Cody Fern AHS characters Imagines x Reader (Fem)

6. Returning The Favor

You awoke to a mixture of wind penetrating the open window, the bright afternoon California sun hitting your eye, and quiet upbeat tempos. You don't know when you'd fallen asleep, the last thing you remember is Xavier telling you how excited he was about being a camp counselor for the summer before you succumbed to your sleep deprivation. You'd been visiting your parents in Redding, happy to purchase a plane ticket to join your friends on their drive to Camp Redwood from LA, but Xavier insisted on driving to pick you up, only to turn around and drive to Redwood separate from the others in his van, the van that made your knees quiver when you thought about your past experiences within. He kept you awake most of the previous night, his hand covering your mouth as he fucked you blind on your childhood carpet, just feet away from your parent's bedroom. The skin on your back was raw with rugburn, but you enjoyed knowing his knees and elbows carried the same rash, the thought making your mind wander to other dirty deeds.

You shifted as you woke up, your eyes travelling toward him, inhaling slowly as you focused on him in the sunlight. Your gaze was glued to his profile, the blonde tips blowing in the breeze, his pouty bottom lip, his long lashes and blue eyes caged behind his sunglasses. You wanted to reach out and touch his arms, flexing as he turned the van onto the freeway. The teal mock neck tank top left little to the imagination. You didn't need imagination. You'd seen his nakedness up close, connecting the dots of his freckles and moles with your tongue. Your eyes were glued the way his fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the percussion, the way his head bobbed on clue, the way he quietly hummed a mixture of melody and lyrics, not knowing them. Your breath caught in your throat when his pelvis subtly swayed to the music. He was choreographing his next aerobics class, no doubt, and it made you hot. You knew what those hips were capable of, and the thought sent a bolt of pure arousal straight to your core. You sighed at the sight and thought, louder than you thought you did, as the noise caught his attention.

"Hey, babe." He grabbed for your hand, kissing the back of it, a dashing grin followed. His lips and breath were hot on your skin compared to the cool breeze of the van. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin at the contact intimate show of affection. Xavier noticed, assuming it was the cool air making you chilly. He rolled his window up immediately.

"Sleep well?" His eyes bounced from you to the highway and back, squeezing your hand to elicit a response.

"Yeah." You shook your head in response, biting your lip when he pushed his pelvis forward, almost touching the steering wheel, desperate to stretch his back after driving for several hours, and there was one thing you knew you could do to heat yourself up, and relax him simultaneously. You would never have attempted this in previous relationships, but there was something about Xavier that brought the inner wanton out of you.

You waited until his attention was back on the highway, checking his rearview and side mirrors to change lanes when pushed your arm rest up, sliding out of your seat, kneeling next to Xavier on the floor between the two front seats. You jostled his arm rest, catching his attention as he pulled him arm up out of surprise, his face full of confused amusement. Your lip was still stuck between your teeth as you stared up at him, your hand moving up his thigh while the other found his belt buckle.

He looked down at your hands and to you, before averting his gaze back to the road, grabbing your hand off of his belt buckle, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips before he adjusted himself, evidence of a hard on starting to blossom underneath the confines of his white pants. You kissed his knuckles, straightening his fingers with yours, taking his pointer and middle fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue over them before enveloping them with your lips, sucking hard, releasing them with a rude pop, a clear clue to your intentions. You dropped his hand, moving your attention back to his lap. You unbuckled his belt, dragging your nails up his thigh, your hand grazing his strained erection imprisoned by his pants. You made quick work of the belt, and your mouth watered when he moved his pelvis forward for you to remove the belt from his pants. You made quick work of the button, your eyes meeting his from below as you unzipped him. His face was lax as he watched in broken stares, his cheeks flushed, his mouth open as his breathing became audible. You moaned, elated as ever that he was going commando, and as hard and rigid as a flag pole, and it was all for you. He told you that he was once referred to as a Rembrandt, and boy, was it accurate.