belong in. His hands cradle her lower belly, pressing her close to him and swiping his thumbs along her spine, just as she pets over his arm and nuzzles into the hollow below his throat. She’s so touchy, caressing him and squeezing him like she needs the contact as badly as he does, and it’s exactly what he always wanted, hoped, didn’t dare ask heaven for but he’s got it. She’s here, she’s his.

“You’re my wife.” he marvels, and he is referring twofold to the act that just made her so and he means it wondrously by the way she lov- cares- for him so well. “You make me so happy.” he says against her lips.

“Thank you.” she whispers, cracking open her eyes to see him soft and gentle right there beside her, “For choosing me.”

“Didn’t have a choice.” he croaks, “Never has been a choice with you, I had to have ya, was more your choice than it ever was mine to lemme be yours.”

“You are mine now, aren’t ya.” she muses and he sees the way that thought sparks some life back into her heavy lidded eyes.

It’s good to belong to someone, he thinks, comforted as he brings his mouth down to hers. “Yeah, always, always gonna be yours.”

He kisses her long and slow and she returns it, her body sated beneath his caresses in a way his masculine, virulent one could never be when laying beside her, buried inside her still, newly laying claim. It is a gentle rocking when he begins again, quite helplessly, to move inside her, and she is so busy tugging at his cropped hair and nipping at his lips that she doesn’t seem to notice that they’re swaying vertically until he draws her leg over his hip and begins to drive up again in earnest, her moans a sweet melody she pours into his mouth. It’s quiet this second time and unrushed, and she has grown used to the ache, he thinks he should tell her soon to use the restroom, but he’ll have to take his fill again first.

He wonders when he’ll find the time to tell her to go between telling her he loves her. She asks him if they can do this often.

“Bout as often as we can manage.” Tumbled out of his lips happily.

“And how often’s that?” she urged him breathily, her eyes losing focus they were so close to his own.

“Enough times to lose count, Laney.” he promised, “Gotta fill ya up, best we can. Gotta be diligent.”

There was no soaring crescendo to this session, he merely clutched at her harder on one lazy upstroke, her fingernail had caught his nipple and zapped him straight to heaven like a thunderbolt to the frenulum. And then she felt him spilling inside again. Warm and hot and soothing the battering of her walls. His fingers took hers and pulled them down between her legs to pet the damage again, smearing him around like ointment on a wound. They had acted married twice now, she figured. They’d done marriage twice. The second she had liked even better than the first as he held her all the while, even though no searing height had happened to her.

“When you were with other girls,” she whispered into his chest later as they dozed between bouts of kissing and cuddling, “this isn’t -you didn’t…” she faltered for a moment before lifting her face to gaze down at him with warmth and gentle pleading, “-you didn’t do this with them, did you? You don’t act married with them, right?”

Perhaps most men would have chosen to lie. Elvis had no need despite his experience and his reputation. He had, a dozen or a hundred times, wrapped himself in latex and put it in a dozen or hundred women, some he cared for genuinely and some who were life preservers in a sea of lonely travels, but he’d never acted married. He’d never done this sort of intimacy before. He figured he was practically a virgin too, in that sorta way. In making love with the intention to bind himself, trap himself forever to one single soul. It ought to have been terrifying, that commitment, but feeling himself drip out of Elaine into the cradle of his hips he just felt right, like he was home. Like he’d just given himself to someone who actually wanted him. “No honey, I didn’t act married with any of ‘em. You’re the only one who gets my seed. I swear, really I do, now or ever.”

She could tell he meant that promise, and now he’d taught her how to express herself in this new language, she thanked him the only way she knew how, by gleefully rolling atop him again. It was a language she realized she was seeking most of her life, ever since anger and joy and want had flared in her and had been summarily instructed to be curtailed.

Propriety. Mildness. Rise above it all. She was good at the art of it all, and had been praised for it. Yet here was a man who coaxed vehemence out of her, taught her to inflict it on his body, who found pleasure in this grappling, wrestling, messy way that made such sense to her now she had found it.

I could love you, I’m going to love you, I’m very much in danger of loving you, was said with each swivel of her hips and lick of her tongue down his neck. “Oh Elvis.” sounded sweetly in his ear as he bounced her like a doll in his lap and made her fall apart.

Elvis had kissed her temple as he panted his breath back in again. Kept himself plugged in as long as possible till he shrank to nothing and slipped out. His destructive cock a now harmless, wet little thing that she cooed at in a most embarrassing way for him, but he was too happy with her laying on his chest to protest the curious fondling she gave his sensitive cock.

“This new house by Fort Hood, the one that agents of your’s got us,” he had murmured huskily while swigging from the chilled bottles of water retrieved from the mini fridge -with Elaine riding on his back to the closet and then the bed again, refusing to be apart, “it’s got a split layout, ya see. Top and bottom floor’s got a kitchenette, might not be the easiest for cookin’ but it’ll give us -space.” he assured, and she bit her lip imagining what he’d want the privacy for. “Wouldn’t ya rather a lil privacy ‘stead of a big ole countertop? I-I-if not I-I can-“

“Sounds perfect.” she sighed dreamily, thinking about making him meals and him coming home to eat them, gallant and lean in his pressed uniform. “You’re real handsome in your uniform, ya know that?” she figured it didn’t hurt to admit it, her man seemed to thrive off compliments from her, and he never did seem to get a big head from them. Except for the other little head that twitched and swelled at any compliment at all.

It was getting late, or early more like, and as she felt his interest grow yet again, Elaine played at denial. A silly, jokingly, little sort of thing where she wriggled away from his grabby hands and tried to make it out of the bed -headed to god knows where, the champagne bottle or the record player or downstairs, she didn’t know as she had no real intention of fleeing. But being seized from the back by her husband and playfully thrown back on his bed, made to sprawl out on the corner of the mattress , her legs hanging apart and her pathetic little slip still hanging onto her modesty for dear life, it was rather thrilling the way he had muttered,

“Oh no ya don’t, good lil wives don’t run.” and put himself back into her overused body, relishing her moan at his first thrust in and the fucked out compliance of the grinning girl beneath him. “I wanna see my pretty wife’s tits,” he asked as he watched them bouncing and jiggling with each absorbed fuck, “C’mon baby, be good and lemme see those pretty pillas of mine, you won’t deny me will ya? Come on, baby, so pretty, so round, gonna make ‘em blow up soon enough, whole world’ll notice ‘em. I wanna be the first to see ‘em before it. Up we go, lemme, come on yittle one, thas it, lift it up.”

He watched as this woman of his who was currently impaled on his cock blushed and smiled and bashfully pulled up her slip till her buttermilk soft mounds were bare, pink nipples pebbled and a scared, hopeful look on her face as her slip bunched at her clavicle.

“Goddamn, I’m a lucky man.” he had groaned and not missed her relieved smile. Then playfully flicked the slip up and over to hide her bright red face before folding himself enough to suck on a rosy little nipple while pistoning in and out. Soft, pliable flesh giving beneath the weight of his jaw and the nudge of his nose.

It was bizarre to Elaine, her sight obscured by the slip, her breathing hampered by the same, sound and feeling her chief senses this time. Just the sounds of him enjoying himself alone had a warm feeling curling in her chest and her belly, too, his hums and groans sending delightful zaps through her previously respectfully ignored nipples. His hands running up and down her ribcage, sometimes seizing her waist to pull her on him, sometimes fluttering over her diaphragm to feel himself moving within, nearly up her lungs he felt.

She felt as if she had finally been given privacy in which to truly feel and enjoy this, veiled by her own last shred of modesty, she let herself feel -and what she felt was astounding. She felt cherished. And she felt ravaged. And as if no one was here or anywhere on this earth to judge the way she screamed in delight, she yelled it and heard him answer her:

“that’s it, lemme hear ya” his teeth snapping at her nipples as he talked around them with his movements causing him to miss, sparking a fresh wave of noise to humidify the satin covering her face,

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

She chanted in happy panic as her legs drew up on their own, up and up and trying to close against the delicious onslaught, only to realize too late that it made the fit even tighter, the friction even stronger, the glint in her husband’s eyes wilder. He pinned them to her chest, with a single hand, to keep them out of the way. Slapped at her clit instead, made her scream in a way he didn’t think she was capable. Thought about doing it twenty years from now, thought about how he’d have the rest of his life to make his Tinkerbell scream. He slapped her there again and this time no scream, just a hissed in breath that had no exhale, her whole body clamping up in rigid ecstasy, tightening so strongly he couldn’t even keep his thrusts going to help her through.

Almost alarmed by her lack of breathing, he thought to pull at her slip, up and over her head till her face was visible again -she looked as if she were in some great agony, and his smug heart flipped at the sight, before leaning down to kiss her.

He was all chestnut hair aglow, wicked dark eyes and sweet lips, hovering down into her hazy view and her body wasn’t her own anymore, the damage had been done and the cliff she was teetering on gave way beneath her sanity when his lips met hers, his warm chest rubbing against her spit chilled nipples. For the second time that night she sprayed him, and through the eye rolling, rapturous tingle of it she heard him asking if she was “coming.”

“Oh goddamn, goddamn look a’that, oh fuck me sideways that’s hot as hell.” he blabbered, pulling out just long enough to wiggle his cockhead against her petals and force another jet out, coating his own abs with it, relishing the way her belly shook and her legs clamped together straight in the air, her hands clawing at the slip like she was trying to fight her way out. “Sweet Jesus you’re so sensitive.” he praised, pushing back in despite her hiss, and the way her feet tried to plant themselves on his shoulders to push him away. “Gotta lemme back in darlin’, I got another deposit to make.” he joked, loving the way she was clawing and wiggling away from him on pure, over fucked insinct, red painted nails dug deep enough to rip into the gold bedding. “Come on, be good, be good for me, lemme in baby, lemme in , doin’ so good, so good I know you’re so damn full, just a lil more, lil more. Don’t want any to go to waste do ya?”

He was wicked for using those magic words to make the shaking girl open up and let him in again, but he made up for it by the kisses, he felt, and in praise, and promising her if she stayed good she’d have those babies. Careening headlong towards another orgasm of his own with the sounds she was making and the lewd squelch of how wet she was down there, downright squelching with all his contributions and her own slick, he swore she was everything he’d ever dreamed of. She smiled at that.

“I’m gonna come.” he promised her almost in a beg, pleading for her to understand why he sped up and started to pound her again in earnest, erratic thrusts.

“W-whats coming?” she whined, her eyes screwed shut and her thighs shivering beneath his shoulders, “Y-you’re already here…”

The more he drained his balls, the more his mind seemed to leave him as well, all catered sentences and prim vocabulary gone straight out the window with his last shred of self restraint. “This-is-comin-“ he punctuated as he drove himself in, then felt his balls draw up and try to offer up residual bits of spunk but nothing seemed to come out. Served him right how white hot and painful it felt, sputtering dry inside her. He hoped she didn’t notice the deposit was a blank check. Also hoped she didn’t hear the pathetic whimper he’d let out as lil Elvis heaved his last attempt at it. By the way she was humming and petting at his hair, cradling him gently as he sagged atop her on the corner of the bed -he was afraid she’d heard and felt it all.

“Why’s it called that?” she whispered in his ear, and he wondered that she had any energy at all.

He burrowed his face deeper into her neck and mumbled, “Damned if I know, darlin.” he thought on it a little while longer while also thinking of the drip, drip, drip of their mess melting between them, “Unless it’s cause it makes ya feel like you’re havin a ‘come to God moment’, ya know?” he suggested and laughed when he felt her poking his cheek. “Do ya- do ya like it when…when ya-“ he couldn’t manage it now in the gentle afterglow, starting to get a chill after all his sweaty exertion cooled and left behind clammy skin and pooled secretions, feeling how naked and soft and lonely he was suddenly upon feeling sated for the first time tonight.

“Can we really do this as often as we want?” she asked instead, and her tone held no dread in it, only hopeful excitement. Suddenly the lonesomeness was gone again.

He felt her hands stroking his back and down to his ass again and he had giggled happily, not able to hold back his relief. “Yes, darlin.”

“Gosh.” she mused, petting him still, “To think I-I didn’t know about this and now it’s…” he propped up his chin on his hands to give her an inquiring look, begging her to finish, “it’s all I wanna do now.”

“That so?” he quirked his eyebrow and she flushed and began to shake her head, her tone pleading:

“Oh, not now, not right now -oh, please, please E, I’ll die if ya do, give me a minute.” she laughed and kissed him again.

“We should sleep.” he mused, half asleep already, pillowed on her boobs, his legs still technically still standing him upright as his upper body lay across the bed, across his new wife. “And bathe.” he realized.

“It’s very sloppy.” she agreed, and the thought of how uncomfortable she must be, stuffed with a half a dozen or more cum shots roused him to action.

He picked Elaine up bridal style and carried his now gloriously naked woman into the en-suite bathroom, seating her on the chilled marble countertop and grinning at the way she melted, spineless and used against the mirror, a soft smile lighting her dear face.

She liked watching his long lean, boyish figure, hard in some places and soft in others, strangely inviting in its combinations, ripple and flex as he bent and turned on the tub faucets, snagging gold embossed towels off the rack.

E.P. they read, gold thread glowing on the black cotton.

E.P.

For the both of them. It could be for either of them, it probably had been in his mind when he’d had them made, stocked his home full of monogrammed luxuries with her future initials on them E.P. --and all the while she had been fretting of dying a loveless old maid.

She laughed happily and found she couldn’t stop, catching sight of his embossed robe, hung on the door with the same initials. E.P. She was wanted, she was so very wanted here with him. It made her slide her jellied legs off the counter and hug him ferociously from behind, pressing kisses into his spine, and the freckles that smattered his shoulder blades.

“E.P.” she whispered and he got what she meant, turning round and grinning at her.

Once in the bath she dozed in his arms, near suffocated by bubbles and relishing his embrace, the warm water and his massaging hands soothing the ache between her legs.

“We haven’t washed the babies out have we?” she asked, groggily staring into the receding bath water as he tenderly toweled her off once stepping out of the tub. “I-I-I want those babies.“ she insisted and it must’ve been the lateness of the hour or the sheer amount of muchness she had been subjected to tonight but her lip started to wobble at the idea she’d carelessly risked her hopes down the drain, swirling away with the last of the bubbles. “Elvis I-I- didn’t mean to rinse them out!” she wailed, near hysterical with fatigue.

He tried assuring her but she wasn’t easily pacified. “I-I could give ya more.” he finally offered timidly, entirely uncertain either of them were capable of enduring another round.

He was toweling off her calves as he said it, pressing kisses to her knees and noticing the tremors in her thighs. To his shock she dropped to her knees beside him on the bathmat, eyes half mast and nearly insane looking in their fatigued determination,

“Please, please give it another try.” she nodded before spinning around on the bathmat, shakily swift and presenting him with her shapely ass.

‘Better for breeding this way’, came back to mind. God she was a quick study, and he prayed for strength and some shred of self restraint in indulging her. Instead, he found himself burying his face between her cheeks and licking at her devotedly, afraid they may have washed her slick away and worrying the burn of entry would be too much for her, fresh out of the tub and swollen from overuse as she was. No woman had let him do it this way, his face near buried in her bath warmed ass and his tongue kitten licking at her slick hole, but Elaine bore it with decorous appreciation, entirely unaware of being anything but eager in her responses, her spine arched and a rosy cheek pillowed on her forearms. Her yittle hand came down to pet Elvis’ diligent head as he worked between her legs.

“That’s it, I love it, E, like that, I love it when you…” she was mumbling in a slurred litany of praise he gobbled up ravenously, just like he did the shuddering little trickles of sweetness he coaxed out of her. “I’m -I’m, yeah yeah-“ he felt her grind down on his face as she shook again, and then it was as if the top half of her body nearly melted into the mat, just his hands keeping her ass in the air. “Please put it in.” she whispered, her hand still down there between her legs and reaching for something else of his now, her tone so soft and polite, like Cinderella asking for cock.

He aimed his cock into her waiting hand and watched with barely suppressed desire as her palm rolled over the rip and her nails gently raked across his veins as she moved to grip him and point him where she wanted him. There was a lewd sucking noise this time when he went in, like her body was finally trying to swallow him willingly, and he saw her head toss on the mat, dainty fingers woven into gold shag and her neck craned back to see him as he pressed in deep. Her face was flushed deep red and the makeup had worn off and she looked so innocent, so young beneath him, a single curl plastered dark and wet against her cheek from the bath. He’d unmade her, turned her back to her simplest form. He snapped his hips, lost his mind, noticed happily how her hand went to her hip and joined his there. He held onto it like a handle and jerked her back on him again and again, her cheek rubbing against the mat and her teeth sinking into her other fist to hush her cries. Those cries of hers, maybe something was very sick inside him that he liked them so much but he did, he did and he worked hard to draw more from her just as he dreamed of this, dreamed of her fluttering pink hole trying to take more and her eyes rolling back from the fatigue of it, her body unable to deny him.

“My poor belly,” he thought he heard her whimper, yet unsure he reached down and pulled her fist away from her mouth, it pushed him deeper in, bent her more starkly, speared her cervix, “Oh god, my belly, my poor belly.” she kept saying for sure this time.

“You alright, Lany?” he draped over her and brushed the damp strands off her face, her face that was red and splotchy from sensation and blood flow. She gave him a whimpering nod.

“You’resodeep” she accused him even as he felt her squeeze and shake around his girth, her mouth gaping for a brief moment at the unexpected little pleasure. “My poor belly.” she said it over and over again and he couldn’t stop. It was more just a bewildered mantra to comfort herself, as her mind betrayed her and wanted him but her body was so well used that was she was just…taking it

“You poor little thing,” he cooed, making sure to move slow and deep in a way that had them both shaking and stepping into madness, bent all over her bent frame himself, “you’re takin’ my cock so well, so obedient, never was a more righteous wife, never was, you’re a goddamn wonder, that’s what you are. I’ll thank God for ya every day.”

His praise always soothed her and he kept it up, not even sure what he was saying anymore as he chased his own release, focused on the bent little thing beneath him and the way it made her waist look minuscule in this position, her pink face, too. At one point he saw tears instead of bath splash on her face and as he felt himself begin to spurt he shushed her the best he could with the first thing that came to mind:

“Don’t cry Tink, please don’t cry.”

The nickname tickled her consciousness like a feather on the neck, some goosey thrill that tickled up her spine and added to the satisfied throb between her legs as he splashed hot and thick inside her.

“Tink?” she thought she had asked him, bewildered and charmed to have been christened. Maybe her words got lost in the bath mat.

He did not answer her, must’ve not heard her at all, but picked her up with his own shaking arms and like a couple of bambi's they toddled into the massive bed, throwing themselves under the covers quite unceremoniously. He tried to swat at the lamp as if that would turn it off, and realizing she was the more capable of the two -he seemed almost insensibley drained by that last encounter- she leaned over his chest and pulled at the lamp string, dousing the glow that surrounded them, only to realize dawn was splashing a violet haze through the crack of the window curtains.

“Good morning, Mrs. Presley.” he had teased softly, noticing the dawn too, his head tilted on the pillow to watch her shut off the lamp.

“Good morning, husband.” she murmured, wriggling on top of him as he held her fast, arms locked over her back and her head pillowed on his chest.

This cuddling was familiar, this drowsy holding of each other until he stilled and fell asleep, an art she had perfected since his mama died. But now she was the woman in his life, and strangely now that the hunger had been glutted and abated, they entwined around each other like babes or twins in a womb, this naked closeness the most natural of assurance in the world. Something Elvis had been missing since his brother had left him, since Jesse entered the world before him and chose not to stay and endure it with him, fell into place.

My sister! My spouse! -King Solomon had called his lover, and Elvis had felt that supremely odd when snooping through the Song of Songs as a boy. But now he knew -too many roles did she fill to be confined to one, and Elvis felt tempted as Elaine fell asleep atop him to whisper, “my brother, my spouse!” into her hair.

Sometime later, when deep unconscious, dreamless sleep had possessed them and held them fast, but not a long enough time for Elvis to be remotely cheerful about it, a obnoxious clanging sound broke in on their peaceful repose. Elaine jerked awake atop him with a startled little squeak and he put his hand to the back of her head to shush her, encouraging her to lay her cheek back on his shoulder. The noise resounded again and this time he was lucid enough to determine it was coming from outside the bedroom door.

Clang-a-lang-a-lang-clang-a-lang

Elaine huffed and rubbed her tired face into his chest, his sparse hairs there tickling her nose and making her sneeze. That made him laugh and with neither able to keep up the pretense of sleep, they raised their heads and looked towards the door with matching, raised and unimpressed eyebrows of displeasure.

“If this is the boys idea of a practical joke,” he growled with sleepy morning grit in his voice, “they won’t be boys much longer.”

“Will ya put them in boxes and give them to me?” she inquired and he realized with a self satisfied smirk that her melodic voice had gone hoarse from all the screaming he’d made her do the night before.

“Heavens Mrs. Presley,” he marveled, “ya sure have gotten comfy askin’ for things -I like it.”

“I could think of a thing or two I want right now.” she bit her lip and her eyes slanted hungrily and some scared part of him that worried she wouldn’t want this as much as he did got buried teen feet below the earth, locked away forever.

“Breakfast?” he acted dumb even as she propped herself up on his chest and gingerly tried rolling her hips along his thickening shaft, hissing at the soreness of her own petals.

The sheets falling away from her and pooling round her hips like some goddess that had condescended to come down to earth and make use of her spied after Adonis, Elaine was ethereal and happy and Elvis sank his head back into the pillow and watched her, wishing to pinch himself but the roll of his foreskin against her bud told him it was real. “Breakfast and water, breath mints and fresh air-“ she listed while speeding up and causing his cock to begin to weep and slick her way along-

Clang-a-lang-a-lang-clang-a-lang

“What?” he yelled fearsomely at the door and she shivered in spooked delight at his temper.

“I’m comin’ in wi’ breakfast,” came Mary’s unmistakable drawl through the door and to his horror he watched the gilt knob begin to turn, “y’all’s best disentangle yo’selves cause I done waited till two in the afternoon to feed yous, and I ain’t taking chances for waitin’ any longer-“ Mary stepped into the room about at the same second Elaine accomplished a dismount and roll that the would have made the marine corps proud, diving beneath the covers, only a bride sized lump to be seen by the cook as she came in with a heavy laden tray, her ingenious cowbell left behind in the hall. “Lawd Mr. Elvis, you’re wearing that loved on look just nicely, if you’ll lemme say so.” she admired his marital blush and scratched shoulders as only a proud auntie could, “Miss Elaine, you best come outta ‘der, I got bagels and cream cheese, jus’ as you like.”

“Oh Mary, you didn’t!” Came Elaine’s moan of appreciation beneath the bedding and it was altogether too close to his pelvis for Elvis’ sanity, “You’re much too good to us, you know that?” Elaine wriggled till just her head peeked out and bestowed on Mary a smile of such adoration the lady forgot the ache in her arms from carrying the tray upstairs.

“Yeas, well, wouldn't do to have y’all’s dying of malnourishment.” she huffed bashfully patting Elvis’ beet red cheeks while unconsciously setting the trey in his stiff lap.

He groaned. In appreciation for the eggs and burnt bacon, Elaine had to presume.

“Don’t you take your fill again till you’ve taken your fill, you get what I mean?” she wagged her fingers at them, first at Elvis, then at his bride as if she was second guessing who here was the more likely instigator, the groom seemingly meek and the bride grinning altogether too widely than was proper. Delighted, Mary couldn’t help her matching one, “Eat up.” She nodded, backing away while eying them suspiciously, as if at any minute they might overturn her carefully prepared victuals and begin to maul eachother anew.

“Wouldn’t think of letting it get cold!” Elvis assured her adamantly and to prove his point, stuck a bagel into his bride's mouth before getting into the eggs himself.

Satisfied, Mary left them and shut the door. They heard when she picked up her cowbell and the retreating sound of her footsteps down the hall assured Elvis it was safe. He moved the platter off his lap as if it were scorching him, flinging the offending sheets off his erection and patting his thighs, jerking his chin at a wide eyed Elaine.

“I’m a very talented man, I’ll have ya know,” he told her as she settled in his lap, his chest pressed to her back, “I can feed and fill ya at the same time.”

“So,” she began genially as she wiggled him in and got comfy, sucking cream cheese off his fingers and taking advantage of his compromised blood flow, “Is Tinkerbell gonna my nickname?”

Elvis choked on his bacon, and proceeded to cough into a pillow case. “I’ve no idea what you're on about.” he denied.

“Hey,” she grinned at him without wavering, “if you can enjoy splitting me in half, I can enjoy a nickname that outs ya for bein’ a lil nasty about it, hmm?” and she chucked his chin.

She -she had a point, Elvis supposed. “Sure, Tink, whatever you say, Tink.” he droned.

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#elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #elvis x you #elvis movie #elvis fanfic #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #austin butler elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin elvis fandom #austin elvis smut #elvis smut #elvis x oc #elvis x elaine #elvis one shot

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asshlyyyy · 4 months

Text

Christmas

Fic Warnings: Mentions of possible miscarriage. Pregnancy, swearing I'm pretty sure...? If not, disregard this warning. Mentions of being sick, being sick, vomiting. There may be spelling and grammatical errors. Author's note at the end. Please let me know if I missed any warnings! Thank you!

Note: This could be read as a stand alone or as a part two to Thanksgiving!

Masterlist | Previous Part

You walked up to the front door and turned the handle opening up the door. You two never really bothered to lock the door since you were behind the gates. You only really locked it at night. You placed your car keys off to the side, away from Elvis’ cause lord knows he doesn’t know which key belongs to which car. You closed the door behind you and started to take off your coat.

“Mama!” Your son’s voice filled your ears.

“Hi my sweet son,” You smiled and hung the coat up. You walked over to him and picked him up from the floor, Elvis was just sitting a few feet away from you.

You had just come back from your doctor’s appointment to check on the baby. Elvis wanted to come with, but someone had to watch Theodore. You also couldn’t bring him because he doesn’t do the best in new places.

“How’d it go?” Elvis asked as he got up and made his way over to you.

“It went well, he just told me to be careful.” You responded with a smile as you looked up at him.

“So nothing bad?” He questioned as he placed his arm around you. You let out a hum and shook your head.

“No, he just thinks it might be stress because of the holidays.” You responded as you kissed your son's head, holding him close to your chest.

“Okay,” Elvis nodded and kissed the side of your head, offering to take your purse. Which you happily gave him. You sat down on the couch and just held your son close. You looked down at your belly and frowned lightly.

For how far along you were, you were growing big. With Theo, you carried him small, but it looks like this baby wants more room. You knew that with each pregnancy you were bound to grow weight, it’s natural. Not only because of the baby but also because of how our body works. You were good at keeping control of it.

“What are we doing for Christmas?” You asked as you looked over towards Elvis who was picking up the toys off the ground.

“I think we were going to host again?” Elvis looked at you with a questioning expression.

“We can, we would just have to go to the store. We just don't have ham or anything.” You explained to him as you rubbed Theo’s back gently.

“I can send someone out. The stores are probably crazy right now.” You nodded lightly at his response. Your heart felt… sad. It felt empty almost.

“Can you put him down for his nap?” You asked as you looked at the sleepy boy on your chest.

“Yeah of course,” Elvis said as he took Theodore out of your arms. You mumbled a thank you and watched as he walked away. Elvis knew something was wrong the moment you walked inside. He just didn’t know how much truth you told him.

You lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket down onto your body. You cuddled into the blanket and reached for the book that was on the coffee table. It was one of your sons, but it was a story either way. It was the story of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Did it give your son a light scare at first? Yes, but once he learned that the Grinch doesn’t come unless you are extra bad, he was okay.

You actually had a lot of Dr. Suess books. In fact, you got Theodore the two that came out this year for his present. How you opted to do Christmas was that Santa gave the essentials, the ‘boring’ stuff some may call. He may give a toy here and there, but the fun stuff comes from the parents. You didn’t want him to see you guys as boring. To some kids, books may be a boring gift, but he loves to look at the pictures. He was still too young to read, but he liked to point at everything and ask, wha?

You heard Elvis as he began to walk down the stairs. His shoes hit rough against the carpeted stairs. Which bothered you to no extent. You wanted to keep a clean house. He would then argue that it was the maid’s job to vacuum and clean the floors. Some nonsense really.

“He’s all put down and- you’re reading one of his books?” Elvis questioned as he placed the white baby monitor down on the coffee table.

“It was the only thing nearby,” you replied simply. However, just on the opposite end near the lamp sat a copy of the holy bible. Maybe you were just in your feels and didn’t want a hard book to read. Nonetheless, something was wrong.

“All right, tell me what happened,” Elvis spoke as he appeared back into the living room. You tore your eyes away from the book and looked over at him.

“I told you what happened.” You said, returning your gaze back to the book. Not really wanting to have this conversation.

“And I know that there is more than what you told me.” Elvis came to the couch. He moved your legs out of the way and quickly sat down, resting your legs on his lap. You let out a sigh and looked over at him. You closed the book and laid it down in your lap.

“He said if I’m not careful I can lose the baby,” you spoke softly. You didn’t even wanna say those words out loud. It would just make it feel more real, and you felt your eyes start to water up.

“Hey hey,” Elvis’ tone softened. “What? Why would he say that?”

“You know how I went because of a pain? That I felt… really sick.” You brought up as you wiped away your slight tears before things got too crazy.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“He says it isn’t normal to be really sick during pregnancy. Sure morning sickness is normal but… with the sickness and overworking myself. He basically bedridden me.” You explained to him, humming to the feeling of Elvis rubbing his hand up and down your leg.

“We’ll get through this together okay?” He tried to reassure you, but you both knew deep down the Colonel would pull him away to film some random movie. The two of you repositioned yourselves and your back laid against his chest. His hand rested on your small bump and rubbed slight circles against it.

You played the rest of the day safe. Once your son woke up from his nap you played some games with him before one of the maids started dinner. You felt bad keeping them from their family, but you sent most of them home already. Only two decided to stay and you were thankful.

Everyone was tucked away in bed before you knew it. Of course not until after you left out milk and cookies for Santa, which Elvis was gonna have to eat and drink later. Along with putting the carrots back in the fridge. He also had you write Santa a little note. Asking for some last-minute items, even though you told him it was too late. Theo argued his case and won.

Christmas Day came sooner than you expected. Well, three in the morning kind of soon. You sat on the floor near the toilet. Everything you had eaten at dinner down the drain of the toilet. It wasn’t just morning sickness anymore. This baby was just… taking everything out of you. So, you sat there until you were able to push yourself up.

Elvis was still sound asleep. He had these moments where he would be either a heavy sleeper or a really light sleeper. Today was one of those heavy nights. You rinsed your mouth out with some water and popped a mint before heading back to bed. You didn’t expect him to wake up every single time. Someone needed rest to watch after Theodore, and Elvis was just more capable of that.

Despite not being able to do much, you knew damn well that you were going to dress up for the holidays. So, as you walked down the grand white staircase, you heard laughter and voices coming from the living room. You steadied yourself on the railing and put on your bravest smile.

Truth be told, you woke up and just didn’t want to move. And this is after the hour you had awake between three and four. Maybe you shouldn’t have ever moved since your doctor bedridden you. To say the least, you were grateful for your maids was an understatement. They would be the ones cooking and cleaning until this baby comes. Without them, you didn’t know how your baby would survive, not off of Elvis’ cooking that’s for damn sure.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and heard your baby boy’s voice announcing your arrival. “Mama!” He squealed in happiness. He got up on his feet and made his way over to you.

“Hi my sweet boy,” you said and reached down picking him up. You pressed multiple kisses on his cheek and made your way into the living room. “Look how beautiful you look, Y/n,” your mother complimented you.

“Thank you, mama,” you said with a smile. Though, you doubted you even looked that beautiful. No amount of makeup or pretty dresses will hide the fact that you weren’t feeling well.

Elvis got up from his place on the couch and offered you his seat, which you gladly accepted. “So honey, is there a reason you’re not cooking today?” Your mother questioned.

“Oh, I’m just not feeling that well today, so Janice is holding down the kitchen,” you said with a small smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that dear,” your mother responded. You replied with a smile node and reached over for Elvis’s hand.

“I believe we were gonna open up presents before dinner, right darlin’?” Elvis looked over at you, seeing if that was still the schedule.

“Yes,” you nodded. “With everything planned out after dinner, Theo should fall asleep at his normal time.” You further explained looking over at your family.

“What about your father, Elvis? Isn’t he joining us?” Your mother asked with her sweet-toned southern accent.

“Unfortunately not, that b-“ Elvis quickly coughed to cover up what he almost accidentally said. “That wife of his has him over at their place celebrating. I think she’s still mad about Thanksgiving.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that son,” your father said. Elvis smiled softly at him as a way to express gratitude.

“Shall we exchange gifts then? I know Theo must be dying to rip them open,” she let out a chuckle. Everyone joined in with her. You tickled Theo’s stomach and watched as he erupted in a fit of giggles.

“Let’s have him pick?” Elvis suggested, though it sounded like he was asking for permission. He wanted to be careful with what he said, he didn’t want to cause you any stress.

“Of course,” you responded and placed Theo down on the floor. At first, Theo just sat down, but with some encouragement from his family. He made his way over to the tree.

You had to arrange some things around, but you placed the tree where the grand white piano is. You, more like you had Elvis, move the piano back so that you could fit the tree. You always thought it looked nicest there.

Theo looked around trying to figure out what to grab first. Should he go for something big or something small? You just thought he was lost and confused about what to do. He was only two after all. Elvis kneeled down and placed his hand on your son’s back.

“How about we check the stockings? See if Santa filled them with some candy and toys,” your fiancé encouraged the young boy. Theo nodded excitedly at the sound of Santa, toys, and candy.

You watched your boys make their way over to the fireplace and Elvis pulled down the stocking. He wanted it to Theo and you watched as he started to pull things out one by one. You hummed softly and leaned back, and nuzzled into the blanket that was thrown around you.

Gifts took… an awfully long time. It was just, that every time Theo opened something he had to play with it right away. It would take anywhere from a minute, to five to get him to open up another present. Not to mention the tears he would shed because he couldn’t play with his toy. It was… a very emotional roller coaster.

“I actually have one more gift to give,” your father spoke up as he stood up. “I think you’ll be very happy with it.” He looked at you as he said it. You looked at him confused and pulled yourself away from Elvis’ shoulder.

“I found it the other day when I was cleaning out the attic,” your father explained as he pulled up a box that was hidden from your eyesight.

“What is it?” You questioned as he placed the box in your hands.

“Open it and you’ll see.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him and opened the box. You froze when you saw the old ragged, yet somehow in perfect condition, stuffed bunny staring up at you.

You lifted the bunny carefully and continued to stare at it. “Is this Miffy?” You asked as you looked over at your father.

“It is, I thought… maybe you could pass her down to your baby once they are born.” You smiled softly at his answer and nodded.

You got Miffy when you were a young girl. You would wear your pretty dresses and run around the yard. She slept by your side every night. Then she became a decoration on your dresser, and then soon she was placed in the attic. You never thought you would see her again, let alone in such great condition.

“I cleaned and fixed her up,” your mother spoke to you.

“Thank you, this… this means a lot to me.” You started to tear up. You and your goddamn pregnancy emotions. You were quick to wipe your eyes and soon picked up your boy from the ground.

The fear of losing your baby just kept coming back to you. You didn’t mean to think about it, but… seeing Miffy, and your dad suggesting giving her to your baby once they’re born. It brought that fear that if you are not careful enough, they’ll die.

You held Theodore close and excused yourself from your family. You pulled on your coat and boots and walked outside. “Mama, oday?” Theodore looked at you worried as he snuggled closer under your coat.

“Yes, mama is okay.” You replied softly and kissed the top of his head.

Don’t stress over this.

The more stress, the more likely you’ll have a miscarriage.

Happy thoughts, Y/n, happy thoughts.

“Hey baby, everything okay?” You heard your mother’s voice. You turned your head and spotted her behind her fluffy coat.

“Yeah, just got a bit emotional, is all,” you gave her a sad smile.

“May I offer some advice?” She asked gently. You nodded slowly and looked at her, your hand rubbing your son’s back.

“You’re gonna face rough pregnancies every so often. At the end of the day, when you are holding your baby close to your chest… that is when it all matters. It may seem rough, and like your life is over, but at the end of the tunnel is God’s greatest gift. A newborn baby.” She spoke as she looked at you, never for a second leaving your eyes.

“Do you think he sees us as sinners?” You asked with a sad expression. You may have not been heavily influenced by God, but he played a role in your life. Just as he did with your fiancé.

“Just because you two aren’t married? Perhaps, but he knows that you two are down that road of getting married. He knows Elvis has a crazy schedule. I believe he made an exception just for you two.”

“How do you always know what to say?” You questioned.

“I’m your mother, I’m supposed to.” She smiled and pulled you into a hug, being careful of the toddler against your chest. You leaned into her hug, not being able to properly hug back.

“Thank you.”

The three of you went back inside and waited for dinner to happen. The maids made a beautiful and tasteful dinner. The main course being the Ham. You didn’t understand the reasoning behind holiday meats. Thanksgiving was always served with Turkey, maybe a ham, but Christmas was served with ham.

Your plate was full to the brim, hopefully, you’ll be able to keep it all down. You hardly had much to eat during the day. A bowl of oatmeal and fresh-cut fruit in the morning, and then dinner now. After everyone finished up their plate, everyone slowly but surely left. Your parents, your brother… Vernon made sure to stop by to drop off presents and say hi.

Other than that, the maids cleaned up, you got Theo in the bath. Then you got him all ready to go to bed, with the help of Elvis. You then got in the bath yourself, figuring that would be the best way to destress. Before you knew it, you were in your pajamas and getting in bed.

You hummed softly as you pulled back the bed covers. You weren’t one to lie and say that the silk covers kept you warm during these cold months. Nonetheless, it made Elvis happy, and if Elvis was happy; you were happy. But- there was no way in hell you were gonna suffer while pregnant during the winter.

“Elvis,” you called out to him as you got into bed, slipping your legs under the covers.

“Yeah, darlin’?~~” You hum at his voice. You don’t know how, but he just sounded more southern at night. Maybe it was because he was getting sleepy. His voice was getting more raspy, the whole nine yards.

“We’re switching covers tomorrow.” You stated, not bothering to ask. You wanted your fleece sheets, not freezing silk.

“Hold on now-“ he came in from the bathroom, a toothbrush loosely hanging from his mouth. “What’s wrong with these?”

“Cold,” you answered simply, “and the baby doesn’t want to be cold. Mama doesn’t want to be cold.” You gave him that look. It was that very same look that said a million unspoken words.

Elvis had a lot of say what got done in his house. Despite it being considered as both of yours. At the end of the day, it was Elvis’ name on the deed. He was the one to purchase it. He was the one who got to design and plan out the rooms. Then of course your son got a say in what went on in his bedroom. Despite the mess, he would make every single day. All you were asking was for a simple change of the sheets.

“Fine fine,” he muttered under his breath as he returned to the bathroom. You choose to ignore it just this once.

Does the bedroom bother you? Yes, it absolutely does. Compared to the rest of the house, it was dark and moody. It almost screamed vampire. You were more than happy with the blackout curtains, but you wanted it to look more lively. To match the rest of the house. Then again, you think it would kill Elvis if you put any sense of color in his bedroom.

You reached over to your side table and picked up the book you were reading earlier. Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith. While Elvis was more into books that related closely to the lord, you were more of a romance fan. You liked your little romance novels because deep down you wanted your romance to be like them.

That isn’t to say that the relationship you have sucks. You have your rough moments just like every other couple. In these stories though… it feels as if nothing ever goes wrong for them. That is what you wanted. A perfect life, a perfect relationship, a perfect… everything. Yet every night before you two signed off, you would read together a verse in the bible. One chosen at random.

You would open the book, and go through the pages, stop at one random, run your finger along the page, and stop it at random. You two liked to take it as… a reading. Thought most of the time the verses don’t lead you on a path of anything. They are more or less… well, they are verses. Not fortune tellings, but you two still liked to take them as such.

The bathroom soon became dark and Elvis emerged from the doorframe. He made his way over to the bed and slid in next to you. Well, more like got in… then scooted over to you. He pressed a kiss to your head and pulled you into his warm embrace. You let out a light giggle and made sure to quickly save your space in the book.

“You know, I haven’t given you your gift yet.” He spoke softly. You hummed softly and turned your head upwards to look at him.

“You’re giving me a baby, Elvis.” You spoke gently as you brought your hand up to his jaw.

“I can give you one of those any time. This is a special gift.”

“And what does it have that the other special gifts don’t?” You raised your eyebrow.

“I-,” Elvis didn’t know how to respond. He generally just needed the excuse of Christmas to give you more gifts. “God told me to.”

“Did he now? And what did he tell you to get me?” You played along with his statement.

“Well, that’s for you to find out,” he pulled out a neatly wrapped long box. You could already guess that it was some type of jewelry because of the box. Not a ring or earrings, could be a bracelet, necklace, or even a watch. The possibilities were endless.

You took it out of his hands and ran your palm against it. “Let’s see if God chose correctly then.” You pulled the wrapped paper off and revealed a black velvet box. The words of a jewelry company posted on top. You opened it and saw a beautiful gold necklace with an oval, and an E engraved on it.

You opened the necklace and smiled at the pictures already in them. A picture of you and Elvis, a picture of Theodore, and two more spaces to be filled. You looked over at Elvis and started to tear up. “Elvis,” you whispered.

“Once our baby gets born we can add their picture… then we can do a family picture as well.”

“It’s perfect, I love it.” You threw your arms around him and pressed multiple kisses on his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he rubbed your back gently. “Merry Christmas, my darlin’,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and held his hand on your bump.

It may have started off as a rough day, but the ending was most worth it. Much like other things. The beginning may suck, but if you truck through to the end you will be rewarded.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips as you kissed him.

“I love you, and I love our baby.”

“I love them too,” you smiled alongside with him. Just think, next year you’ll have two kids for Christmas. It may be chaotic, but you were ready for this chapter.

Special Taglist: @darlinboypresley @austinstyles

Author's note: I started writing this after the first part went up. But it took me all the day till the 19th to finish. I am not completely a hundred percent happy with this, but I think I want to turn this into a holiday fic. I don't think there will be one for New Years. I can see an Easter one happening, a 4th of July one, Halloween, loop back around I might do Veteran's day instead of Thanksgiving for next year. Then ending it again with Christmas. Of course the newborn being there.

In the original fic, the reader actually suffered a miscarriage, and I wasn't completely sure if I wanted to copy that over. So, I placed the idea in this fic, it does not mean it will happen, but it leaves the doors open for that possibility, though I kind of just said what would happen.

Next fic will be posted on Christmas Day. I hope to have it done much quicker then I did this fic. I hope everyone is having a wonderful holidays!

#asshlyyyy writes #elvis presley #elvis fandom #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley imagine #elvis imagine #elvis one shot

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missmaywemeetagain · 11 months

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Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

A/N: Somehow, against all odds in this absolute chaos of a week, I managed to bang out the "Army Elvis" prompt for this week today, like a maniac. I am both shocked and amazed that I wrote a smutty one-shot without overthinking it but also be warned this is hardly edited or revised, nor even really thought out! 😂

Thanks always to my sister wives in chaos and crime: @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis and @from-memphis-with-love

TW: Smut! Orgasms! Basically no plot!

Rating: Mature 18+ || Word Count: 2.7k

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

He wants to fuck you. Oh lord how he wants to fuck you, from the moment you walk in the room and sit across the aisle from him.

Maybe it’s the curve of your calves and the way they disappear under your pencil skirt. Maybe it’s how your jacket notches in at your waist, accentuating your ample hips. Or perhaps it’s the fact that even with the conservative uniform and minimal to-do with your hair and make-up (as per regulations, of course), you still are absolutely gorgeous.

Or I’m just horny, Elvis thinks sardonically, shifting in his seat.

The movement catches your eye, and he watches curiously as you do a bit of a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition before your head whips straight ahead.

He smirks to himself at that. It never gets old, the light that goes on in women’s eyes when they take him in in person. And he certainly isn’t getting much of it lately, being effectively shackled here in Germany, clad in his drab green Army fatigues.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks as he pictures the fans that gather at all hours outside the house he’s renting while he’s here, about the girls he invites in. But it’s not quite the same, not the same at all, because his fame is tenuous and teetering here. Part of him is certain that they’ve all forgotten about him at home, despite the Colonel’s reports to the contrary, despite the new movie contracts and albums he is set to record as soon as he returns. However, the sliver of fear about his fate has burrowed deep these past two years and poisons him slowly, each day he is gone.

But now he’s counting days and weeks instead of months and years, and he can nearly taste being home. His fear and the antsy feeling that permeates him is overcome by anxious excitement now, so he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.

And here he is, getting his Sergeant stripes, and that fills him with a different sort of pride altogether.

So, perhaps it is all these factors combined that have him wanting to jump across the aisle, pull you into his arms, and kiss you silly.

He’s never seen you before and doesn’t know your name until they call you up to present you with your earned rank. Feeling a bit lecherous, he admires the view of your ass as you walk to the front and the heaving of your breast as they pin your stripes. Your pretty eyes catch his unabashedly heated gaze and pink floods your cheeks as he locks you in.

Elvis knows what he’s doing. While much of it is a natural sort of gift, he’s also honed his seductive abilities quite a bit in the last four years and gets paid a lot of money because of it. He’s also well aware that he looks good, filled out in a manly way but slimmed down in all the right areas, and right now, he’s not above using his looks to get your attention. And he so does want your attention, as much as he knows by virtue of your uniform and rank, you are completely off limits. He’s not stupid—he’s too close to the end for a court martial. Though he may not be able to fuck you the way he wants, it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little bit of fun.

Crossing his arms, he brings one hand to his mouth, letting his thumb catch on his full bottom lip and his mouth fall open slightly. Then he gazes at you with a pointed but dreamy stare, his eyes blinking slowly.

He watches you gulp and fidget at front of the room, all of which could be explained away by nerves of being put on the spot, but he knows he’s hit jackpot because there’s a little fire stoked in those lovely eyes now.

Tilting his head and raising a brow, he makes a private show of looking you up and down as you walk tenuously back to your seat. Giving him a glare of admonishment, you very purposefully do not look at him once you are seated again, but your hands wring in your lap, your leg crossing over towards him.

He’s flustered you. Warmth rolls over him, pooling in his pelvis, and through the rest of the ceremony, he tries not to think of bending you over your chair, yanking up your skirt, and sinking deep into your silky heat.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Later, fate intervenes on his behalf when he realizes you’ve been seated with him at the dinner banquet following the ceremony. He shakes your hand, introducing himself, letting his fingers squeeze and his thumb graze your palm a little too intimately. The gamut of emotions that flashes over your face before you bring down a stoic smile makes him chuckle.

He guides you to sit next to him, and while you hesitate at first, he knows he’s already won because of the way your eyes widen at the suggestion.

Now that you are close, his body goes into overdrive, and he is drunk on the sweetness of your perfume and the smoothness of your skin. He realizes he’s likely being too obvious in his flirtations but can’t bring himself to reign it in. The other men and women at the table have either consciously or subconsciously deferred to him and his charms, leaving no one to compete for your attention. He lays it on thick, wanting to eat you right up.

Elvis is hyperaware of every time you glance his direction, which is happening more often as he pulls you deeper into conversation, your cool exterior thawing bit by bit. But the way your eyes dilate and how you lick your lips when he brings the bottle of cola in front of him to his mouth has a zing of arousal shooting down his spine and straight into his cock.

Oh.

Nothing if not responsive, Elvis tongues the lip of the bottle before taking a slow drag of the sweet, fizzy soda. Your eyes are fixated now on his mouth, on the bottle, and he watches you catch your lower lip in your teeth as you stare.

Heat courses through him as he pulls the bottle away, tongue rolling over his bottom lip to catch the lingering drops of sugar caught there. You swallow visibly, and he doesn’t stop his teasing, unable to keep his lip from quirking into a delighted smirk at your attentions. Your eyes fly back up to his, as if just realizing you’ve been caught, and you flush a charming shade of red before clearing your throat and looking away quickly.

But every time he raises the bottle to his lips, your eyes catch like a moth to a flame. This time they follow his hand down as he sets the bottle on the table. Condensation gathers droplets on the cool glass and he relishes the smooth, wet feeling as he strokes the bottle with his thumb.

You fidget in your seat. It takes him a second to understand why, but once he does, he feels his cock chub up, caught mercilessly in his briefs and dress pants. The little, mischievous devil in him takes great pleasure watching you watch him make a show of gripping the bottle in his whole hand, slowly thumbing over the opening at the top again and again.

You choke a little and reach for your water, taking a deep drag and blinking rapidly, as if trying to come out of the spell he seems to have you under. You attempt to throw yourself into the conversation at the table, ignoring him with all your might, your body tense in your seat.

A challenge, he thinks, smiling.

Slowly, Elvis presses his knee into the side of your thigh, loving the way you nearly jump out of your seat in surprise at the contact. It’s like a bolt of electricity between you, and he starts to strain against his underwear.

Now that he has your attention, he places his hand back around the cola bottle, lewdly gripping it and slowly twisting his hand down and back up the glass. It’s truly not that far off from his actual size, so the motion feels almost too familiar, too easy. Your mouth pops open at the suggestive gesture and it takes everything in him to not lap his tongue into that delicate little mouth of yours. He matches his rhythm, stroking his knee against your leg, which also happens to provide some delicious friction in his pants. He feels you tense, squeezing your thighs together, and he cannot help but think of your little pink snatch likely staining your panties with slick right at this very moment.

Elvis almost groans aloud at that, catching it in his throat at the last second, but you seem to hear it and your eyes fly to his. Your pupils are blown out and cheeks are hot, and he can almost smell the arousal on you. Goddamn it, he wants to make you come, right here at the table, just for him, in front of everyone, who, wrapped up in their own conversations seem none the wiser at the seduction that is happening before them.

He’s hardly touching you but feels a surge of power when you fidget again, caught like willing prey in his stare. He can’t touch you more than he already is because that would get him in trouble, but if he can’t lay you across this table and fuck you senseless, he’s going to do it the only way he can.

His ministrations on the bottle are serving to arouse him just as much as you, each stroke making his cock twitch and strain and stiffen. Your eyes dart from his to the bottle, back and forth, your breath shallow and rapid. His eyes are heavy on you, unyielding, and look upon you as though you were under him, as though he were trapped and undulating in the heat of what he just knows is your perfect, untouched cunt.

You look back at him as though you know exactly what he’s thinking, as though your tight little hole is snug around him, sweet as honey, treating him right. Your hands clutch at your silverware, your napkin, anything you can get your hands on that isn’t him, and he knows you are well on your way to where he wants you because he can feel how your legs move back and forth, creating the friction you so desperately need between them.

He wonders if he can get away with touching you under the tablecloth, with sticking his hand into those wet panties of yours to play with your swollen and sensitive nub, but your skirt is too long and tight, and your jacket hides the waistband. No, he’s gonna have to be satisfied with eye-fucking you and jerking off this cola bottle.

Your chest starts to vibrate with tension as you try desperately to hold back the short little gasps emanating from your lips and he knows then that you are set to explode. You brace your elbows on the table, hiding the lower part of your face with your napkin, as if wiping your mouth, and he feels your hips buck. You do a helluva job not moaning and rolling your eyes back as you come for him, but he sees you drift somewhere else for a moment in your ecstasy, your eyes going blank as you pant as measured as you can into your napkin-shield.

Watching you unravel so gracefully and so untouched has his own orgasm sneaking up on him. The fact that he made you come just by looking at you but also at the element of public indecency involved has him clutching the cola bottle so hard he might break it. He wants to palm his dick with his other hand, but he knows he can’t be subtle about it and kind of likes the fact you’re making him come untouched, too.

Elvis manages to hold on until you come down from your high enough to look at him with dreamy, satiated eyes and that finally sends him over the edge. His cock pulses heavy and hard, springing against the confines of his slacks, his eyes drifting closed and lips parting as he shivers through his orgasm as quietly as he can. Holy fucking hell.

Your shy, knowing smile is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, and he can’t help but smile right back at you in kind. Your rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes make him feel giddy. His face feels red hot and he can’t help but bring the cold cola bottle to his face to cool it off. You choke back a laugh.

“You alright there, Sergeant Presley?” another soldier questions him.

“Ohhhh, I’m fine,” he drawls, amused, “Just feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here is all, in this getup.”

For once, he’s glad of his regulation briefs, as they kept him from shooting his load straight down his pant leg, but he doesn’t have to look down to know by the sheer force and amount of his release that he’s soaking through the front of his pants. His only consolation is that he knows you must be soaked through your panties, too.

If he can get his jacket on, he’ll be okay because it’s long and will cover the mess, but how he’s going to do so without the entire hall seeing he just jizzed his pants, he’s not so sure. It might not be a problem for the average Joe, but people can’t help but watch his every move, whether he wants them to or not. He realizes in his haze of horniness that maybe he didn’t really think this through.

You seem to realize his predicament, however, pretty eyes widening after looking down in his lap. You snap your head up quickly and he can sense your wheels turning. He starts to panic a little when you don’t let him in on the plan, though, as you start telling some story that he can’t seem to pay attention to with the sticky, rapidly cooling mess in his underwear.

Before he knows what’s happening, you are sweeping your arm to the side in a dramatic retelling, knocking the half-full bottle of cola over, directly into his lap.

He yelps in surprise as the dark cola soaks into his slacks, right over the other stain that had begun to set.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Sergeant Presley!” you cry apologetically, quite convincingly, and in other circumstances, he might try to get you into the movies with your level of commitment as you place your napkin into his lap.

He chuckles, “Oh, it’s fine, darlin’, it’s just a little soda. After all, I was going on about how warm I was gettin’, so you cooled me right off.” He gives you a wink at his obvious double entendre, and you purse your lips to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m awfully embarrassed,” you say quietly, fully leaning into the role. “Please send me your dry cleaning bill. It’s the least I can do.” Pulling a little pad out of your clutch, you scribble something down on the paper, tear it off, fold it, and hand it to him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s no big thing,” he says, but takes the paper anyway, sensing that you have written something other than your dry cleaner’s information on it. He motions for your pen and paper. “Can I?”

You nod and hand them over. In his chicken scratch handwriting, he scrawls a note:

If you ever find yourself in Memphis someday, honey, come to Graceland for a visit. Ask for ‘Sarge.’ I’d love to have ya.

Love, Sergeant Elvis Presley

He finishes by adding one of the numbers at Graceland and hands the pad back to her. Wishful thinking, but maybe someday, when it’s not a court-martialed offense, he’ll be able to show you the good time you deserve.

He excuses himself, then, sloshing in his soggy, ruined pants, waiting until he gets to the car to read your note.

Sergeant Presley,

One must watch out for those pesky cola bottles…Try vinegar and cold water for that stain…wouldn’t want it to set!

Corporal Y/N Y/L/N

He laughs heartily as the car pulls away.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

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@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @elvisgf @misspresley @ohjustpeachy1 @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @precious-little-scoundrel @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @prompted-wordsmith @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @stylespresleyhearted @elv1s-is-pretty @crash-and-cure

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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

Text

Hop to it Tink

Pairing: Thumper & Tink

Summary: As the mid 60’s consume Elvis with his ever more arduous film schedule and immersive hobby pursuits, Elaine crafts a friend out of a rival. For either spouse it’s not the ideal of way to cope with a lost child and estrangement, but the confusion that can occur from dumping any old thing into a wound to close it up is enough to bewilder the most grounded person. Much less a young girl like Elaine Presley who finds herself scrambling for a hint of girlhood as her five children and husband rely on her to keep it all afloat. Just as she’s going under, a pretty painted hand lifts her up.

Dedicated: to Ashley and Christi who both begged for this to be written and added so many details themselves that enriched it. Credit is also due to @prompted-wordsmith for the wicked suggestion of Benetint being used herein.

Warnings: sensuality, 18+, no outright smut but many mentioned offscreen acts, suggestiveness, this can be read as two girl friends or a little more, I tried to keep it nebulous as I imagine it would feel for Elaine herself in her exploration. a rather alarming emphasis on feet, pampering and painting toes and Elvis being overly into that, phone teasing, Larry being a little too psycho analytical over why Elvis and Elaine are having trouble after Jo, mentions of a stillborn, mentions of marital dissatisfaction, hinted male infidelity, hinted Polaroids and homemade spicy films, Elvis turning shit into being erotic that isn’t? That’s men for ya. And then just fun fluffy stuff with the kids but that’s no warning. I didn’t edit this really, I’m too tired, my apologies for any errors.

Requested: yes ✔️

Circa: 63-67

“Hey Tink?” Ann’s voice, always enviously soft even while sounding mischievous, asks abruptly in the middle of an hour long chat.

“Oh what now?” Elaine giggles into the gold phone Elvis has stashed on his nightstand, feeling silly to be sat on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, frittering it away with chatting and giggling to a friend.

That’s rather proof that Elaine needs it. Too much ‘strictly business’ in her life these days and Elaine knows if Elvis were here he’d be poking her forehead and making her fall back and put her feet up. She taps them on the floor instead, tap tap tapping her heeled boudoir slippers on the bed frame in a giddy tick as she waits for her friend to spring whatever wickedness is behind that tone of voice.

Her friend.

Elaine had hoped Ann would like her, be willing to be a buddy to THE Mrs. Presley but what they’ve got now is something she didn’t even think girls could have. It makes her view Elvis and his buddies more tolerantly, the stupid and goofy comradery she was starved for without even knowing it has slowly had its way with her in the form of Thumper and bike riding with Thumper and chatting with Thumper and kissing Thumper while Elvis writhed beneath them…so maybe it’s not like his mafia boys at all, but somehow it’s deeper despite the unorthodox beginnings and carnal undertones that seep in and out of it at whim.

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“Oh not much, Jack and Jesse are trying the scuba gear in the pool right now,” Elaine sighs, “and if they don’t die tonight I suppose I’ll be here tomorrow making sure they’re still breathing and fixing sandwiches and seeing to it that Ella’s got her puppy ready for the show.” she waits a beat and adds, “You know full well he isn’t gonna be home.”

“Who?” Ann asks with overacted ditziness.

“Him.” Elaine rolls her eyes, “At least another five days away, stupid Arizonan weather has decided to rain and there has to be reshoots.”

She can hear Thumper humm on the other line with something that’s more contemplative than compassionate for Elaine’s empty bed. “How’re your toes?” she asks.

Elaine peers over the fluffy slipper tops and the profusion of lime green feathers adorning the slippers, “Decent, but they’ll need to be redone before he gets back.”

“Red?”

“French tip.”

“Hmm, Pink next, I think?” Thumper says.

“Yeah alright.” Elaine bites her lip and makes herself stop or else they’ll start peeling and need more Vaseline.

“I have to be in LA day after tomorrow. And I have a flight tomorrow morning. It stops in Memphis.”

“How nice.” Elaine murmurs, pulling on her lip now, slightly better than biting, she supposes, and it hides her grin from the gal a thousand miles away in New York.

“Yes, I thought so.” Ann agrees.

“And it’s such a long flight, New York to LA.” Elaine coos, “You’d get cramp if you didn’t break it up, can’t have you holed up like that, unable to walk out the shakes.”

“No, you wouldn’t want it for me, would you?” Ann babifies her tone and Elaine does fall back into the covers grinning stupidly up at Elvis’ ugly harem lamp above her.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

These nights when she stays, they’re something sweet and young and silly like Elaine hasn’t had in years. Never once herself in full since she married, losing all friends who knew her before Elvis, collecting folks who knew Elvis long before her, and a snazzy supply of darling children whose most stimulating conversations are about tricycles and losing a new tooth -Elaine is a little starved.

And Elvis -well, as Tink, she's his best friend, without doubt, and he is hers. But she’s also his wife, his woman and his home and his ballast and his doll and his lover and his mama and his ideal. So many roles. What she can’t talk to Elvis about is only relegated to one topic.

Elvis himself.

And such a man, a force more than a man at times, oh it needs an outlet and somehow the Mafia wives and even Betsy Blue Eyes Harrison with her discreet goodness and friendship can’t speak of what Elaine wants to speak about. A body can only go so long without bragging a little about what they’ve got, and when what you’ve got is a national heartthrob and the most famous man on earth -secrets about earth shaking ardor that rivals cataclysmic tempers, well, sometimes Elaine wants to speak of it. Or, rather, about the parts that make her love it, look forward to another day full of it. The little things that she can’t trust anyone else to know or love or see kindly.

Except for Thumper. Thumper -who has already admitted to loving him the same way, seeing him the same, living for him similarly. It’s the oddest consolation, and stranger still that his wandering eye gave it to her, but Elaine will take it.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Tomorrow comes and her sons are alive and hardly stripped out of their swimsuits to sleep before getting back in them and plunging to the depths of the swimming pool with metal tanks on their back and masks on their faces. She can’t bear to watch, looks like a perfect way to die at home, and so she stays inside and helps Ella groom her puppy for the pageant and Rosalee has an embroidered collar that needs help with fastening the buckle -she did the stitching herself- and although she hasn’t seen Daisy in hours, that wasn’t unusual.

In the afternoon she sends a car to the airport, Marty grins at her wildly and she gives him the old eyebrow before taking herself to her bedroom as the hour nears and going through a rather worn routine that still pleases her like when it was new.

The sound of the big door suctioning through the house can be heard upstairs, as can the chorus of children screaming “Aunt Tamale!” and Elaine knows it’s time to make an appearance.

Ann braces to a squat with her bag dropped beside her as a tidal wave of Presley children launch themselves at her over the foyer floor, tackling and clinging and squeezing vehemently with grinning, beautiful faces. Three are wiry, chlorinated and shirtless. It takes a moment for Ann to realize one is Daisy and that no, they’ve not made a third son since she saw them last. Jack’s golden hair has gotten darker and that’s heartbreaking but at least his dimples are deeper than ever and Jesse is just as sweet and courteously loving as always with Ella tagged behind with a wet doggie that Ann takes in her arms and let’s lick her face and Rosalee had a sketch to show her of what looked like a deformed couch but was most likely intended to be her beloved daddy’s profile and -

Oh Elaine.

Always one to make an entrance, to set the tone of a good game. She looks perfectly at home leaning against an upper bannister while observing the hubbub from above, with sheer navy cascading around her like a thundercloud and her hair tousled to perfection. Young Elvis’ portrait yearns behind her on the wall and Ann smiles at the rightness of it.

She waits till her children loosen the gambit just a little before wafting down the stairs in a tulle blur of long limbs and soft focused curves and she throws her arms around Ann and her sensible, tweed traveling suit.

“Thumper, I’ve missed you!” She’s no icy Madame in her own home, sweet Elaine, her porcelain face and macabre loungewear aside, she is warm and glowing in the rays of a waning day’s sun and Ann clings a little longer, arms around her neck and giving flesh beneath her hands, feeling oddly at home in this foyer.

“Missed you, too.”

The sleepovers always start with evenings like this. There’s playing with the kids and dinner, they may end up in the pool, they may end up watching home movies to show her what she’s missed since last visit. Perhaps there’s a new golf cart to try to flip on its top. But when bedtime comes, Thumper is a loving taskmaster, insisting everyone get to their respective rooms, starting the process thirty minutes early so that there can be as much dithering and “one more chapter” as can be and still get the kids conked out at a decent hour. Rosalee is allowed to stay and use the phone to talk to Elvis till 10:30 and in the meantime Thumper conducts tooth brushing competitions and Elaine sorts out breakfast plans with Mary.

And then it’s time for bedtime, and where Elaine might waiver about being so selfish as to deny her kids the little tiny bit of girlhood she’s carved for herself this evening, Ann has no qualms guarding that for her and summarily cleans out the big king bed of progeny.

Only little Jack is occasionally allowed to stay.

Weaned, or so Elaine swears but Anna has doubts, the kid is golden and soft and lanky like all little five year olds should be, and blessed with an unerring accuracy in beaming and scowling at the right times to get exactly what he wants. In short, he is Elvis come again in a tiny, button nosed, rosebud lipped cherub with sweaty curls begging to be pushed off his forehead by a loving hand and of course it’s half the delight to let the little fella stay and camp on the bed when they read their tabloids to each other, watching him laughing maniacally along with them at rumors about themselves that Jack doesn’t even understand.

Jack is also excellently skilled at wedging the foam pads between their toes when it’s pedicure time, allowing Elaine and Ann to bask back in matching boudoir chairs with their feet propped up on the matching stools Elvis got. Pink stain pouring over little round stools for when he wants to haul one up and chat to his wife while she applies her lashes. Jack insists on wedging the foam between their toes himself and sometimes tries his hand at painting with varying catastrophic results.

“Heyar, i’s wight heyer.” Jack’s little drawl still butchers Elaine’s diligent elocution lessons but both women fawn over him regardless when he passes them a roller they had planned on using later -not anymore- they drop the sectioned hair in process and start again with the one he gives them.

“He’s really precious, isn’t he?” Ann sighs once, staring down at him where he finally passed out between them, soft, chubby knees he got from his daddy bent askew and long fingered hands for a child tucked beneath a milk fat cheek.

“I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” Elaine admitted once and when Thumper gave her a searching look she went on, “Before there was you, there was just him. And when everyone else was ready to be happy again after Jo, he never minded when I’d take him to a room to nurse him and -“ she trail off, face lit warm by the harem lamp’s multi gemmed glow and the golden bedding around them, dark hair pinned up in rollers to show how young her face really is without paint and artifice, “-I even remember once being in Elvis’ trailer on set, right after and it was like every kid who cried around me-my body would respond and let down more and I-I didn’t have a baby for it. Except for baby Jack, and I remember sitting in that hot trailer on the lot while all the kids were out with Elvis touring the set and I was…crying.”

“Of course you were.” Ann snuggles closer, reaches over Jack’s little form to squeeze Elaine’s arm.

“I was sobbing my eyes out, actually.” Elaine admits with a shy turn of her head towards the padded headboard, “While he nursed. And then I felt his chubby little hand, all clumsy and sweaty, wiping them off without ever breaking his latch on the nipple. Wiping the tears off my cheeks.” She clarifies, “I didn’t know a baby could be so loving in the way I needed, and I’ve been close before, Jesse was my world I swear, and Ella is like watching myself again. But -his dimples pop when he gives that crooked grin and he won’t even let go of the latch, just a little…” she mimics his grin with her thumb in her mouth Ann laughs at the sight.

She laughs at the things Elaine finds funny and and she gets why Elaine loves what she loves. And night after sleepover night, Elaine finds herself admitting more and more and gets back an earful in return. It makes her giddy and makes her kick her feet when she picks up the ringing phone and hears her friend on the other line.

“I think I need to freshen up my hair.” Elaine will sigh into the receiver.

“I like how you’re growing it out, less structured, it’s younger!” Ann will agree before adding just as emphatically, “Just needs a little trim and some styling. I can come Thursday.”

One such Thursday in ‘64 Tink came out of the bathroom with tin foil in her hair and scared giddiness in her smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for ya,when you get back, Naughty.” Elaine told Elvis on the phone, forcing herself not to bite her nail in anticipation and ruin the new coat of polish.

The surprise had been an auburn haired wife.

Elvis noticed the effects of the sleepovers himself, beyond the wild sight of auburn hair, even as he looked at them askew and with a confused belligerence about fun being had without him, and many a demand regarding “what sorta fun are ya having? You’re my wife, dammit!”

His logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two little girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

Elaine legitimately enjoyed grappling on the fluffy white carpet of the music room floor after ice cream had been served and wiped from childrens’ chins. It was something she tried with Elvis and never managed to win except by clinging to his back like a limpet, and even then he’d win by crushing her into the pile with his weight.

But with Ann she could tussle and strain and keep up some of that old verve that had once had her nailing softball practice in high school and currently crushing Vernon at tennis. No one in the Memphis mafia was allowed to tackle her or ought else when games were played on the lawn and no amount of flattery convinced Elaine of competency she had not exercised in years. Thumper provided just such a foil and Elaine found herself winning and losing with a clean conscience and sore body time after time, children applauding at either result.

She felt a little wild, like she had when Elvis brought the three of them together that first night, pacifying her qualms about the rightness of it as only he and his unfailing logic could do. But these days she was less and less burdened by rules or even expectation, it was her own house, her own life and if Elvis Presley had cracked open the door on hotel sheets, then Elaine saw little blame to be garnered from stepping over the threshold and creating a little world for herself that made her feel more than used up and unsellable. A “fact” Colonel Parker and the family Enterprise winced over daily. She could shut herself up in Graceland or Palm Springs and see to it that her children got an education, her husband's favored meals were served when he deigned to come home and her sanity was somewhat in place for it all by any means possible.

Elvis, for his own part, knew damn well he’d invited in whatever wild spirit of independent merrymaking Elaine now partook of. He also trusted her implicitly to keep it under wraps within the halls of their house, to indulge respectably and set a good example for his children.

It was undeniable, since her friendship with Ann began, she was looking younger, happier and more content than he’d seen her since before the tragedy, before Jo.

And Elvis cared mostly about that.

And in the way of those who do not know how to comfort others regarding a tragedy that they themselves have not recovered from, he found himself making concessions and negotiations, a bit of “so long as I can keep this, you can have that” sort of bargaining.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ were never quite verbalized, but it was understood in that miserable harmony of married couples that he’d keep his women and his crowd of unedifying friends and employees so long as she might have household stability and a certain license to be a nutcase. Perhaps it would buy him and Larry time to figure out whatever fucked up Retrograde or inner chakra was keeping him from being able to bodily make love to his wife in the traditional way.

Larry swore he was only scared to make another child and lose it, hence why his wife remained hypothetically attractive but he could not complete his attraction carnally.

Elvis thought Larry should stick his head in the wood chipper for such a simple answer, there’s no way in hell that’s all there is to it and yet it likely was and Elvis couldn’t quite manage to accept that. Accept that he was still grieving. It wasn’t an option really. Not with everything else going on, all the different ways he was needed and wanted elsewhere, and not with the way Elaine swore she was fine until he could figure it out, so long as he loved her and was there for their kids.

Which he is. And when he’s not, Ann’s there. And Dodger. Or Marlon -on Daisy’s insistence. Or the whole damn nation.

So, much as the current order of things rankled Elvis, perhaps out of some suppressed awareness of his own role in it, ultimately having his Happy Tink back was his greatest wish.

And if it made Thumper happy as well? -goodness, it was a better end than most dalliances could boast.

But it was hard being a little sidelined, and when Charlie pointed out that Elaine must feel similarly about his flings and his fellas, Elvis wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about as Elaine was very much incorporated in both, as much as she liked to be. She just liked to be less and less and that was on her. Charlie still suggested he tell her how he felt about it.

But then Tink beat him to it.

He was laying there in bed, at Graceland, at some pitch black early morning hour one time, with five sleeping children scattered in their bed, when she told him she didn’t mean to make him feel lonely. It was all Elvis needed to hear. That she knew she was doing that, and if she knew it, then he knew that before long she’d find a remedy. He just needed to be a little more patient.

Which wasn’t his forte but Tink was quick and ingenious and once she’d come up with how to help, he just about wished she never had. The cure was as cruel as it was mouthwatering.

Elvis was in his trailer one day, on a movie set as Elvis was most days this year, and had spared some time from shooting due to another department needing to sort something out. The something didn’t matter, what did matter was that he got to sit in his trailer with his friends earlier than usual for an evening, put on his helmet and watch the game. And then his team won. Which, in the raucous, bottle clinking, cigar lighting jubilation of celebrating such a win, had him almost missing the ringing of the telephone he had wired in.

Only the Colonel and Graceland and little blonde Shirley from last movie set had his number and so Elvis scrambled over his red sofa cushions, threw off his helmet and leaned over to pick the phone up, hollering, “H’allo?” into the receiver while chopping at his throat with his hand in a demand for silence from his boys.

“Naughty?”

“Why, if it ain’t my pwecious baby wife.” he cooed with a sappy grin on his face, happily flipping on his back in the cushions, all being right with the world with his girl’s voice in his ear and his team in the playoffs.

“How’re you doin’ baby?” she asked him sweetly, and he could hear her settling into the sheets, the rustle couldn’t be from the kitchen.

He kicked his feet up above his head and propped them against the wall, “Pretty damn good, you watch the game?”

“Jesse and Thumper gave me a play by play.” she informed him.

“What were you cookin’?”

“Dumplings. Couldn’t step away.”

“Aww.” he knew it had to be something precious and easily burned to keep her from watching. “And now?”

“Now I’m petting Whiskers.” she informed him.

Their cat. “I trust Annie ain’t pettin’ any kitties of mine, is she?” he mumbled in a discreet little growl, cupping the phone to his mouth.

Joe glanced over anyway. Elvis found the toe of his boot tapping a jittery rhythm against the trailer wall and as annoying as he found it himself, he couldn’t stop. He felt nervous, oddly, like when he used to call Elaine from Germany, way back when before she’d joined him. Back when he wasn’t sure he knew her fully. She kept him on his toes and he liked that, it made his blood rush and satiated his natural eagerness for newness -but oh how he wondered sometimes how she always dredged up this newness. If he knew her, really knew her would -would she keep being so surprising?

Fuck. Maybe Larry was right, maybe he needed to pop a pill like an old fart and get it on with her, get it outta his system.

Where were they? Oh, cats. And Ann.

“Elvis, c’mon, really.” Elaine chided with a giggle, “Ann is setting up the pedicures.”

“Oh.” Elvis sucked in a breath at the way such a reassurance sent the blood from his panicked brain to his jealous heart and then melting down like molten desire right between his legs. He flexed his belly and gnawed on his thumbnail. “Oh yeah?” he tried again and sounded so damn wrecked that every friend in the place looked at him as if he’d just put on a porno. “Y’all paintin’ your piggies? Mmm? Pink, yeah? Fuck’meee.”

“Mhmm, well, she hasn’t gotten to painting yet.” Elaine expounded with a sigh, “She’s oiling them up, I’ve had to endure a fifteen minute sermon on dry cuticles, Elvis, and now she’s squeezing and rubbing my poor piggies till they’re tingly-“

“Laney!“ he hollered as if she dropped a 2x4 on his own toes and the guys crowded in, a mixture of mockery and interest on their faces. Elvis spread a hand out on his chest to regulate his breathing and cursed at the realization that his wife wasn’t the slightest bit clueless as to what she was doing. “Oh Laney, what -what’s she usin’ to oil ya?” he begged to know, his nose breathing deeply as if he could guess it a thousand miles away.

“Baby oil, Elvis,” Elaine sounds so earnest in his ear, “I told her you don’t let me use nothin’ else on them.”

“Good girl.” he growled after realizing she couldn’t see his decisive nod of approval at her obedience.

“Oooh” he hears her breathe in his ear and startles up from the couch in a little flail that has no destination save that he heard his wife moan and it requires some expenditure of energy from him or he’ll go nuts laying here imagining her in her babydoll nighty, her pretty little bare toes getting oiled up by Annie.

“Tink, what she doin’ to yous, Tink?” he demands urgently, and the guys crowd closer, Elvis tugs at his pant leg and knows it’s futile, his rock hard dick is trapped in Edith’s well tailored trousers and all he can do is bring his feet off the wall and spread as much as he can.

“S-she’s rubbing my arch.” Elaine tells him, “I was wearing those pretty little white heels all days, the white ones you got me.” she reminds him and he smiles at the visual of her clicking through their home.

“She makin’ ya feel good?” he prompts his eyes glossy and far away from his gaudy trailer and the smell of cigar smoke. “Rubbin’ the sore right out?”

“Yeah, yeah feels good.” She slurs.

He can just picture her all puddled and lax and slippery- “Hers all gooey?” he hopes, running a hand over his belly that keeps flexing and quivering like little Elvis is deep in cunt.

Elaine on the other end of the line smirks at the shift in his tone, gone entirely from jealousy to fanciful imaginings that are far, far beyond anything she’s indulging in but somehow it’s terribly exciting to know what he’s thinking, to lure him in and have only his own, nasty, boyish mind to blame for the misfire. She winks down at Thumper who truly is doing a remarkable job on those sore arches and gives another little moan. “Yeah, yeah I could fall outta bed I’m so gooey.”

She hears the shuddering breath he takes and can imagine him, crisp slacks and ruffled pompadour, laying on his back against velvet red cushions, legs splayed in a pantomime of dying and his lackeys gathered around like a sleazy last supper.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” she feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamn, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line and thousands of miles away, sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

Elvis brought home amongst his many gifts a couple of new cameras, and having taught Jesse how to use the still one, paid his son five dollars for each documented arm wrestle and diving contest. How he paid his wife for each documented lingerie try-on and manicure session was never revealed but her shoe box of pastel gauzy Polaroids suggested the compensation was ample incentive. How Tink paid Thumper was anyone's guess and no one’s knowledge. Maybe it was that Cartier diamond set she wore to a premiere the following week.

It was a natural graduation of events that Elvis should, being at home during one of Thumper’s convenient memphian layovers, be a camera wielding witness to one of these night time pamperings. They politely ignored him and his bright lights that beamed on their little haven in front of the dresser, pink satin chairs aglow and their faces almost angelically washed out on the film. That night, Elaine’s hair was restored to a deep chocolate color, Ann’s outfit for her next premiere was chosen and the silk pajama’s Elvis donned for the evening had to be discarded.

The camera wielding didn’t stop there, when Thumper was brought down to Circle G Ranch, an entire production was made, the only picture film Elvis Presley ever fully produced and directed and costumed in the 1960’s -and it was full of subtext, straw, piglets, bare skin and harmed vegetables. But it occurred over an slippery, sweaty, pungent afternoon and was not a sleepover and so has no place being detailed in this chapter.

What does deserve a place here is the great Tink and Thumper adventure with Benetint that happened about a year into this charming, girlish, sleepover habit.

They’d bought matching nighties you see, sheer with a gingham print. Yet, when going to photograph their charming selves in them, they found the rosiness lacking -or at least, Thumper thought it could be improved. The printed fabric was to blame for the faded-nipple effect but was too adorably bucolic to be abandoned entirely. So, after a foray into the smokey backstages of some Vegas showrooms, Ann arrived one day in Palm Springs with her sundry gifts for the children, and tucked into her purse, was an uninspiring little bottle of something that could easily have been mistaken for nail polish.

Sitting cross legged on the vanity, Elaine soon learned it was anything but.

It was too quiet in the bathroom, just their huffed breaths and the squeak of the lid unscrewing. Even before the icy chill flicked over her skin she felt her arms break out in gooseflesh and she sucked in a breath, bracing for the tickle. Elvis had done this, to her belly, that first time she’d grown his children and her belly rent apart with a lightning bolt down its middle.

It had felt loving then, kindhearted and boyish.

Ann crouching to bosom level, flicking the little brush with its smelly mixture across her pert nipples, breath ghosting against the red blush of Elaine’s breast, silk pooling useless off her shoulders -this was different, oddly so. Somehow more intimate than when a man, or what Elaine knew of men, did it. Here was no pleasurable usage to brace for, only girlish admiration and a charming lack of regard for ought else but this, this single, charged, shivering moment.

Elaine could see Ann’s dark roots from up above. She wanted to pull that thin bottom lip of hers and snap it back against her teeth. Feeling useless sitting getting adorned so soberly, Elaine swiped the hair falling into her friend’s eyes, up and off her brow and into the buoyant coif that chasing the children had already half dismantled.

It made Ann drop her brush. “I wasn’t expecting-“ she fumbled.

She went back to it, such warmth so close and Elaine watched with a confused heart as Ann swirled the icy slick once more over the outer ring of a babe abused areola, taking her bleeding little rosebuds and making them into dark cherries.

“How do they look?” Elaine asked Thumper as Ann stood at a little distance in the large bathroom, eyeing up her art with her absurd little brush raised, a consummate artist and a distracted friend.

“You look like I imagined.” Ann replied as if without thinking before her face colored the shade of the pink rug and she must roll her eyes in an effort to sabotage the escaped sentiment.

“Imagined when?” Elaine asked, leaning forward on the counter, not bothering to cover up as it would only smear, perhaps some part of her knew without consulting the mirror the image that she made.

A dark haired vixen with the body of an ivory cello, leaning forward with those creamy mounds topped like Shirley Temples with their little ornaments.

-knowing yet curious, hungry yet soft.

Ann swallowed hard and thought about the end of all this that Elaine had once predicted in the beginning, an end that was all wedding veils and bouquets and everlasting vows with some fella Ann was supposed to find and love since Elvis wasn’t available. Elaine swore it would come and Ann had hoped she’d been right. The idea sickens her lately, thinking of somehow there being some other best friend, someone else to flick bath water at and ogle in their silk pajamas, someone else to have her heart lurch over when the children crawl atop them and the motorbikes thrum beneath them. The more successful she got the more she wanted this.

Just this.

“When he used to talk about you.” she admits her imaginings had been detailed and flattering for the wife of the man she once lay beside. Not even in dreams of wildest jealousy and unfair slight could Elaine be anything but something Ann craved to know and be known by. “I-I dreamed of being stabbed by you.”

Ann had woken up flaming with desire from those nightmares. Pretty Elaine Presley coming alive from the front of a newspapers and screaming “traitor!” hacking at Ann’s broken little heart with a pie server. Only for Elaine to end up being kind, lonely and a bit of a tease.

“Why’re you crying?” Elaine asked softly, finally slipping off her marble perch and taking Ann’s chin in her hand firmly.

“I’m going to miss this.” she muttered miserably in realization of the overseas tours next year and the boys she entertained but didn’t like enough to trust with a single secret and the way Marlon was around here too often lately. “And you know too much of me.” she hit Elaine’s arm playfully.

The grip on her chin jerked in retaliation. “I’ve been worried. You’re getting famous.” Elaine admitted, and the way she referenced fame was if it was a cancer.

“But I can come here, right?”

“Always.”

“Even if I’m married?”

Elaine looked a little surprised and questioning and when Ann shook her head in the negative to being currently engaged she lightened again, “Especially if you’re married. Married women go mad without some woman to talk to about being married.”

“You’re some woman.” Ann purred because Elaine Presley was stood too near with her pale soft breasts brushing Ann’s arm.

“You could be too, if you’d let me paint you.” Elaine dug the bottle out of Ann’s chilled fingers and went back to the sink, her reflection showing the heightened color crawling down her neck. “Get over here Thumper.” she snapped her fingers and Ann slinked up on the counter like a condescending house cat. “Am I to paint over chiffon?” Elaine stared at the still tied nightdress unimpressed until Ann was forced to fling it open - to her credit, not without adding much pizzaz to the whole thing with a high kick that only barely missed Elaine's face and a haughty toss of her head.

Her act petered out with a shy chuckle that faded into fully nothing.

“You’re very pretty.” Elaine whispered as she stood frozen in front of her in a ready stance, bottle clutched and tiny brush brandished, looking like a juvenile boy trying to recall his father’s tips on how to flatter. “But, then - you know that, I suppose.”

“I’m cold.” Ann whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

“Oh, yes,” Elaine was suddenly in motion, stepping nearer with clear eyes, “this makes it worse. Trust me. I’ll be fast, I swear.”

“It’s fine.” Ann breathed and then promptly forgot how.

As if in slow motion she watched Elaine crouching to better see her work, and her pretty hand burdened with all of Elvis’ shiny spherical gifts descended until it made contact on her bare nipple.

“Oh Elaine.” Ann enunciated through a gasp, her hands that had been listlessly sitting on the countertop curled over the edge of the marble, gripping tight.

“Cold isn’t it?” Elaine murmured again, her hand coming to rest beside her work in direct opposition to the cold paint. Firm, steadying, warm flesh on her sternum made Ann tremble, she watched Elaine‘s eyes flick up to meet hers, an odd sort of edge and command in them she’d never seen before.

Or. Rather, she had, but only ever with Elvis, only ever directing that look to him.

“He did this to me once.” Elaine told her, voice gone deep and then another stroke of the brush. “Not my nipples -it was my belly.”

“Captain Marvel.” Ann huffed a laugh, recalling the way he’d made her trace the bolt on his wife their first night, eager as a boy who’d discovered magic.

“Captain Marvel is telling you to hold still, missy.” Elaine chided her wiggling friend and Ann felt a flush all over.

“I’m just breathing.”

“Hard.” Elaine snarked, staring down at Ann’s heaving chest with a sardonic brow.

The intensity of that gaze was too much.

“It’s too much.” Ann said it in defense and Elaine’s eyes fluttered up to meet hers, her whole body straightening.

“For you too?” Elaine begged tremulously and Ann felt a rush of connection at her vulnerability.

“For me too.” she nodded.

“Gosh.” Elaine exclaimed, startled but making no move to flee, she just stayed there, hemming Ann in on the countertop and studying her face like it was the dearest thing.

“This isn’t making it better.” Ann whined as she felt that beautiful face near hers -the thunk of Elaine’s forehead against her own soon followed.

She felt her hands hold her waist gently like a dozen lovers had before and none felt as tender as this.

“You know the thing about fame is,” spearmint wafted over Ann’s face and she closed her eyes to listen to Elaine’s soft, pondering drawl, “it's held up all those years as the thing that’ll make everything all right. When the only thing that makes things even slightly bearable is a friend who knows what you're talking about. If you ever get tired, Annie, of being known for all the wrong reasons, you just come on back. We’ll always find something of us here, I know it.”

Elaine’s thumbs played across freckled skin like dainty wipers on Ann’s cheeks, swiping off one tear after another into her dyed hairline and one mere jut of Ann’s set chin brought the lower half of their faces together.

plush, warm, minty, sticky, glossy, brushing, lilting

-turn aside.

“Do you wanna -the camera, Tink?”

“No.” Mrs. Presley answered honestly as she stepped back, a little tremble in her voice, “Not tonight. I think -perhaps I, perhaps we, should call Elvis.” Elaine stared off into the adjoining bedroom with swimming eyes, their little project once undertaken for his gaze had suddenly become too intimate to be shared, even with him, even as dried ink on a glossy Polaroid weeks from now, “And maybe bring in Jack, he looked restless.”

“Oh yes.” Ann cheered and it was weak, snotty, hoarse little lie. But it was for Elaine. Anything for Elaine. “Let’s.” she agreed.

—Yes. Bring in Jack, why don’t you? And Elvis and Marlon and your charities and your causes and when it gets too crowded with just us two, bring in the whole nation!—

Ann willed the puddling tears away from the rim of her eyes, it wasn’t fair how a woman so immune to jealousy as Elaine Presley could spark so much in others.

“I bet Jack will be up to my shoulder by the time I get back from tour.” Ann joked as they crept down the hall to their boy’s bedroom, “And Jesse will break my heart with your face on a teenager's runty little body.”

It was a promise. To be back.

And come back in good spirits and with good intent. To take as much as was offered, be happy with it. Just as she knew if she herself showed up tomorrow with a husband, Elaine would be as ecstatic as if it were her own dream come true.

Some friends really do just love you enough that way. And that had to be enough.

Tags, if you’d like to be added just drop a comment to that effect below. I don’t bite and I do adore feedback, I run off of even the slightest scream from you. I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this. Xoxo marina

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