Fucking underneath the moonlight in front of a lake as the swan's watch was not on Rory's bucket list.
But she wouldn't trade this moment for anything in the world.
Especially with him.
She could get caught up in that fact if she really wanted to. She could get caught up in the fact that it's never felt the way it does with him. The fact that he's nothing like what she imagined and yet somehow wildly better than she ever could have dreamed.
But she chooses to repeat her mantra, "Use him and lose him."
It's better that way. Better to take this sweet moment he's created and dwindle it down to what it really is.
Just sex.
"Louder," she demands of him, hands in his roots as she forces his head back.
He inhales through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he tries his best to comply. "Ror—"
"Louder," she hisses, brushing her nose over his cheek as she leaves an open-mouthed kiss along his jaw. "Come on, Teach. Let me hear you..."
His hands pull at her hips, needing to feel her against him as badly as she needs it, and he wants to smile at the nickname. "Shit, Ror...please—"
"Please what?"
His eyes open, finding hers as he begins to smile, lips ghosting her own. "Please let me fucking fill you with my cock."
She hums contently, proud of her obedient little toy. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nods, wrapping his arms around her back to bring her in even closer. He presses his mouth into her chest, the skin not hidden by her shirt open to his greedy tongue, and he inhales her, grinning at the familiarity. "Let me ruin you. Let me spill inside you, fucking fill you. Use you like you want."
It is what she wants, and she can't help the tiny, pathetic whimper that comes out when she hears him make those promises to her. Or when she feels him across her body, everywhere, like she's on fire with him.
His long fingers move with purpose, slipping into her jeans, clawing at her skin. His lips on her collarbone, sucking his name into her chest, claiming her.
Her shirt is next, and he tugs at it so needily that she wants to blush, feeling more wanted than she thinks she ever has.
It's an odd feeling for her...feeling wanted.
She always has been, she reckons. Wanted for her beauty, or her body, or what she could give people.
Granted, she's giving Dylan those very things...but he knows he doesn't want her for that.
He wants to see her because it's her, and that wouldn't change if she had a different face or a different body.
He doesn't know if Rory realizes that, but now is hardly the time to explain that to her.
Once her shirt is discarded, he moves to her bra, unclasping it in seconds. So quickly, she's almost surprised.
And then she has to remember this isn't his first time.
She's never felt shy under the male gaze, not like this. She likes her body, likes what it can do for people, the pleasure it can give them.
But her favorite part is watching his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store.
This isn't the first time he's seen her naked but you'd never know it with the way he stares at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
He doesn't lunge at her, doesn't groan like a prepubescent little twerp, doesn't ogle her like she's real-life porn.
He admires her. In a respectfully disrespectful way that has her glancing out onto the lake to hide her glee.
His hands, the hands she loves, come to the sides of her waist, squeezing gently before smoothing up. "My favorite secret," he murmurs, and she looks back down, their eyes meeting.
She suppresses a smile, her hand moving now to her chest, taking her nipple between her finger as she pinches, wanting to feel something.
Her eagerness spurs him on, and he tugs her closer, lips capturing her other breast, flicking his tongue over the swollen bud as she whimpers again.
He pulls it back with his teeth just so he can hear her again, tugging it so far back that she scrapes her fingers down his scalp, gasping in pleasure until he releases it.
He groans into her chest, so fucking turned on by her and her sounds alone, that he knows he'll never come down.
He keeps one hand on her hip to hold her still, but his other moves to the front of her jeans, flicking the buttons undone until he can slip his hand inside.
His fingers find the lace of her panties, and he can immediately tell how badly she wants him, wanting to smirk at how easily she can unwind.
He doesn't give in to her right away. He lets the pads of his fingers move to feel her out through the fabric, pressing his thumb into her and applying pressure.
She straightens up onto her knees, biting at her lip as she groans, burying her face in his neck. "Asshole—"
"Shh," he commands softly. "Or I'll stop."
She scoffs—loudly—letting him know exactly how unamused she is by his threat...although she knows he means it.
And to prove it, he does. He stills. His lips, his hands, his fingers...and she groans again.
"Fuck you," she seethes, immediately grinding down into his palm until he removes his hand completely.
"Uh-uh," he tuts, smirking up at her. "What did I say?"
She shoots him a glare before grabbing his wrist and bringing it to her lips, dragging her tongue along those same fingers before taking them into her mouth.
His eyes flutter as if mesmerized as she sucks, watching as she finally pulls away, letting them drip.
"There," she reports haughtily, bringing his hand back down to her hips, before letting go so he can do the rest.
And he has to smirk. Of course, she finds a way to beat him at his own game, but he can't quite be upset about that, can he?
He does what she wants, slipping his hand inside the lace until he can feel her. Really feel her.
He groans to himself when he does, surprised by how fucking wet she really is. And for him...that's what gets him. Knowing that all he had to do was look at her and she was dripping down her thighs.
She exhales softly when he dips his middle finger inside, testing her limits, reminding her that he's there.
"I see Ricky really did a number on you," he can't help but tease, and her hands grip his shoulders a little tighter.
"Fuck you," she repeats, another noise slipping out when the pressure from his finger increases the deeper he goes. "Yeah, he did—"
"He did, huh?" Dylan pushes, thrusting two fingers into her now. "S'all for him? Gonna soak my fucking fingers thinking about him?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah? Good," he replies, moving to suck on the skin of her throat, teeth grazing her pulse point. "Think about him. Think about how he'll never fuck you like I do. Think about how it's never as fucking deep, how you don't get off a fucking inch—"
Her mind is reeling, her eyes rolling back as she moves her hips against his hand, whimpering in his ear despite the fact that she's trying to act indifferent.
Damn fucking magic hands of his—
"How you beg me to go harder...slower," Dylan continues, his voice low, almost a growl. "Beg me to split you in fucking half, anywhere—everywhere. Can't fucking go two seconds without me, can you? Try to make me jealous...s'this what you wanted?"
It's exactly what she wanted and she revels in the way he knows how to make her come undone.
His thumb rubs her clit, first in hard, fast circles before he presses down and stills his hand.
She whines, a little louder than she had meant to, and she almost feels sorry for how she's disturbing the quiet night.
It's so peaceful, besides the sounds they're making for each other. The frogs in the grass, the sound of the gentle water, and the soft breeze.
She's so close, she can taste it, rocking her hips down faster to meet his rhythm of pumping inside her, desperate more than anything.
And then...he stops. Of course, he fucking stops, and she groans, shooting a glare his way as he smirks up at her.
"Not tonight," he whispers, helping her shift off his lap. "Can't have the first be anywhere else but around my cock."
She rolls her eyes, but she can't deny she feels the same, and soon he's tossing pillows down to the other end of the truck bed.
He helps her lay down on her back, and she thinks about mentioning that Ricky would have let her be on top.
But before she can, he whispers, "Want you to see two types of stars tonight."
And it's cheesy, and it's lame, and it's so fucking Dylan that she can't be bothered to be upset.
So she gets settled against the blanket, watching him eagerly as he pulls at the hem of her jeans, tugging them down until they're off her aching body.
He takes his jeans off next, and she pouts as she watches him undo the buckle, slightly upset she couldn't be the one to undo it with her teeth.
But soon, he's back between her legs, hovering over her as he kisses her gently.
She moves her fingers to his shoulder blades, pressing his body down into hers as close as it can get, chest against chest.
He moves to her neck, kissing hungrily as she rolls her head back, her eyes now seeing the bright stars in the dark sky above them.
She smiles to herself as she indulges in the moment. Fucking in his bedroom is fine, it's cute...but this?
She pulls the back of his neck out of her shoulder so she can kiss his lips again, fingers fumbling for his boxers as she tugs them down.
Her hands find him, swollen and dripping for her, and she smirks into their kiss as she gives him a tug.
He hisses against her lips, subconsciously thrusting into her hand, and she wraps her leg around his hip, needing him even closer.
"Uh-uh," she mocks him. "Stay still or I'll stop."
"Fuck you," he mumbles, lips still pressed to her bottom one as she smirks.
"Oh, is that what you want?" she replies before squeezing the head of his cock until he moans, forehead dropping to her chest. "Hm...like that, don't you?"
He responds by grinding his hips against hers, muscles flexing as he holds himself above her, wishing he could just fucking ruin her already. Ruin that smug fucking attitude of hers, that condescending look on her face.
But she wants that, too, and soon she's releasing him so she can pull at the band of her panties until they're down her thighs.
He does the rest, twisting them tight between his fingers before dragging them down furiously, and tossing them over his shoulder.
Then, he grabs a pillow, eyes meeting hers as he whispers, "Up."
She obeys, lifting her hips until he can place the soft object under her ass, and she can't stop the racing of her pulse as he finally moves back in.
He always likes to be gentle with her, that's something she's noticed. At least in the beginning. Likes to make sure she's prepared as if she ever wouldn't be.
And tonight is no exception, first grazing the tip through, eyelashes fluttering when the contact is made, already somehow soaking him from such a fleeting brush.
But she can't fucking stand it anymore and she wraps both legs around his lower back, locking her ankles before she yanks him to her.
It's always good with him. The first feeling, the stretch, the burn. It's always perfect and the best part is the way he'll exhale slowly before kissing her.
It's like he's taking a moment to remind himself where he is, who he's with, and the thought makes her stomach flutter.
He feels it, feels the way she clenches around him for the first time, and he can't resist pulling back just to hit her deeper.
Her head rolls back, jaw clenching as she whimpers, fingers scratching at his roots.
"My good girl," he coos when she flutters around him, and he notices her cheeks flush. She fucking loves his praise. He knows this, and he can never resist giving it to her. "God, always take me so fucking well, don't you?"
"Not hard to do," she retorts quickly, and he breathes out a laugh.
"Quiet now."
"Oh?" she hums, reaching up to take his earlobe between her teeth. "Thought you wanted me to be loud."
The purr in her voice causes his thrusts to falter, the growl in his throat slipping out as he uses his hold on her hip to drive himself deeper.
"Then be fucking loud for me, princess," he grumbles, already feeling the sweat appearing on his hairline. "Let me hear you, let the whole fucking forest hear you cry for me."
He hits a spot inside her that has her leg dropping back down to the ground, her nerves on fire as she whimpers so goddamn pathetically that she's almost embarrassed.
"That's my girl," he praises from above her, slamming his hips into hers before stilling. "God, feel so fucking good—"
"Yes," she whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her lips in his jaw as she kisses him greedily. "Don't stop—"
"Fucking never—"
"God, Dyl—"
"I know," he sighs, brows pulling together in pleasure as he feels her clench around him again, and he looks down, loving the flush in her cheeks from the heat between them. "Worth sitting through every fucking second of that game—"
She wants to laugh, but it feels too good, and her teeth find his shoulder as she bites to keep from screaming. He's unrelenting. In, out, hard...slow.
He does everything he can to bring her pleasure, from flattening his tongue over her aching nipple to pressing his palm into the side of her thigh to spread her open for him.
"Stay still," he demands, pulling it further. "Don't move, okay? Don't fucking move."
"Gonna cum for me?" she murmurs to him, feeling the way he's beginning to lose rhythm. "Gonna fill me like you promised?"
"Always," he replies, fingers moving to her clit so he can pinch it tightly, forcing her to gasp. "Shit—"
"Come on," she begs him, needing to feel that sweet release, needing to feel him, every way she can. "Please, baby."
She bites at his lip again, pulling it back before letting it go. She scratches her nails down his back, tugs him closer, clenches around him, and whispers his name.
And he whimpers. A sound so rare but so fucking delicious that when she hears it, she swears she cums.
She doesn't though, but she's close. They're both so fucking close in that moment that she begins to wish they could go all fucking night. Never leave his truck.
Fuck under the stars for the rest of their lives.
But she needs to feel him as badly as he needs to feel her, and it becomes a game of pushing each other further to that edge, chasing the feeling.
He grabs the back of her knee and bends her leg until her thigh meets her chest, and he drives himself inside her until she really does see two kinds of stars in front of her, choking on a moan as her head drops back.
And then she feels him. Feels him, hears him, knows nothing but him. Spilling inside her and stilling, her name rolling off his tongue as he struggles to breathe, telling her how fucking good she feels.
"Not fucking moving until you cum," he finally tells her, head on her chest, and she could cry from the buildup. "So...don't cum."
She rolls her eyes, but more so from the pleasure, but he's pleased with himself.
"Do not fucking cum," he repeats, now a little sterner, lifting up. "You hear me? Not until I say."
"Dyl—"
"Do not," he hisses, moving his fingers back to her clit so he can give it some proper attention. "You do what I fucking say."
He's everywhere, lips on hers, hands everywhere he can reach, already half-hard again inside her and thrusting once more, making her curse his name.
And she looks at him. That's what does it. Looking at him. Looking at the veins in his arms, the hair on his forehead that she can't help reaching up to smooth back, and the way his back muscles flex.
And he feels so bad for her, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she whines so fucking pathetically that he knows she'll never think about Ricky again.
"Do it," he grunts, pressing his thumb into her clit hard. "Right fucking now, Rory."
And the second she does, he kisses her again. Tongue slipping past her lips, taking control, whimpering in her mouth when he feels her around him.
And the whimper does something to her, furthers the feeling, the bliss, the longevity. It goes and goes and goes and she feels completely numb, holding onto him for dear life, and wishing she could save this moment forever.
When she can finally breathe again, she collapses against the blanket, and he grins down at her, laughing some as he brushes some hair behind her ear.
"My good girl," he says again, giving her a gentle peck before he smirks. "Still not gonna move, though."
"Yeah? Why is that?" she pants, her chest heaving ever so slightly.
He pauses, his expression mischievous as he dips his head down once again, brushing his nose against hers tenderly. "Not fucking leaving this truck without me inside you, without me dripping down your thighs, filling your fucking belly."
She bites her lip. His breeding kink rarely makes an appearance, but when it does...
"Okay," she agrees, nodding slightly as she ghosts her lips over his. "M'not going anywhere."
And they don't.
~~~
It's almost midnight by the time he drives her back to her house. He's never gotten the chance to see it before, seeing as she's always at his place, and he's more or less surprised by the size.
It's...huge. He never pictured her coming from a rich family, but he supposes he wouldn't know that, since she never talks about them.
All he knows is that she hates them.
He never pushes, though. Never asks any follow-up questions. He's afraid to scare her, especially when it comes to emotional topics, so when she makes a weary look, he just smiles.
"I'll be right here," he tells her softly, putting the truck in park as they wait by the curb. "Till you're inside."
She nods but doesn't make any immediate moves to exit the vehicle.
He notices the way her leg begins to bounce up and down in her seat, her fingers pulling at a loose string on her shirt, and his heart breaks.
He never sees her like this.
He thinks about offering to let her stay over, but...he knows she'll reject the idea immediately. It's not what they do.
So, he bites his tongue, arm resting on the steering wheel as he watches her.
They sit in silence for another minute or two before she takes a deep breath and looks back at him. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow."
Her voice is different. Not the usual chipper but sarcastic tone he's used to and his expression falls.
"Okay," he replies softly, still smiling. "I'll leave the window unlocked."
"Yeah," she replies half-heartedly, seemingly distracted, and he sighs to himself as he watches her get out of the truck and slam the door shut.
As promised, he doesn't move until he knows she's inside, watching even after the front door has been closed to really make sure.
And once he knows she's more or less safe...he heads home.