#and something about rhett rubbing his arms | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whiskeynwriting · 11 months ago

Text

When Two Became Three

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

◆

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Brief mention of reader’s hair (Jack brushing it away from your face), pregnancy, birth, postpartum life, established relationship/marriage, daddy kink (A.L.W.A.Y.S.), praise kink, male masturbation, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex.

◆

A/N: Look, I want sweet times with the baby but I NEEDDD sexy time with Daddy 😫 we'll get sweet times with the baby, trust me ❤️

Not proof read because 🤷🏻‍♀️

◆

Daddycember ‘23 Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

It was warm, the summer heat a smoldering force even in the late afternoon. You were sure it would’ve cooled off as the night grew on, but you wouldn’t be outside for that. The overwhelming warmth finally ceased when Jack helped you into the hospital, quickly finding a wheelchair to set you in. The onset of sudden contractions was surprising, since it was still a week until your due date. Nonetheless, Jack called ahead, securing a room for you to occupy until two became three.

What calmed you most about this slightly early delivery, was that you and Jack had the baby’s room completely prepared. Everything was assembled, all of his clothes washed and put away, all of his toys organized, all of his bottles washed and sterilized. Your hospital bag had been ready, too, packed only the night before.

What scared you most about this early delivery, was how quick it had occurred. Your contractions were rapid, with barely a minute between them when you got to the hospital, and Jack drove you as soon as the pain had started. In fact, Jasper was so eager to make his appearance, that you didn’t even have time for an epidural. The overwhelming urge to push took over your entire body. It was involuntary, your muscles just knowing what to do. That was something you hadn’t expected.

Through it all, the only thing that truly mattered to you was your husband’s presence. He refused to leave, refused to not be physically connected to you. Holding your hand, kissing your head, rubbing your shoulders and the back of your neck. He was always there, the reassuring, stabilizing warmth of him.

“They said seven pounds, nine ounces.” Jack informed you, smiling down at his son. He was the first to hold him.

It was early, a little past three in the morning. Exhaustion took over your body, a sleepy smile growing on your face. Sweat beaded against your temples, a dull throb consumed your muscles. But he was here, he was here. He was finally here.

The small dusting of dark hair on his little head reminded you of his father, and Jack agreed. It was dark enough to resemble his dad’s hair, though his eyes were nothing like Jack’s. A beautiful blue, rich and deep. And briefly, in this moment, you worried for Jack’s mental state. You’d worried about it before, of course, when considering this scenario. He’d never be able to forget Anna and Rhett, and he never should.

And while the previous thought is true, nothing could take away the joy Jack had for Jasper, for seeing his perfect son, his first child. This moment couldn’t be tainted by past trauma and memories. And with everything in him, he wants to thank you, thank you for carrying his son, for keeping him safe and fed and warm. For being brave enough to do this, to sacrifice and give him the family he’s always wanted. He’s dreamt of this moment for so many years, and now, in his very arms, he’s experiencing it.

“Honey,” He said, voice soft and wavering slightly. “Thank you.”

Gently, your eyes closed, breathing out a small, grateful laugh. “Can I hold him?”

“O-Of course!” Jack stuttered out, shocked that he hadn’t already handed the baby to you. “‘Course, baby.”

And so, you did. The delicate weight of your son soon filled your arms, not even bathed yet. He was swaddled in white sheets, and regardless of the mess he was still covered in, you kissed him, his sweet face, the wet hair atop his head.

When they bathed him, you nearly fell asleep. Your instincts told you to stay awake, to look after your baby. But it was easy to rest when you had so much trust in Jack. And while you slept, Jack watched him, held him when he was dry and warm in fresh sheets. To your husband, there was nothing more precious than this moment. The two most important people in the entire world, sleeping beneath his watchful eye, both safe and happy. He felt complete, like this accomplishment was what he’d been waiting for his entire life.

And he still feels that way, with you snoozing beside him in bed while Jasper sleeps peacefully in his crib. When Jack can’t sleep, he watches the monitor, watches the way his son relaxes, the way his little features move as he dreams. At only four months old, he does surprisingly well in his crib at night. Though, that didn’t mean he slept through the entire night.

Jack hears you stir beside him as it happens, your son wailing, crying out for one of you. When you turn over, he lays a hand on your bare shoulder, kissing it. “Don’t worry, honey. I got this one.”

“He wants milk.” You tell him in your dreamy state, groaning slightly.

“Well, then I’ll bring him to you.” Jack insists, standing from the bed.

It takes only a few steps for him to enter the nursery, what with it being right across the hall. As soon as he’s in the hall, the wailing grows louder, and louder still when he’s inside the room.

“Sh…” And immediately, his son is looking for him, those once blue eyes now fading to a pretty gray as they find his dad. “I’m here, honey.”

Scooping him into his arms helps Jasper to still, to catch his little baby breath. But he doesn’t stop whining quietly, wanting his mother. And so, Jack returns with the still-small bundle, finding you already sitting upright in bed.

With an exhausted smile on your face, you reach out for him, immediately bringing him to your breast. It’s become routine, coddling him in the night like this. It seems to be the only thing that calms him down.

“We need to start sleep training him.”

Jack settles beside you on the bed, watching his son latch. He nods with a sigh. “I know.”

“But I don’t want to do the cry-it-out method. I could never ignore him like that.” Glancing down, you watch as he suckles, his eyes closing peacefully. “I’m so glad I have you with me.”

At times, Jack’s age made things difficult. And other times, his experience was a blessing. Currently, the only difficulty you’ve been facing is his increasingly painful back and knees. After all, the man’s getting old. Bending down to play with his son or pick him up isn’t always the easiest thing, but he still wouldn’t trade it for the world, and neither would you. There isn’t anyone else on this planet that you’d rather have as a life partner. Regardless of his stiff muscles or joints, Jack does his best, doing everything he can to make sure his responsibilities are met. The last thing he’d want is for you to feel unsupported or lonely.

“You’ll always have me.” He promises quietly, kissing your temple. “Always.”

The rest you find yourself needing far too often, is disturbed by the coolness of breast milk drying on your shirt. Though, you’re grateful for the time you’ve been given. After all, you wouldn’t have these opportunities if it weren’t for your husband. Even in the evenings, when he comes home from work tired and sore, he still gives time to you and your baby. Every single day.

Stumbling through the darkness, you eventually find the lightswitch, allowing you to toss your soiled shirt while grabbing for your pump. It’s been relatively easy, breastfeeding, which you consider a godsend. You were worried sick it wouldn’t come in on time, or that Jasper might not latch, or that you might not produce enough for him. But the steady flow pouring into the plastic containers has put you at incredible ease.

Although you can barely think, you make your way out into the hall, searching for your husband and baby. The instincts you find yourself having are humorous, in a way. You never thought you’d be so concerned for another person’s safety, let alone two people. But whenever you find them, they’re alright, thriving, even. When they’re together, they’re happy, so happy and at peace. Just like they are now, snuggled up on the couch.

Walking closer, you grin, eyeing Jack from around the corner. It’s dark in the living room, the few candles and city lights barely illuminating the space. And nestled in the middle of the couch, are your boys, curled up together. Jack’s cradling Jasper while he sleeps in sturdy arms, one hand brushing over his small head. And he simply stares, eyes full of admiration and awe, so much love and adoration.

“Baby?”

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, a small, sleepy smile on his lips. “Hey, darlin’.”

“How is he?” Now, you step into the room, sitting gently beside Jack. Peering over into his lap, a bright smile plumps between your cheeks.

“Perfect.” Jack whispers, gazing down at the small bundle. “He’s perfect. He even smiles in his sleep.”

Laughing gently, you nod. “I know.”

It’s Wednesday evening, a randomly thankful night, a night where Jack is almost always home. And on nights like this, he opted to watch the baby, letting you sleep and eventually cook. “Should I make dinner?”

“That sounds great, babycakes.” Simply, he looks up at you, that same expression of tired admiration written all over his face. It makes you grin, your heart feeling incredibly full as you lean in. And when you place one single kiss on his arching nose, he hums, eyes closing with contentment.

Motherhood has brought out a truly caring nature within you. It was always there, and always showed, but it’s been amplified by this new, tiny presence. You’re cooking more, especially with the newest change in the nightly routine. You’ve split the night into two shifts. With you staying home on maternity leave, Jack takes first shift, letting you sleep until around midnight or one o’clock. While you sleep, he cares for the baby, making sure the hours you get are good and solid. And when midnight comes around, you wake, taking on the responsibilities for the rest of the night while Jack rests. He has work, after all, and needs to keep himself sharp.

Jack has grown quite fond of your cooking, your nesting. It started early on in your pregnancy, and has only continued since Jasper’s birth. With more sleep, came more energy, happy to keep a clean home and meals on the table for your husband. It felt nice, falling into these traditional roles. It didn’t work for everyone, but it worked perfectly for you and Jack.

“What do we have today?” He asks in that sultry tone, wrapping both arms around your midsection. Pressing himself to your back, he gives your neck a sweet kiss, smiling.

“Stuffed peppers, asparagus, and steak.” You reply simply, surprising him with his favorite meal. Something he hasn’t eaten since the baby arrived. “Bought a new bottle for you, too.”

“A new bottle?” Jack replies, chest bouncing with a chuckle. “You spoil me, baby.”

“Yeah, well…” Turning around, you find yourself between the cage of his arms, face right in front of yours. “I try.”

And then you’re tilting your head up, lips meeting his. It’s soft and sweet, one turning into multiple. The timid appearance of his tongue makes your insides spark, your breath hitching quietly. And he notices.

“You like spoilin’ me?” Jack asks, hands lowering to your hips, sliding around to grab at your ass. Through the silk material of your robe, he can feel you, feel how soft and plush you are beneath his hands. He loved when you did this, wearing your robe and nothing else at the end of the night. You didn’t need a bra, not with you constantly breastfeeding.

But then the baby cries, a sudden, shrill noise, that drags your husband away. A small sigh leaves his mouth, giving your nose a peck before walking off to tend dutifully to his baby. Of course, you’d never ignore your son, but sometimes… you miss the days where it was only you and your husband. Your baby is a lovely thing and you can’t imagine life without him now. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t allowed to miss your old life, too. Things are just… different now, and it’s taking some getting used to.

Before the baby, Jack would’ve done so much more than just grab at your ass. He’d lean down to suck on your neck, pull apart your robe to grope your chest. Maybe even get on his knees and open your legs, stuff his face between your thighs until the food is burnt and your hips are shaking. He loves when you take care of him, and he loves taking care of you. But he hasn’t taken care of you like that since Jasper was born. He hasn’t put his mouth anywhere near your legs, but not because he doesn’t want to. The two of you have just been so goddamn busy, it’s hard to make time for sex when your schedule is full and you’re constantly exhausted.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack calls back from the living room. “Just hungry, needed a bottle.” And when he’s well fed and rested, he sleeps again, pretty much all the little nugget does. But when he’s awake, all he does is smile. He’s the happiest infant you’ve ever met; his laugh makes the world seem kind.

While watching from the kitchen, you witness Jack feed your son, stroking his head gently with his free hand. Being a dad is what Jack was meant for, it comes so naturally to him. And still… you can’t help but miss when he was yours.

If only you knew how he was feeling. Far too desperately, he yearned for your physical connection. He fantasized about it, dreamed about it. Your husband knew things would change after the baby, but wanting you is in his nature, it’s ingrained in his goddamn bones. But at the same time, Jack didn’t want to pressure you into anything. He figured when you were ready, you’d come to him. And he’s continued to wait for that day; wait, and wait, and wait. Any time spent alone was spent touching himself, satisfying the carnal arousal crawling through his body. In the shower, in bed when you stayed up too late with the baby, hell, even in his office. Fuck, he remembers when he used to bend you over his desk, use you to satisfy himself. Are those days completely gone?

Unfortunately, neither of you are sure. And with that somber news, and the ending of your quiet dinner, Jack heads off to bed. It’s accompanied by a sweet kiss and tender hug, soft whispers of love filling your ears. And when he’s finally gone, you can’t help but sigh. Not out of relief, but of guilt. Jack’s kisses are lovely but you want so much more than that.

And while you tend to your tiny son, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about that, about how neglected and forgotten Jack must feel. It brings you to tears, honestly. Sure your world is different now, much different, but that doesn’t mean the two of you have to change. That doesn't mean the passion in your relationship has to die. And at that realization, something stirs inside you, something full of determination and ambition. Jasper lays in your lap with a belly full of milk, lids closed as he rests. And once he’s safely in his bassinet, you make your way toward Jack.

Strutting down the hall, you find your nerves crawling with eager excitement, wanting to express these feelings to him. But the small sound of… something, stops you. A brief noise, muffled, but you know that noise. And immediately, your lips are quirking up, jaw beginning to drop. There’s no way, there’s no way you happened to catch him in the act. But with your interest piqued, you inch toward the bedroom door, listening closely.

Oh, he’s moaning, your husband is moaning. He’s touching himself, what else would he be doing? And then you’re wondering, why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he ask me? Although, you can understand why. He probably assumed you’d be too exhausted to do anything, likely having to resort to this for months now. And the realization tugs at your heart. He’s been neglected, you see that now.

Though, through all the guilt-ridden thoughts in your head, one thing shines through - I want to see him. Whatever his reaction is, you want to see this. You can’t even remember the last time you did anything sexual with Jack and to say that was a sin would be an understatement.

Quietly, you twist the knob, pushing forward as slowly as you can. Inch by inch, the noises get louder, deep and sultry moans sighing from your lover’s mouth. And as you continue forward, you’re wondering what exactly you’ll find, wondering what his reaction will be, and all too quickly… you’re met with it.

Widening eyes fall on the sight of Jack, shirtless and laying on the end of the bed, both feet flat on the ground. He’s got the fly on his jeans open, pants down just enough to have pulled himself entirely out. One hand curls around his shaft, thumb stroking the tip with diligent swirls. The other cups his scrotum, rolling his fingers and fondling the sensitive skin. His head is tossed back, mouth agape with his eyes shut. The veins in his forearms flex against taught muscles, thick fingers working himself closer to the edge.

An enormous huff releases from his chest then, eyes popping open to look directly at you. At first, you’d expected him to be shocked, maybe even embarrassed - he’s anything but.

The first word out of his mouth is an incredibly breathy, “Baby.”

Lips parting in shock, you take in the look on that handsome face. “Baby?”

“Honey,” He fucking whines, “Look at me. Look what you do to me.”

“Baby…” Walking over to the bed, you lean down, holding yourself up with one hand. The other cups his chin, an action that forces a high sigh out of him. All at once, you feel overcome with care; you want to take care of him, hold him, love him.

“I need you, babycakes. Daddy fucking needs you; haven’t had you in fuckin’ months.” He’s still touching himself just as eagerly, starting to fully stroke his length. “I know we have Jasper, sweetheart, I know, but… I just can’t stand it anymore.”

The entirety of the situation is rushing blood throughout your body, sending arousal through your veins. Jack’s sheer desperation is sending you over the edge, your breaths picking up with every passing second. You’re shocked he’s acting this way, and you’re drinking in every second of it.

“Baby, please. Please tell me.” But this… this confuses you. Tilting your head at him, you begin to question, “What?”

“Tell me if you need me.” He begs, he’s begging for you. “Do you need me as much as I need you, honey? Is it just me?”

“No, daddy.” Your head shakes, eyes staring into his own. “No, I need you. I need you…” Naturally, you lean in, lips slotting over his with the eager need to reassure him.

With great relief he leans into your kiss, both hands continuing to touch the places he needs to satisfy most. Instantly, he’s moaning, mouth opening so he can groan into your throat. And you take advantage of this, sliding your tongue into his mouth and taking control. He tastes like whiskey, like him, the liquor he’d just downed at dinner. Oftentimes, that taste would intermingle with the smoke of his cigar, a sensation you dearly miss; the taste and scent of Jack, of an older man.

“I need my little girl again.” He’s whispering, one hand reaching up to hold the back of your head. Pressing you further against his mouth, he hums, brushing back some of your hair. “Can I lick you, sugar? Please?” Jack’s voice is quiet, pleading with you between kisses.

“Now?”

“Now.” Comes his instant reply. “Right now. Fuck, haven’t tasted you since the baby came.”

“Daddy,” You’re saying it with such fondness; you haven’t been able to call him that in so long, not like this.

“Sit on me,” Jack insists. “Come sit on my face, you perfect fuckin’ angel.”

Both hands are then moving to your robe, undoing the tie in the front of pushing it from your shoulders. Your grin is immediate and bright, shrugging it onto the ground. And just like that, you’re naked, in all your postpartum glory. But Jack doesn’t mind, if anything, he’s only grown more attracted to you. Your growing body, full breasts and plush thighs, your soft tummy and grabable backside.

“C’mon,” Your lover mutters, urging you up by your hips. “C’mon, baby.”

“I, I need to shower, baby.” Part of you worries - you’re insecure. You showered last night but haven’t been able to today, not with the baby.

“You think I give a fuck about that?” Suddenly, that rough, demanding voice is back. His face turns stern, hand reaching up for your throat out of mere reflex. “Get up and here, and put your pussy on daddy’s face.”

That authoritative tone has you following his every command, and he knows it. You’re practically brainless when he’s like this, especially when you haven’t experienced it in so long. Without another thought, you’re crawling over him, feeling those broad hands roam your bare body.

“That’s it…”

He doesn’t even let you hover, doesn't allow you to become truly comfortable before he’s dragging you down by his grip on your hips. Instantly, his mouth is devouring you, opening wide and slurping on the slick leaking down to your thighs. Falling forward, you catch yourself on both hands, staring down at Jack. Puffing out frantic breaths, your jaw drops, brows furrowing when you feel that talented mouth suction to your clit.

“J-Jack, baby.” Gulping, you see those dark brown eyes snap open, one hand lifting to spank your backside. “Daddy.”

With a satisfied hum, his lids flutter shut, broad palm rubbing the space he just stung. Jesus, does he love this, he fucking missed this. Jack used to be such a whore for you sitting on his face, and he hasn’t experienced it in nearly an entire year.

“So fucking wet for me, yeah baby?”

“Yeah,” Nodding, you whine out from above, feeling his tongue fuck itself into your hole. “Yeah…”

“Pretty girl, perfect little thing.” He’s grabbing onto you in thick handfuls, kneading your ass and thighs, rubbing his face back and forth like some satisfied animal. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

This praise feels so foreign, yet… it’s familiar, so overtly familiar you tear up from the memory of how saturated you used to be in it. Your head tosses back, throat gasping dryly as he tongues your clit, holding you down onto his mouth. You can feel his jaw moving, opening and closing as he slurps against your lips, drinking you in.

“You like when I touch you, honey? Like how I make you feel?”

“I’ve missed it.” Fisting his dark brown hair, you gasp out a flurry of high pants, whispering shakily to him, “I’m so close.”

It’s been minutes, a handful of seconds, and he already has you. That handsome face between your thighs, those broad palms grabbing at your hips. And without even realizing it, you’re rocking against him, sliding your slick lips over his mouth and face, and he’s reveling in it.

“Give it to me.” Is all he manages out, voice gravelly and wet before you’re cumming in his mouth.

Just like before, like he used to before your baby, he laps at you, sucking every ounce of it into his mouth. His moans are soft, vibrating up through your body. And while you squirm your way through euphoria, he holds you steady, hands gripping either side of your hips.

“Quiet, honey.” Jack then grunts, sighing dramatically before clearing his throat. He then gives your clit a broad, slow lick, asking you, “Be quiet for me. Don’t wake the baby.”

“Okay,” Both eyes are closed, head resting low with your chin on your chest. The lungs beneath your ribs are dying for breath, pretty lips parted as you roll your wet heat over his lips and chin. “Daddy…”

“Fuck me,” Turning his head, he mouths at your thighs, licking and sucking and biting. His face is dripping with you, lips and mustache glistening. “Babycakes, please.”

Heavy lids rise, glancing down at your lover. And the sight you’re met with is his desperate expression, brows folded up in the center, tongue poking out to lick both lips.

“Will you touch me, honey? Suck on me?”

A smile breaks out across your face, head tilting back with a small, breathy laugh. Both of your hands then slide over his head, fingers running through that dark brown hair.

“Please, baby.” He begs sweetly, kissing your thigh. “Before you have to go back out there. I need you, need you so bad, I - ”

Covering his mouth with the palm of your hand, you meet his eyes once again. “You don’t have to ask me twice, baby.”

His mention of the baby snaps you out of that blissful haze, crawling down his body like your life depends on it. Jack sighs when you settle on your knees, spreading his legs a little wider for you. And the sight of him makes you hungry, veins throbbing, shaft slick from the steady faucet from his tip. A deep red colors the head of his cock, drooling for any sense of touch, any sense of attention.

Lips parting, you drag your flattened tongue along the underside of his cock, resting back against his toned stomach. He tries his best to watch you, he really does, but when you do that, his head immediately drops back. Something truly possesses you then, wanting to show your appreciation for him, for the man that keeps you happy and protected, for the man that cares so wonderfully for your small family.

“Jesus Christ…” One hand smoothes over the back of your head, body shivering from the slow, worshiping suck you give to the tip of his cock. Your tongue pets at the slit, mouth watering from the taste you’ve been deprived of. “Just like that, sugar.”

But while you’re focusing on taking him into your mouth and very quickly down your throat, Jack is focused on you. He’s so enamored with you, with how perfect you are for him. Always so willing and eager; he swears he never knew what good sex was until he met you. He can remember the first time you blew him, back when he’d invited you to his beach house so many years ago. At that point in time, he thought life couldn’t get any better. But then he put a ring on your finger, and then he put a baby inside you, and he knows there’s only more to come. With you at his side, he knows he’ll thrive.

Unexpectedly, Jack blurts out, “Baby wait, wait.”

Removing yourself gives you time to catch your breath, staring up at him with confusion. But then he’s grabbing your arms and pulling you up to him again.

“Come up here,” Your husband requests, tone low and seductive. “Come up here…”

Wanting to make him happy, and do as much as you can during this precious time, you comply. Your knees rest on either side of his pelvis as you crawl over him once again, hands cupping both cheeks as you bring yourself in. And with an emphatic huff, Jack meets your lips.

“You don’t like my mouth anymore, daddy?” You’re only teasing, smirking against his lips.

Grabbing the back of your head, Jack bites at your bottom lip. “I’m gonna need you to shut your mouth.” His other hand grabs his shaft, angling it up between your legs. “I need to be inside you, so fucking bad.”

Without care, he thrusts upward while pulling you down, sliding the thick curve of his head through your lips. The sensation shocks you briefly, jaw dropping, but eyes never leaving his.

“Just like that, just like that, honey. Sit on me. You don’t have to do anything, baby doll, just lay here. Lay on me and let me fuck you.”

Words escape your mind, your response consisting of a trusting nod. It’s the slide of his cock that truly knocks the breath from your chest, thick and heavy against your most sensitive skin. Every inch forces you to feel the stretch, the veins rubbing against your walls, the head throbbing timidly inside your heat.

“Oh my fucking god,” Head dropping back, Jack groans, almost too loud. “I need this, I’ve needed this so bad.”

Falling onto his chest, your hands reach for him, face burying into the curve of his neck. “I know, daddy.”

Fully inside, he pauses, reveling in the sensation. It’s like coming home, feeling warm and snug and welcome. Large hands then roam your thighs, your ass and sides, rising to your chest. One grabs at your swollen tit, thumb rubbing over the nipple while his free hand lands on your hip. Keeping you still, Jack begins rocking his pelvis up, slow and steady, feeling you pepper his throat in sweet kisses.

“Beautiful fuckin’ thing,” He drawls, southern tone thick and sleepy. Turning his head, he mumbles into your hair, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Daddy,” A flurry of emotions fill your body, hands holding onto his shoulder and neck while he pumps himself into you. “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I haven’t, haven’t given this to you.” You’re crying softly against him, feeling him dive inside with every thrust.

“Sh… no, no, no.” Jack says to you, petting the back of your head. “No, baby. Don’t worry about that. I have you now.”

“Always,” Nodding, you gasp, feeling his movements become more erratic. “You always have me.”

“No matter what,” He agrees, breaths heavy and humid against the side of your face. “Always, babycakes. Daddy’s here, I’m always here.” Jack grunts then, back arching slightly. “C-Christ, fuck, I can’t do this, baby, not much longer.”

“I don’t care, I promise.” Bouncing down against his thrusts, you do your best to keep it soft and quiet, but it’s difficult when you’re connecting with your husband like this. “I want it, baby.”

“Oh, sugar, I love you.” It’s the last thing he says before forcing out a rugged moan, doing his best to contain it. “I fucking love you.”

Sitting down completely, you rock gently over him, feeling his warmth beginning to fill you. At first, you worry about bruises, feeling how harshly he grabs onto you. Fingers press into your hips and thighs, chest puffing out a handful of forceful breaths. And still, you’re kissing on his neck, licking the salty skin with sweet pets.

“I love you.”

Neither of you thought this is how it would happen, your first physical connection after the baby. Though, it fits. Your entire relationship has been full of spur-of-the moment, passionate sex. It makes sense that this is how you’d come back to each other.

Jack’s head turns, finding your cheek and nuzzling into it until you lift your head enough for your lips to connect. It’s a slow, loving kiss, melting into the other, bodies relaxing together.

“Honey, I missed you.”

“I’ll do better, daddy.”

“We,” He corrects, “It’s the two of us, babycakes. We’ll always make it work, right? Can you promise me that?”

“I promise, of course I promise.”

A long, relaxed sigh then floats into the air, leaving both your mouths. “My girl,” Jack says, rubbing your back. “My perfect girl.”

#daddy I MISSED YOU #daddycember #daddycember '23 #daddycember 2023 #daddy whiskey #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader

259 notes · View notes

delopsia · 4 months ago

Note

I really need to go touch some grass. But instead…do the Floytts ever try rimming? I can’t remember if youve written about it.

If not…I think it would happen after watching porn together. All it takes is a look between you and Bob before he pins Rhett down, making him squirm as he eats his cute ass like he devours your cunt.

This has been in my head for over a year now, but I've been too much of a wimp to write it 😔✌ but they absolutely give rimming a whirl.

I like to think it's something that's been sitting in the back of Bob's head for a while. How can he not think of it? Between the little pink shorts Rhett has been wearing around the house and those slightly too-tight work jeans, it's hard to get the idea out of his head.

Selling Rhett on the concept is...less than easy.

"Y' wanna what my what?"

"Eating ass isn't that bizarre!"

"It...no, but...it's weird when it's my ass!"

It takes a good week and a few shots for Rhett to quit feeling so mortified about the concept, but his ears are fire engine red when he slinks into the bathroom to clean himself up.

Even if he's been sold on the idea, he's still got his face buried into the pillow when you and Bob are trying to ease his nerves. Kissing and sucking at the soft fat of his thighs and teasing his cock that's trapped between. You're still rubbing the underside of his tip when Bob leans in and licks a fat stripe up Rhett's cute little hole.

And Rhett jumps like a live wire. Lurching up the bed, kicking his feet as Bob wraps his arms around Rhett's waist and anchors him in. There's no escaping without the safeword, and it's all you can do to avoid getting kicked while watching.

Rhett just doesn't know what to do, whining high in his throat as Bob's hot tongue toys with him. It's so much and so new, and it tickles the slightest bit, and he just can't stop himself from squirming.

It's not until Bob leans back to push a finger into him that you can reach down and start toying with Rhett's cock again. Lazily toying with his drooling cock head, not even bothering to try and properly stroke him.

Rhett's so damn loud about it. Fussing at Bob to add another finger, whimpering when he gets exactly what he wants, then finds room to complain about the sudden lack of tongue. Cums with a sharp cry that bounces off the walls, through the window, and down the road.

At first, Bobby only thinks of it as an every once in a while thing. But he gets Rhett again three hours later, bent over the kitchen table, and again the next day. He hardly even seems to realize that he's slowly turning Rhett into a little pillow princess, who knows that he just has to squeeze into those short shorts and lay around until Bob can't contain himself anymore.

But really, who can complain? 🍑

#delgato's asks #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott

28 notes · View notes

bradshawsbaby · 2 years ago

Text

love in the air at the county fair

pairing: rhett abbott x childhood friend->girlfriend!reader

author’s note: wrote this one based on this anonymous prompt. it’s also a continuation of to the nines!

special thanks to @luminousnotmatter, @whisperofsong, and @therebeccaw for giving me such confidence to continue writing these rhett stories! ♥️

warnings: very brief allusion to underage drinking, lots of fluffy fluff

You had been going to the Amelia County Fair practically your entire life. Maybe it actually had been your entire life, considering your mama was pregnant with you the year your daddy won a blue ribbon in the pie-eating contest.

You’d been going to the fair with Rhett Abbott for nearly as long—from the time you were babies, and your mothers would plop you in the wagon together, all the way through high school, when you and Rhett and the rest of your friends would sneak off drinking where you thought no one would catch you. Even now that you were both adults, you and Rhett always went to the fair together, usually so you could cheer him on at the rodeo.

But this year was different.

This fair was different.

Because this year, you and Rhett weren’t going to the fair as friends. No, he’d made that perfectly clear when he asked you at your college roommate’s wedding.

This year, for the first time ever, it was a date.

This year, instead of breezy banter and an easy sense of familiarity borne of years by each other’s sides, there were shy glances and rosy cheeks and nervous laughter. Instead of friendly nudges and hugs and pats on the back, there were tentative brushes of fingers and arms, thighs just barely touching as you sat beside one another on a ride, skin skimming against skin and causing a burst of goosebumps to rise even in the middle of the August heat.

You had never been so damn nervous in your entire life.

Your parents had been teasing you all morning about your “big date with the Abbott boy.” Your poor mama had even gotten caught in the crosshairs of the tornado that was you trying to decide on an outfit for the fair.

In the past, you’d always kept it simple with a pair of jeans and a tank top. But this was a date. A date with Rhett. You had to wear something nice. But what if it was too nice? Would Rhett think you were trying too hard? Oh, but he wouldn’t think that, right? He was the one who had asked you out. Obviously he liked you just as much as you liked him. Right?

In the end, you decided on a pretty blue sundress that you most definitely hadn’t purchased just because it had reminded you of the color of Rhett’s eyes. With that and a pair of cowboy boots, you figured you were sufficiently dressed for the occasion.

Rhett seemed to think so anyway.

When you opened your front door to find him standing on the porch with a small bouquet of daisies in hand, his eyes, which paired so perfectly with your dress, widened a fraction as he gazed from your head down to your toes.

“Wow,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he continued to clutch the flowers with the other. “You look…wow.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you smiled, heart hammering as you suddenly realized you had no idea what to do with your arms. “You look pretty wow yourself,” you told him, glancing appreciatively at the figure he cut in his cowboy hat, jeans, boots, and a button down shirt you had a sneaking suspicion Cecilia had ironed for him.

Rhett opened his mouth as if to say something, then suddenly thrust the bouquet of daisies at you. “For you,” he stammered, his cheeks turning a shade of pink you found particularly endearing.

“Thanks, Rhett,” you grinned, accepting them gratefully and pressing them to your nose. “They’re beautiful.”

Rhett came inside for a moment so you could put the flowers in some water, talking respectfully to your parents in the kitchen. He’d known your mama and daddy his whole life, just as you had known his, but you sensed a new formality in his tone, especially when he was talking to your father, that made you smile to yourself.

By the time you were finally sitting in the passenger seat of Rhett’s truck, trundling down the stretch of road that led to the county fair, you were feeling mildly anxious, but also excited about what the day would hold.

You always had a good time whenever you were with Rhett, but he went out of his way on this day to make you feel particularly special. From taking you to see the baby lambs that he knew you loved to coo over, to ordering you your favorite ice cream with extra sprinkles, just the way you liked it, to winning you a sweet little teddy bear at the shooting range, you could tell he was doing everything in his power to make sure you had a great day.

“Are you having fun?” he asked on more than one occasion. Knowing him as long and as well as you did, you could sense the small thread of anxiety in his voice.

“Rhett, I’m having a terrific time,” you assured him, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

The day was a blur of absolute wonder. You could remember blushing when Rhett put his arm around you on the Ferris wheel, certain that he would be able to feel your heart pounding like wild horses in your chest as you leaned against him. You recalled feeling like a silly schoolgirl when your fingers brushed against one another’s in your bucket of kettle corn, the two of you laughing in shy embarrassment. You were certain that the hours had passed more like minutes as you and Rhett sat together in an open field, talking about anything and everything.

Now evening had fallen, and you and Rhett were strolling away from the crowd, in the direction of the bullpen for the rodeo where Rhett would be riding tomorrow. As you walked, your teddy bear tucked securely under one arm, your free hand lightly brushed against Rhett’s calloused fingers. You bit your lip, hoping he would take the hint, and sure enough, you were rewarded with the feel of his large, warm fingers closing over yours.

Neither of you said anything as you walked hand in hand, Rhett’s thumb lightly caressing your skin.

When you finally came to a stop near the ring, you glanced upward and found Rhett’s blue eyes already fixed on you. Your heart jumped into your throat instantly. Rhett’s gaze was focused, intense. Kind of like when he was riding. But then and there, in that moment, all his focus was directed at you.

“You gonna come watch me ride tomorrow?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling in his chest.

“Of course,” you nodded, squeezing his hand gently. “Have I ever missed you ride?” you teased.

His expression was serious as he continued to look into your eyes. “No, never. You’re always there,” he said quietly. “You’re always there for me.”

“And I always will be,” you told him, your pulse quickening in your veins and your palms suddenly growing slick. You hoped Rhett didn’t notice.

Rhett breathed out your name in a way that had your knees turning to pudding, your lips parting slightly as your breathing became more uneven. His hand was suddenly on your waist, guiding you so that your back was pressed against the iron railings of the fence. His eyes had never left your face, not once.

“Rhett,” you whispered in response, the word like a desperate plea and an invitation all in one.

Tipping his hat back, Rhett leaned in close, his lips hovering above yours for just a moment as he looked into your eyes to gauge your reaction. He must have seen the go-ahead shining there, because in an instant, his mouth was descending upon yours.

Your first kiss with Rhett Abbott was everything you could have hoped for and more.

It started out slow and sweet, tender as your lips moved together in tandem, gently tasting each other and growing accustomed to the other’s needs. And then it was like a coil suddenly snapped free, and Rhett’s hands were buried in your hair while yours were grasping desperately at his back, your poor teddy bear lying forgotten in the dust. The kiss that had once been sweet and gentle now seared your lips with its intensity, Rhett’s teeth nipping lightly at your bottom lip as you moaned softly into his mouth.

When the two of you finally broke apart, desperate for air, Rhett was panting and your lips were swollen and red.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, resting his forehead against yours as he reached up to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” The endearment fell off his lips so easily, and it warmed you to your core. “Got a bit carried away,” he chuckled, pressing a soft peck to your upper lip.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath yourself.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” Rhett confessed, looking deeply into your eyes. It suddenly felt like the sounds from the fair had disappeared completely. It was only you and him, and the sounds of your ragged breathing. His thumb, so rough and calloused and feeling delicious against your skin, brushed delicately across your cheekbone. “Been wanting you to be mine for a long time.” His voice was husky and warm and brimming with a sincerity that was so very much him.

“I been wanting that, too,” you admitted, biting down on your lower lip. “For a long time.”

“Be my girl?” Rhett asked softly, bumping his nose against yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Please?”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ran your fingers through his long honey locks and smiled as you adjusted his cowboy hat. “Yes, Rhett Abbott. I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

“Deal, honeybee,” he grinned, bending his head to kiss you again.

Honeybee. You liked the sound of that.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett x reader #x reader #x female reader #outer range #lewis pullman

579 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

Text

The Taste of the Divine | Rhett Abbott (18+)

There’s something wrong with the Abbott land. Something bad about it, it’s clear as day. Angered and maybe on the wrong side of tipsy, Rhett stumbles across something — someone — he shouldn’t have out on the West pasture.

Warnings: vampire reader, race inclusive so ignore the header, written third person with she/her pronouns. Blood, lots of blood, biting, drinking, consuming — yaknow— vampire stuff. Oral (f receiving) and unprotected pinv. Kind of dubcon in that rhett is scared and horny but still down for what’s happening, wc 5.4k

…

“There’s a weird lady out on the West pasture!”

Cecelia’s nerves are already shot to pieces, what with her two terraway boys and all the trouble they’ve managed to cause both recently and over the almost three decade span of their lives. The crash of the door swinging open and banging into her wallpaper, followed by the thundering clap of Amy’s mud-caked boots along her hardwood floors, and then the true snarl of the thunder that rages on outside.

She drops the plate into the sink, suds and soapy water splashing onto the countertops and tile. Curling her hands around the granite, she inhales slowly and closes her eyes.

Royal jolts awake from his nap in his recliner, his rheumatic hands flinching as they clench around the now warm bottle of his beer. Rhett glances up from the shotty news cast on the television as she wizzes past him towards the kitchen.

She’s met with a dubious gaze from her father at the kitchen table and an eye roll that she isn’t supposed to have caught from her grandmother.

“There was!” Amy insists, her voice shrill and panicked as she stomps her boot into the floor and splatters her own muddy footprint. “She was staring right at me! — And she was dressed weird!”

Royal shakes his head and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He exhales all of his irritations out into the room and narrows his eyes at his youngest son, “Don’t worry, princess. Rhett’ll go check it out.”

Rhett scoffs and sinks back further into the arm chair, shaking his head, “No he won’t. Maybe her dad’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it.” Royal stares right ahead at Rhett, serious and stone-faced. “You’re the one who showed her that damn scary movie.”

The young cowboy growls in frustration as his truck plows through the storm, mud plastering the wheels and the paint job. Fucking Amy and her wacky fucking imagination.

He checks damn near the whole west pasture. It’s dark out, pouring with rain. If there was a woman out here, she’d probably be making her way to the house by now anyway.

It’s after he has already given up on looking and decided to come back that he spots it. The herd separated from one of the cows. He drives a little closer for a better look. It’s on its side — dead. He sighs, knowing that Royal will just be pissed about this too. He turns his head and catches movement in his peripheral. Looking back towards the cow, he sees it. The figure hunched over the animal.

Rhett squints, trying to look through the glaring white of his headlights. There’s a figure amongst the herd, he can’t quite see what it is. Hunched over one of the cattle like a damn animal, but it’s not shaped right to be a wolf. His better judgement tells him to stay in the truck.

Chilled fingers reaching out across the bench beside him, they curl around the butt of the shotgun. Brows furrowing, his eyes never once leave the contorted figure. Its shadow through the light tells Rhett that it’s moving, but it’s not right. It isn’t moving… right. Not like any kind of predator he has ever seen.

Being out here in the wide open, with the beams glaring right at this fucking thing, and it isn’t bothered in the slightest. Usually the wolves would be spooked by the lights or the sound of the engine. Not whatever is in front of him now.

Perry used to tell Rhett stories about this kind of thing. Figures lurking out in the pasture, things that weren’t human and wanted to hurt him. Older now, not the same angry little boy staring at the shadows on his wall with his covers pulled up over his face, it’s dismaying to realize that the same stomach-sick, cold kind of feeling washes over him.

Instinct. Royal says that Rhett didn’t inherit a damn ounce of it. But he did. He knows how to keep himself alive. Even after he hits the ground after getting tossed off a bull and it feels like he can physically feel his brain swelling and heart struggling to keep him going, instinct has always pushed him onto his feet and out of that heaving creature’s way. It tells him now to just shift the gears and go back the way he had come. Something tells him that it won’t follow.

Not even sure that he’s still breathing, he sits forwards and tries to make out what it is. It’s not right to be scared of the dark at his age. Of a fucking monster that Amy thinks she saw. Not a monster — a woman. He squints again, tilting his head just slightly. It can’t be a woman. Tearing apart that poor thing in front of it like it’s a sheet of paper. No human could rip through muscle and bone and tendon like that.

Too small to be a bear, not shaped right to be a young one either. It’s not a fucking wolf. He has no idea what it is. But he’ll be damned if he lets it kill off half the herd just for sport. If he could see better, maybe if it was a clearer night or if the rain wasn’t soaking the windshield, he’d be able to see the methodical way that the creature has picked apart its prey. Not sport. Survival.

Rhett’s calloused hand curls around the shotgun, his other grabbing the latch on the door handle. Perry was always more scared of his own damn stories than Rhett ever was.

The sound of the rain amplifies as he swings open the truck door, letting his right leg follow it. His boot touches down into the soaked mud, sliding just slightly before he’s even out. Adjusting the cap on his head, the door swings shut behind him and he tightens his grip on the door stock wrist, gripping the fore end of the gun with his other hand. He lifts the stock up to his cheek and takes a step forwards.

Even out here, Rhett can’t quite make out what he’s looking at. Doubled over and clawing at the flesh of the animal in front of it, he can’t even tell where the cow ends and the creature begins. Jagged-movements, snarling like a wolf, strength like a bear.

“Hey!” It’s a big of a sound as his tightened lungs will let him make. Not meek, it’s deep and graveled. It has scared off bigger animals before. It’s a mistake.

The snarling stops, it doesn’t get any less loud. Rain beating into the ground around him, soaking his clothes and chilling his skin. His heartbeat thudding in his ears is probably the loudest thing for miles.

Like an abstract painting, what is in front of him is just one of those things that doesn’t make any sense until you catch glimpse of that one part that tells you exactly what you’re looking at. Slender fingers braced on either side of the torn open chest cavity, resting still.

The sky and horizon black around it, solely illuminated by the beams of Rhett’s headlights, the creature finally looks up, grinning.

Mouth soaked, chin dripping with blood. Eyes red too, a deeper, more furious colour than the blood that coats her skin. A woman. No longer contorted strangely forwards, her head tilts as she stares right at his face. He’s right — his heartbeat is the loudest thing for miles.

She’s on her knees, pressed into the mud, devouring an animal twice her size. There’s something in her eyes that Rhett doesn’t recognise. He blinks slowly, fingers curling tighter around the shotgun. Rhett has never been looked at by anything the way that she — this thing — is looking at him now.

“What the…” His boots slip in the soaked mud, it cakes the soles and sides, threatening to swallow his footing in the marshy ground if he doesn’t move more cautiously.

She’s barely human looking, there’s something sinister in the reds of her eyes that makes Rhett’s stomach flip. His body carries him backwards quickly enough that his feet start to slip in the mud and the barrel of the gun falters away from the red, splattered target she has made for herself on her chest.

Her lips quirk further at the sides, her grin stretching as he stumbles back from her. Her pointed tongue, a deep crimson as it lifts forwards and cleans the blood from her teeth. She presses her weight forwards onto her palms like she’s going to stand.

Blue eyes widening, his heartbeat falters and amusement covers her chilling features as he drops the gun all together. The safety wasn’t even off. His hands fumble from the door, boots slipping in the mud, rain pouring down his back. With a panting breath, he finishes his sentence. “Fuck?”

Her stomach tightens, reminding her of why she was out here feasting on damn cattle in the first place. She’s so. Fucking. Thirsty. Something in her eyes changes. Rhett recognises the exact moment that he stops being entertainment and instead, becomes prey. It’s not something that he has ever been before, and yet, his body knows exactly what to do. Instinct. Something primal, maybe.

She reaches up and wipes her chin on her forearm, finished with the dead animal in front of her. Primal seems like the right word.

He glances up to the sky, pitch black and still pouring with rain like the heavens have opened up. That seems right too. It’s the first time that his eyes leave her since she has looked up, and he doesn’t dare look back. He tears open the door to the truck and hastens inside, locking the doors and fumbling for the key in the ignition.

He catches hold of the cold metal and looks ahead. She’s standing now. Looking right at him. It’s a little too bright to see with the headlights on, but there’s something disarming about the way she’s looking at him. Blood gone from her chin but still covering her chest, her arms, her hands. It’s the first time that Rhett notices what she’s wearing.

A plain white nightgown, cotton, soaked through and clinging, almost sheer to her body. It comes down to her mid-shins, torn around there. Satin woven through the neckline of it. It’s old — he can’t place it to a certain time period, but it isn’t from this one. Blood and rain mix together to saturate the material, evidence of what she has done lingering on its threads even as the rain washes her skin clean.

She’s barefoot. She must be freezing.

A sick feeling fills him as he realizes that she has drawn closer. That he can see that she is barefoot because she has stepped around the carcass and is walking towards him. He hadn’t even noticed.

His fingers curl tighter around the key but he doesn’t turn it. He just watches. The softened, almost timid look on her face as she stalks towards the truck, bathed in the white glow of the headlights. Still stained in red.

As she reaches the hood, she leans forwards and rests her palms on it. Rhett glances down, remembering the way her slender fingers had been braced on either side of the cow, nails sunk into its flesh. He swallows, blinking hard and forcing his fingers to move. The engine splutters.

Looking back up, his eyes study her face. She’s looking right at him, drenched. Scared. Out here all on her own. He doesn’t try the key again. It occurs briefly to him that something is wrong — that the sick, dreadful feeling had flooded away the second he met her now dark, but not red, gaze.

“Rhett.” She says his name like a prayer. A baited sigh, pleasant and desperate all at once. He blinks at her waiting at the hood of his truck. She tilts her head as he swallows, watching his adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat, listening to the blood gush through his veins. It was the name that the little girl had cried out earlier. She knows that it’s his name.

She mimics his swallow and reminds herself to blink. It freaks them out when she forgets to do that. He’s calmer already, but he’s afraid of her. Her lips almost quirk. He’s smart, he knows better. And yet — as she passes around to the passenger side, he makes no effort to try the key again.

Rhett slides further along the truck bench, pressing his back to the driver’s side door as she watches him through the passenger side window. She curls her fingers around the door handle and it complies with a quiet, effortless snap.

She looks up quickly as his breathing hitches. She shouldn’t be able to hear it from that side of the door, but she does. She shouldn’t have been able to snap the lock like this, but she did.

The door clicks open with no resistance, and Rhett finally gets a good look at her face. His brows furrow slightly as he looks her over, those sweet little features and those big, trusting eyes. He can’t remember why he locked the door in the first place.

“Rhett?” She moves fluidly now. As her gaze breaks from his to watch herself kneel on the truck bed, Rhett remembers. He catches sight of the almost washed away blood on her forearms. He looks quickly back towards the torn apart cow a couple feet from the truck. He remembered her jagged, twitching, animalistic movements. The truck door closes behind her. On her knees, she slides delicately across the bench and rests her hand against his.

She’s soaked, but her hands are warm. She curls her fingers around his palm, lifting it from the leather. His attention turns back towards her, arms tense, breathing shallow. Her lips quirk softly, almost sweetly, as she brings his bruised knuckles to her crimson-tinged lips and kisses softly.

Bringing it back down slowly, she rests his hand in her lap, against the soaked material of that strange nightgown. Next, she lifts her hand and strokes it along the length of his neck, smoothing his hair back away from his jugular. “You don’t have to be afraid.” She tells him calmly.

With every fiber of his being, he believes her. He believes that he doesn’t have to be afraid, but he is anyway. He’s afraid of what he saw, and what she is — plenty of things all at once.

Leaning closer, his scent is intoxicating, her mouth waters as her nose brushes against the stubble on his jaw. Rhett slams his eyes shut, suddenly wishing that he was a kid again, with covers to pull up to his chin, and his parents to tell him that he was going to be alright.

Her throat squeezes, desperate. She presses her lips tenderly to his skin, feeling his pulse under her. Pulling back, she hooks a finger under his jaw and turns his head towards her.

With his eyes on her again, he’s unafraid. Handsome. Pretty, blue eyes with long lashes, sun-soaked skin but in the kind of way that demonstrates hard work. A few centuries ago, she would’ve adored him. Now, it’s enough to just soothe his fears. She sits forwards and presses her lips softly to his cheek, pulling back and doing the same to the other one.

He doesn’t flinch. She can feel how badly she wants her touch, even with his trembling hands still rigid on his thighs. She takes his hand again, this time placing it over her breast through the sheer material.

Rhett’s brows furrow, he searches her face for answers and finds none. She leans into him again, this time kissing his lips. His hand remains stationary, unmoving, frozen. His lips move just the tiniest amount, chasing her kiss.

He had been expecting her to taste like blood, but she doesn’t. She smells expensive and she doesn’t taste like anything at all.

Rhett watches as she pulls back long enough to curl her fingers into the hem of the nightdress, peeling it up her body and letting it fall into the footwell. Kneeling before him, completely bare, she leans in again and kisses him tenderly.

His hand flexes against her hip, curling around her skin, feeling the warmth under his palm. Unmistakably human. He kisses her, fingers pressing into her sides.

“It won’t hurt,” She promises him, smoothing her open palm along his clothed chest. Wordlessly, Rhett understands what she is asking of him. He knows what hunger looks like. She kisses him again, more desperately this time, her fingertips trailing the dampened stitching of his jeans along the inseam of his thigh. Pulling back, she nips softly at his earlobe, feeling him shiver. “You give yourself to me, and I’ll give myself to you.”

Again, he understands what he is agreeing to. Her eyes are more red than they were before, her thumb stroking along the column of his neck. She’s intoxicating up close.

“Rhett?” She prompts him, smoothing her hand over his crotch, featherlight as she kisses his lips again. One more taste and she might just lose her mind. The flush in his skin makes her throat dry. The smell of his hair, his skin, the day that he has had. She growls lowly as he presses forwards and kisses her hard, grabbing at the back of her neck.

Almost eighty years of rest — her thirst nips at her nerves, fingers flexing against his shoulder blades as he covers her body with his, a silent reminder that he is still the one at her mercy here.

Her tongue trails the length of his jugular, as far as it spans along his throat. She kisses him feverishly as his rough, calloused hands explore her smooth skin. Not a scratch on her. Like she was just dropped out here, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been a while since she has had sex, even longer since she has had sex with a human. She had almost forgotten how eager they were. The beat of his heart against her bare chest is practically an aphrodisiac.

“I need something soon,” She murmurs into his neck, kissing it tenderly as she pushes his open button down back off of his shoulders. Rhett nods as he drops his head down to her chest, suckling at her warm skin. She pushes her fingers into his hair as he nips at her navel. “You aren’t scared, are you, cowboy?”

Rhett looks up at her from where he’s situated between her legs. Rugged, flushed with life, a spark of amusement in those wild blue eyes. It sparks her with envy as she sits up quickly. A little too quickly, something unhuman in the swiftness of it.

“No.” Rhett tells her. She catches hold of his jaw, nostrils flaring briefly. He should be. His hand smooths along her hip. “It’s okay. Go ‘head.”

She softens, not turning her head away from his throat. It’s not his fault, she supposes. She thinks of his family, hearing them pottering around their little home miles away — not thinking of him, out here, all alone with her. She thinks of her own family, long gone now, but not dissimilar to his.

“‘M gonna make it feel good, Rhett,” She says softly, honeyed cadence and soft lips as they gaze his throat. He closes his eyes and waits. Her index finger pressed to his throat, a discreet spot right below his jaw. The nail presses into his skin and drags, splitting the flesh. Blood spills from the cut immediately. Rhett gasps softly as she lurches forwards and presses her mouth to it.

She sucks the fresh blood from his neck, warm and sweet on her tongue — she should’ve known that a gruff looking cowboy like him would taste sweeter than honey.

He grunts as her palm cups his crotch through his jeans, using the meat of her palm to grind against his hardening cock. His eyes flutter closed as he tongue flicks over the small cut, still sucking at the crimson liquid.

Rhett curls a hand into her hair, holding at the base of her neck, keeping her against him. “S-Shit,” He pants out, grinding his hips up into her palm, leaning his head back in surrender. “Oh.”

Her free hand curls into his hair and tugs, exposing more of his throat to him, making him groan. His fingers smooth softly over the nape of her neck, she reminds herself to be gentle with him.

Licking away the remaining blood, she presses her thumb to the small cut to stop the bleeding. He kisses her slowly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. This time, he does taste copper, but he doesn’t mind it that much. She makes it worth tasting.

He glances down at her blood-soaked skin, the remnants left of what the rain wasn’t fast enough to wash away. He knows that he should be afraid of what’s coming, but he isn’t.

She reminds herself to move slowly and to breathe, to blink, as she takes the cap from his head and discards it, moving into his lap. Bracketing his hips with her thighs, she curls her fingers into his white undershirt, lips quirking. It’s not the same smile as earlier, that gutwrenchingly terrifying grin, but it’s enough to remind him to be afraid.

Her nails press into the material, tearing it with ease. It splits at the middle and down the sides. She discards it with little care, pressing her bare chest against his, carding her fingers through his brown locks as he kisses her. Desperate for that taste again, his lips chase hers. She gives it to him graciously, caressing his tongue with hers. Desperate for more than that, quite clearly.

He’s rock hard against the denim of his jeans, breathing hard through his nose as his hands grope at her still-wet skin. They stop briefly, finding purchase on the curve of her ass, using his human strength to angle her hips and rock his hardened cock against her core.

He would have eaten her alive if he had come across her before she was turned, the sweet little thing she had been back then. Raking her nails along his chest, she reminds him swiftly of the now leveled playing field.

Rhett thinks that this is just like every other girl he has been with — she feels it in his movements. The experienced, cool way that he knows how to touch a woman. Curious — how the times had changed.

The last human she had been with hadn’t paid her nearly this much attention. Maybe this is just Rhett, maybe it’s a new fad. If he lives, perhaps she’ll ask him. She hums, somewhat contentedly, as his nimble fingers work circles on her clit. Still in his jeans and not even asking her to touch him. Truly, curious.

Her reaction isn’t what Rhett is looking for. The soft hums of approval, it’s not enough, it’s not worth the ice-cold fear in his chest. She inhales sharply, a purely symbolic measure, as he turns them both and presses her back into the leather of the truck bench.

He’s got a dirty mouth for a farm boy. Wet, open-mouthed feverish kisses on every inch of skin that he can get his lips on. His trail of filthy kisses continues, his thin nose grazing her sternum as his mouth works towards her navel. His hands are strong and capable, holding her in place by your ribs. As much as she will let him, anyway.

Experienced and well-knowledged about sex by this point in her immortality, she can detect his eagerness in his movements, his desperation to please in the way his tongue moves against her skin. It's sweet. He’s good at it. It’s been a long time since someone has burned for her in the way that this rugged cowboy clearly does.

His hands trail from her hips, up and along her warm sides. Calloused hands roam her flawless skin. Move up and back down again. He revels in the feeling of her under his fingertips, on the tip of his tongue.

She lets the cowboy have his fun. It’s fun for her too, to still be surprised, even after all of this time. It’s not the first time that a man has buried his head between her legs, but it’s the first time that she hasn’t been just waiting for it to be over. Rhett knows what he’s doing. His hands grope at her chest as he sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

She cums, shuddering against his tongue, curling her fingers into his hair, making him hiss. Rhett grins at her as she releases him. There is plenty that she knows about him, but he knows what he did just then.

He’s cocky for someone who’s life is no longer in their own hands, warming up to her too much. This happens frequently. A handsome young man with a troublesome smile, and the wolfish woman ready to tear them apart.

Rhett pops open the buckle on his jeans and pushes them down his thighs. Her eyes burn red, crimson lips quirked at the edges as she spreads her thighs for him. Her hand slides between her legs, two fingers dragging along her folds and gathering her juices on the digits.

“God.” Rhett breathes out, covering her body with his, fingers curling tight into her hips. She smiles into the crook of his neck, kissing the taut skin tenderly, feeling his pulse under her lips.

“He can’t help you now, Rhett.” Her breath fans over his ear as she speaks, making him shudder. Turning his head, she kisses his lips. Slow, longing. Like a goodbye.

He groans softly as he presses into her, the storm raging on outside of the truck, wind slamming cold rain into the windows. Her lips are warm against his throat as she hums softly. Her fingers card through the lengths of his hair and along the muscles in his back.

Rhett rocks his hips back and forth gently — she almost scoffs — he’s concerned about hurting her. “More.” She tells him, her nails digging into his skin. Rhett exhales slowly and drives his hips into her.

To her surprise, he lifts his head to look at her. Studying her face, her reactions to the way that he moves. She moans softly, as he tugs at her hips, angling himself against her g-spot. Rhett’s grip tightens, keeping her there as he fucks into her again and again. This predator, much stronger than he is, completely at his mercy, moaning against his throat.

“You want it?” Rhett mumbles against her skin, grunting softly as he snaps his hips into hers. She gasps back. “Bite me, darlin’ — s’alright.”

She moans, an excited sound as he tugs at the lengths of his brunet hair. “I want it.” She tells him, grazing her teeth, featherlight against the oh, so breakable skin.

The truck is filled with their sounds as she lets another delighted cry out, surprising herself. She pants, squeezing her thighs around his hips. He reminds her so much of someone that she knew. Someone that she misses so dearly. It’s why she didn’t snap his neck out there in the rain. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulls him closer. He looks down between their bodies, watching as his cock fills her over and over.

“I want you, Rhett.” She decides, something primal and possessive in her voice. Her fingertips trail the stubble on his jaw as she tips his chin to look at her. He nods blindly.

“You got me, darlin’.” He kisses her mouth, another filthy little exchange that’s all tongue, moaning and panting. She grins against him, pressing her heel into the small of his back. “Whatever you need.”

Fingers curling around the muscle of his jaw, her strength braces him there, steady. She leans in close and inhales slowly, savouring this delicious scent. Rhett gasps as her teeth sink into his throat, hips stuttering and slamming forwards. She moans at the feeling, blood trickling down her chin.

She grabs desperately at the back of his neck, not wanting to spill a drop, liquid gold on her tongue. Not only because it has been so long, but because it’s him. Rhett’s fingers curl tighter into her hair, struggling to keep up with the pace of his thrusts as his eyes squeeze shut, muscles tensing.

His body’s natural reaction tells him that he is in danger, but danger has never felt this good. It’s like he can feel every ounce of her desire for him, pulsing through his veins when she’s attached to him like this. His arms squeeze around her middle, desperate to have her closer.

She squeezes her legs tighter around his hips, crying out his name in her mind, moaning against his throat. Her fingers curl into those long locks at the nape of his neck, feeling his blood lubricate that excruciating burn in her throat. Her stomach tightens at the thought.

Devotion. Sustaining her like this, fucking her like this — he’s right, he is all hers. Those people back at the house have all already gone to bed without so much as checking if he was alive. He wouldn’t be, if not for her mercy, and his wonderful mouth.

Hers. She licks a stripe along throat, gathering the spilled blood and lifting her chin to kiss his mouth. He accepts her kiss hungrily, sucking at her tongue greedily. Entirely hers. As their lips part, she goes right back to his neck, biting again, feeling her stomach tighten as his hips stutter.

She bites him harder, feeling him tense up, knowing that she’s hurting him. His blood spills freely into her mouth, gushing onto her tongue and out of the corners of her lips.

“Fuck!” Rhett grunts, feeling her walls clenching around him. The honeyed taste of his blood, the sound of his gravelled voice in her ear, the life flowing through his veins. Her back arches up off of the truck bench as she hits the peak of her climax and spills right over it.

There are a few more, erratic, desirous thrusts before the cowboy is spent, spilling into her. Wrapping the monster tight in his arms, forehead braced against her bloodied collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” She smooths her fingers through his hair delicately, licking the last few drops of blood that spill from the teeth marks on his neck. “Rhett.”

He’s dizzy and warm, burning warm, in fact. He squeezes her softly in his arms, closing his eyes for just a moment. He should have expected to be tired, but not like this. It’s like an anaesthetic— he feels sleep come for him and there’s nothing that he can do to fight it.

It crosses his mind briefly that it could be worse than sleep, but he isn’t afraid for it.

“Damn it, Rhett!” The curtains are drawn open sharply, making him flinch. He growls and pulls the covers up over his sensitive eyes. “We’re going to be late for church!”

Cecilia storms out of the room and slams the door behind her. Rhett sits up in his bed and presses the base of his palm into his eye socket, rubbing tiredly. He glances towards the window and squints at the light cascading across the floor, not quite reaching his bed.

He falls back against the comfort of his mattress and exhales slowly. Fucking weird dream. He shifts, hoping to find sleep again, feeling a soft discomfort at the bottom of his throat. Brows furrowing, he swallows and flinches at the white hot pain that passes through his nerves. His brows scrunch as he sits sharply upright again.

He looks towards the window and brings a hand up to cup his throat. His gaze falls down to his boots by the door, caked in mud and bloodied.

…

@fudge13 @hangmanscoming @hexpectations @bradshawseresinbabe @xoxabs88xox @topgunbiqueen @perpetuelledaydreaming @thedroneranger @noorsworlr @princess76179 @phoenix1388 @astronomeoww @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott one shot #Lewis Pullman #outer range smut #outer range

240 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 2 years ago

Text

Sick Boys (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: There’s nothing a father wouldn’t do for his sons

Tagging: @sebsxphia @nobody7102 @rhettabbotts @lt-bradshaw @fridamoss

Rhett felt the phone in his back pocket vibrating, thinking it was you, his mother or Royal, his hand fidgeting and feeling hopelessly for the phone that was practically glued to his buttcheek. When he looked at the screen, he was a little unnerved to find that it was the school calling.

“Hello?”

“Hi, yes is this Rhett Abbott?” a woman’s voice enquired.

“Yes ma’am,” Rhett answered.

“Hi Mr. Abbott, this is Leslie Powers calling from the Amelia County Steiner School, I have Tatum and Tanner both down here in the nurse’s office,” the woman explained. “Is there any chance that you or their mother could come and get them?”

“I’ll be down in fifteen,” Rhett answered before he hung up.

As soon as he hung up, Rhett rode straight back to the barn and stabled the horse before heading for the truck and dialing your number on the way out.

“Rhett?” you asked once you picked up. “Rhett? Everything ok?”

“Yeah I gotta go get the boys,” Rhett told you. “They’re in the nurse’s office.”

“Oh my God! Is everything ok?”

“My guess is they knocked heads playing with Desmond and Colt or something,” Rhett explained as he drove. “I dunno why, all I’m seein is them puking their guts up. You still at work?”

“Yeah and I can’t leave my students,” you explained. “We’re out on the trail.”

“No worries Darlin I’m grabbing them to see what the damage is,” Rhett told you. “Ya’ll mind messagin Ma and Dad?”

“Not at all baby, stay safe.”

Rhett gave a hasty reply before hanging up and taking the shortcut along the backroads before he pulled up to the school where your kids and Amy all attended. Rhett made his way in, checking in at the front desk before he found his way to the nurse’s office where Tatum and Tanner were both sitting on a little bench, both of them coughing like Royal after he had finished smoking a foot long Cuban cigar.

“I’m so sorry about this Rhett,” Leslie apologized. “They started coughing and it’s just a nasty, wet mess.”

“Hey no worries,” Rhett assured her. “Kids are gonna get sick one way or another.”

Leslie handed off the boys backpacks before Rhett scooped them both up and brought them both to the truck, buckling them into their carseats before that awful wet hacking started again.

“Alright my little troublemakers,” he told them. “Ya’ll are going straight to a doctor.”

Rhett drove straight to the walk-in clinic where Pete, a close family friend of yours, had his practice. The minute he saw Rhett walking in with the boys, he didn’t even bat an eye. He told Rhett to go straight to the room at the back.

“Alright Rhett, what happened this time?” Pete asked him.

“Boys are sick,” Rhett answered. “Nasty wet coughs that just won’t stop.”

Pete took a closer look at the both of them, listening to two sets of lungs and in total disbelief at how plugged up both of the boys were. “Yep,” Pete concluded. “Probably the worst case of bronchitis I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh fuck me,” Rhett groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know the drill,” Pete told him. “Antibiotics for ten days, both of them and plenty of hot steam.”

Rhett sighed, gathered up the boys and headed for home, definitely not looking forward to the next ten days.

As soon as he got home, Rhett unloaded the boys, who by this point were crying and coughing from how sick they were. Cecelia had met him on the porch, taking Tanner right into her arms and patting his back to get the mucous out.

“Oh my God,” she remarked when he started coughing. “Even you and Perry wouldn’t get it this bad when you were their age.”

“I feel awful Ma,” Rhett said, gently rocking Tatum on his hip and rubbing his back. “They’re still small little guys and I can’t take the sickness outta them.”

“Here,” Cecelia said. “Ya’ll c’mon in. (Y/n)’s due home soon but I think we can pull it together.”

And pull it together they did. Cecelia hauled out her old medicine book, full of old school remedies passed down from her mother. Rhett stuck both boys in a hot bath, letting them breathe in the steam until Cecelia had him take them out and stick them in their plaid button-down pjs, Tatum in navy blue and Tanner in red.

“Here,” Cecelia told Rhett. “Keep their shirts unbuttoned hand have’em lay down on the bed. I’ve got Vick’s in the medicine cabinet.”

Rhett brought Tatum and Tanner both into your shared bedroom, laying them both down before slathering it all over their backs and all over their little chests. The hacking subsided, but their poor little faces were both red with tendrils of blonde hair stuck to them.

As soon as both boys were buttoned back up, Rhett began piling on the blankets, including the quilt Cecelia had made for your wedding. “Daddy, I don’t feel good,” Tatum croaked as he stood up and hugged his father.

“I know buddy, I know,” Rhett murmured, patting his son’s back. “You’re gonna get better soon.”

He laid Tatum back down on his back, pushing his son’s blonde hair out of his face and kissing his forehead before crawling in between them. Tatum and Tanner scooted a bit closer, resting their heads on Rhett’s chest, just like they used to when they were babies. Soon, they were snoring away, the wetness in their lungs still audible, even as Rhett turned his gaze to the door to find you standing there with a blush in your cheeks.

“How’d it go Daddy?” you teased.

“They’re asleep,” Rhett answered. “Probably will be for a few hours.”

You kissed his forehead and his cheeks, still taking in the sight of your boys all snuggled into their father. “What?” Rhett chuckled when he saw the look on your face.

You giggled a little bit.

“Darlin c’mon, I know that look,” Rhett teased, his smile growing broader.

“You wanna have another one?” you asked him.

“Let’s make sure these two are better first,” Rhett answered. “Then we’ll talk.”

You kissed his lips before fixing the quilt and scooting in to snuggle with your boys, all of you drifting off to sleep and safe from the world outside.

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

243 notes · View notes

sebsxphia · 9 months ago

Text

a preacher!rhett abbott story. | preacher!rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: you’re back in your home town and uncertain about your future that lies ahead of you. but, there is one man in your small town who gets your attention. one man who soothes your racing mind and guides you on the righteous path. your local town preacher, rhett abbott. he somehow already knows you inside out and he only has the best intentions for you… right? based off ethel cain’s, preacher’s daughter.

￫ word count: 27.3K.

￫ c/w: heavy and dark religious themes, love, sex, cannibalism, death, murder, knife play and kink, blood play and kink, consenting injury caused, marking you, kissing, swearing, smoking, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, deep throating, skull fucking, bruising, crying, mutual masturbation, masturbation, choking, thigh riding, crotch grinding, pussy spanking, spanking, spanking with a cross, boot riding, nipple pinching, edging, overstimulation, voyerism, corruption kink, innocence kink, daddy kink, cnc, derogatory language and sex, inappropriate use of the cross, period sex, oral sex, rough sex, aftercare and preacher!rhett abbott.

￫ a/n: this is the full preacher!rhett abbott story of ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ my main masterlist can be read here! 💌

verse 1. | god knows i tried.

His hands were the first thing you noticed. You could run your eyes up and down the numerous veins that protruded on his hands and then ran naturally up to his large forearm. His fingers were slender, but his knuckles and fingertips looked worn, as if they had worked tirelessly day and night. You wondered for a split second if they would feel rough on your far softer skin.

Mentally you kicked yourself for letting your mind wonder to such a sinful place and you re-directed your attention to elsewhere on his tall frame. He had ditched the notion of traditional clothes and wore a plain, soft cotton t-shirt. The sleeves hugged around his biceps perfectly and if he moved in a particular way, you could see his torso under his arms stretch under the fabric.

The jeans, similar to his hands, were worn out. He still managed to uphold a presentable appearance, but right in between his thighs you could see the denim fading. It was as if something or someone, had rubbed away at it mercilessly.

His hair was always tucked perfectly behind his ears, but it was when he squatted down to greet one of the smaller children that attended your Church, that a strand fell out and licked against his forehead. That’s when you thought he looked most beautiful. A gift from God himself. He would be quick to tuck it back, again with those calloused hands of his. The hair that ran along his arms and hands matched the same on his head, although it was slightly lighter and sun kissed.

Before you could register it, said hands reached out to yours and took it as he made his way down the line.

“Father Abbott.” You acknowledged him quickly, as he now stood in front of you and shook your hand. He was gentler with you than the others and his touch lingered as he shook your hand.

“Oh, y’ know to call me Rhett. Y’ come here so often to help, I’d be hurt if we weren’t on a far more personal basis now.”

At Rhett’s words, you thought how could you be so foolish. He was right. Personal basis. Yes. We know each other on a personal basis.

Rhett leaned in closer to you to confess a secret that only the both of you were privy to, “Don’t tell the Youth Pastors who come ‘ere to help, but you’re my favorite.”

The closer proximity to Rhett made your breath hitch suddenly in your throat. You swallowed quick at his words to try and gather some salvia in your now parched throat.

You could smell his aftershave, thick with sandalwood, and notice all the little details on his face. At his confession, his face contorted into a smile you would only ever deem as sly. Small cuts and grazes that were fading in the crease of his eyes and above his lips as he smiled could be seen. There was stubble threatening to peak through along his jaw and you found yourself wondering again, what it would feel like on your soft flesh.

You kicked yourself again and replied sweetly, “thank you, Rhett. I’m honored to hear that.”

You mirrored his smile to show you were grateful, although it wasn’t as sly as Rhett wore. He stayed close in your presence for a handful more seconds and held your gaze, but to you it felt like hours. Rhett had this intoxicating way of drawing you in for prolonged periods of time, especially at his sermons.

Rhett parted his lips to speak and his tongue dipped out to wet his bottom lip. There was something on the tip of his tongue. Something he wanted to get out and ask you, but he pulled back completely as Rhett remembered he was in his Church and speaking to a flurry of civilians after his Sunday sermon.

“Thank you for coming today.”

“Thank you, Rhett. It was a lovely sermon.”

Was it on purpose that you added a flirtatious tone to his name? You weren’t sure. But did you notice how Rhett cocked his head and his teeth grazed over his bottom lip at his name being spoken by you?

You were never so sure of anything in your life.

For the next two hours, you spent it offering your help with the teas and coffees that were being handed out after. You insisted that you would finish everything up and as always, you were first in and last out. But more so you needed this time to scratch the itch that had creeped its way down your spine since Rhett shook your hand.

Everyone had gone home and the Church was empty. In a flurry, you ran to the bathrooms, slammed the cubicle door shut, hitched the skirt of your dress up and over your thighs and dipped your fingers into your underwear. You let out a moan that was mixed with relief as you finally grazed over your aching clit. In turn you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you had been holding in for so long. And with that, came his name.

“F— Fuck, Rhett…”

Your fingers came to a sharp stop as you heard a creak from outside your cubicle, but you reminded yourself this Church was old. You heard it creak and groan many a times, and your clit was throbbing underneath your fingertips so you threw caution to the wind and continued with your movements, letting out more sweet whines and his name over and over, like a prayer.

“Rhett, Rhett, Rhett…”

It was Monday morning when you awoke, the day after you had let your deepest and most sinful thought possess your body and soul. You peeled back your lace crocheted curtains and looked out at the morning sunrise.

A pallet of reds, blues and yellows streaked over the sky. When they mixed together in the middle, it reminded you of the many drinks of tequila you had sometime ago in college. When you would put on Hotel California and dance around, alone in your dorm. It was insane to you that you didn’t realise how free you felt.

Getting out of Wabang was a blessing in disguise that you never truly appreciated until you had to come back home. It was an old wives tale that the kids of Wabang would leave and come back in five years time. You always told yourself that would never be you, but yet here you were. Waking up in your childhood bedroom with fading posters, a cross nailed to your wall that still had the wallpaper in perfect colour behind it, bedsheets that were scratchy and most importantly, returning back to your faith as instructed to by your Mother and Father.

It was a constant battle between yourself that left you tossing and turning most nights. Was what you were doing the right thing? Did you want to return back to your faith? You had shunned it for so long and you begrudgingly returned to please your parents, but now, you had a reason that felt far more personal to you.

“Preacher Abbott.”

“Please, Rhett.” Rhett corrected you through the wall of the confessional booth.

Since the morning, your mind hadn’t stopped racing with thoughts of your return home and your actions of yesterday in the bathroom cubicle, and so you came back to the place where you could feel some sense of control. When you were sat in the confessional booth, you couldn’t see anyone and figuratively speaking, nobody knew your name.

Rhett spoke up again with his voice hushed and contained within these Holy walls, “Tell me, what brings y’ here?”

You breathed in and let the air fill your lungs before you confessed. Your fingers twitched together and jabbed at the corners of your fingernails. It was to distract yourself from the sins that you were about to admit, to the man that had been at the forefront of your mind for weeks on end.

“I— I feel lost, Rhett. Comin’ back here after being away for s’ long—”

“College, wasn’t it?”

It made your heart thrum in your chest that Rhett remembered such a detail.

“Yes. I borrowed everythin’ I could from my parents to live that life. I cried ‘nd begged them on my hands and knees—”

You heard Rhett shift in his seat at your words.

“—not to make me come back. God knows, I was livin’ out there ‘nd God knows I died comin’ back here. I’ve got nothin’ much to live for here. God knows I’ve tried to make it work.”

You let out a small, yet defeated sigh after you had confessed. But Rhett didn’t buy it. He clicked his tongue in turn and pushed you for more.

“There must be somethin’, otherwise y’ would’ve left by now. Somethin’ is makin’ you stay.”

You heard Rhett pause and clear his throat on the other side.

“Perhaps, somethin’, sinful?”

You could feel the memory of yesterday punch through your gut and you stopped breathing altogether. You held your breath tightly in your throat and scrunched your hands together within the material of your sundress. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, so hard you felt like it could fall from your ribs.

The thought of Rhett hearing, let alone seeing you, in the bathroom cubicle made something in your stomach flip. It aroused you more than you cared to admit.

“You’re a sinful little one, aren’t you, my sweet Lamb.”

Rhett broke the heavy tension first with his voice an octave lower than before and his Southern drawl coming through.

“Y’ don’t have to say anythin’. Y’ don’t have to fear me. Let there be light and draw t’ me ‘nd into my arms. I can keep y’ safe, I can make you a blessed Daughter of Abbott.”

Your breathing came out in stuttered waves and your eyes fluttered shut at Rhett’s guiding words. For the first time since you’d come home, you had a clear pathway ahead of you. It was running straight into the garden of Eden, with Rhett there to keep you safe.

“Yes, Father.”

Those words slipped from your trembling lips naturally and you had never felt so sure in your life. You felt your life light up and you were bound eternally to the Holy man on the other side of the wall.

“This will prove y’ devotion to me, my sweet Lamb. Touch yourself for me.”

There was no hesitation in both Rhett’s instructions and in your reaction. You knew then and there whatever Preacher Abbott proposed was for the good of God and you would obey. Neither of you would ever waver.

You shuffled back against the hard wood wall, as far as you could to allow your leg to come up and prop against the seat. Instinctively, you angled yourself towards the wall that was separating you both and you spread your thighs. Even through the wooden pattern on the divider, you could see Rhett shift in his seat and his heavy shadow of his face cover all light. The only light you saw was the glint of his eyes through the cracks, watching you like a lamb at the slaughter.

Although your hand was shaking as it ran down the curve of your thigh, as soon as it dipped under your underwear and you pressed your fingertip to your clit, the shaking ceased and you let out a soft moan. You ran calculated circles around your clit before dipping it in between your folds to gather your arousal and spread it around the rest of your cunt. When you dipped down and felt how wet you were already, you let out another small moan.

“Good girl. Pull it back f’ me, I want to see.” He practically purred.

Your other hand reached down and pulled your damp underwear to the side to expose your weeping cunt completely to Rhett. You heard him let out a deep and guttural groan, followed by the clinking of metal and a ruffle of material on his side of the confessional booth.

“Are y’ wet enough?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I want y’ to push two fingers in, as far as they’ll go.”

You nodded and slipped your middle and ring finger past your lips and deep into your cunt. You whined out in response to your own touch and it was louder this time. The feeling of your two fingers moving along your walls, angling upwards to push against your sweet spot was heavenly. Knowing you were performing this for the good of God and for your Preacher, only made you buck your hips upwards to chase your own fingers.

“Atta’ girl. Don’t forget y’ sweet clit, my Lamb.”

You choked out a, “yes” at Rhett’s instruction and managed to move a pad of your finger around it. Your fingers moved in and out of yourself in rhythmic movements and curled perfectly. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every swipe of your swollen clit and guiding instruction from Rhett on the other side of the wall. Every so often you picked up low grunts from him and the sound of skin slapping against one another.

Your chest was heaving and flushed red as a result. A string of continual moans left your lips. The ache was growing as you moved the pad of your finger in figures of eight over your clit, and in unison grazed over the sweet spot inside of you. You were going to spill over anytime soon.

“Father, Father, Father!” The plea was drawn from your hoarse throat. You were begging Rhett for something, but you didn’t quite know what yet.

You kept yourself teetering on the edge and awaiting his instruction for whatever he wanted to happen next. You were completely drawn to him and he had you like a puppet on strings.

Rhett was heavy in his own breathing and you heard him grunt the final words that you were waiting for.

“That’s it, good girl. Come f’ me, fuck— Come f’ me, m’love.”

At his final guidance, you swiped your finger twice more over your clit and it was all you needed to feel your orgasm wash over you in a warm glow. A sweet sounding moan tore from your throat and a name you had never uttered before.

“Shit, Daddy!”

Your hips bucked up into your own palm and your bore down onto the heel of your hand and rubbed your clit feverishly on your flesh as you rode out the feeling. Your eyebrows were knitted tightly together and your jaw was completely slack. As you hurtled through the euphoric feeling, you had closed your eyes to swim in it completely, but when you opened them again the heavy shadow of Rhett wasn’t next to you anymore.

Your head flicked to the right when the door to your side of the confessional booth was thrown open and Rhett stood in the doorway. The sight of his own cock heavy in his hands, red and aching, made you mewl in response and you turned your bare and slick cunt towards him.

In one stride, Rhett had crossed the threshold into the confessional booth with you. His hand was stretched upwards and planted firmly above you and caged you in completely. His other hand was jerking at his cock over your cunt and his eyes were fixated on the precious sight before him. Rhett’s jaw was set firm, with his own eyebrows mirroring yours and knitted tightly together in concentration. Strands of his hair had fallen to lick at his forehead that had a light sheen of sweat coating his flesh.

Rhett let out a deep groan as he fisted his aching cock twice more, “F— Fuck.”

At his strained words, his release fell onto your cunt and dripped down and into your underwear. He ran his hand up and over his length a couple more times to let the last of his hot cum fall from his tip.

Your breathing matched up with one another’s as you both came down from your own highs. Rhett released his braced hand from against the wall and brought it down to cradle at your flushed cheek. His face had relaxed completely as he bathed in his own afterglow. All he wore was a soft smile.

“Keep my spend in y’ underwear. It’s the seal from God to finalize you as a Daughter of Abbott.”

“Yes, Father.”

Rhett cocked his head and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if he was scolding a child.

“Sorry. Yes, Daddy.”

You corrected yourself instantly and shook your head in response to making such a foolish mistake.

“Better, my sweet Lamb.” Rhett ran his thumb over the baby hairs that lay on your cheek in soothing motions.

Finally, you could feel those calloused fingers on your soft flesh in ways you had only dreamed of. Your heart lurched at his touch and at his final words.

“You’re bound to me forever now.”

His words were sticky honey and you’d fallen right into his guiding embrace. A lost little lamb who had finally found their shepherd.

And this was only the beginning. You were about to travel far out West with your Preacher.

verse 11. | ptolemaea.

You pushed yourself against the back of the Motel door and closed it behind you. The paint was splintering and falling off in your palms. Rhett was sat at the edge of the Motel double bed. He looked up from his studious reading of his Bible, to catch your hesitant gaze.

“Sorry, Rhett. I didn’t know if y’ wanted me to follow you in, s’ I waited an hour or so back in the Diner.”

Your hands came round to your front and your fingers instinctively played with each other, trying to distract yourself from Rhett’s eyes boring into you, and from the situation that you had found yourself in.

When your town Preacher asked you to come away with him and see the sights of the West, you never thought you would. Well, you never realized how easy it would be. You mentally kicked yourself for allowing his calloused, yet gentle hands, to win you over so easily. But you couldn’t find yourself to blame him. He had nothing to fault.

Rhett parted his lips to speak and his tongue wet at his bottom lip. He let out a ‘tsk’ sound and shook his head in disagreement at your statement.

“I invited y’ in, twice. Y’ know there’s nothin’ for y’ to fear now y’ with me.”

Rhett’s eyes raked over your frame as if to study you. To read every inch of your flesh and how your body visibly reacted to his deep and Southern drawl. His insides were gloating with pride. He had managed to get you right where he wanted you.

You love blood too much, but not like I do. Rhett thought as you stood, still pressed against the back of the Motel door, as if you were in shark infested waters. He could smell your blood from miles away and he was about to go in for the killing bite.

“Suffer does the wolf, crawling t’ thee. Promisin’ a big fire, any fire, t’ keep you warm.” Rhett quoted back and out loud to you, when you didn’t react to his original statement. He was trying to soothe your racing mind and to convince you that this was right.

You held his heavy gaze, but you were unable to avoid the obvious spread of his thighs, with his palms planted firmly on his worn jeans. You saw his lips twitch in the corner, threatening for an almost Devilish grin to spread over them.

“That’s how y’ feel, don’t you?” Rhett cocked his head to the side and continued when you still didn’t answer. “I heard you at those Sunday Sermons. Moanin’ my name in the bathroom cubicle when y’ thought everyone had left. I saw you through the crack of the door, wi’ your hand down your pretty pink panties and y’ conservative sundress hitched around y’ thighs.”

Rhett continued as he read the way your body reacted to his words. How your chest was rising and falling quicker and how your fingers tangled messily in with each other.

“I gave you everythin’ you needed after, ‘nd now, I need you.” His tone became an octave lower at the seriousness of his words. “I love you.”

His final words were the lasting kick you needed to get yourself off of the back of the Motel door. It was the first time you had heard Rhett utter such meaningful words. No text, or lines from the Bible could mean this much to you both. His words spun round and round in your head as you made your way over to him in a flurry. He mirrored you in response and came crashing into you with his lips meeting yours.

His large hands were cupping your hot and rosy cheeks, with his rough thumbs cradling underneath your jaw to keep your lips planted firmly against his, as his tongue ran along your bottom lip and dipped into your mouth. A groan emitted from you both at the kiss. It had been weeks since Rhett had you to himself and you both craved each other more than you cared to admit. Sin had never tasted so good.

You muttered against his lips, over and over, like a prayer, in between the heated kiss, “Love you, love you, love you...”

You both pulled away from the kiss to catch up with your similar and erratic breathing pattern. Your breath hitched in your own dry yet sticky throat, trying to form some sort of salvia. Rhett still held your gaze and it felt as though he was burning through to your retinas. It burned more than the sinful guilt you could feel punching deep within your gut.

“In my prayers, they say I’m the one He’s gonna take. He’s gonna take me Rhett, f’ my sins. I feel like I’m on fire.”

You stumbled back with his hold still on your burning cheeks. You bumped against the lone desk that held the old television and sun bleached writing paper that adorned the Motels logo.

“Sufferin’ is nigh, draw to me, m’love. I will keep y’ safe.” Rhett soothed his thumb under your jaw and spoke with a calm and peaceful tone, never wavering in it’s meaning.

You could trust in your Preacher when he told you that he would keep you safe. Rhett told you that you were special. You were the white light that came through the muggy clouds to descend upon Earth itself. You were beautiful, finite and Heaven’s gift, all rolled into one. And if you could continue to stay with him, your sins would be forgiven.

His face shifted as he watched your eyes plead for him. His eyes softened to lull you into safety.

“When a body decomposes, even the iron in their blood still fears the rotting. Everyone is hidin’ from somethin’, ‘nd I cannot stop it. I cannot stop God from choosin’ us.”

Rhett’s reassurances calmed your pounding heartbeat that you could still hear swarming in your ears, yet still, there was a twinge of doubt in your mind.

You fiddled with the frayed hemming on your dress. “Daddy’s left ‘nd Mama won’t come home.”

For the past months, you were walking on shadows with Rhett. You found yourselves dipping in and out for quick, and sinful meetings, in his backroom office at the Church. The last meeting had ended with your knees buckled on the floor and when night came along, your parents had clearly worried where you had got to.

The sight of their own child with the town Preacher’s cock resting heavy in your mouth was enough for them to disown you altogether. It was after that, that Rhett suggested you both get away. The town no longer wanted a filthy Preacher in their midst and he would surely loose his place within the Church.

Rhett’s left hand and thumb reached up to run across your bottom lip. “You poor thing. Sweet, mournin’ lamb.” His thumb dipped in between your lips and you latched your tongue onto the pad of him and sucked him in greedily. “There's nothin’ you can do. It's already been done.”

It was a gentle, yet blunt reminder, but the feeling of your tongue swirling around his thumb made your mind go fuzzy altogether. You kneed into Rhett’s touch with no remorse. It gave you a sense of real fear, what a man like Rhett could bring upon a woman like you.

Your eyes had fluttered shut by this point and you registered the feeling of his right hand leaving your face. You could feel his calloused fingertips slide up your bare thigh and under your dress. His hand didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

Your body jolted under his feverish touch when his large palm cupped your covered cunt. His index and little finger curved around the seam of your underwear and dragged along your lips. You still had your now swollen lips around his thumb, but he pulled it away and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a pitiful whine at the loss. A string of saliva was connecting from the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip.

Rhett shushed you in response as he replaced his thumb with his index and middle finger. They pressed down onto your tongue and you let out a choked sob as they pushed further down. Drool started to pool and drip out the corner of your mouth. It fell down onto the edge of your dress that was now hitched around your hips as his fingers moved passed the barrier of your underwear and slipped into your cunt with no complaint.

Your arousal had come seemingly quicker than before and Rhett had a prideful smile on his face, however your eyes were still scrunched shut and relishing in the taste of Rhett’s flesh and feeling the delicious movement of his fingers burying deep into your cunt, pressing up on the sweet spot that made you silently scream around his fingers.

You were aware that his eager gaze was still on you. No longer were you kept hidden away in a religious and sacred place. You were completely stripped bare for Rhett to see under the dim light in this dirty Motel room. What fear a man like Rhett brings upon a woman like you.

You swallowed around his thick fingers in your mouth and he took it as his sign to remove them from your swollen lips, to allow yourself to compose your erratic breathing. Your eyes blinked opened to his face.

“Please don’t look at me.” You muttered out in between labored breaths, as Rhett’s fingers still showed no sign of slowing down.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as his thumb ran calculated circles on your swollen, and up until now, un-touched clit. How could Rhett ever deny himself of this Heavenly sight.

He was quick to shoot his hand out and his fingers gripped tightly onto your chin to bring back your lulling head to him.

“Show me your face.” He demanded and your pleading eyes moved back to his.

You moaned again at his grip on your chin and inside your cunt, followed by a name.

“F— Father.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at the name you had mournfully uttered.

“I can see it in your eyes.” He bit back.

He keeps looking at me. Oh, God. I know what he wants. You thought in panic to yourself.

“Tell me, what have y’ done?” He was pushing you further. He knew you were close by the feeling of your walls clenching, then fluttering, around him, but he wouldn’t let you come until you spoke his name.

Your hips were rocking against him as if to try and push his thumb harder against your clit. You were desperate to chase that feeling, yet he slowed down his ministrations. It was still enough to keep you dangling on that edge, but not enough all together at the same time.

“Please, Father. I— I can’t—” You whined out pitifully.

There were tears pricking in the corner of your eyes now. The delicious overstimulation, yet not feeling anything was blissful torture. Although you were seated high on top of the Motel desk, your body felt like it could give way with how hard it was trembling. You shot your hands out instinctively to hold onto Rhett’s large biceps to steady yourself.

Inside, your mind was repeating the one name that Rhett wanted from you. It was on the tip of your tongue, but it wouldn’t escape. He cooed and shushed you in response to your incessant whining and groaning, out of sheer frustration with yourself. Slow and agonizing circles were being ran around your clit.

“I’m the face of loves’ rage, but y’ know I can make this pain all go away. Tell me, what have y’ done, sweet lamb?”

The coil deep within your stomach was threatening to snap any second. All your innocence was currently being held in the palm of Rhett’s hand and you couldn’t hold onto it for much longer.

“Fuck!”

To anyone else the scream would have sounded blood curdling and murderous, but to Rhett, it was the sweet sound of your submission.

“I’ve sinned, Daddy. I’ve sinned!”

The name and words fell so freely from your mouth that it caused Rhett to finally break out into the Devilish grin he’d been hiding all this time. Your head fell back again under his grasp at your admission. All you could feel was his hot breath on your burning ears.

“Good girl.”

Like clockwork, his fingers picked back up their pace. Sliding in and out of you at a steady pace and curling up to press on the sweet spot inside you, that made your own cum seep out from your lips and drip onto the Motel desk. His thumb resumed it’s calculated circles and you could feel yourself hurtling closer and closer to the Heavenly release. His voice was still close to your ear as he started to pray, when he could feel the walls of your wet cunt tighten around him.

“Blessed be the Daughters of Abbott, bound to sufferin’ eternal through the sins of their Fathers committed long before their conception. Blessed be their whore mothers, tired ‘nd angry, waitin’ with bated breath in a ferry that will never move again.”

Strings of strangled cries left your lips as your orgasm approached and hit your whole body with a blinding and warm glow. The final swipe of Rhett’s thumb over your clit was all you needed and your cries turned silent with your nails digging so deep into his flesh that you knew it would mark.

“Blessed be the children, each and every one come to know their God through some senseless act of violence. Blessed be you, girl, promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you.”

Rhett still continued on through your orgasm. Your hips were bucking ferociously against the palm of his hand, with you trying to rub your sensitive and swollen clit against the heel of his palm, to continue the feeling of the sensation and your earth shattering release.

“I am no good nor evil, simply I am, and I have come to take what is mine. I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood.”

Your cries turned to incoherent mumblings. You were too drunk off Rhett giving you pleasure to string anything together. Of what he could make out, whilst he was still focused on reciting his prayer was, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

“I am here now, as you run from me still.”

He pulled the palm of his hand away from your cunt and he could feel your cum string from your swollen lips. His fingers pushed and brushed in turn against the sweet spot inside of you and his thumb returned back to your clit with no mercy. Your whole body was jolted back to the dirty motel room at the over sensitivity and your pleading tears now ran hot over your cheeks.

“S’ can’t, Daddy. Sensitive, ‘lease.” You wailed and begged Rhett for his forgiveness.

Your hips bucked again at his fiery touch. It caused the Motel desk to bump against the wall, yet he was still close to your ear and caging you in. The shark had finally had his taste of blood, and Rhett whispered his final prayer and wish.

“Run then, child. You can't hide from me forever.”

verse 111. | these crosses all over my body.

Rhett knew you were still deliberating with the consequences of your recent actions. You were still a devoted child of God after all, and as you lay in the throws of Motel bed sheets and gave yourself to Rhett, you were serving the Lord through him as Rhett was a man of God.

Therefore, he was able to assist you in your ill woes that had you tossing and turning in the night. The Motel bed sheets were scratchy, but nothing like the scratch of guilt that ran down your spine and boiled in your stomach. It was a vile bile that could only be fixed by the hand of God himself.

“Lay down, pull your dress up and relax for me, my sweet lamb.”

You swallowed thickly and gave him a curt nod. The mattress dipped down as you lay back. Your fingertips ran up and over your thighs to fiddle with the hem of your fraying dress and hike it over your spread thighs.

“No underwear? Good girl. You’re learnin’.”

His words made your cheeks flare up out of sheer embarrassment that he was looking at your bare cunt. Rhett had told you not to wear underwear as you may need to serve the lord at anytime.

You felt the mattress dip again and watched as he came to kneel with one leg on the bed and his other foot planted firmly on the sticky floor. Your body jolted alive when you felt Rhett’s nimble fingers brush over your clit and sweep through your folds.

Your cheeks still burned a rosy red, still out of shame for how aroused he could make you as he was towering over you and touching your cunt with the lightest of touches. You scrunched your eyes shut to avoid the heavy and hungry gaze of Rhett, but it was futile.

“Eyes open, my little lamb. Don’t shut me, or the Lord out.”

You let out a small whine when Rhett’s fingers left your pussy but you quickly followed with a harsh gasp as you felt something hard, yet softly curved around the edges, dip in between your folds.

You watched his face with wide eyes as your mind raced to map the shape of the object. His gaze was focused entirely on your cunt and a flash of a Devil’s grin was twitching at the corner of his lips.

“And besides, I want to watch you, as y’ accept the hand of God.”

“Is— Rhett, is it—”

Your hands went flat against the Motel bed sheets before you scrunched them up and into your palms as tightly as you could grasp. Only now could you feel the shape of the object as he worked it deeper into your wet cunt.

When you both escaped to see the West, there wasn’t much time to pack and Rhett only brought the essentials along with him. A few changes of clothes, a Bible and a small cross.

“Yes, my sweet lamb. The hand of God.”

His voice was smooth and like you always had, you trusted in his words and actions. You believed what he was doing was best for you, and so you lay there as a blessed daughter of Abbott, and took the cross.

“Oh, sweet, Preacher Abbott. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Your string of praises came out babbled as every so often, Rhett would move the cross to hit the sweet spot deep inside of you. In turn, you would buck your hips ever so slightly and let out debauched moans.

“It may feel good, my little lamb, ‘nd that’s okay. If y’ want t’ come, you ask me, as always.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

verse 1v. | the blood of christ.

Rhett opened the front door of your Motel room with a creak to see your frame curled up on the bed. Your arms were wrapped tightly around yourself and you let out a muffled groan into the duvet, your body withering.

“You okay, sweet lamb?” He came round the side of the bed and you felt the weight of the mattress dip as he sat beside you, feeling his hand running soothingly up and down your arm.

“M’ on my period. Came just as you left.” You mumbled in defeat into the duvet. Your body was too exhausted to even lift your neck to look at him. Rhett cooed softly as your body shuddered again. Another cramp hit you and an even louder, more frustrated groan, sunk deep into the mattress.

Rhett offered what he could to help, but the cruel reality was that you didn’t have anything with you right now expect pads and tampons. You were in the middle of no where and the local gas station was an hours drive away. He ran his hand over the swell of your ass in your curled position and rested it on your bare thigh. He dipped his fingers ever so slightly in between where they pressed together and he squeezed gently.

“Let your Preacher help you.” Rhett offered, and you finally brought your head up to look at him, with your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Doubtless of your expression, he continued. “Sex can help the pain you’re sufferin’ from.”

You sat up against the headboard with your knees tucked tightly into your chest.

“B— but, Rhett, I’m on my period.” You blinked at him. You were wildly unsure as to what he could possibly be suggesting here that would make this work. “There’ll be blood ‘nd stuff. It’ll get messy.” Your fingers played with each other as they rested on your knees, with you awkwardly avoiding eye contact for such a lewd topic of conversation.

“And? Why do you think we drink wine each communion? To bathe in the blood of Christ.”

You hummed in response to Rhett’s profound words and cocked your head to the side. You would never question your Preacher’s words. He had the word of God and he was always, right.

Rhett slinked his hand down to cup your covered cunt. His gaze softened momentarily. “And, I wan’ help soothe your aching womb.” He applied a deep pressure to your clit with the heel of his palm and a soft, barely audible, moan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut. There was no denying that the momentary pleasure jolted through you and calmed the torrent of pain residing in your lower stomach.

You weighed out your options. The only doubt in your mind being that you had never touched yourself on your period, let alone had sex. You were simply told by your Mother that you couldn’t.

Rhett noticed the doubt registering behind your eyes and he pushed down again, firmly to your clit, and another, now louder moan, slipped passed your lips.

“Feels s’ good, Rhett.”

“It would honour me and the Lord if I got to bathe in the blood of Christ, through my pretty little cunt.”

You wasted no time in pressing your lips to Rhett’s and let him keenly rub the heel of his palm against your now aching, clit. Through the thick pad and material of your underwear, it provided a pressure, yet none at all at the same time. It was painfully dizzying. Your clothes were both shed in a flurry, your lips barely pulling apart from each other, only to gulp down air. Rhett pinched lightly at your nipples, knowing how sensitive they would be. It only heightened your ever growing arousal and you let out a breathy moan.

“Need you, Rhett, please.”

His large and calloused hands skimmed down to the hem of your underwear and paused.

“Hold on,” He mutterd against your lip, lightly biting down on your bottom lip as he parted. You whined out at the loss of touch from your Preacher and he chuckled quietly. “Patience, sweet thing. Let me take care of you.” Rhett disappeared to the bathroom and came back with two towels in hand.

“They’ll stain, Rhett!”

Your protests fell on silent ears and Rhett could only respond with a small smirk, pinching at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll cover it. Don’t worry.”

No doubt with the money he stole from the Church.

He laid them out and you shuffled on top of them. You let your head fall to the scratchy Motel pillow and Rhett covered your body with his, hovering above you. His hands resumed their previous ministrations of cup and tweaking at your breasts with his mouth attached back to yours. His tongue dipped inside to run along your bottom lip and taste you, letting a groan get caught between you both at how sweet you were for him. You felt his hand trail down the soft flesh over your stomach and pull around the hem of your underwear.

“Y’ sure you want to do this, my sweet lamb? We can stop now, or ‘nytime.”

“M’ sure, Rhett. Need you s’ bad.”

“Needy, sweet thing.” Rhett mused back at you with featherlight kisses trailed over your jawline.

He sat back on his haunches and you noticed the prominent outline of his cock straining against his black underwear. You whined again at the loss of Rhett, but he wanted to do this properly. He came to understand how vulnerable this had you feeling. You were his responsibility since he took you out West and he wanted to treat you with the love and care that you deserved. Why, Rhett believed that God took extra time when creating you, and he should treat you as such. As though you were made of precious porcelain.

He peeled back your underwear inch by inch. The flow of cool air from the rattling air conditioning unit hit your bare cunt and it clenched around nothing, shortly followed by heat rising in your cheeks at the sudden embarrassment of Rhett seeing your pad in this state. He continued to hook your underwear off your legs with not a flash of grimace across his face. He was completely neutral as he peeled off your pad and threw it in the bin. His heavy gaze came back to you and he let out a guttural groan.

“Oh, darlin’. Fuck—”

His index finger gently traced around your lips before pressing to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You cried out at his final touch, no longer obstructed and you bucked your hips to follow him.

“—you’ve never looked more beautiful for me, my sweet lamb.”

You didn’t think your cheeks could get a darker shade of red at this point.

“You have nothin’ to hide. It’s me ‘nd you here. The Lord isn’t privy to such a beautiful sight.”

You tugged down on Rhett’s shoulders to pull him into another heated kiss. His sweet praises, mixed with the driving force of hormones flowing through you, went straight to your head and you couldn’t hold on any longer. Rhett made quick work of removing his boxers and giving his cock a few fistfuls before you felt his tip catch against your clit, earning another needy moan from yourself.

“May I, angel?”

“Pleas’, Daddy.” You mewled out in desperation, shifting your hips to try and catch his tip on your aching bundle again.

At the call of that name in particular and how your voice strained with desperation, Rhett understood how much you craved this. It was a name only ushered by yourself in moments of intensity. When your body craved nothing but his pin point accurate touch. When nothing could soothe the gnawing aches and pains in your body but him. Rhett was the medicine for your ailment.

He held back for not a moment longer and sunk into you. Your lips parted and a cry tore from your throat at feeling the stretch of his cock fill you up in a way you could never adjust to. Your walls were warm around him, warmer than he’d felt before. They hugged and drew him in closer with the crook of your heel digging into his back.

“Baby, baby, baby…” Rhett groaned with his head falling into the crook of your neck and inhaling your familiar scent. The feeling was all encompassing and all knowing to you both. “S’ fuckin’ tight, little lamb.”

“Daddy!” You whined. “Pleas’, move.”

At your instruction, Rhett swiftly moved his hips to meet yours, before pulling nearly all the way out. There was no need for the usual ferocious pacing of his hips. With every drawn out thrust, you squeezed at him tight and he knew he wouldn’t hold on for much longer. His tip ran over the sweet spot buried deep inside of you and with each thrust, you felt your cramps simmer away to nearly nothing. Your clit was throbbing by this point. It was desperate to feel some sort of friction, and once Rhett had developed a steady pace, his thumb pressed down. A string of pleasurable groans left your lips and in unison, Rhett responded with a quiet whimper. He could feel with each swipe of his thumb how your body was reacting to him. The heels of your feet dug in deeper to his flesh, to lock his hips in place with every thrust. Your fingertips were making outlines of crescent shapes on his toned shoulders.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, pleas’, Daddy. M’ so close.”

“Me too, sweet lamb— oh, fuck.” A drawn out moan was swallowed whole as Rhett pressed his lips to yours, heat radiating off you both and eliciting the first beads of sweat. With your cramps now almost fully dissolved, all you could feel growing was your ever impending orgasm. It was the precision work of Rhett’s thumb rubbing calculated circles over your clit and his cock hitting you so deep, that each time it jolted a spark alight in your lower stomach and you felt yourself crashing closer.

“Yesyesyes—” Your thighs squeezed around Rhett tightly and your back arched off the towels to push yourself impossibly closer to Rhett as he worked you through the wave of your orgasm that overtook your body whole. Your walls were squeezing him so tight and milking him dry for all that he had, that he wasn’t far behind. He came with a shudder of his body and an elongated groan into your shoulder, followed by your name.

“That’s it, good girl. Shit, you did ‘s good for me.”

Your foreheads were stuck together with the glistening slick of sweat. Rhett pressed flurries of kisses along your jaw and underneath your earlobe, gently encouraging you as you caught your breath back. You grimaced when he eventually pulled his softening cock out. You could feel the string of multiple bodily fluids fall from your cunt, but Rhett shushed you softly and told you to wait there. He came back with a damp washcloth, lukewarm in temperature as to not enrage your cunt any further. He cleaned you up gently, stuck a new pad on a clean pair of underwear and dressed you in his tattered religious Youth Camp t-shirt.

More of Rhett’s praiseful kisses were placed to your forehead as you rested in his arms before he spoke up. “Y’ want food? Shower? Watch somethin’?” The beat up television in the corner of the Motel room hadn’t looked appealing at first, but there was something about mindless television to match with the relief your body currently felt, that didn’t seem too bad.

Something was eventually playing on the television, but you couldn’t remember what. The quiet hum of the television static, Rhett’s rhythmic breathing under your ear and the gentle swipe of his fingertips over your arms was lulling you. The agitating throb of your cramps were gone and your body felt as though it was sinking deep into the mattress. Your eyes were falling shut, but quickly blinking back to life as to continue to fixate on the screen.

Rhett took a look down at you fighting to stay awake and he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. He tucked a stray strand of your hair away from your face and behind your ear.

“Sleep, little lamb. I’ll be here when y’ wake up, we can shower then. Jus’, rest.” Rhett’s voice was low, with his Southern drawl making a heavier appearance. It was the final push you needed to be completely pulled under.

verse v. | august underground.

Rhett’s truck dimmed in life as he parked you both up, back at the Motel. You had been out to the diner across town for something to eat. It was for dinner, although it was currently nearing ten o’clock at night. You turned to Rhett and flashed him a coy smile as you got out of the truck. You purposefully swayed your hips as you walked up to your Motel door. Rhett waited a few steps behind as you leant against the door. You crooked your index finger and beckoned for Rhett to follow in your footsteps.

You were enjoying your journey out West. You saw sights you had never dreamed about seeing, you shared some of your deepest and most private thoughts with your Preacher and indulged in some of your darkest fantasies, but it grew very much the same, day in and day out. You would park up at a Motel, stay for some nights, get food, visit the local towns and move on. The instinct inside of you craved something new, something else. Something that would put that zing! of thrill back into your veins. You hadn’t experienced such a feeling since you were caught by your parents with your Preacher’s cock resting heavy on your tongue.

Rhett had now placed one hand firmly above your head on the Motel door. He was partly caging you in, like a feral animal. He had to be cautious with you outside in public, where anyone could see you. That, with the combined factor that you had been teasing him all night at the diner and you were now baring your teeth to him. Your index finger and thumb pinched on Rhett’s chin lightly and your tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip. He wanted to pinch that tongue of yours himself. His eyes didn’t move an inch and they were pierced directly on you, eagerly awaiting your next move. He bore into the back of your skull and took in the sight of you whole. It caused a hot flush to wash over your body and your cheeks couldn’t hold back from turning a dusty pink colour. The thick musk of Rhett was radiating off him. It was a mixture of sweat and day old clothes. It made your cunt thrum between your thighs.

“Will y’ let your little lamb have some fun tonight?” Your tone was sweet and innocent. You batted your eyelashes at him in an attempt to convince him, but he didn’t need convincing. Rhett’s cock twitched in his jeans at the sudden switch in your demeanor. How you became more confident and started to toy with him. He growled a “yes” in response, and you smirked. You moved your lips millimeters away from his to speak. “Close your eyes, count to ten. Then, come find me, Daddy.” Rhett fleeting closed his eyes to follow your instructions and to reach down to kiss you—

Where the fuck, had you gone?

Rhett’s head quirked to the left as he heard your footsteps trail off around the side of the Motel. He chuckled sinisterly. He knew exactly where you were heading.

“Run then, little lamb. You can't hide from me forever.” Rhett muttered quietly to himself. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, as per your instructions.

Your feet were carrying you as fast as they could into the woods behind the Motel. Left foot, right foot, thumping rhythmically on the ground beneath you. You knew you only had ten seconds to get ahead, but you also knew Rhett had long legs and fast strides. They were quick enough to catch up with you in twenty seconds, if you weren’t careful. You ran deeper into the rows of trees. The tendons of muscles in your calves were building up a warmth already. Your feet were crunching on twigs and leaves beneath you with each step and you knew you had to be careful not to trip and seriously hurt yourself. The light from the Motel and highway was fading quick as you made your way deeper inside the woods.

Just as you had predicted, around twenty seconds in, you heard the faint following of rhythmic footsteps behind you. There weren’t heavy enough to tell you Rhett was close, but a far away whistled tune could be heard. What was that tune? You knew it, you knew it so well it was on the tip of your tongue. “Something… Something in the sky?” You thought to yourself momentarily before you were dragged out of your thoughts and re-directed to Rhett’s voice now catching up to you and the heavy pacing steps of his boots.

“Fuck, they’re faster than I thought. Like a fuckin’ bunny.” Rhett thought. He paused in his pacing for a moment and instinctively reached down to the small hunting knife that was tied to his ankle under his boot. This was fun and Rhett’s cock was straining through his jeans at the thought of pinning you down to the forest floor and fucking you, but he knew he had to be careful. You were a run away and if someone came across you, he would need to act quick and leave no trace of you. The thought was becoming increasingly frustrating for him and he needed to find you, sharpish. He’d had enough of your games. It was time for the wolf to catch his prey.

“Suffering is nigh, little lamb!” Rhett called out through the dense tree line. “Draw to me! Don’t run from your Preacher, don’t run from God.”

You could hear his voice closing in on you now, and you knew you had to pick up the pace as he was getting closer. You flicked your head behind to see if you could catch a glimpse of him, but to no avail. The darkness was velvet and gave no inclination to where he was. When you turned your head back, your face came into contact with a low hanging branch. Instinctively, you held out your arms to block the blow, but the sudden motion caused you to stumble on your feet and fall forward onto your stomach. You couldn’t hold back the shriek as you fell.

Rhett’s ears perked up at the sound of your defeated cry and the branches breaking collectively underneath you.

You were close.

Your arms were outstretched in front of one another and scrambling desperately at the ground to try and pull yourself up. Damp leaves fisted up into your palms, with your nails digging into the mud. The sharp twigs below dug into your bare forearms and you cursed out loud at the dull pain it brought you. A flurry of adrenaline drove through your body as you heard Rhett’s heavy booted foot steps mere meters away and crunching on leaves.

“There y’ are!” Rhett purred out with condescension lacing his tone thickly. You let out a squeal and your body jolted as he grabbed ahold of your ankles and drew you back along the forest floor towards him under his towering figure. You squirmed under his tight grasp, but you were unable to fight your Preacher as he turned your body around on the ground to face him.

Although it was now completely dark in the depth of the forest, your eyes had adjusted with the low glow of light pollution up above you both. Rhett’s face was a freighting shadow, but you could make out the menacing creases in his face. How his eyebrows were knitted tightly together and the corner of his lips quirked upwards. For a split second, there was a look you had never seen on your Preacher before. It flashed across his face and shone deep in his eyes. He was smiling down at you, but with a sinister and sick smile. The Devil himself. You caught a glimpse of his small hunting knife in his hand. It reflected off the low light before he threw it to the ground. It caused your stomach to heave and something, twitch between your thighs.

The face of your Preacher that you knew came back and he knelt down onto the leaves to position you. One of his large hands were wrapped neatly around both of your wrists and pinning you harshly to the ground. His other hand was wrapped tightly around your throat. It kept you perfectly in place for Rhett to end your little game. His knee came to be wedged in between your thighs and applied a delicious friction on your clit through the thin material of your underwear. You didn’t come to notice how much this little game had aroused you until now.

Still, you protested and writhed under his tight grasp. Rhett pushed his knee forward and applied a deeper pressure to your clit with his thick muscle. A pitiful and pathetic whine escaped your lips and Rhett only barked laughter in your face and pushed harder. “Did you enjoy this lil’ game, sweet lamb? Teasin’ me like that, makin’ me chase you? My cunt is givin’ you away so easily,” Rhett mocked with amusement heavy in his tone. You were unable to hold back how desperate you were, and your body went limp against the forest floor. You gave in. You submitted mercy to your Preacher to do anything to you that he wanted.

“Good girl for gettin’ us all the way out here. No one can hear your precious ‘nd pretty little screams now.”

verse v1. | r.a.

It was exhilarating.

You had recently become more adventurous and allowed Rhett to chase you through the back of the Motel woods and fuck you against the dirty forest floor, but the experience of feeling his hunting knife draw along your skin was something far more vulnerable. It needed to be done in the safety and confines of something familiar. A Motel room wasn’t that for you, but the back of Rhett’s truck pulled off in a deserted location, was. You had spent many nights in the back of his truck and it was the closest thing to a home you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

The soft blankets cushioning your trembling frame underneath you were a harsh comparison to the razor-thin blade currently pressing on your tender flesh and drawing down. He had you caged in entirely, with one of his broad forearms resting beside your face and his large body nearly covering yours. He left enough room between the two of you so he could nimbly move his hunting knife down the valley of your breasts. Goosebumps rose in its Devilish wake, and from the low light of Rhett’s camping torch, you could see his wicked grin drawing across his lips.

He let the point of his knife flick upwards on the softest part of your left breast. It caused a small cut to appear, no more than a centimetre in length. One of your hands shot up to grab at Rhett’s forearm at the sudden pin prick. It startled your senses and your chest heaved. You gasped loudly, but when you cried out his name it turned into a moan.

“Rhett!”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head. “Cry all you want, sweet lamb. No one can hear you, ‘nd you’re enjoyin’ this, I know y’ are.”

You whined in defeat and let your thighs fall together and rub aimlessly. His gaze zoned in on the small trickle of your ceremonial blood coming out of the gash. He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue. You swore you could’ve seen drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. It was as if he was starving for his first blood, but the camping light was too low to allow you to notice.

“Tell me, where d’ y’ wan’ me to go?” Rhett’s low voice cut through the night. He pressed his hunting knife back to the soft plush of your breasts and trailed it lower until he was pressing against the inseam of your dress. You chewed at the inside of your cheek and swallowed thickly. Your request was on the tip of the tongue, but asking for it required your Preacher’s gentle coaxing.

“Go on.” His voice was softer and barely above a whisper.

“D— down, there.”

“Down, where? Use your words or I’ll cause a lot more damage, believe me.”

His tone switched back to nearing frightening at the snap of a finger. A frightful whimper left your lips as your mind caught up to the position you currently found yourself in. Your heart was pounding so hard against your rib cage you thought Rhett could hear it.

“Your c— cunt. I want to feel it.”

“Atta, girl.” Rhett cooed. He was quick to swivel the blade of his hunting knife along your dress and catch under the buttons that ran down. With pinpoint accuracy, he cut the thread of the first four buttons. You yelped with a loud cry when he freed them in quick succession. Your bare breasts became exposed to the cool night air. He let the knife fall to the truck with a clang and he snarled. He bared his teeth to you as his large hands fisted at the rest of your buttons and ripped them apart with his bare hands.

His fiery touch was on your breasts in an instant. He groped and gripped at the tender flesh and palmed it along his calloused palm.

His nimble fingertips turned inwards and pinched at both of your nipples, continually tweaking them and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The harsh tugs caused you to cry out a cracked moan. His lips crashed against yours with your teeth meeting too. As he rutted his clothed crotch against yours, he swallowed your needy moans down when his tongue swiped along the inside of your mouth. He parted to let his teeth tug harshly at your bottom lip, so hard he could draw more blood from you tonight. It caused you to cry again into his mouth.

He grunted against your lips when he parted completely, “Mine, mine, mine. All fuckin’, mine.”

You were completely naked to the night sky. All that kept you hidden was your underwear resting on your hips. Your Preacher saw your vulnerability at this moment and wanted to mark you as his. Not something that would fade over time such as a hickie, no. Something that would be drawn into your flesh until the end of your time.

As he pulled apart from you, he snickered at the sight of your hooded eyes with your pupils overcome with desire. Your lips were already plush and starting to swell from the graze of his own, plus three-day-old stubble. You came to cradle his face with your hands with pitiful whines escaping your mouth.

“Shh, shh, sweet lamb.” You hummed in peace and let your Preacher’s words carry you, squirming your hips upwards to meet his. “It’s alright. I’ve got y’, I ain’t leavin’ you. If y’ let me, I’ll bind y’ to me forever. Will y’ let me?”

You frowned momentarily, but when you saw Rhett reach for his hunting knife off the floor of his truck you let out a silent, “Oh.”

“Do y’ trust me?” Rhett asked again.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He bent down once more to place a heated kiss on your lips, letting his free hand cradle your jaw gently and run his thumb over your cheek. It was a gesture from Rhett that you found the most comforting.

He drew himself upwards and sat back to straddle your thighs. His thighs were wrapped tightly around yours to keep you firmly in place. It allowed you no room to struggle against him. The pinpoint touch of his knife found its place back atop the valley of your breasts. In sequenced movements, he trailed it over the soft mounds of your breasts and teased around the tender flesh of your nipples. Your breath hitched and caught tightly in your throat as he prodded there. You knew one slight movement and you’d lose them.

You locked eyes with Rhett and a groan left his throat. Your eyes were wide with panic and pleading desperately with him not to hurt you so bad, but they were blown near black with desire. The sight caused his jeans to strain impossibly tighter around his cock. He let out a sinister chuckle and let his blade move away from your sensitive nipples that were perked stiffly.

He drew it over your ribs and then to your stomach, where he allowed the blade to push a little harder. Rhett knew your flesh wasn’t so sensitive here and the blade cut a seam roughly four centimetres in length, just under your left rib. His thumb smeared the blood across your skin and he let the tip of his thumb press a little deeper into the incision. A snarl twitched onto Rhett’s face again. The blade was far enough from your body to allow your hips to buck slightly and another shaky moan left your lips.

“Rhett! Please, God… I—”

“God isn’t here.”

He bit back in a beat and his Heavenly smirk dropped in a flash. His face was cold. His thumb from your incision was placed between his lips and he sucked down on the sweet taste of your blood. He snarled again, and when he bared his teeth you saw the reflection of your blood staining across his teeth.

“I— What?!”

The tip of his knife found a spongy spot of flesh around your hip bone and he dug in. Another cry tore from your throat and your eyes squeezed shut at the stinging sensation that was currently being drawn through your skin.

Rhett’s free hand moved to cup your clothed cunt. “Shh, shh. I’m here, it’s okay, sweet lamb. I’m here.”

When you opened your eyes again, your desperate eyes fell to Rhett’s and you gasped out a shaky sigh of relief to see the familiar face of your Preacher. His eyes were focused intently on where his blade was travelling and he wore a malicious yet smug grin as he provided you such indescribable pleasure. A tight knot mixed with pain and pleasure was curling in the lower half of your stomach, and the illusion of safety was placed back around you like a blanket.

“God loves you, but not enough to save you. ‘m here for that, little lamb. I will save you.” He punctuated every syllable. He was careful to let the blade not fall deep enough to cause permanent harm, just enough to etch his mark onto your skin. He needed to preserve you.

As he drew the remaining lines across your hip bone, the heel of his palm that was pressed against your underwear pressed down onto your clit causing a jolt of pleasure through you and a wanton moan to escape your throat. It was intoxicating, how he could deliver such pain but still manage to coat it in the shiny slick of your arousal that was currently forming between your thighs.

He sat back and let the blade fall to the floor of the truck again. He wore a wicked smile with faint traces of yourself still covering his teeth. “Look at you. Such a pretty sight for your Preacher. Marked as mine forever.” His darkened eyes were fixated on your hips. You sat up on your elbows to take a look and you shakily let out a gasp.

The letters, R.A. were carved intricately onto your skin. Trickles of red were falling from your hip and another press from Rhett’s heel of his palm had you softly whining. The claim of Rhett’s name tattooed into your flesh had your eyelids feeling heavy and your cheeks warm. Your stomach was churning with waves of need, needing to feel your Preacher kiss away the pain and draw you to orgasm to snap that knot that was curling in your stomach.

“Need you.” You panted, and he obliged within the blink of an eye. He dropped down your frame and situated himself between your thighs, taking his hunting knife with him for one last time. He let the dull and cool side of the blade press against your pubic bone, as he slit the razor edge upwards to cut off your underwear in one swift and fluid motion. A low chuckle was heard followed by the click of his tongue.

“Little lamb,” Rhett taunted. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. My pretty cum is stuck to y’ underwear. This get y’ goin’ so bad, hm?” He lazily swiped his finger through your folds and pressed the calloused pad of his finger on your clit. You let out a feeble whine and your hips bucked upwards to chase his touch.

“Y— yes, fuck! Yes, Daddy.” You choked out.

“Y’ like the idea of Daddy cuttin’ his name onto you like that? Markin’ y’ as mine?”

You whimpered and shook your head vigorously to agree.

“Oh, sweet thing. How far you’ve strayed.”

Your cunt was glistening with your arousal and the shining of your lips. Rhett had already tasted the sins of the flesh, but he was hungry for something sweeter. His lips attached your clit instantly and sucked harshly. A loud cry was all that could be heard from you. It muffled out the sloppy sounds of his tongue lapping through your folds and sucking heinously on your swollen and untouched bundle of nerves. Your cries were called out into the velvet night, but they were lost in the sea of stars. There was no one around for miles to hear you, and even though your body was completely exposed to the night, you felt no shame as your Preacher ate away at his pussy like it was the last supper he was to feast on.

Your hands had shot out to grip his strands of hair and tug harshly. His face was completely pressed up against your pussy, but you craved him deeper. You wanted him to cut open your stomach and crawl under your skin, to allow you pleasure for the rest of your life. For Rhett to live on inside you forever was all you could think of right now, in this very moment as his tongue prodded and licked at your engorged clit. His own large hands came to grip onto your hips and this thumb pressed gently into the markings on your hip bone.

Although he was drunkenly feasting on your cunt, he prodded carefully at your incision. When he drew his tongue up your folds and caught it on your clit, he would press the pad of his thumb down to elicit a burst of pain and pleasure. Each time it caused you to moan wantonly and press your thighs around his shoulders tighter. It was a merciless assault on your clit with each stroke from his wet muscle pushing you closer to teetering off that all-familiar edge. All that could be heard from Rhett was his muffled grunts and groans, occasionally deep breaths from his nostrils as he inhaled your scent that was seeping through your lips. The low lighting from his camping light caused you not to see how he was grinding his hips down onto the truck bed. His cock was straining hard against his jeans and he craved the rough and tightly constructed friction. Experiencing the same painful pleasure as yourself and knowing it was him doing this to you, had him intertwined with your body. It was enough to push him to the same edge as yourself.

Another moan got caught in your throat but was torn out without hesitation as Rhett’s tongue pressed and then drew repeated circles around your sensitive clit. He repeated this motion and you felt the knot pulling tightly together and ready to snap. He could tell you were close. The way your chest was heaving, in a weak attempt to catch your breath, how your thighs were trembling furiously by his face and how your fingertips clawed tightly at his hair.

“‘m… ‘m, gon— fuck, fuck, fuck! Rhett!”

You choked back a sob and heaved as the wave of pleasure tore through your abdomen and sparked through your body, touching every end nerve you had. Your bare body was twitching with your hips thrashing against Rhett’s scratchy stubble, craving more friction.

Tearful sobs of, “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” were relentless as Rhett held onto your hips firmly to keep his tongue pressed to your clit. It allowed for your arousal to flow heavily onto his tongue. Guttural groans were muffled against you as he tasted everything you had to give him. He continued his assault on your now ever-sensitive clit, but gently eased up on his strokes as the sparks of pleasure drowned out and washed over your body in a blissful glow.

You were dizzy. Your eyes glazed over and your speech slurred.

“Rhett…” You whined and reached out your trembling hands to cradle his face as he came up from your soaked thighs. His chin shone with the reflection of your cum and the faintest pink stain of your blood still on his teeth. He pressed his hot cheek into your palm and nuzzled against your tender hand, his own hands holding gently onto your forearms. “Do y’ want me to…”

He let out a snicker. “No need, sweet lamb.”

You frowned and squinted down at his jeans to see the very obvious stain blossoming through the material. You laughed faintly, your grin lopsided and pleasure drunk.

“C’ere, I need to care for my precious little lamb.” He leaned back down and scooped his broad forearm under your back to sit you up. His other hand came underneath your thighs to lift you and hoist you to his frame. He shuffled down to the end of the truck and carried you around to sit you down gently in the passenger seat. Before you told Rhett you wanted to experience something as exhilarating as this, you had agreed to pack spare clothes and all the medical supplies you would require.

You whined when he left your side momentarily, but he was back in a second with the supplies. He dressed you in his old Christian Youth Camp t-shirt, covered by his plaid shirt. He carefully slipped a pair of his boxers over your naked lower half, but then peeled down the edges to look at your hip.

He stood in the door of the passenger seat and cracked open the medical supplies that were required. With the faintest and most careful of touches, he gently patted at his initials and other markings with a cotton pad. Your face winced and you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, little groans left your dry throat.

Rhett let out a gentle, “Shh, shh,” and he cooed at you again with his fingers cutting through the hair on your forehead to soothe you.

“I know, darlin’, I know, it stings. But I need to take good care of you. We must preserve this. But y’ took me s’ well. You look s’ pretty for me. S’ proud of you, I love you.”

He pressed kiss after kiss to your temple as he patched you up and left the bandages where they needed to be. He cradled your warm cheek in his hand as he tipped the water bottle upwards so you could drink from it. It was cooling down your throat that had been scratched from loud and pleasurable moans.

“Good girl, good girl.” Rhett praised you again and you let out a little whimper, keening into his touch. You swallowed down the water and he wiped away the remaining droplets with his thumb.

“Will y’ always take such good care of me, Rhett?”

You blinked at him with an innocent gaze. For in your clouded eyes, Rhett marking you with his initials meant that he was bound to you forever now. With the spilling of your blood, through life and death, He would be there to take care of you. You had travelled nearly across America, and the sight of your blood bared on Rhett’s teeth was the final nail into your palm to bound you to him.

“Y’ a Daughter of Abbott, yes?” His hands squeezed at your arms and he held your gaze intensely.

“Yes.” You breathed out, barely above a whisper. Your breath was knocked out of your lungs momentarily as his cobalt eyes bore into yours without wavering. He had you nailed to him.

“I will make ‘em eat the flesh of their sons ‘nd daughters, ‘nd they will eat one another’s flesh because their enemies will press the siege s’ hard against ‘em to destroy them.”

He quoted the verse from Jeremiah that you were familiar with. You had heard Rhett mutter it to himself repeatedly within the quiet confines of the Church walls, all that time ago. Your eyes went wide with understanding and your lips fell into an, ‘o’ shape and then a lovesick smile.

“I will protect you from the siege, sweet lamb. By carving my name and consuming your blood. No one can destroy us.”

verse v11. | the thoroughfare motel tapes.

Rhett had guarded his heart like a fed from the moment you met him. Through the times he had you bent over his wooden desk in his back office at the Church, to lying with him at night in a Motel bed. On occasions, such as the other night when he chased you through the woods as a game, you thought you saw into him. You thought you saw something real, but it was quickly faltered back to the Preacher you knew. None the less, you were getting closer to the end of your destination with each passing Motel and tin shaped diner as you made your way out West. Perhaps it was the force of proximity, or that Rhett knew your journey was coming to an end, but one night on the passing roads, Rhett opened up to you.

“I was twelve years old ‘nd son of a Preacher. I loved him and the love he had for my Mother. Subsequently, he made me fall in love with America. But, my Mama, she was always good for makin’ me cry,” Rhett shook his head and scoffed, his tone gritting between his teeth. “Everythin’ in that fuckin’ town wanted me dead, ‘till I was holdin’ a gun to my head and I knew I had to go.” The sound of his truck hummed through the blackout night and you turned in your seat to watch with intent as he spoke. “I was seventeen ‘nd I knew I had to see it all. I had to get out and go chasin’ its sweet call,” Rhett motioned forward with his hand, then paused. “But I was scared of the world. I ended up standin’ over my Ma’s casket, thinkin’ I was next. I was scared I’d end up like my Pa. I looked in a mirror and I was beggin’ myself for more time.”

Rhett paused for another moment, but his eyes were still fixed on the dim lit road ahead. You could see him replaying it as a ghost of a memory behind those tired eyes and you felt for him. You realized you were no less different compared to him.

He let out a defeated and tired sigh, and then his demeanor switched as he recalled something else behind those cobalt blue eyes. “But then I met, well caught, you.” He had a grin on his face now. “Y’ came in to my Church lookin’ like a backwater girl and America’s sweetheart.” He reached over and squeezed the flesh of your knee with a grin still on his face. You squealed in response and playfully swatted at his hand to stop the sensation that caused your nerve endings to turn into television static.

“Y’ didn’t trust no one.” Rhett huffed out a laugh as you fought to keep his hand away from the pressure points on your knee.

“That’s because the whole town found me suckin’ the Preachers cock.” You quipped back at him with amusement in your tone.

Rhett hummed in pride as he recollected the memory. “I remember though, what you said to me.”

You looked down towards your lap where your fingers intertwined and busied themselves with one another. You were trying to avoid Rhett’s curious gaze at your admittance of remembering something so fondly.

“You said, don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere. I mean fuck, we were both outta luck, but at least your truck beats walking to the fuckin’ West.” You looked out of the truck window as you spoke. It was dark for the most part, only with a couple far off city lights pathing the way, but it helped with the silence that fell heavy over the truck.

You heard Rhett exhale deeply and shift in his seat. “Before I came to your town, I was in Florida. I had no one to worry about leavin’ for and no one left to love. But now that I’ve met you, fuck. I finally know jus’ where I’m headin’. Remember when I was all alone in my house and I was fuckin’ your guts like I hated you? I didn’t hate you, sweet lamb. I just kept prayin’ you’ll save me. You made me fuckin’ crazy.”

You felt a sense of clarity clear your head at Rhett’s admission. Your whole body shuddered at the physical memory. It was the first time he invited you round to his house. It was no more than a week after your run in in the Church toilets and the first time he fucked you in his back office at the Church.

He snuck you in. He was careful not to let anyone spot you visiting the town Preacher’s house during the dead of night. Rhett had claimed he’d been alone all day and he needed someone to kill his loneliness with. He had your legs doubled over and his cock hitting your cervix so furiously, that you could see him bulge in your lower abdomen. At the time, you thought you’d done something to warrant such loathsome sex, but it became clear as Rhett explained to you in his truck, that this night was because he didn’t know how to control himself anymore. He spat in your mouth for the first time that night. Your own mouth salivated as you recalled the animalistic action. You understood now that he was spitting his love into your mouth. He needed you, and it came out in the most frustrating way he knew how.

“I think I’ve found a way to show y’ how much y’ mean to me, when you’re lookin’ all pretty, lyin’ in those sheets undressed.” Rhett motioned to the backseat in his truck as he kept his gaze fixed ahead of him. You leant over and retrieved the plastic bag. You reached inside and fished out an old film camera. It was still in its box with the cardboard tattered around the corners. “I wan’ remember everythin’ when we get to the West.” Rhett reached over again to touch your knee, but this time his hand skimmed higher and squeezed at your thigh. You felt a million and one butterflies swarm your stomach at what your Preacher was implying.

“When?” You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the selfish grin spreading across your face.

“Tonight, once we reach this Motel. Wear that pretty set I got you. I wan’ get alone with you, sweet lamb.”

“Yes, Father.”

Your son of a Preacher, sinful as ever. You were all over him like a burning rash as he drew closer to the Motel. Your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt and your lips placed chaste kisses over his neck. Occasionally your tongue would dip out and soak up the salty taste of his sweat that had been simmering for a day or two. It was heaven to you. A concoction that you would go back for time and time again. Eventually, Rhett parked up at the Motel. He paid with the cash he stole from the Church and guided you to your Motel room, with his hand placed firmly on your lower back. He never strayed far from his precious lamb. It was as if to guide his lamb to the slaughter.

Once inside, you fished out the set Rhett had bought you a couple of towns back and slipped it on in the en-suite. The set was simple. It came from a town that hadn’t seen much of the newest century and you wondered momentarily if someone could have been murdered in it. It was cream and white, but a perfect white. Lacy details that had tiny flowers embroidered on, ran around the base of the bra. The underwear curved perfectly and the straps from the garter belt ran over the swell of your ass that was still tinged a baby pink colour from Rhett’s hands two nights before. The garter belt was attached to cream coloured stockings, and it made your thighs look like a place Rhett wanted to hide his face away in for the rest of eternity, until the end of Armageddon if he had to.

“You look like a virgin born again, my sweet lamb. Or, a lamb brought to the slaughter. Shall we find out which?” Rhett’s index finger lazily pointed to the ground beneath his boots. He needed no definite command to tell you exactly where you were to end up. You moved as gracefully as you could to stand in-between Rhett’s wide spread thighs at the edge of the bed. His calloused hands made contact with the backs of your thighs and your body jolted alive at his fervent touch. As if to elicit this image to memory forever, Rhett’s hands moved up and over your legs, finding their home on your ass. He issued a light, yet solid slap, to the soft flesh that made an easy moan fall from your lips, your skin still tender from before.

“I’m in love with your body, that’s why I’m fuckin’ it up, y’ know?” In sequence, as if Rhett had the rhythm of a hymn playing in his head, he delivered five more curt slaps to your supple flesh, each of them burning a fire on your skin. Instinctively, your palms reached out to grip at Rhett’s plaid shirt, with your body wilting forwards against him. Something of a merciful groan left your lips, as if to beg Rhett to stop, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to—

“Baby,” Rhett’s tone warned you. “If it feels good, then it can’t be bad.” Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say to discourage your doubt, and you let him continue to welt the supple flesh of your ass with his calloused palm.

“Turn around.” Rhett ordered with a gruffness in his voice. He planted his palm on the round of your ass and curved your thigh to direct you towards the blinking red light in the corner of the Motel room. You tiptoed on your feet to position yourself. His hands snaked along your hips and squeezed the soft flesh of your stomach, before leaving your body momentarily and picking up the small cross he’d packed with him.

The camera had the view finder flipped around so you could watch as Rhett didn’t let up his ministrations of marking your ass, yet this time, using the harsh material of the wooden cross. His stern gaze was fixed directly on you through the screen and you squirmed under his touch. You were unable to break away from his damning gaze and you were completely at his mercy. From however far away you were from Rhett, he would always pull you under with his cold-blooded stare and let it bleed all over you. At the back of your mind, doubt started to cloud you senses. You wondered if you had read this all wrong, especially that night when he chased you through the woods. That was something different entirely. What if he hated you? What if it was too late to—

“Do y’ want to hurt me?” Your voice wavered and babbled out before you had even registered what you’d said. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes from the painful pleasure shooting through your lower back as his cross continued to meet your ass, before it came to a sudden halt and was dropped on the bed. His hands ran soothingly over your now deep rouge coloured flesh.

“Hurt you?” Rhett twisted you by your waist to face him as you stood still in between his thighs. His hands didn’t leave you and the warmth of his palm spread over you to dull the ache that he’d created with the hand of God. “My sweet lamb, I never wan’ to hurt you. I wan’ to love you.”

You looked down at him and blinked away your tears in a flurry. His thumb came up to smooth over your cheeks and wipe them away, feeling your baby hairs on the corner of your jaw. The cobalt blue of Rhett’s eyes reflected in the dim lighting of the Motel room and his prior hardened gaze, had softened entirely. You watched as his eyes traced over your face and every feature you wore. Time stood completely still in this moment, in this particular Motel room, now not far from the West. You started to see Rhett differently, and for the first time since you were a child, you could see a man who wasn’t angry.

“You wanna… love me, right now?” You questioned with hesitation in your voice. You and Rhett had disclosed your love to one another time and time again, but this time, it was different and you weren’t familiar with the sincerity in Rhett’s tone.

“I wan’ fuck you, I wan’ see you on your knees, I wan’ rip this fuckin’ piece off,” his index finger tugged at the band of your garter belt and let it slap against your thigh. “But more than anythin’, I wan’ make love to you.”

“You wanna see me on my knees?” A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips and you bit down gently onto your bottom lip when Rhett let out a grumbled growl. He delivered one more smack to your ass before pointing over to the camera that had since been forgotten about in the corner of the room. You understood what Rhett was silently implying.

You handed it to him and descended to your knees at the bottom of the bed. You situated yourself neatly in-between Rhett’s thighs and felt the rough tapestry of the Motel carpet scratch at your knees. He brought the lens of the camera up to point directly at the sinful sight below him. He leant back ever so slightly on one arm to allow the view finder to take in every angle of your poised position. “Smile for the camera, my pretty little lamb.” You gazed up at him through your lashes and smiled a sickly sweet smile. A groan got caught in his throat at the sight below him and his cock strained dangerously tight against his jeans. Rhett didn’t have a spare hand and he gestured for you to take the reins. Your hands slinked up his tense thighs and un-did his large belt buckle. It fell to the side with a clang! against the metal. You could already see the bulge outlined underneath his boxers. You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the salvia pooling already in your mouth from dribbling out.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart. Lord knows you’ve had this cock a million times.” Rhett snarked in response to watching your pupils double the size.

“I- I know, it’s just,” you pointed to the camera in Rhett’s hands and stifled a giggle. He cooed and brought his hand to smooth around your cheeks and hold your chin upto him. How his sweet lamb had strayed so far from the flock and ended up in the Lord’s arms, wearing white that barely hid the temptations of your own body. You had come alone into Rhett’s maliciously corrupt arms, from however far away you were before, and he thought it sweet how you were now getting shy.

“Do what your Preacher tells you.” Rhett’s tone was firm and you knew it was the beginning of a stern warning from him. The previous ache on your ass twinged and you were swiftly reminded of the consequences that would follow if you didn’t obey your Preacher.

Your fingers made quick work of freeing his aching cock from the confines of his underwear. A quiet grunt escaped him as he felt your hand clasp around him and squeeze him lightly. He was hot and heavy under your touch and his broad tip was glistening an angry red colour. He momentarily removed your hand and spread your palm in front of his face. He pursed his lips together and a direct line of his spit came into contact with your palm. You wrapped yourself around him again and in steady motions, you ran your lubricated hand over his length, remembering to work your thumb over his sensitive tip, just as he had showed you before.

A now louder grunt bubbled up through his throat, but he was steady enough to still hold the camera in focus of you. Up until this point, you had focused on the engorging sight before you, but Rhett wanted to see you become immoral in his lap. His hand reached up to cup your chin again and tilt your face upwards. His thumb ran along your bottom lip and pushed itself past to press down forcefully on your tongue, jolting your jaw open.

“Out.” Rhett barked. You instinctively pushed your tongue past your lips and let it hang freely. He lowered his head and pursed his lips together again. Another splat of his salvia fell onto your tongue and ran down to the back of your throat. “No more excuses, my pretty whore. Drink down your communion wine.” A shudder ran up the bones of your spine and settled at your neck, with warm beads of sweat already breaking out. A measly whimper came up and out from your throat, but you were left spluttering around the head of Rhett’s cock as his hand gripped onto your head and tugged you down. You swallowed once around him and let the mix of your salvia’s coat his length before sinking down a further few more inches.

The first real groan left him, followed by a greedy curse of your name. The base of your tongue ran under his shaft and traced along a protruding vein. He shuddered at the sensation and resumed his position as before. He was leaning back on one of his arms with the camera angled perfectly against you. You had now sunk down completely to his pubic bone and his soft brown curls tickled at the tip of your nose. You ran your lips back up his length to swirl around his tip a handful of times and then sunk back down. Over and over you repeated this motion, and pride swelled in your chest when the sound of Rhett’s pleasure met your ears.

“Look at me.” Rhett croaked out in-between his stuttered breaths. You peeked up through your lashes and gazed directly into the camera. “Jesus. Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned at the messy sight. Your lips were stretched around his thick girth and your cheeks were painted a rosy blush. Although you were looking up at him and you moved your mouth over his cock, your eyes had crinkled in the corners with your lashes fluttering occasionally. You were clearly trying to keep your eyes on him as instructed, but the tears stinging at your waterline were becoming more prominent, and you were blinking in flurry’s to hold them back.

“‘memeber when I first had y’ in the confessional booth. Look at you now, too far gone on your Preacher’s cock. God made you for me himself.”

A loud moan from yourself vibrated around his cock, although it was muffled as your mouth was currently stuffed full. The guiding praise from Rhett was giving you a new found confidence and you wanted to put on a show for your Preacher. You continued to run your lips all the way down his length and let his tip push at the back of your throat. You could start to taste the bitter salt of his pre-cum forming at his tip, and on each shove to the back of your throat, you let out a crude gagging sound. At each push, Rhett would groan himself and follow with his sweet praises.

“Good girl. That’s it, take your Preacher’s cock. You were made to take me.”

More of your salvia was gathering in your mouth and you let it freely fall from the corners of your lips. It dribbled down your chin and dripped onto the stockings. More would pool and each time your mouth dragged up to Rhett’s tip, his cock would glisten wet.

You had made the best of your efforts to hold your fluttering gaze towards the camera. He looked again into the screen, but this time he let out a low, almost mocking, chuckle. He watched as one or two tears finally spilled over your eyes and streaked down your burning cheeks. The camera could catch everything from his laid back view and he noticed how your thighs were starting to chafe against each other. His lips quirked up into a sly and all knowing smirk.

“Need somethin’?” He berated down towards you. Your eyebrows turned upwards as if to plead for your Preacher. “If you need somethin’, you must pray for it.” You let out a defeated whimper, but Rhett only raised one of his eyebrows as if to question if you were about to become a whiny little brat. “The Lord worked hard to earn His followers respect. You must do the same.”

You pulled off the tip of his cock with a string of salvia connecting from his head to your bottom lip. You started to quietly mumble out, “our Father in heaven—”

“Louder.”

You swallowed down what little left of your pride you had left and raised your voice and octave higher.

“— hallowed be your name;”

“Look ‘ere,” Rhett grabbed a tight fistful of your hair and pulled your head upwards to look at the camera. You quickly blinked back the next flow of tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks and continued.

“Allow me to press my Preacher’s pussy to my Preacher’s boot and feel some relief.”

You decided the cooling stream of your tears over your cheeks would be better than anything right now, as your cheeks flushed in heat with embarrassment from your words. You stared directly into the camera and in unison with Rhett, you finished your fleeting prayer with, “Amen.”

“Good, little lamb.” Rhett grunted and pushed your mouth back down and onto his cock. You felt his boot come between your knees and forcefully kick your thighs open. You accepted the wide girth of his boot greedily and caught your clothed clit on the tip of his boot. Your mouth sank back down to Rhett’s pelvic bone and you ground your hips down eagerly onto the worn leather.

The pressure felt delicious on your aching clit, as you rocked your hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion, similar to the one your mouth was making. You could no longer stifle your needy moans and you let your throat wail in muffled sounds around his strained length.

“I know, angel, I know,” he purred with his hand still coursing through your hair and guiding you. “Feels s’ good, doesn’t it? My pretty pussy got s’ needy.”

The rhythmic motions you were providing Rhett caused him to groan your name softly with each flick of your tongue around his head. His body was hurtling closer towards his definite release, but he still had more that he wanted to capture on camera. With a final grunt, he pulled you off his cock by your hair. You let out a protested cry. The sudden movement had jolted your body and re-directed the ecstasy inducing pressure off your clit.

“Hush, lamb.” Strings of salvia trailed from your lips, with your glassy eyes swimming in your own tears. “You gon’ let your Preacher have you? From the fuckin’ mess you’ve made on my boot, it’d be a sin not to feel my cunt squeezin’ me tight.” You nodded eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly for Rhett, as it caused him to bark out a laugh, mocking you.

He stood up and you moved with him. He momentarily dropped the camera to the bed as you helped him pull off the rest of his clothes in a flurry. His chest was flush a bright pink, and as he removed the final item of clothing, his cock slapped against his abdomen between your bodies. You followed him like a lamb would to the slaughter, as he lay back on the bed and picked up the camera. He positioned himself to rest up against the pillows so he could hold the camera and keep his gaze fixated on what he was recording. He patted his bare thigh and motioned for you to come over.

“Bet my pretty little pussy was so desperate to come,” Rhett mocked as you pouted ever so slightly. He was right. “C’ ere and sit on your Preacher’s cock. If you put on a good enough show, I’ll let y’ come.”

You let out a languid moan. Your thighs were already burning from the constant grinding on his boot, but like your Preacher had already told you as he marked your ass shades of black and blue, if it feels good, then it can’t be bad. Having a sweet thing like yourself be completely immoral in a stranger’s lap would be something any man would want, yet you could only share this with Rhett. It was something only you, could have the power over.

With this new found confidence, you climbed atop of the Motel bed and slid your underwear off, with the garter belt and stockings still firmly attached. You were going to put on a show that anyone would wish they had.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” You mused Rhett with a small smirk gracing your features as you straddled his waist. You raised your eyebrows to await his response. His spare hand reached round to give a fleeting smack to your ass, causing you to yelp in response, partly due to the already residing marks from earlier.

“Atta girl, you’re learning.” Rhett was quick to quip back at you as you braced one hand on his chest and your other hand reached to grab at his cock. It was silky and warm under the base, and you had no issue gathering the pre-cum that was beading at his swollen tip with your thumb and smoothing it over. You guided his tip to nudge at your entrance, catching your clit on the way and letting out a whimper.

“‘member who’s in charge ‘ere,” Rhett taped at the camera pointing your way and you submitted to putting on an immoral show in your Preachers lap. Both your hands were now bracing his chest as you sank yourself all the way down on his length. Guttural groans escaped you both as Rhett filled you whole. He could feel your warm walls squeeze around him, warmer than usual, yet still all encompassing that it made his toes curl. You squirmed your hips down to meet his, taking his cock all the way to the base and feeling his swollen head nudge not so far from your cervix. Once your walls had fluttered around him and emitted the feeling to memory, you made work of your thighs and bounced gently at first. If it wasn’t for your hands bracing Rhett right now, you would’ve toppled over on him.

Rhett peered through the view finder and watched with his bottom lip gripped tightly between his teeth at the Heaven shattering sight before him. Your eyes were pinched tightly shut, but your lips were parted and letting out an endless string of needy moans. From this angle of you leaning forward, he could register your tongue just teasing at your bottom lip, threatening to fall from your mouth completely as he fucked you closer towards that teetering edge. Your breasts were moving in time with your rhythmic bounces, and your nipples had turned into stiff peaks. The soft colour that matched against the inside of your pussy made drool pool in Rhett’s mouth. From this angle, he couldn’t have a taste, but he could do what he adored most. Make you squirm and whine.

His free fingers reached out and pinched at your hardened nipples to earn a shriek being torn from your throat. He twisted at your right nub harshly and even though cries were tearing from you, you pushed your chest forward to keen into the painful pleasure. He wanted to see more from you, but his ears were zoning in on the sounds you were making and he trusted in his gut feeling to check on you. He removed his hand from your swollen breasts and placed them on your hip to still your rocking motions, the camera going down with it.

His thumb ran soothing circles over your hip bone as if to signal to you to stop for a moment. A soft look had replaced his hardened gaze. “Y’ okay, little lamb? Y’ need to tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded as you panted heavily. You wet your bottom lip to speak, “promise, Rhett. Feels s’ good, p-please, need you.” A beat went by.

“Safe word?”

“Bull riding.”

Rhett wore a smile to match his softened gaze and he leaned up to press a admiring kiss to your swollen lips. When he pulled away and came back to resume his previous position, picking up the camera in tow, his face shifted back in a flash. It made your cunt clench as it resembled something close to the Devil himself. That something you had seen in the woods.

You resumed your previous ministrations and your hips continued to bounce rhythmically. Rhett wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around your tender nipples and pinching at them gently to elicit further cries from yourself. With one particularly harsh twist from his index finger, your head was thrown back and your hips pushed further. You ground your hips into Rhett’s and you could feel the tip of his cock slide neatly along the sweet, spongy spot, inside of you. The sensation of after burn on your nipples stung deliciously in combination. To soothe yourself you brought one of your own hands up to toy and stroke over your nipples. Your jaw had now gone slack, as your head was thrown back and your chest was rising and falling erratically.

Rhett let out a guttural grunt in response to this sight and shifted his hips to lazily meet yours. “Look at you,” he matched with a lazy drawl in his tone. “Preacher’s best girl, puttin’ on a show for Daddy.” He focused the camera directly onto the sight before him. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this.

With every shift of your hips bouncing on his cock, you could feel your clit bump against his soft curls and occasionally provided a teasingly millimeter of friction. You needed more, but no matter how deep you grounded your hips down, it provided no release and you were left edging yourself. Your thighs were starting to give in entirely, with a thin veil of sweat coating your flesh and chafing against Rhett’s own. Mumbled nothings were falling from your lips with silent cries.

“I- I… Daddy,” you managed to usher out. It was a pitiful plead of mercy for your Daddy. You needed him now. Your own body was failing you with exhaustion. You needed him to take care of you.

Rhett could hear your soft plea, how your voice was failing you and how your hip movements were becoming sloppy. Your mind was teetering on the edge of complete nothingness. It was about to break and run it’s course into a headspace that made you entirely susceptible to causing more harm to yourself than you could really take. But Rhett was there to slow down your de-railing. As God loved him, Rhett was to love and care for you. You were his responsibility and therefore it was his responsibility to catch you gently when you fell softly into that headspace that rendered you completely, fucked, dumb.

The camera was placed on the bed and his hands came up to still your shuddering body. He shushed you gently and breathed out, “alright, my sweet lamb. Let Daddy take care of his best girl.”

His broad palms gripped at your torso and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. He lay you down on the bed with your head facing the end. He carted his fingers through your hair that was falling haphazardly over your forehead and getting stuck in the beads of your sweat that was pooling. He gently cradled your supple cheek and the baby hairs that lay there. His thumb soothed over the heat rising in your cheeks and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your parted lips.

His own hair tickled at your skin and you hummed into his mouth. Your giggles bubbled to the surface and Rhett reacted with his own. His familiar warmth was surrounding you and encompassing you whole as his lips didn’t stop moving against yours. A taste of a cigarette and lukewarm beer were fading on his tongue, but it was still there, something that ground you closer to your Preacher. Yet, at the same time, it had you falling through the mattress to somewhere safe.

Rhett parted from your swollen lips momentarily and you let out a disappointed whine, turning them into a small pout. You wrapped your hands around the base of his neck and toyed with the damp licks of hair, in an attempt to draw him back to you, but he resisted for a moment. His thumb lifted between you both and ran along your pouted lips, smoothing them out.

“Need y’ to tell me, my sweet lamb. Can you continue?” He purred.

You replied with a, “yes,” and barely above a whisper, with a small nod of your head. To anyone else, your admittance of submission was feeble, but Rhett had you mapped out on the back of his hand. He could read every inch of your body and how it responded to him. He could read this clearly and he followed through by slipping his thumb passed your lips and pressing down on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut and suckled down greedily, eager to have anything of Rhett inside of you and filling you whole. He nudged his knelt thigh between your legs and pressed up against your cunt. Your clit was left painfully un-touched by this point and he could feel it throb as you instinctively rubbed yourself up and over his tight muscle. There was a lewd sound of your wetness squishing against him and something of a growl left his throat.

“Jesus, fuckin’ soaked for your Preacher, aren’t you? Nasty, needy, little harlot.” Rhett sneered down at you. His demeanor had switched back to cold-blooded, but you knew you were safe with this version of Rhett and his venomous words only sent shocks to your swollen bundle of nerves. You were desperately chasing your high once again on his thigh, but it was ripped away from you coldly as he pulled away and issued a direct, smack! directly onto your cunt.

This was your fall from grace and two tears finally slipped over your waterline and stung at your warm cheeks. He smoothed them over with his thumb, but in contrast, he only cooed mockingly at you.

“Cry all you want, darlin’. You’re takin’ what I give you. Now—” he got off the bed and retrieved the camera that had fallen to the side. He placed it on the worn out and chipped desk facing the bed and came back to position you. He slid his arm under your back and twisted you so you were now on your hands and knees, facing the camera. He tugged at your scalp and then pinched your chin to direct your gaze directly ahead to the camera. “— smile for your Preacher, sweet girl. You are Daddy’s best girl, after all.”

His words made you squirm and without direction, your back was arched slightly to show Rhett the curvature of your ass. Two of his calloused hands ghosted down your spine and lay at their final resting place on your hips. He squeezed at your tender flesh and let a groan slip at the sight of your glistening cunt.

One hand was removed and fisted at the base of his throbbing cock. He slapped his heavy member against your lips and let it drag through your folds and nudge at your clit. It made lewd sounds, the sounds of your own wet cunt causing your cheeks to return to a dusty red colour. You both moaned together as he let his tip slip past your folds and tease at the beginning of your entrance. You immediately clenched down on him as he slipped the first inch in. You were unable to hold back the string of pathetic whines, and you bucked your hips back to try and chase his length that he was slowly inching in.

“Daddy, p- ‘lease!” Rhett hushed you in an attempt to soothe you, but it was broken by his own grunt as he eventually bottomed out completely inside of you.

“S’ fuckin’ tight for your Preacher, lil’ lamb. Y’ were made for me, weren’t you?” You nodded feebly at the camera ahead of you.

You wrapped yourself warmly around him and clenched tighter as Rhett slowly started to move his hips against you and build a steady rhythm. At each push back in, he nudged deeply at the sweet spot inside of you and it had your knuckles turning white, gripping the thin Motel bed sheets below you and carting you forward with each thrust.

He found a comfortable grip with one hand on your hip as the pace picked up. His other hand found itself buried at the base of your neck and his fingers intertwined to the base hairs that lay there. He grabbed a tight fistful, pulling harshly on your roots with a yelp from yourself. This new found position caused your back to arch further and your hands scrambled on the bedsheets below to try and hold yourself up. That, combined with Rhett’s now brutal thrusts, his thick tip was waging no mercy on your sweet and abused cunt.

It caused you to hold direct eye contact with the camera in front of you, as it documented clearly to anyone who would watch, how your Preacher would ruin his little lamb inch by inch. It was as though he was pulling you apart thread by thread and weaving himself a new found pleasure. You caught a glimpse of Rhett himself in the corner of the mirror, that was situated off to the side of the desk where the camera was sitting and dear God, you had never seen such a prettier sight.

His hair was mused and tussled stray strands of hair fell against his forehead and tickled against his rosy cheeks. There was a small layer of sweat forming already, and nestled deep in the creases of his forehead as his eyebrows knitted tightly together in concentration at sight before him. His piercing eyes that always had you clenching, were trained directly at the sight of his thick cock sliding in and out of you, your own arousal already slicking him and layering at the edges of your lips.

His jaw was set firm, but his lips were slightly parted in comparison to allow for hot puffs of air and guttural grunts. His shoulder muscles, and all the way down to his forearms, were compacted tightly together and bulging. Prodding veins in his forearm were shadowed perfectly in the low light of the Motel room, dusted by his arm hair that grew thicker at the base of his hands. His chest was flush and the rosy pink dusted over his tattoo on his peck, blending into one.

His lips parted further to speak, “look at you, my pretty Western sunshine. I’ve found heaven in you, little lamb.” His voice was hoarse and yet his Southern drawl was still low and boldly coming through, wetted by the gasps of air he was currently letting out. He had found heaven in time where your own Western sunshine met his deep Southern wet. He was lost in it, lost in the feeling, lost in the taste, and he found himself hard-pressed for air and sweating.

The concoction of the reek of sex and sweat hung heavy in the dingy Motel room. Rhett’s pin point accurate thrusts were pushing you closer to the edge that you had so desperately been craving all night. The knot that was settled deep in your lower abdomen was threatening to snap anytime soon, but there was something else missing. Like clockwork, and how well Rhett knew your body like the back of his hand, his hand from your hip slipped down and his rough padded fingers found your aching bundle of nerves. You let out a broken sob and your eyes squeezed tightly shut at finally relishing in the feeling. His thrusts became sloppier as he let your hip go, but his thick cock that was still moving in and out of you, gave no room for error. His fingertips ran calculated circles and you continued to let out broken sounded moans. You were getting louder with each swipe, but you didn’t care. You paid no mind to the other Motel dwellers next door. You were completely unaware that Rhett heard a couple of thuds on the wall next to you. For him, it only added fuel to the Hellfire you were currently drawing him down to.

“Y’ wan’ to come, angel face?” You pathetically whined out a, “yes,” and let out a louder cry when Rhett tugged harshly on your hair to signal at you to open your eyes. Your eyes peeled open and at this admission, the tears that had been stinging on your waterline fell freely. Your pleasure was heightened to a tipping point so high, that you had no idea what would happen when you fell. “Y’ can come, but watch yourself. Watch your fuckin’ pathetic self.” Rhett seethed with condescension laced thick on his tongue.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou…” You babbled out repeatedly in a weak attempt to show your gratitude. You could feel yourself ready to fall. Your skull felt as though it was full with cotton and your eyes completely glazed over as you stared mindlessly into the camera.

Rhett let his fingers swipe continuously over your now completely abused clit, and he felt you clench and twitch around him. “Come. Come for y’ fuckin’ Preacher.”

The mix of his cock still moving with pin point accuracy inside of you, and the swipe of his fingertips, caused you to fall helplessly with the only cord attached to Rhett. Your jaw went slack, unable to hold the drool that cornered in your mouth and it slipped down your chin as your orgasm came and washed over you like a furious tidal wave. The all encompassing and pleasurable feeling started in your abdomen and blossomed outwards to reach each point of your body, setting your nerves alight. It caused your toes to curl tightly inwards at the base of Rhett’s knees and your chest heave furiously, trying to catch up with the labored moans you were currently letting out.

You weren’t aware how tight you were squeezing around Rhett. Whilst caught up in your own storm, you heard him behind you groan and curse your name with a sinisterly sick tone. “Gon’ fill you up, precious lil’ lamb. Gon’ make y’ full of me, y’ want that?” You were vaguely aware of Rhett’s own begging behind you. “Fill this womb with God’s spend, give y’ children of God.”

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for at this point. Anything to keep this euphoric feeling going you would settle for. His thrusts became sloppier than before and his cock twitched inside of you. His fingers were still lazily working around your clit and you mewled out at the overstimulation he was causing you. His thrusts were deep and he let out an even deeper, guttural groan, but they turned shallow as you felt his own spend leak inside of you. You squeezed him tightly at this point, as to milk him for all that he was worth. You wanted God’s children to blossom in your womb.

You had admitted defeat and your arms were shaking to try and hold yourself up. You fell forward on the mattress with a pitiful whine. Rhett gulped down air behind you and let out soft groans as his cock soften inside of your wet walls. You winced as he pulled out and you felt a mix of fluids drip from your swollen and puffy lips. Your body thrummed with the coming downs of pleasure and you let your hips fall to the bed when he let go of your frame. You squirmed into the bedsheets, rubbing your flesh over the material in a weak attempt to ground yourself, but there was no need. Warm hands of your Preacher slinked around your waist and drew you up from the mattress.

“My sweet, sweet, beautiful lamb. C’ ere.” His voice was like honey in your ear. The warmth of his breath was causing goosebumps to flesh over your neck. His large, yet damp with sweat, arms encased you against his. You could feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat match up to yours as he held you tightly against his chest for a moment. Skin on skin contact like a baby would have with their mother. Your own sweat was mixing together and puffs of his breath coated your warm cheek.

He maneuvered himself to sit against the headboard with one arm wrapped around your trembling body. Tender fingers from his spare hand slinked upwards at the base of your neck. They were far softer in contrast to the ones that were cruelly tugging on your hair before. They reached upwards and brushed the strands of hair that were stuck to your forehead, tucking them gingerly behind your ear. His thumb and index finger cautiously caught your chin and titled your low hanging head to look at him. Your eyelashes fluttered open and you met Rhett’s face with a weary and blissed out smile.

“You okay?” He moved his hand to cradle your jaw as if it was made of glass. His thumb brushed over the stained tears above your rosy cheek.

“Did I do good?” You voice was hoarse and it caused Rhett’s heart to twinge in his chest. You were his responsibility to take care of and he would be damned to Hell if he didn’t.

“M’ love, you did s’ good. M’ s’ proud of you.” Your weary smile was still there, but you seemed to appear proud. “Can I kiss you, sweet lamb?”

“Please, Rhett. Need you.” You called out to him. He was right there in front of you, but you needed your Preacher to wrap you tightly in his arms and wash away your sins down the basin of the Motel sink drain.

Rhett moved his face to be millimeters away from your lips. Barely above a whisper, he reassured you faintly, yet his words were set in stone. “M’ always here. Never goin’ to leave you. You’re mine forever. I love you.”

Your lips brushed against each other when you replied. “Love you too, Rhett.”

He did exactly as you needed. He cleaned you up with his ever tender and cautious touch. He never left your side and you clung tightly to him when his lips met your ears with honeyed words of praise. However, through a force unknown to you, your body was startled and you awoke from the throws of sleep, wrapped tightly up in Rhett’s arms.

Your bleary eyes adjusted to the dim bedside lamp that was still on. The two of you were too exhausted to switch it off after. The sight of the soft light electrified something in you and you were frustratingly, now wide awake, for lack of better word.

You un-tangled yourself from his arms and he shifted against the pillows to lie on his back. One of his arms came up to stretch behind his head, with his bicep muscles contorting shadows in the light. His hair was tousled, and soft strands fell and framed his face in such a way that made your town Preacher look angelic. The ends of his hair tickled at his hardline jaw, with the four day old stubble coming through. The thin cotton Motel bed sheet was falling haphazardly over his frame and his soft curls with the base of his cock, peeked out from underneath. You retrieved the camera and it whirred to life, clicking in places inside as the flashing red button on the front focused on his sleeping frame. Rhett had never looked more beautiful as he slept naked, due to the air con in the Motel room failing you both once again, and you wanted to remember this serene moment for as long as you lived.

You caught your own reflection in the mirror with bleached corners and tainted glass. You let out a quiet gasp in response and zoomed in on the picture through the tiny screen. Painted over your hips and the back of your thighs, were shades of black and blue. They showcased the way Rhett knew how to show his love.

You were oblivious to the fact he heard the room next door beat on the walls while you were face-first down in the bed mere hours ago. You also weren’t aware of Rhett pummeling a stranger to the floor outside the bar across the street from the diner, because the stranger called you a sickly name. The lovesick haze that clouded your vision entirely with Rhett was unforgivable.Trouble was always going to find him and weather you were aware of it or not, so would you with his guidance. If Rhett loved you like he said he did, you would hold a gun to someone’s head if he asked you to.

On some nights, you were alone in the Motel rooms when Rhett was out. You’d sit on the edge of the bed, facing the television, with tears falling over you cheeks and reflecting in the television static. Yet, your tears came from a place of happiness. You had him to hold you each night as you crossed every state line to reach the West. You knew you’d be alright, as you turned off the camera and slid back into the familiar embrace of your Preacher.

He had now rolled over onto his side and you pressed yourself into his bare back that emitted the warmth of a furnace. Your arms wrapped themselves over his ribs and you could feel the steady rhythm of the rise and fall of his lungs. You would cling to him like some love blind addict. You were always itching for your next fix. Always awaiting the dopamine induced high to flood your senses when you were next to him. You wanted to feel him run hot through your veins and hit the sweet spot in your head that would leave you with your eyes rolling back into your skull and begging for more. Always desperate to scream his name as you drove by the gas stations and trailed down the interstate.

“I’m never gonna leave you, baby.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and your lips brushed against Rhett’s flesh on his back, muffling the sound of reassurance. Even if Rhett was to lose what’s left of his depraved and fortified mind, you’d still be right there besides him. You’d ride with him through every Western night you departed on, and you knew that one day, you and Rhett could be ok.

Rhett pulled his truck off to the side of the road and pulled up on the dirt track. You had finally reached the edge after all this time. You wasted no time and flung open the passenger door, inhaling the near costal air deep into your lungs. You had reached the coast.

Rhett joined you and got out to lean against the front of his truck. He hovered slightly as it was still burning hot from the hours of driving. You both took in the view and spotted the far off shoreline in California from the cliff side he was currently parked up at.

“End of the line.”

You spun around from the cliff side railings and walked back to Rhett as he spoke. You had a spring in each step and you planted yourself between his thighs. His arms came round to encase you against his chest with the warm sun beating down on you both. You looked up at him with hope shining in your eyes for the first time in months, “we made it this far.”

Rhett’s eyebrows quirked upwards, before furrowing slightly as he gazed outwards at the land in front of him. The sun caught in his eyes and caused him to squint. This was a new town, a fresh start, where people wouldn’t know either of you and no one would truly know if you went missing. He looked back down at you and his face broke out into an animated and electrified smile. “‘nd look at what I’ve got.” His hold on your waist became tighter and you felt your feet leave the ground. A squeal, followed by laughter, bubbled out from your chest as Rhett span you around. He placed you back down to the dust eventually, “love’s out there, and we can’t leave it be anymore.”

You craned your neck upwards and pressed your palms against his chest to steady your lips that were now millimeters away from his. You whispered, as if no one else was privy to your agreement, “I'll come with you if you're sure it's what you need.” Because you knew, in Rhett’s pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place you’d ever want to be.

verse v111. | the family tree in god's country.

The coastline of California, though far off in your line of vision, sparkled with what appeared like crystals dancing above the waves as they crashed against each other. That was your line of sight for the next three days that passed in your final resting place of the last Motel you would ever stay in.

On the drive out West, when you poked at your Preacher and asked him what the plan was when you couldn’t drive further, he would simply squeeze at your cheeks and tell you, “Don’t y’ worry your pretty little head.”

Momentarily, it was a softening blow to your anxieties of having no real plan. Instead, Rhett guided you to pray with him and trust that he, and God, had a plan for you.

During your last night's stay in the Motel room, he came through the front door and kicked it behind him with his boot heel as he spoke on the phone, signalling that it was coming to an end.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll see y’ tomorrow. God bless.” He tapped on his phone screen to end the call and threw it onto the Motel bed. A long exasperated sigh left his lips. It was the sound of tiresome relief as he ran his hands down his face. When he caught your gaze, his lips quirked up into a smile and he took several strides over to you on the bed to pick you up by your waist and spin you around.

You let out a squeal and playfully batted on his shoulders. “Rhett! Rhett! What is it?”

“I got us a place t’ stay, sweet lamb,” he placed you back down on the ground but still kept you close. “It’s Arizona, a small town called Green Bowl, but ‘parently they nickname it the Dust Bowl. I need to meet a guy in the mornin’ ‘nd then we’ll drive over.”

You mirrored his smile with your giddiness and buried your face into the crook of his neck. He pulled you in close to his torso, warm from the California heat. A sigh filled with content escaped your lips and your eyes fluttered close for a moment. You matched Rhett’s relief and you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours as rested against his chest, him swaying you gently.

“Our own home. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Your voice was hushed against the fabric of his shirt. “It’s all God ever wanted, right?”

Rhett swallowed thickly and one of his hands came up to trail his fingers through your hair. “Right, my sweet lamb.”

When the morning came, you packed up your few and scattered belongings from the Motel room and let Rhett drive out to a nearby diner.

It was just a Thursday. The morning sun was beating down on Rhett’s truck. It was nowhere near the hottest point of the day, but the morning dew heat wouldn’t let up nonetheless. The streamlines of sunlight bounced off your passenger seat window as you watched your Preacher make his way into the diner. It wasn’t right for you to join him. He told you he had to do this himself.

But, there was concern in his voice when he climbed out the driver's door. He left you a pack of his favourite smokes and a note. “If somethin’ goes bad, read this ‘nd fuckin’ drive.”

You had a complete view of the windows to the diner and you opted for people watching. An elderly couple was sitting together and peacefully enjoying their morning breakfast. A cop was sitting up high on a stool and presumably sinking his third coffee of the day. There were a handful more odd people dotted around, some who you suspected were truck drivers and now being five hours into their twelve-hour shift.

The mellow tune of some local gospel radio station was playing quietly as your gaze drifted back to Rhett and followed him. He cocked his fingers upwards to wave to a man at the opposite end of the diner. The stranger nodded back and walked down the length of the windows towards him. The cop was situated four seats down from the front door where the stranger had now met your Preacher.

Rhett lifted his Stetson off his head and held it between their torsos. You saw him reach out his arm to presumably shake the man's hand. They were exchanging words and polite smiles. It all appeared amicable and you consciously let the anticipated breath you were holding go. You were so close to having your own home with your Preacher. Somewhere that was quiet and where you’d never be disturbed by any judgmental and wandering eyes. You were hours away from living in peace with the man you loved. You couldn’t help but feel on edge.

You blinked and the meeting was over. Rhett exited the diner quicker than he went in. He careered round to the driver's side and hopped in, his boot pressing quickly to the accelerator and pulling off from the diner. He had planned for a car chase down the highway if necessary.

He chewed furiously at the inside of his cheeks for a while before snapping back to his reality where his little lamb was sitting next to him and hanging off his words. He swallowed thickly and bit back a grimace with a faux smile. “All done. On our way to Dust Bowl. Say goodbye when we hit Route one-two-two.”

Rhett’s voice was extremely rugged. His breathing matched in frantic gasps. He sounded as though he was underwater when he spoke to you. He was gulping down seawater and spluttering over his lap. You were none the wiser to the fact that Rhett’s pocket pistol was sat snuggly against the waistband of his jeans and it had just been pressed against the stranger's torso to steal the key to your new home.

You flashed him a comforting smile and let your head fall to the glass pane of the passenger window, watching the road move at speed. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the knowledge that you were some time away from your new home, gave your body the excuse to allow your eyes to droop and fall asleep.

As fast as the road was moving in your eye line, was as fast as it took until you were comfortably moved into your home. It happened within the blink of an eye.

It was a rickety house far off from the dusty roads or any traces of life. There was an old barn that was falling apart, but it sat upon acres of country land, stretching as far as your eyes could make out. Between the barn and your house sat a pond. Nature had overtaken most of it with reeds sheltering all the edges, except for one small gap that sat in line with your back porch. Rhett dipped his feet when he arrived on the first day and declared that it was clean enough for you both.

Your home was delicate, but it didn’t take long for you and Rhett to do it up and make it your own. Old furnishings left over were drawn up and cared for, restored to life by the nimble craftsmanship of your Preacher. Other odd pieces of furniture were found on the side of roads, or in lonesome antique stores. Several empty rooms lay dormant, but you had made out your kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and a small living space where you could lay on a scratchy sofa and watch fuzzy television.

The final room that lay empty was the basement at the bottom of the house. You rarely went down there. Rhett had insisted that the stairs leading down were too old and he wouldn’t want you to slip and fall and hit your head. Due to the cool conditions of the basement, he kept a freezer down there for some food and other than that, he kept the door bolted shut. A silk pink ribbon that was yours, was wrapped in a neat bow around the lock.

The days were peaceful. You created an ebb and flow between you both of repairing the house where it needed it most. You would smile lovingly at Rhett as you washed your hands before sitting down to eat at your kitchen table, and he would mirror back the same lovesick smile.

Heavenly peace.

But behind the wall and above your bed, one of the wooden panels had come ajar. It was enough room for Rhett to store his pocket pistol and hunting knife, far from prying eyes.

At night he’d go down to your basement and pace the cold floor, muttering the same verse repeatedly. He would fetch a glass of water and return to your sleeping frame, but not before staring coldly at the panel and back down at you. They were dead eyes shining bright within the darkness of your home and yet, you were none the wiser to your Preacher finding his Heavenly peace.

One piece of furniture that you managed to salvage was an old dresser. The paint was peeling away off the wood and the mirror was clouded as you sat on the stool, three weeks into living your newfound and Holy life.

You were adorning the same set Rhett had filmed you in. You had only come upstairs to grab a plaid shirt from your bedroom, but you spotted it laying in the perfect place at the end of your bed and it reminded you of something. You admired yourself in the reflection of the mirror and you were presented with more marks blooming from your Preacher. Some were new from the first nights he had you in your bed, but the rest were old and fading against your skin. They were all over your body and as you sat in the lingerie set, they came to remind you of who you used to be.

A lost little lamb who gave themselves up from the herd and gave yourself to Preacher Abbott in the offering. When he spoke, he would demand his silence against you. You were guided by him and you knew, after he disclosed to you about his past that he had taken the noose off himself and had it wrapped tightly around your hand. You would follow him wherever he would go, like a lamb to the slaughter. But Hell didn’t scare you, not when you had Rhett.

You rested your elbows on the dresser top and clasped your hands together. Your eyes closed and you muttered close into your flesh, “Father Abbott, forgive these bones I’ve been hiding and the bones I’m about to leave. Take me down to the river and bathe me clean—”

A creak on the floorboards in the hallway startled you momentarily and you lifted your head and put your praying hands into your lap. Rhett was leaning against the doorway frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a sinful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was still wearing the white t-shirt from his day, but stains of dirt and grass were splattered over it, mixed with the heavy musk of labour induced sweat. His hair at the back of his neck was licked upwards in the same sweat and he held his cap in his battered hand. His eyes reflected off the setting sun of a Thursday evening and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.

“My sweet lamb,” he purred with intrigue. “You’re dressed for the slaughter again, ‘nd you look so pretty.”

Your cheeks failed you as they turned a rosy blush and you bit down on your bottom lip.

“I just saw it, lyin’ there and I want—”

Rhett shushed you tenderly and pushed himself off the door frame, stalking over to you with intent in his strides. His large hands squeezed at your sides and lifted you off the stool with a small yelp of laughter from yourself. He buried his nose into your neck as he carried you to your bed, and inhaled your familiar scent deeply. He brought you down to the bed with him, lying on his back and having you straddle him over his jean-clad waist, his belt buckle ever so slightly digging into your bare thighs.

His calloused hands never left your hips and his fingertips dug into your flesh, lightly pinching at you. Occasionally his thumb dipped downwards to trace the scarring of R.A., still etched on you. One of his hands roamed upwards and curved along your ribs, still pinching at you. His eyes intensely followed the movement of his hands and they burned into your skin. There was still a faint trace of the Heavenly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, but it was fading.

“Look at you. You are s’ precious to me, little lamb. I love ‘nd cherish you from Heaven to Hell. On our trip, I’ve always protected you ‘nd now, I truly can, forever. No one can hurt you anymore, lamb.”

His words were kind, but his eyes were flooding colder.

“Every night I’ve repeated the same verse,” Rhett continued. “The one who does what is sinful is of the Devil because the Devil has been sinnin’ from the beginning.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and your head cocked slightly to the right in confusion. His roaming hand snaked over your shoulders and brushed over your neck, moving your stray strands of hair to sit behind you.

He was still like that for a while. His eyes never left the sight of the flesh on your neck. It felt as though time had stilled completely, and all that could be felt in the world was the moment of your Preacher’s hands resting lovingly on you.

Your body jumped an inch when he took in a deep gasp, as if to stir himself awake and that he had been sleeping with his eyes open. His thumb found his mark on your hipbone again and his eyes finally locked back to your concerned gaze. He moved the pad of his thumb over the scar in consistent circles.

“Y’ trust me, little lamb? To always protect you? Always keep y’ safe?”

You flinched again as his thumb left your hip to reach underneath the pillow where his head lay. Your breath hitched tightly in your throat and got caught in your lungs. Your rib cage constricted around you and your eyes went wide as they scanned the broad blade of Rhett’s hunting knife.

You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your eyes scanned frantically over your Preacher’s eyes, to try and find something you knew as familiar, to try and locate where Rhett was.

But they were cold and his Heavenly smirk was wiped from his features. Only a Devilish smirk lay on his lips. The same face you had witnessed in the forest.

“Rhett… Preacher Abbott, I do trust you. I know you’ll always keep me safe, here, in our home. Hell don’t scare me.” Your voice started to plead with him and came out barely above a whisper.

You were fearful of losing him.

“Please let me stay with you forever.”

“You poor thing. Sweet, mournin’ lamb. There’s nothing you can do, it’s already been done.”

The slice of the blade from Rhett’s hunting knife was thin and precise across your neck. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as you had imagined, not when God’s hands were holding onto your waist tenderly to keep you upright.

The first thing you saw was the blood. Your neck was spraying the crimson colour like the food court fountain in your home town. It splattered mindlessly across Rhett’s face and trickled down his intact neck, to stain his musky-coloured t-shirt. It wouldn’t stop pouring from your own, wouldn’t stop coating your neck and chest. It dribbled continuously onto your hand and down your forearms, as you clutched feebly at your neck with one hand. It was on instinct, you suppose.

The corners of your vision were growing bleaker with each passing second. Your eyes were piercing into Rhett’s own. He didn’t twitch or blink for the passing moments. Just a cold-blooded stare, except for the faint trace of that smile on his lips.

He mouthed something, but your hearing had all but gone by this point. It was draining out as the blood drained ceremoniously from your neck.

“I love you, Rhett,” You replied in thought, as you felt your hands and feet become unresponsive, the rest of your body turning cold.

Rhett watched as his hunting knife was quickly drawn across your neck and as your soul drained from the slit and fell into his lap. You were about to be his, forever.

“I’ll always love you,” Rhett spoke out loud.

“I love you, Rhett,” you gargled out between mouthfuls of your blood, some of it splattering further onto Rhett and coating him with you.

His hands on your waist were there to steady your chilling body as you limply fell forward onto him. He manoeuvred himself to slide out from underneath you and lay you down on the bed, to look as though you were sleeping peacefully to any passersby.

His hunting knife was laying next to you with your blood shining off it and coating it whole. He picked it up and twisted it in his hand, the reflection catching in the setting Arizona sun. He lifted it to his lips and his tongue darted out to catch the first, fresh droplets. They dripped down to the back of his throat and when he swallowed, his teeth were stained once again with your blood.

While your blood was still warm, his index finger dipped in between the incision and gathered up some more. It painted his finger his favourite colour and covered it whole. He eagerly popped it into his mouth and groaned as he tasted the bitter, yet sweet, metallic taste of his little lamb. Once removing his finger, he admired how it glistened in the low light cutting through his thin, lacy, bedroom curtains. Your blood had stained the tip of his finger, perfectly. It was like a piece of artwork you entrusted him with, which he would treasure forever.

With his hunting knife still in hand, he squatted down and reached under your bed to retrieve a ziplock bag. The knife fell heavy into the plastic and he zipped it shut and placed it carefully next to you.

A deep and guttural breath was inhaled through his nostrils, before he exhaled and sat down on the edge of your bed, next to your dead body. His hand didn’t shake as he reached up to your forehead and twisted a piece of your hair behind your ear. Another heavy breath left him before he spoke out into your now, empty home.

“Your dumb luck got you into this place, little lamb. You’re gon’ be with me forever now, trapped inside the stomach of the Devil. For even the Devil is a liar, ‘nd no wonder, for even Satan, disguises himself as an angel of light.”

You were “a little Daughter of Abbott,” as Rhett had described, who lied to their father about where they were going every evening. He knew that you were unsure about what you were doing with your life, and how your belief in your faith needed some guidance.

Rhett always knew. He just loved scratching it out of you. Scratching you to the surface. You were compliant and listened to him. You were his perfect Angel in the Garden of Eden. A true Daughter of Abbott.

They were just mundane Thursdays when you’d climb into the back of his truck under the night sky. He would shed his plaid shirt in a hurry, desperate to sink his teeth onto your shoulder and taste you, the salty summer sweat still lingering on your flesh.

He’d drop you off home in your backyard and say goodbye. You’d close the door and as you’d lean in to catch the lock, you’d kiss him through the screen door on the back porch. Your father was none the wiser, only calling out from the living room that it was a pleasure to see Father Abbott and he was so grateful he was providing you with such Holy guidance. If your father saw Rhett touching you as he did through the screen door, he’d scream, “Lord! Help me!”

Every Thursday you’d climb into Rhett’s truck. Every Thursday he would sink his teeth into your skin. Somewhere like South Arizona was looking better every week. Somewhere where Rhett didn’t have to kiss you through your screen door no more. You had always dreamed of running there, to those great big hills where the great big blue sky would tower over them and continue until they met the high Heavens.

Through the mesh screen door kisses, you had tasted love and it tasted sweet.

And now you were here, but Rhett had drank your blood and bit the meat of your flesh. But his teeth were sharper now, and it hurt. You didn’t want him to sink into you with his blood-stained dog teeth no more.

You wanted to beg and plead with him. You tried so hard.

“Baby! Please!”

But your attempt was futile. Your words never came as your body lay cold on your bed. How could you be so naive to the one good thing you know, in God’s country?

verse 1x. | spirit in the basement.

What was this?

What was this feeling?

Your muscles in your calves tensed first on instinct to familiarize yourself with this feeling. They squeezed against something and you tensed them again, in an attempt to push against this something and feel it out.

Your forearms and biceps together repeated the same action and once again, you felt them squeeze against something.

No matter how hard and tight you flexed, or squeezed your muscles, they would not move against this something.

Something was binding you together and as you moved against this feeling, it felt as though invisible ties of fraying rope were twisting and turning over your body. You could feel them contort over your ribs, and tug at your ankles and wrists. Your limbs were glued tightly shut to your body in a position that you couldn’t even fathom to picture. And you were cold. You were so fucking cold.

Throughout all of your winters back in your home town, you don’t ever think you’d felt a chill this cold. It was prickling at your skin and covering you from head to toe. But, although you felt this piercing cold, your body wasn’t shaking like it would back home. You wondered if you were moving at all.

You thought you felt your eyelids blinking against each other in an attempt to try and see this something, but no matter how hard you blinked, your eyes remained open and there was nothing to be seen. It was just black. A black, deep, dark void that consumed your vision and everything you knew to be true.

And then you heard it.

There was a faint hum of music above your head. It was muffled considerably, but you couldn’t mistake that tune for anything else. Spirit In the Sky by Norman Greenbaum entered your hearing and swarmed your head with its familiar lullaby. It was a familiar favorite with yourself and soon after, with Rhett.

Rhett.

The song was still severely muffled, but further muffled creaks and groans contorted above your head. They paced around in an un-predictable pattern, and slowly they started to grow louder and closer to you. The sound cleared up and you recognized them to now be rhythmic patterns of footsteps. They were descending lower and growing louder, but something else came with it.

The low hum of the tune playing above you was turning into a whistle as something, came closer to you.

This was someone whistling the tune.

“R— Rhett?”

Your voice was broken and it croaked out from your throat.

“Rhett!”

You screamed louder with desperation, but your throat felt coarse and torn up.

As you desperately pleaded for Rhett to find you, over and over, you could feel the flesh on your neck tearing with your muscles. Your vocal cords were severed as you screamed.

You came to the deafening conclusion that he couldn’t hear you, as you heard his low drawl draw closer to you and hum out the words, “Never been a sinner, I never sinned. I got a friend in Jesus…”

His voice was so close to you now and he was practically on top of you. A crack of light dawned to your left and widened quickly. The darkness was now cut open above you and, you thought, you blinked furiously as your eyes adapted to the light. It was a dim and flickering light, yet it felt as though you had seen this darkness for your entire life. Your eyes adjusted and they went wide as you finally saw him.

Rhett had heard your pleading prayer.

He had always spoken to you about how you would find yourself in the Garden of Eden with him, therefore this wasn’t right. This wasn’t God’s plan for you, nor it wasn’t Rhett’s plan for you either. Your Preacher had come to save you from whatever horrid Hell this was. You would be safe in his arms again. He would hold you tightly against you, so tight his flesh would mould to yours and you would be tethered for eternity. You needed him, you craved him.

You made another futile attempt at screaming his name, but they fell on deaf ears. Your words never came. And Rhett simply continued to hum out Spirit In the Sky as he looked down at your neatly tied together body, which was frozen solid in your freezer, at the bottom of your basement.

You saw his hunting knife twirl in his slender fingers. You felt a blunt thud! whacked against your body and you were thrown back into the darkness.

You had no idea how long you’d been surrounded by this pitch-black, aching, darkness. The concept of time had all but disappeared with the light you saw your Preacher with. You thought it funny how the dim lightbulb that flickered above his head, silhouetted him like an Angel.

Concepts and things were starting to merge. You got confused and you felt yourself forgetting what time was all together, what your Daddy looked like, where your home was, how to breathe… But, Rhett was what you thought of most.

As you thought of him you could feel your heartbeat quicken in your throat and trail down to your heart itself. His initials of ‘R.A.’ thrummed on your hip bone with it. When you thought of him in this darkness, your body would vibrate and the blood in your veins would fizz.

He always made you feel as though you were coming alive. Every kiss, touch and bruise from his hand during sex, made your flesh come alive. Your hearts were tethered together, with his arteries suffocating yours.

You missed him.

And then you saw him again.

The darkness around you knocked down like bricks, before coming back together and forming a kitchen, specifically your kitchen, that you lived in together.

You were home and Rhett was with you there.

It was a sickly sweet, warmth inside your kitchen and it was just as you had left it. Left it where exactly, you weren’t sure of, but the heat made it feel as though wind was blowing gently along your arms.

Still, Spirit In the Sky played on the antique radio and you remembered how it would play in Rhett’s truck during blistering hot drives to the West, with the wind blowing through his rolled-down windows and onto your arms. You would mumble the lyrics to the tune with your knee bouncing in time. Soon you began to notice how Rhett would hum the tune with you, quietly making it known to you that he loved the song just as much as you did. His slender fingers would tap against the wheel of his truck, or his truck door as his hand stuck outside.

You suddenly felt his fingers tapping against you and you jolted with a spark. You watched him in the kitchen as he seared something with his hands in a sizzling hot pan. That sickly sweet, warmth was all you could feel as it clung to your flesh and stuck you to this particular place.

The song died out faintly on the radio and it followed with the town's local news.

“The missing persons case that has been wracking and worrying the people of Wyoming is causing another wave of paranoia as it’s suspected links to the missing persons cases that recently happened in the state of Florida. At this point, it is only suspected and local authorities are questioning…”

The monotone voice on the radio wasn’t interesting to you. It was drowned out from your ears as you gazed fondly, with an emptiness still behind your eyes, at Rhett. Your heartbeat picked up its pace and thrummed heavily against your rib cage as you watched him still. He was so handsome as he walked over to you, and then by you, reaching out to the cupboard that held your tableware.

His forearms now had small freckles splattered over his skin. You adored how they came up darker in the hotter weather. The fuzz of his arm hair, trailing up to his calloused fingers, had got lighter in the sunlight and you felt it softly brush against your cheek like he would when he’d lean in to tenderly press his lips to yours.

You’d only ever just wanted to be his. When you would kneel by your bed each night in nothing but your thin cotton nightdress, you’d pray to be his. You would beg him through prayer to tell you that you’re his. With your hands clasped so tightly together that your palms became damp, you’d mumble against your flesh, “Can I be yours? I tried to be good, Preacher Abbott. Am I no good? Can I be yours? I tried—”

When he told you that you were finally his, his forehead was pressed to yours through your screen door at the back of your house. His lips fumbled over the mesh material as he spoke and you laughed with pure, undeniable happiness that you were his. Through the small holes in the screen door, his familiar scent mixed with Marlboro Reds blanketed over you and wrapped you up with comfort. His tiny glass bottle of aftershave would always be splashed on his pulse point, just under his jaw, which was now tensing tightly as he chewed.

You watched as he devoured his smoked meal sat in front of him, and suddenly you felt an overwhelming and all-consuming love. You felt loved and protected by him, and you came to understand, like it was the most simple thing on this bountiful Earth, that this was his plan to keep his little lamb safe with him.

As he swallowed you thickly, you could feel his heart beating rapidly. You thought it funny because you never considered yourself tough before.

You felt whole as his heart was beating and intertwined itself with yours again. You were turning in his stomach and making him feel lovesick off of you and your tender flesh.

Tender pieces were still bleeding red and you thought, that Rhett had never looked so handsome when you were all over his mouth. His dog teeth that bit the meat off of your bones, were stained red. He groaned quietly, as he occasionally let his tongue wrap around his calloused fingertips. Doing so, he would smear your blood across your chin. His face was the portrait of a lover's rage.

This feeling was euphoric, in some strange and delightful way. You could never blame him for loving you the way that he did, because you were happiest here and because he would always be tethered to you. You’d never be without your Preacher again. Never alone, or fearful. He could protect you now from any hurt, or pain. This was meant to be and you would always forgive him, because he would always come back to you.

This sensation crept up your body, and you recognized the feeling of Rhett’s large hands running along your fingertips, down your forearm, and then up your biceps and to your shoulders.

You watched as the kitchen fell around you again like bricks, before building themselves back up and Rhett’s board arms were incasing you against his bare chest. You felt warm again, but it wasn’t the sickly, sweet type of warmth you’d experienced in the kitchen. This was instead the comforting warmth of Rhett’s flesh, pressed and moulded against yours.

The bricks came back together, stacking atop one another to form your bedroom in your home, where you lay together. Your hearts pounded against one another and you could finally feel his breathing. You could feel how his lungs expanded steadily below your own. The steady thrum of his pulse that you could feel under his jawline. As you scratched over it, his stubble pricked at your fingertips.

But you knew this was different.

In his basement, you would grow cold. The memory of you to everyone who knew you would simply be restricted to the Polaroids Rhett had of you. And whilst you were torn apart by the dog teeth of Preacher Abbott, you would still wait for him in your bed, in Death.

You felt safe, loved and protected with Rhett as you turned in his stomach, and you were held in his comforting arms. You just prayed that he knew how much you loved him.

But, it’ll be okay.

You can tell him when he gets here.

#rhett abbott #preacher!rhett abbott #ptolemaea

34 notes · View notes