#elvis Presley

[elviscinema]

Elvis Presley as Vince Everett

JAILHOUSE ROCK (1957) dir. Richard Thorpe

[elvisgasm]

Thoroughfare

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, fluff, angst, daddy kink

"I'll find you."

Those were the last words Elvis had spoken to you as you made your way down the Santa Monica courthouse steps.

With cameras flashing and the fluttering of people weaving their way into a heavy crowd that rumbled in the base of your ear.

Life had never felt so deafening before. You can only hear the clicks of your heels against the cement. Eyes wide as you search for your car and struggle to meander your way through the crowd of paps.

Elvis, noticing your perturbed demeanor, immediately weaves a thick hand with your smaller one. The rough pad of his thumb, worn by years of guitar use among other things, circles itself against your knuckles.

The world settles into calmness once more when he squeezes your hand and says so softly only you can catch it, "I love you, sweetheart."

To see Elvis, to really, truly see him, was to hear the world sing around you.

────────

The next time you saw him was in Calabasas around midnight in the winter.

The buzz of LA traffic had settled some, and throughout your house, there was a warm quiet.

You were in your living room reading, embers from your fireplace dancing in your peripheral when a knock pulled you from your book.

Making your way over towards the entryway, you placed your book atop the shelf of your fireplace and slid the cover of peephole over.

It was Elvis.

You opened the door hesitantly, your eyes instantly meeting his heavy ones.

"Elvis?" You stepped back, opening the door wider. "What're you doing here?"

He was dressed in a white floor-length coat, baby blue dress shirt, black pants, and leather boots.

Elvis looked back at his car on the street before taking a step towards you.

"Can I come in?"

────────

It begins with gentle touches and tickled strokes to your skin or across your knuckles as you sit beside him at your couch.

His thighs are spread, and both hands rest on the tops of his dark pants.

There's a mark of his being that you suddenly remember. One that'd dwindled away with the years you hadn't seen him and one that seemed to settle into fabrics and textures of the room.

It was heavy and fortuitously reminded you of that great and suffocating presence he'd carried in the prime of this career.

There was an older feeling to it now. Resembling that of a paternal figure demanding respect of age.

He's been worn by it.

It reminds you of the way he'd basically raised you. Fathered you into existence.

And he meets your soft eyes so contritely.

He, your divorced husband, father, and penitent God all in one.

The image of him tainted with age and hurt.

Dark bags weigh under his sleepy eyes, white and grey specks trickle throughout his black hair and down into his sideburns, his hands are still rough – not at all softened by the earned cushioning of his life, and he's much larger now, much heavier around his middle.

"Elvis..." You start, tracing the skin of your thumb with the tip of your French tipped nail.

The words won't come out no matter how hard you try. His name brings a quiet and choked sob to your throat.

The fireplace crackles behind you, and your silk pyjamas suddenly feel as though they've begun to mesh with your skin.

"Why'd you come here, Elvis?" You finally manage through a quiet and shaky voice.

He doesn't respond for a moment, still running the pad of his thumb up and down the fabric of the arm of the couch.

You pray that he heard you. That you don't have to swallow the part of yourself grasping and sobbing for him to hold you and make it all go away back down.

"Wanted to see you." He breaks the heavy silence.

Your heart clenches in your chest, and a memory of him plays in your mind.

'Don't do that.'

You want to say. You want to tell him to get out. To leave your home and never come back. To pretend he never knew you.

You can't escape him. You try to reach into your memory to settle in nostalgia of your past, and it's surrounded by him.

Winters and autumn spent in Aspen and Colorado and Summers and springs spent in Memphis and California.

It hurts you so horribly that you don't think you can survive it. The heavy pain of everything you'd gone through with him.

Your naivety is long gone.

But you can't bear the words.

Tears well in your eyes.

The silence serves as enough for both of you.

Elvis gingerly moves his hand from the arm of the couch to hesitantly rest atop your thigh.

He moves carefully and skillfully, as if calming a wounded animal – somewhere beneath it all, thats what this is.

Gently, he circles his thumb over the soft skin of your thigh.

Your eyes are glued to his hand and how it dwarfs your leg – forgetting how much larger he's always been.

His rings glimmer under the lamp light when he squeezes your thigh comfortingly.

You can't bring yourself to look away as your knees slowly part, and you settle deeper into the couch.

Elvis brings his other hand up to cup your jaw, leading you towards him as he presses a line of kisses from the back of your ear, down to your jaw, and to the skin of your neck.

There's nothing you can focus on between the heat of him and the blood rushing in your ears.

"E-Elvis–" you try, shivering under his touch.

"Mhm," he hums against your skin, "M'here," he soothes, pulling a moan from your lips.

His sideburns tickle your skin.

You try to steady yourself by holding the wrist of his hand atop your thigh, but you only tremble in wake of it all.

"Why're you shakin'?" Elvis whispers softly, pressing another kiss to back of your ear, "S'just me," his hand slips from your thigh to rest between your legs, cupping your cunt through your pj shorts in his hand, "S'just Elvis, baby."

You whimper through a choked swallow, letting your chin rest in his hand as your eyes focus on his wrist between the soft insides of your thighs.

The bridge of his nose grazes the line of your jaw, and almost immediately, you're turning your head in his hand to meet him in a messy and sloppy kiss.

Elvis runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth with a shameless moan, and you shiver.

He pulls back from the kiss, pressing a peck to your wet lips before sitting back in his seat on the couch.

Propping his elbow up on the arm rest of the couch, he rests his temple against his hand.

You stare at one another for a moment, and you bashfully bask in the attention.

You jump when Elvis' thumb circles your clit through your panties and he offers a lax chuckle in response.

────────

You don't remember exactly how the two of you end up on the carpeted floor of your bedroom – between large hands grasping, squeezing, biting, and tickling at your skin and clashing teeth, it remains a sensual blur.

Elvis is knelt behind you on the floor, the both of you still dressed save for his cock pulled out of the top of his pants and your pj shorts pulled down to your knees and panties held to the side by one of his large hands.

"Daddy missed you." He says softly as he sinks into you – and the weight of him against you makes you sob.

"Cant," a cry rolls up your throat, and Elvis is quick to soothe the watery tone of your voice.

"M'here," he sinks deeper into you in the same breath, and you drop your head between your shoulder blades at the deepness of it.

A large ringed hand wraps around your jaw, keeping your head upright.

The heat of his thrusts paired with the weight of him, stomach to your back, makes your knees weak.

His arm wrapped around your middle lifts you some, keeping you upright.

"Daddy," you pout tearfully, voice breaking into a whine when he circles his hips, stretching the walls of your cunt.

Elvis shushes you again, kissing at the plush of your hot cheek. "He's gotcha." he coos.

You're so tired. So exhausted and worn on the seemingly endless worry of him.

How could he not see how tired you are. How mentally exhausted your mind is through the weight of the divorce and the constant hospital scares and calls from Lisa in the middle of the night.

He doesn't know how fragile he is.

Your husband, father, and God. Once thought to be invincible, swayed by the heavy weight of the world.

It terrifies you.

Sometimes, you wish he'd just come in the middle of the night and take you back to his bedroom in Graceland. Back where time stops and everything seems perfect.

He'd take care of you.

"Where'd you go, honey?" Elvis turns your head to the side and meets your tired eyes.

His thick brows furrow as he runs the pad of his thumb over your jaw gently.

"Elvis," You try, readjusting yourself on your knees, "M'really tired." The end of your voice tapers off into a choked wobble and Elvis coos along with your soft cry.

He doesn’t say anything as he drops his forehead to yours before pulling back to place a kiss at your hairline, "Need someone to take care of you?" He asks softly, stroking your cheek gently.

You nod, closing your eyes as you break into choked sobs, dropping your head between your shoulders and staring into the carpet, blurred by your hot tears.

Elvis runs his hand over the top of your head, gently massaging the skin of your scalp.

He covers you with his body, pulling his hand from your hair to weave with your own, the other balled into a fist, knuckles pressed into the carpet.

The girth of his cock stretches you so deliciously that it sends tingles throughout your thighs and to the tips of your toes.

Elvis uncurls his fist to hold the base of your neck, the cool metal of his rings, sending a chill down your arms, keeping you steady as he pumps into you.

His groans spur you on, making you go lightheaded. You mentally thank him for holding you up, your arms almost weak under him.

He's gotten heavier in the last few years, and it urges a submissive calmness in you, one that reminds you of the protective nature he holds you to.

"Y'okay?" He whispers softly through a kiss to your cheek.

You turn your head to meet his gaze through lidded eyes.

Raven bangs are slicked to his forehead with sweat, brows furrowed, and plush lips swollen.

Instead of answering, you bring a hand up to rest on his cheek, stroking the soft of his flushed skin and tip of his sideburn.

They've gotten longer since you'd seen him.

You meet his lips in a soft kiss, one that reserves decorum for the intimacy of the two of you woven with one another.

You don't know where you end and he begins.

"Are you okay?" You whisper against his lips, pulling away to press your forehead to his.

He nods, giving you a gentle thrust that has you gasping softly.

There's a moment that follows where you feel as though you're one in the same. As though he's in your thoughts as you take the weight of him and the stretch of his cock against your walls.

As you rock back into him, the two of you pant at one another, swallowing eachothers moans and whines through the space between you.

Elvis thrusts into you once and then twice before slipping out of you and rutting the veiny length of his cock up and down the soaked folds of your cunt.

It's a new feeling and something he hasn't done before, so vulgar in nature that you're half tempted to pry and tease him about who taught him that at his ripe age of forty but before you're able to, he's pulling the weight of himself off of you and falling back to rest on his haunches behind you.

It's quiet for a moment that strays too long that you begin to grow shy under his gaze. You lift both of your legs up in an attempt to cover yourself with your socked feet only for him to catch both your ankles in one large hand and press them down to the carpet again.

The action makes you whine, shaking your hips some.

Elvis takes mercy on you as he holds your panties back to the side and licks a long stripe up the folds of your pussy.

"Oh fuck," you gasp, reaching a hand back in search for his hair but you unexpectedly meet his hand as he weaves your fingers together with his.

His nose bumps and pushes against the lip of your cunt so well you almost sob, dropping your head down to the carpet as you rest on your forearm.

The new position allows him better access, and he moans into your heat as his tongue sinks into you deeper.

Pulling back from your cunt, a string of drool attached to his lips, he coos "Good girl."

He squeezes your hand softly as he nods his head back into you, tracing and circling his tongue past the swollen lips of your pussy.

Elvis pulls back again, and using his free hand, spreads the lips of your cunt.

You're vulnerable under the exposure, keeping your eyes closed.

He moves behind you, dropping his hand from your cunt and untangling your hand from his own before spreading the cheeks of your ass and pressing a soft kiss to your puckered hole.

You breathe shakily against the skin of your forearm, shivering when he sinks his cock back into you with a hearty groan.

"Elvis, haaa" your nails dig into the tufts of carpet.

He hums behind you, pulling the globes of your ass cheeks apart to watch as the veiny girth of his cock stretches your tight hole.

You coo for him again, reaching for him and failing to grasp ahold of any part of him.

Elvis notices your struggle – always so attentive to you – and pulls out of you before gently leading you to lay down on your back.

Gathering your ankles in one hand, he pushes your thighs up to your chest.

"There we go," he hums, sinking into you again while letting your legs fall to either of his shoulders.

The pressure meshed with the intimacy of it all brings tears pooling to your eyes. You choke back a watery moan as you call for him in the hot air of your bedroom.

"M'right here, sweetheart," he says softly, resorting to slow and gentle thrusts into your heat as he brings you into a kiss.

The veins of his cock run along your gummy walls and has you digging your nails into his wrists that lead to balled fists pressed into your carpeted floor.

"Daddy," you try, sobbing against his plush lips.

You meet his lidded blue eyes, heavy lashes stroking his soft cheeks.

He's battling something in his mind.

"Come home to me, baby." He gives you another thrust that has your back arching, your breasts pressing flush to his chest. His cool necklace sends a chill down your spine.

"I can't." You pant, trying to advert your eyes as you look between the two of your bodies where you meet, watching the slow stroke of his heavy cock.

Elvis guides his hand to your chin, holding your gaze, "Yes, you can. I'll take care of you."

You lean into his hand.

And for a soft and quick moment, you imagine you're back at Graceland, on the mistletoe red carpet.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Elvis' voice drops so quietly you almost miss it, the weight of a tearful sob heavy on his tongue.

Instead, you bring him into another kiss, weaving your fingers through his thick hair.

"Take care of me, please," you sob woefully.

Elvis nods, dropping his head to watch his cock pump into you.

"Harder," you whine, circling your thumb over the pulse point of his wrist. His bracelets rock and jangle with his movements.

"Daddy's givin' you all he has."

His cock pulses against your walls and you tighten against him.

"M'gonna cum," you cry, letting out a choked whimper.

Elvis hums above you, "Yeah, m'gettin' there, honey."

When you cum, you pull at him and he lets you. His stomach rests against you and he maneuvers to push one of your legs outward as he thrusts a couple more times into your cunt.

When he cums, it's far more primal – more filled with teeth and groans and hair in your face.

He presses his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, and it's filled with sorrow and quietude.

Elvis had always told you the two of you would go out that way. With teeth clashing and bites and moans. With a quiet understanding that neither of you wanted it to end.

────────

Elvis spends the next few hours tending to you.

Poor wounded animal, comforted by its devourer.

Washing your hair in your shower and cupping your jaw to bring you into a gentle kiss ever so often.

You realize somewhere when your head's under the water and Elvis' hands are over your body, that he doesn't know how to say goodbye. He never has, having grown up with getting his every way since he'd turned nineteen.

He's leaving you with lasting parts and memories. The only way he knows how.

Later that night, the two of you lay in your bed with Elvis behind you and his arm under your head.

He strokes the tips of his fingers over your scalp in the quiet of the room.

The clock on your wall reads 2:15am.

The silence is comforting.

You turn over to tuck yourself against him, and he welcomes you, pulling you closer to him.

The fan hums, and Elvis presses a kiss to the top of your head ever so often, stroking a hand up and down the length of your arm.

"Don't leave," you say.

"M'not goin' anywhere," He says back softly.

The warm hum of his breathing and gentle clink of his jewelry lulls you to sleep.

────────

When you get the call on August 16th at 5 p.m., you hear the world pause, and time seems endless and all in the same, inescapable.

Everything's so quiet. You can't hear anything. The silence is defeaning.

You're lying on the carpeted floor of your bedroom.

When you close your eyes, he's there with you.

"I'll find you." You whisper.

[lovers-veil]

1969 elvis, again.

[sissylittlefeather]

Here's a 12 days of ficmas idea: Elvis Presley's version of Here Comes Santa Claus. Do what you do best with that!!

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 10: Here Comes Santa Claus

A/N: Phew, man, I'm just starting to feel like a person again after a week of sickness! I hope this is okay. Please enjoy this dirty little ficlet!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, stranger sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~1.3k

The children are all in a tizzy. Someone has come dressed as Santa Claus to bring presents to them in the hospital. He seems a little young and a little skinny to be Santa, but he's dressed right, fake beard and all, so they don't question it too much. But you know exactly who he is.

Elvis Presley.

You work at St. Jude's in Memphis as a candy striper and have for the past four years. You're getting a little old at 19, but you love the kids and you're working on a nursing degree, so it's good experience. Usually nothing too exciting happens, but that all changes when he comes in with his big Santa sack filled with toys.

You’d seen him on TV a couple times before he went into the army with his guitar and his shaky legs and you'd be lying if you said it didn't send your heart (and other parts of you) into a frenzy every time. Now, he's back in Memphis and he looks better than ever. So when he shows up here all dressed in red, you almost lose it.

He passes out toys and candy to all the kids, lets them sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas, and it's so damn heartwarming you think you might just explode. Once all the goodies are passed out and the children are busy with new presents, he saunters over to you at the desk.

“And what about you, little girl, have you been naughty or nice this year?” He winks and you almost melt.

“Depends. Which one would you prefer?” No one has ever accused you of being shy or subtle and it serves you well in this moment. He blinks a little, surprised by your boldness, but it doesn't take him long to adjust and be very excited.

“I should like a nice girl, but I think I'm in the mood for somethin’ naughty.” He smiles and lowers his voice. “You got somewhere we could go to talk?”

You think for a minute about all the different rooms in the hospital: supply closets and patient rooms and offices. Then, it hits you. The place is full of on-call rooms for doctors who need to stay overnight to monitor patients. They have beds. And locks.

“Come with me.” He leaves his empty Santa bag at the desk and takes your hand, following along eagerly. You lead him to one of the on-call rooms and then step inside, locking the door behind you. He pulls off the fake beard and Santa hat and then turns back to you.

“Unless you want me to leave them on?” You laugh and shake your head.

“Maybe just the hat.” He grins and shoves it back on his head. This hospital visit is turning out to be much more fun than he expected.

“Your little uniform is cute. Like a nurse elf or somethin’.” He fiddles with the edge of your apron up by your shoulder. You can tell he's nervous now that he's got you alone.

“You gonna get shy on me?” He moves his hand up to the side of your face and shakes his head.

“Not a chance.” Next thing you know, he's kissing you, his hands roaming over your uniform with reckless abandon. His tongue explores your mouth and he grabs your hips, grinding his against yours. He keeps waiting for you to stop him, but you don't, not even when he runs his hands up your thighs to your panty line. His thumbs slip under the edges as he gets on his knees. “You're okay with this, right?”

You grab his face in both hands.

“Yes. I'm sayin’ please.” He smiles.

“Nice girl.” Then, he pulls your panties down your legs and puts his head up under your skirt. You fall back against the door as he finds your pussy with his tongue.

“Fuck.” You moan as he licks over and around your clit.

“Naughty girl.” He mumbles into you and the vibration of his voice has you seeing stars. You feel him tease your entrance with his fingertip before he slips a finger up inside you.

“Oh God…” He licks and sucks and finger-fucks you like his life depends on it and you feel the deep coil of your orgasm pull together in your stomach. Your walls flutter around his finger and he knows you're getting close.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for daddy.” He eats you like a man starved and you know you won't last much longer.

“Oh fuck… oh God… yes!” You moan loudly as the waves of your orgasm crest and break inside you. He tongues you through it, prolonging it for as long as possible. Finally, he emerges from under your skirt, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. His erect cock is painfully obvious in the thin red pants, so you push him backwards towards the bed. Before he sits, you pull the pants down and let them fall to his ankles. You're surprised he's not wearing underwear in what is undoubtedly a rented suit. You unbutton the coat and then push him onto the edge of the bed. His hands are under your skirt again, holding your hips as you straddle him. You use your hand to drag the head of his cock through your folds and get it wet enough.

“You ready?” He looks up at you to see if you're going to stop him, but instead you just nod and start to sink onto him. His hands guide your hips as you fully envelop him and he groans. “Goddamn, naughty girl. That's a sweet little pussy.”

“You like it?” You start to roll your hips against him, pushing him deeper with each thrust.

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He holds your asscheeks with both hands as you roll against him, already feeling the pressure of his climax gather in his balls. He lifts your hips and starts to drop you onto him with more force. You whimper with each crash of your hips into his. After a few more minutes, he lays back on the bed and pulls you over on top of his chest, slamming into you from underneath. “Mmmm, daddy’s gonna cum, honey.”

You don't even have time to respond before he pulls you off of him and cums hard, shooting his load into the folds of your uniform skirt. He leans against your shoulder and groans as he finishes and you giggle.

“Merry Christmas, Santa Claus.” He smiles and sits up, holding the side of your neck.

“Merry Christmas, naughty girl. That was nice.”

You lean in and kiss him softly as there's a sharp knock on the door.

“My boy, surely I don't need to remind you that the suit is rented. We need to leave.” He groans and whispers.

“That's my cue. How do I find you again?” You climb off of him and locate your panties as he pulls up his pants and buttons the coat. There's a small desk in the corner of the room with a cup full of pens. You grab one and write your number on the inside of his arm. He smiles and kisses your forehead. As he goes to leave the room he turns back to you. “What's your name, naughty girl?”

You giggle and tell him your name. He walks back to you and wraps you in a deep kiss.

“This was really fun. I'll call you.”

And then he disappears through the door, back to his life of obligation and public appearances. You don't expect to ever hear from him again. But he calls you that night and the rest, they say, is history.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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[satninbaby]

Bored.

Elvis is bored, y/n watches him get off.

warnings: smut. 18+. minors dni. masturbation. blowjob mentioned.

Elvis had been home all day, his girlfriend, Y/N, was out shopping with her friends, something she did every couple of weeks, leaving Elvis to his own devices, secluded in his room, the soft and low sound of the tv filling the quiet sanctuary. Elvis laid in the middle of the bed with his back against the headboard, tapping his fingers against his stomach softly, sighing in boredom as he waited for Y/N to return home. 

He lets his eyes stare blankly at the tv, squinting softly and not paying any mind to whatever was playing, and to be honest, he couldn't even tell you what was on. He let's out another puff of air through his pouty lips, this time slightly louder than the previous sigh he had released. Elvis rolls his shoulders slightly, adjusting his position slightly. 

Elvis lets his mind begin to wonder unintentionally, his mind playing back to a few nights ago when Y/N had her mouth on him, her tongue circling around the tip of his cock as her big eyes stared up at him while he shot his load down her throat, Y/N greedily swallowing it down.

He lets out another noise at the memory, this time his pants starting to feel slightly tighter as his cock begins to grow. He bites his lip as he straightens out his body, one knee bending slightly and resting his bent leg to the side as he finds a comfortable position. He takes a deep breath, his fingers beginning to lightly rub and caress his lower tummy, running the tips of his fingers down the trail of hair that disappears below his waistband. 

Elvis licks his lips quickly, his fingers dipping into his pants ever so sightly, feeling the dark brown tufts of hair under his fingertips as he teases himself, his breath hitching ever so slightly before he brings his fingers back up to his lower tummy, not letting himself give in just yet. 

He stills his hand for a moment, his ears perking up as he focuses on any noise he can hear, making sure that no one was coming up the stairs, making sure he was completely and utterly alone. 

Once Elvis hears not even a peep or a pin drop, he reaches into his sweatpants, pulling out his thick cock. He glances down at it as it throbs deliciously, the usual dusty pink tip in it's soft state, now darker in color with a reddish, purple tone, glistening softly with his desire. He runs his finger tips over his length slowly, feeling the vein that's now engorged on the side of his cock, like Y/N would do when she teases him.

Elvis lets out a shaky breath, his hand wrapping around himself, giving his cock a few soft pumps, his eyes fluttering as his rings graze against the delicate skin, the cool metal biting against his cock. 

He shifts slightly again, reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt with his other hand, pulling it up slightly so that his tummy is exposed and to avoid getting any precum on it, or even shooting his load and ruining the clothing. 

Elvis begins to twist his hand around his cock gently as he strokes it, his head tilting back against the headboard as his mouth falls open slightly, his free hand sliding off this stomach. His cock blurts out precum, which he gathers with his thumb, smearing it around the tip.

His hips buck up slightly as his thumb knocks against his tip with each stroke, a soft groan building in his chest as he closes his eyes and imagines it to be the back of  Y/N's throat. "Good girl- fuck..." Elvis murmurs out with a slight pant, biting his lip slightly. 

Unbeknownst to Elvis, Y/N is making her way upstairs to their shared bedroom, shopping bags hanging from her wrists as she opens the door to the bedroom. Her eyes widen as she sees Elvis, cock in hand as she drops the bags on the floor.

Elvis' eyes fly open at the door opening, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red as he watches Y/N close the door slowly behind her, her eyes focused on his cock as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Shit- baby. when did you get home?" Elvis says, his hand still frozen on his length, his breath shaky as he pants.

Y/N smirks at him and shrugs, licking her lips slowly. "Doesn't matter. Continue." She speaks slowly, taking a step closer to the bed, Elvis letting out a sigh at her words.

"Oh, come on, honey. Can't you help? Put that pretty mouth or cunt to use?" Elvis pleads playfully, pouting at her softly. Y/N shakes her head at him with a soft chuckle, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Nope. I wanna watch you. Wanna see how you make yourself come." Y/N purrs, her eyes going back to his cock. Elvis wants to protest, but the hand on his cock begins to move again before he can even let out a word.

He lets out a grunt, his eyes focusing on her as his hand speeds up, his stomach beginning to flutter as his orgasm builds quickly. His gaze falls on her chest, her cleavage on show with the shirt she was wearing. He lets out another shaky breath as he stares half-lidded.

Elvis' movement on his cock becomes more uncoordinated and more jerky as he feels the all too familiar burn of an impending orgasm. He lets out a hiss before he groans, his head tilting back again. 

Y/N watches as he comes, his breath coming out in pants and growls as strands of white shoot out of his cock, painting his hand and lower tummy with hot beads of his essence. Elvis gently jerks himself, his eyes falling back on her as he squeezes his cock gently, milking out every drop before he lets go of it with a hiss, trying to catch his breath.

Y/N grins and bites her lip at his state, his cheeks flushed and his cock twitching against his stomach as he calms down. "You must've been bored." Y/N teases, causing Elvis to chuckle breathlessly.

[brunettedollies]

[lisamarie-vee]

[artbysherryle]

This takes me back to my childhood. We loved Elvis and watching his movies when they came out on the television.

[elvisvideos]

Polk Salad Annie. Bloomington, Indiana. June 27, 1974

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 10 - With my toes dipped in the sand

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 4.5K

TWs: Erectile dysfunction, drug use, slight mention of addiction, mention of spanking, discussion of parenthood/children, ass play, masturbation, discussion of anal.

Once Tegan has fully recovered, she and Elvis live out of Graceland for a while. She gets used to driving out of the mansion gates every morning, and the handful of fans she sees there regularly are on first name terms with her after a few weeks. Living together is surprisingly easy, though Tegan refuses to give up her apartment, however many different ways Elvis thinks of to ask. It’s not just that she wants it as a safety net, she genuinely loves living in it, and tries to persuade Elvis that they could hop between the two instead of always living in the mansion. He’s not sure. It was the last house his Mama lived in, after all, and part of him feels guilty wanting to live anywhere else in Memphis, even if he does really like the apartment too. 

They’re sitting together in bed one morning, Tegan between Elvis’ legs, when he remembers he wants to ask her something. 

“Queenie?”

“Hmmm?”

“Ya wanna go on vacation soon?” His hand trails up and down from the top of her sternum to her belly. 

The back of her head is against his chest, and she looks up at him curiously. “With you? I’d love to. Where are we going?”

“Wherever ya want, honey.”

“Oooh.”

“But, uh… probably not just us.”

Tegan tries to hide her disappointment as he tells her about the million and one people he wants to invite and promises to pay for. She knows Maria will be thrilled, and the kids too, but she was hoping for some kind of romantic getaway, rather than a family holiday with people who were not, in fact, her family. She tells him she’s going to shower and he makes noises about breakfast. 

“You decide, though, Queenie. Wherever ya wanna go. Nice beach somewhere.”

The shower clears her head, and she decides that going on holiday with everyone probably isn’t as bad as she thinks. The more people, the bigger the likelihood of someone wanting to go with her to do things. She’s starting to think that Elvis has become a very beach holiday person in his old age, and she can’t think of anything worse than just lying around getting sunburnt. She pulls on jeans and a jumper and wanders downstairs, finding Elvis in the kitchen, reading the paper as he eats his rubbery eggs. 

“Good shower?” He asks, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Yes, thanks.” 

She puts an arm around his shoulders and looks down at the paper. His palm slides onto the inside of her thigh, possessively. 

“Look at this.” He points to an article in the paper and she reads it over his shoulder. “Think I should ask Dr Dawson about it?”

The article is about Sildenafil, a drug recently approved for use by the FDA. As Tegan reads further, she realises it’s for erectile dysfunction. She’s not sure she’d ever really thought about Elvis’ dick as being dysfunctional before, but she does always feel like they have to make the most of it whenever it is functioning as it should. Interesting.

“You might as well see what he thinks about it.”

He doesn’t really want to talk to the doctor about his penis, but he knows this is something that could really help him. He feels a bit like his life is controlled by the whims of Little Elvis, and he’d really prefer to be in control of it himself. He calls Dr Dawson after breakfast, and the doctor promises to be round in a couple of hours. Elvis doesn’t like seeing medical professionals at all, nowadays. He feels like he had such a close brush with death in the early 70s that he tries to keep away from temptation now. After the world tour he’d fired Dr Nick and specifically looked for someone who dealt with addiction to sort out his problems. It has been tough, but looking at Tegan now, as she fusses around the kitchen trying to tidy up, he thinks that it has definitely been worth it. 

“He’s comin’ up the drive,” He says, to no-one in particular, as he sits staring at the CCTV. 

“You want me to talk to him with you?” Tegan strokes his hair as he wraps an arm around her. 

“Oh, yes please, honey.” This whole thing is embarrassing, but her being there will at least be a hand to hold. 

They settle into the study with the doctor and Elvis shows him the newspaper article. 

“I uh… I-I-I-I thought maybe they uh… m-might… help me s-some…” he stutters. Tegan reaches for his hand and squeezes it. 

“Well you’re not the first person to ask me about this today, and you sure won’t be the last!” Dr Dawson jokes. Elvis smiles, thinly. “Can you describe your symptoms?”

Elvis starts to blush and Tegan can see the start of a full on stammer coming, so she cuts in. 

“Well he just can’t necessarily get it up every time. It’s better in the morning, I think that’s quite common, um, but it’s kind of unreliable in the evening. And I’m… well I’m nearly 40 but I’ve always struggled getting relaxed enough for intercourse, I need a lot of foreplay, so we do struggle sometimes. It’s frustrating for both of us. We um, I mean we have a good sex life but I think anything to improve it a little is worth a try, you know?”

Elvis squeezes her hand tightly and she looks over at him as he mouths “thank you”. 

“Well that sounds just like what this drug has been made for. I’m happy to prescribe it for you, if you agree your wife’s description of it is accurate?”

Tegan’s eyes go wide at his mistake but she doesn’t say anything. Elvis smirks. 

“Oh yeah, I agree with everything my wife just said.”

“Great. Lucky for you I have a bottle on me, but here’s a prescription for more. It lowers your blood pressure, so make sure you take it easy. Don’t be popping more than one of these a night.”

He hands over the bottle, and Elvis immediately passes it to Tegan. “You can look after that f’me, honey.”

She smiles and nods and they get up to shake hands with the doctor and show him out. As soon as he’s gone Elvis turns to her and bursts out laughing. 

“Yer face when he called ya my wife!”

“You didn’t correct him!”

“Didn’t want ta. A man can dream, can’t he?”

She shakes her head and smirks a little herself. “Well, looks like we’re going to have a fun holiday.” She holds up the bottle of pills and shakes it. 

“Not just the vacation, Queenie. The fun starts now.”

Still shaking her head, she holds the bottle behind her back. “Uh-uh. You gave it to me to look after. I’m keeping it hidden until we go on holiday.”

“What?!” Elvis’ eyes are wide. He had been thinking of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up the stairs immediately. 

“I’m keeping the spark alive! Ahhhh! Elvis!!” 

She starts to run but he catches up with her quickly, grabbing her around the waist and trying to get the pill bottle off her. She squeals as they play-fight, both ending up on the carpet in the living room, scrabbling about. She throws the bottle as far away as she can manage and then tries to get up and run after it. He grabs her ankle and brings her tumbling back to the floor. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Ow! Elvis!” 

“Ya should practise karate more at home, ya know,” he tells her as he rolls away from her, getting up himself and running after the bottle. He scoops it up and turns around, just in time for her to attempt a wrist lock on him to get him to drop it again. Now it’s his turn to cry out in pain. “Ow!” 

She stops, worried she’s actually hurt him and his expression immediately changes to a wicked grin. 

“Tricked ya.”

She’s just realising what’s happened when he picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, grabbing hold of her thighs tightly. 

“Spanking time fer naughty girls.”

“Elvis!” 

He chuckles, striding up the stairs with her over one shoulder, kicking and struggling but getting nowhere. He throws her on the bed and then looks at the label of the pill bottle. 

“Ah. Half an hour to kick in. Good amount of time ta spank ya for, I reckon.”

***

The group flies to Cancun for Thanksgiving break on Elvis’ private jet, and Tegan has to admit that she could get used to this kind of lifestyle. There’s no real rules on the jet, although she does remain sensibly in her seat and wearing her seatbelt for the majority of the flight anyway. There’s also champagne on the jet, and plenty of tasty food. Maria’s kids make the most of the lack of rules, tearing up and down the plane, playing all manner of games. Elvis joins in with them for a bit, but then he gets worn out and sits back down next to his girlfriend. He watches as Gina comes barrelling over and jumps on her lap. She looks shocked as always, and very carefully picks the little girl up and places her back on the floor again, explaining as patiently as she can muster that she’s not a climbing frame. He chuckles, taking her hand in his. 

“She’s a little firecracker, ain’t she?”

Tegan huffs out a sigh. “Yeah. I swear she came out of the womb like this and she hasn’t taken a breath since.”

“She might even be too much fer me,” he observes with a wry smile. 

Tegan looks over at him, surprised. “Didn’t think any kids were too much for you.”

“Psssh. I’m old, Queenie. My knees ain’t what they used ta be. Ben, over there, is more my speed nowadays.” He nods towards the little boy, who is colouring in carefully, as usual. 

“You’re just saying that because he’s the only kid who gives me the time of day.”

Elvis shakes his head. “Nah. I’m sayin’ it because it’s true.”

They sit in silence for a while, Tegan trying to weigh up what she ought to say to him, since he’d brought up the topic of children. She still doesn’t know. 

“Ya never wanted any?” He asks, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

“No.” She decides to go all in. “I’m not the maternal type. Never felt the urge. I find them… difficult to relate to.”

She doesn’t dare look at him now that she’s basically told him she doesn’t like kids, in what seems quite a bit like a jet plane full of kids. 

“I uh… I always thought I’d have more, ya know. Only ended up with one.”

She nibbles on her lower lip and nods, still looking away. His thumb carries on rubbing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Thought I’d make a good dad. Not sure I did. Ya’d have ta ask Lisa I suppose.” He pauses for a while, and she wonders if she should contradict him. Then he continues, “don’t think either of us were ready. Me or Cilla. Not sure she had a maternal bone in her body, but she had a kid anyway.” Another pause. “Y’know, Stella wanted kids. An’ I was always too busy with one thing or another. Another reason she left me. She was pregnant almost straight away, after she’d gone.”

Tegan finds herself squeezing his hand and cautiously looking into his face. “Thought you’d think less of me, you know. Because I’m not… maternal.”

He shakes his head. “Confused me at first, when Maria told me. But then I thought about it an’ I guess I realised we’re not that different. I mean I coulda had a whole army of ‘em, but I didn’t. Coz I didn’t think I’d give ‘em the life they deserved.” He looks over at Lisa, wistfully, as she helps Riley with her cross-stitch. “Never had time fer her, when she was little. Said that’s why I stopped with the music, ta make time fer her. But I just filled it with somethin’ else.”

He sighs deeply. Tegan raises his hand to her lips and kisses the back of it. 

“I’m sure everyone thinks they could’ve done a better job at being a parent. But look at her now. She’s grown into a wonderful, capable woman with a career and two great kids of her own. And she loves you, you know she does.”

Elvis turns his head and presses a kiss to Tegan’s temple. “Thanks, Queenie. That means a lot.”

“Any time, ‘raur. It’s not hard to say when it’s the truth.”

***

They arrive at the resort and once they’ve unpacked a little the men gather around the barbeque and try to cook fish that Maria picked up at the market. Elvis pulls a face about the smell, but accepts little mouthfuls of Tegan’s when she feeds them to him from her plate. 

“You should try a prawn, ‘raur. Not fishy at all.”

She gets up and rescues one from the barbeque, moving it back and forth in her fingers as she tries to peel it. It’s still pretty hot, but once she gets the shell off she takes a bite. 

“Mmmm. Delicious. You want?”

Elvis has already taken a pill, and the sight of Tegan with butter running down her chin brings Little Elvis to attention immediately. He shuffles about, rearranging himself to make his erection less obvious, and then leans forward with his mouth open. Tegan giggles as she puts the rest of the prawn in his mouth. She’d noticed the little movement and knows exactly what it means. He won’t last long at this table. 

“Hmmm that’s okay, actually,” he concedes, then winks at her. 

She wipes her chin and giggles. “You want another?”

“Only if you do.”

They’re both giggling now, and she repeats the process with another prawn, eating it even more messily and making Elvis groan audibly. 

“Okay, this has been fun,” he announces, once he’s eaten the other half. “But Queenie and I have a bed to test out.”

Tegan puts her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. The kids are all still awake and they immediately start asking things about the bed and why it needs testing. 

“Elvis!” She elbows him in the side as they walk off together, the rest of the adults laughing and wishing them luck. 

“Ya shouldn’ta eaten that prawn like that, baby. It was like a porno.”

She almost cries with laughter as she holds onto his arm, both of them stepping back into the condo. “It was not! It was me, eating a prawn, normally! You’ve got problems, Presley.”

He turns her to face him, running his thumb over her chin and grinning back. “I’ve got one problem, Queenie. An’ it’s that I need ya now. I can’t wait.”

He leans down and kisses her, his tongue exploring her mouth eagerly. 

“You’ve got no patience, nowadays,” she tells him as she leads him into their bedroom for the week. “No patience at all.”

They’d used the pills a few times since he’d been prescribed them, and it had really taken the pressure off. Elvis no longer had to worry if his erection could make it through a change in position because it always did. He’d had a lot of fun throwing her around and trying new things, with the help of a bottle of lube that she’d bought in Memphis’ only sex shop. But he’s by no means finished the list of things he wants to try, and he’s glad he’s got all this time on vacation now.

Once they’re both naked he lies on top of her, still relishing the fact that she likes it, and kisses her neck. 

“Queenie…” he murmurs into her ear. 

“Mmm. Yes, baby.”

“Y’know that time ya were sick and ya… well we… y’know…”

She giggles at his shyness. “I think I know, but use your words, ‘raur.”

He groans. “Okay, okay. I didn’t want yer finger, but uh…y-ya could… would ya wanna lick it? I mean… ya don’t have ta, if ya don’t wanna it’s fine but…” he trails off, aware he’s just making noises at this point. 

Tegan bites her lip, hard, to stop herself from giggling. She breathes out very slowly through her nose and prays for some kind of composure. 

“You want me to eat your ass?”

“Oh-oh-oh-nly if ya want to.” When she doesn’t reply straight away, he carries on. “I-I mean it’s fine if ya don’t, I don’t expect ya ta, I… I know I’m an old man with a hairy ass and I wouldn’t want ta stick my tongue there…”

Tegan can’t suppress her little giggle at the description. 

“Ya don’t want ta. I knew it. I shouldna asked. I’m sorry honey, my horny brain jus’ gets these ideas an’...”

She moves her head so she can look at him, putting a hand on either side of his face. “I would love to eat your ass.”

“Y-you would?”

She giggles again, a little shyly. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Well I think ya would, honey.”

“Girls have done it to you before, haven’t they?”

It’s his turn to smirk a little now. “Yeah. Once or twice.”

“Well I might not be any good at it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Practice makes perfect.”

They both giggle again, foreheads pressed against one another, in that conspiratorial way they’d developed over the weeks and months they’d been together. 

“I need ta shower.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He gives her a slightly funny look. “Honey, I need to wash down there.”

“So?”

“Okay, fine. But ya have ta close yer eyes fer that bit.”

Tegan rolls her eyes a little in disbelief but assures him that she will. They get in the shower together and she giggles at his raging erection. Once he’d taken a pill, if it was up there was no way it was coming down until he’d cum (and sometimes not even then), and she finds it very amusing. He insists that she closes her eyes and puts her hands over them whilst he washes his ass, which she finds even funnier. Eventually she’s allowed to look again and they get out of the shower and dry off. 

“You’ve gotta stop giggling, little girl,” he chides as they get back on the bed again. 

“But you’re so cute and funny.”

Elvis tries hard to put on a serious face but only manages for a few seconds before laughing again. He'd laughed and joked around with all of his girlfriends, but he can’t remember laughing so much with anyone before Tegan. Especially not in bed. He always took sex very seriously, which meant being proud of himself when he made a woman come for the first time, but also beating himself up when he couldn’t perform the way he wanted to. She somehow manages to make it silly and sexy at the same time. 

“How do you want to do this, then?” She asks.

“A bit pissed,” he answers, and they’re back to laughing again. 

Tegan gets up and pulls on a robe so she can walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of champagne from the fridge. They sit and drink and talk a little about who they think will fall out with who first on the vacation. Elvis’ money is on Lisa-Marie arguing with Sonny, but Tegan thinks that Maria and her husband won’t last a day with the kids without fighting. Once they’re about three quarters of the way through the bottle, Tegan puts her empty glass down. 

“C’mon then. Which way round do you want me?”

Even a little drunk and a lot horny, Elvis struggles to answer such a direct question. “Can I uh…” he stops and swallows down the rest of his champagne in one big gulp. “Can I sit on yer face?”

She nods and gives him a quick kiss, before settling down on her back. He gulps. He sort of had expected her to say no. 

“C’mon then,” she encourages again, holding her arms out. 

He carefully arranges himself with a knee on either side of her shoulders, then kind of hovers, uncertainly. She grabs his hips and pulls him down so she’s actually sitting on his haunches. 

“That okay?” He asks.

Her hands move to his ass and she squeezes it a little before pulling the cheeks apart and licking between them. He makes a little moaning noise and she smiles. 

“Shuffle back a bit, if you stay that far away it’s going to hurt my neck after a while.”

He does as she suggests and she hums approvingly, starting to lick again. He groans, his hand sliding up and down his dick as he looks at her body stretched out in front of him. He likes looking at her tattoos, and her piercings. And of course he likes looking at her breasts. And her pussy. Well, shit, he likes her body generally. Sitting like this is giving him a great view and her tongue being where it is is like the icing on the cake. 

Tegan keeps licking for a while, wide, long movements and then little kitten licks. Then she makes her tongue into a point and pulls him down onto her face a little more, pressing it against his entrance. 

“Mmmmm.”

She tries a few times but she can’t get more than the very end in, so she pulls back. 

“Baby?”

“Hmmm.” The feeling of her tongue is making Elvis sweat and he doesn’t know how to respond. 

“You’re tensing up,” she tells him, running her thumb between his ass cheeks now. 

“Mmmm.” He still can’t speak, now she’s rubbing him there and he’s starting to feel a little insane. 

“If you imagine you’re pushing a little, that might help.”

Tegan hears Elvis panting, but he still doesn’t say anything. She mentally shrugs and moves her head back into position, pulling him down on her mouth again. Her hands massage his ass as she tries again with her tongue. This time she presses in a little further, and he moans loudly, moving his hand faster on his dick as he feels his orgasm building. 

He’s never let a woman do this before. He was always kind of strict with the girls he had let near his asshole. The idea of something going in, whether it was a finger or a tongue, just seemed sort of violating. Like something that shouldn’t happen to him. But Tegan’s little tongue… he moans again as she flicks it in and out, and he finds himself matching her rhythm with his hand. He thinks again about the way she is with him, how much she makes him laugh and how reassuring she is. Her patience, how she never once got frustrated or upset with him when he couldn’t give her what he promised, in bed. How she ate whatever he tried to cook her, never once pointed out that his attempts at cleaning the kitchen floor left it dirtier than it was to begin with and always looked so delighted to see him after a long day at work. He suddenly realises, with his release heavy in his balls and a pretty girl’s tongue halfway up his ass, that he loves her. 

“Shit,” he mutters, as his orgasm peaks and cum starts to shoot out of his dick and all over her body. “Tegan…I love you.”

She pulls her tongue back into her mouth and kisses him there instead, until he shakily gets off her and lies down on the bed. She leans over and tries to kiss his lips, but his hand stops her. 

“I know where yer mouth’s been.”

Grabbing his hand and pulling it out of the way, she climbs on top of him and pins his blissed out body to the bed. “Yeah. Your arsehole. My mouth. So the least you can do is give me a kiss for it.”

Drunk on champagne and his orgasm, Elvis gives in, letting her kiss him passionately. She pulls back and then presses a little kiss to the end of his nose. 

“I love you too, by the way. Couldn’t reply at the time as my tongue was otherwise occupied.” She chuckles. “That’s one to tell the grandkids.”

Elvis laughs, putting on a high-pitched voice. “Hey grandad, when did you tell grandma you loved her for the first time?” His voice changes to an exaggerated version of his own deep southern drawl. “When she had her tongue up my ass, son.”

They fall about laughing again, trading lines back and forth about it, Elvis howling with laughter at her impressions of him. When they recover, he looks at her seriously for a moment. 

“This old man woves you so much, Tegan bach.” He holds her face in his hands and stares at her, lovingly. 

“She woves him too,” she replies. She really does. Has done for a long time now, but for some reason it didn’t seem important to say it. She felt like he already knew. “You want the end of the champagne?”

He nods and she gets up, pouring the remains of the bottle into two glasses. 

“Hey, how d’ya know to tell me to do that thing… so ya could get yer tongue in?”

She smirks. “I’ve um… done anal before.”

His eyes go wide for a moment and he takes a sip of his drink. “Ya like it?”

She nods. “What about you?”

“I’ve never let anyone fuck me in the ass,” he replies, completely deadpan. 

She pushes him in the chest and he starts to laugh. “Okay, okay. Yeah I did it with a girl once. Good Christian girl, no sex before marriage ya know? Kept that pussy pristine, good as new. But her asshole musta seen some things.”

Tegan shrieks, her hand over her mouth, nearly falling onto the mattress she’s laughing so hard. 

“You can’t tell me you want me to eat your ass, but you can say that?”

He shrugs. “Tellin’ stories about other people is easier. Tellin’ ya what I want… I don’t want ya ta think I’m some kinda weirdo.”

She reaches up to stroke his cheek. “I definitely think you’re some kind of weirdo. My kind of weirdo.”

He smiles then, a beautiful radiant smile that lights up his whole face. 

“Don’t ever feel like you can’t ask me for whatever you want. I’d never make you feel bad about it.”

He kisses her again, softly, on the lips. “I will hold ya ta that, Tegan bach. I’ll hold ya to it.”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[elvisgasm]

How I imagine Elvis looks in the Thoroughfare fic 🤍

[presleyslilbaby]

~Sleek Leather~

(60's!Elvis X Reader)

(TW: Mentions of sex, crude language, exhibitionism-if you really want to count it-, clingy Elvis?, short story, potential misspellings-)

Elvis was working on his new movie "Roustabout", And to be frank- You hadn't come to visit him yet. He'd called you several times, whining for his "special little Angel-cake" to come and visit him on-set, but you had just been so busy, you didn't have any time to.

Until now.

After such a long week of work, you were able to get time to yourself. and you instantly decided that you would go and surprise Elvis with a visit. Doing up your hair in soft waves, you then apply generous makeup to your features, making sure that it wasn't too much on the eyes, but bold enough to be noticed. Choosing Elvis's favourite outfit, you throw on a floral maxi-dress, the ruffles at the collar and sleeves giving you a cutesy yet Womanly look. You looked in the mirror, trying to "perfect" yourself for your Boyfriend. Smiling when satisfied with your look, you grabbed your purse and headed out.

Arriving at the filming location, you parked your car and pulled the keys from the ignition, hopping out and making your way over to where you last saw that hunk of a Man.

"Elvis," You called out to him, drawing your lower lip between your teeth to restrain most of your smile. He turned around, his ocean blue eyes meeting yours in an instant. He grins, excusing himself from one of the crew members to rush over to you. "Angel-Baby!" Elvis called out, lifting you up in his arms and spinning you around once. "I've been waitin' for ya', Sweetheart!"

God...He looked so fucking good in leather...

Catching you staring at him, his grin twisted into a knowing smirk, chuckling as he lead you to a less populated area, settling right in-between two trailers. "Mmm. You just arrived and you already can't keep those pretty li'l peepers off'a me?" He cooed huskily, tilting your chin up with his knuckle, his other hand resting on your hip. "And you're wearin' my favourite dress. Good Girl." The way Elvis looked down at you and called you a good Girl sent heat straight down to your core. You pressed your legs together. "I can't help it."

"Can't you?" He cocked his head to the side, his plump and inviting lips parting slightly. "You just...Look hot in leather..." You admitted quietly, subconsciously leaning your body in, pressing gently to his own. "Do I?" He teasingly asked, another smirk making its way back up to his lips. "Hmm. If you're gettin' that bothered over a jacket and some gloves, maybe I could wear it for you tonight while you're bouncin' on my cock." Elvis then pulled you tighter against him, his grip firm yet gentle on your hips, beginning to grind against you.

"E-E-Elvis," You stammered, a soft gasp leaving your lips. "S-Someone could see-" Laughing, he pulled away, cupping your cheeks and playfully squishing them. "I'm teasin', li'l Mama. You're cute when you're stutterin'." He lets your face go, twirling a strand of your hair with his long fingers. Crossing your arms over your chest, you pretended to pout despite the thrill that you'd felt from his bold actions. "That wasn't funny, El." You huffed. "I think I'm going home."

Elvis's Blue eyes widened slightly and a frown settled on his features, grabbing your hands and pulling them to his chest. "No...Honey, I-I'm sorry I teased ya' like that. I promise I won't do it again- Just- Just stay." He said. But you decided to keep the act up, shaking your head as you fought off a smile. "Nope. I'm leaving. I'm going back home." "Baby," He whined, holding you close and giving you the sweetest little pout he could muster. "Don't leave Y/n...I want you to stay...I've been waitin' forever for you to come visit...!" He pleaded with you, even sticking out his lower lip like a petulant child. You couldn't help the smile anymore, and you allowed it to tug at your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm just teasing." You said. "What? Aw, that's not fair, Honey." He groaned, resting his chin on your shoulder. Laughing, you said, "Now you know how I felt."

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 6

A/N: Christmas is about to kill me, y'all. Have a chapter of Jo for your Christmas Eve! Love you guys! (Another one might be coming very soon so stay tuned!)

Need to get caught up? Masterlist HERE.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, smoking

Word count: ~2.3k

“And you're right.” He mumbles into her neck. “But I'm not just scared; I'm fuckin’ terrified.”

“I know. It's okay.” She turns and puts her arms around him, kissing his forehead gently.

******

Jo flops around in her bed for about 6 hours and then gets up for work. It's amazing how quickly she got used to having Elvis beside her as she sleeps. She puts on her black skirt and red sweater with boots and heads into the office.

For about 9 more hours, she bounces between staring at her word processing machine and the clock, anxious for the end of the day to come. She wonders if he's thinking about her, or if he's realized their tryst was fun, but unrealistic to continue. In some ways, it does seem a little absurd to meet someone and love them so fully and so completely in such a short amount of time. But she knows what she feels and she knows he has to feel something similar. He's everything she ever dreamed he would be and more. She just has to convince him not to let his fear get the best of him.

******

Elvis wanders around the house after Jo leaves looking for traces of her: her glass in the sink, her makeup on the pillowcase, a lipstick kiss she left on his mirror. When he looks at the lip print, he catches his reflection and doesn't cringe for once. There's a light in his eyes that hasn't been there for years. He knows why it's there.

Then he remembers that he sent her away, turns from the mirror, and goes to bed. He sits on the edge of it staring down at the pills in his hand. Does he need them? He hasn't in days. But that was because she had been there, a constant reminder that he had a reason to try to live without them. He carries them into the bathroom and looks at the other bottles, the ones that he takes to get through the day. There's no way he can stop taking all of them just cold turkey like this, but he can cut back. Or he could if she was there. He drops the handful of pills into the toilet and flushes it. Sleeping is nearly impossible, but when he closes his eyes and imagines her next to him, he's able to get a couple of hours.

He drags himself out of bed around 1pm the next day. The Colonel shows up to discuss the New Year's Eve show he's arranged in Michigan. Elvis half listens and hopes he doesn't agree to anything too drastic. On his way out, Colonel Parker corners Jerry.

“He's distracted. What's wrong?” The Colonel gives him a cold stare and Jerry swallows hard.

“He met a girl.”

“He meets girls every day.” Jerry shakes his head.

“No, you misunderstood. He met a girl.” The Colonel looks at him sharply.

“What kind of girl?”

“A good one. She's good for him.” Jerry squares his shoulders defiantly, ready to go to bat for Jo if he has to.

“Hmm. Should I be worried?” Jerry shakes his head, shaggy hair moving wildly.

“No. She might save him.” The Colonel nods and walks out the front door.

Elvis looks at his watch. 2:30pm. Only an hour and half until she comes home.

Home?

Home.

******

At 3:45pm, Jo is ready to crawl out of her skin. She wants to leave so badly to see Elvis. Weirdly, the receptionist comes to her and tells her she has a phone call. She puts out her cigarette and follows the older lady to the phone. Who on earth would call her at work?

“Tink?” His smooth baritone cuts straight to her soul.

“Elvis! Why are you calling me at work?” She's absolutely beaming, trying to keep her voice even.

“Missed ya. But also I wanted to tell you to…” He trails off and Jo can feel him losing his nerve.

“To what, babe?” She hears him sigh.

“To pack some clothes before you come over. I wanted to see if you might wanna stay… for a while…”

“I would love to.” He brightens instantly, so much so that she can practically hear it through the phone.

“Well okay then! I'll see you in a little bit. I love you, honey.” She smiles.

“I love you too, Elvis.” They hang up and the receptionist stares at her.

“Was that really Elvis Presley?” She asks flatly. Jo considers lying for a bit, for his sake, and then decides against it.

“Yeah. It was.”

“Mkay.” Jo nods and starts to walk away. She hears the receptionist whisper under her breath. “Lucky bitch.”

******

When Jo knocks on the door with her suitcase, Elvis actually answers it himself. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her like they've been apart for months.

“Wondered when you'd get here.” He presses his forehead to hers.

“Well, I had to go pack, didn't I?” She gestures to the suitcase and he picks it up to bring it inside.

They settle into dinner, both of them avoiding the inevitable conversation that they started last night. Finally, when there's no more food or ice cream or anything else to distract them, Elvis clears his throat and lights a cigar. They're settled in the TV room, but there's nothing playing on any of the screens.

“Is this a conversation I need to be smoking for?” Jo asks tentatively. He smiles a little and she reaches for his cigar, taking a drag and handing it back to him.

“Tink, I spent the whole day thinking about it.” She expects him to go on, but he doesn't. Her heart is in her throat.

“And what did you come up with?” He lets out a puff of smoke and looks at her.

“I can't stand being without you.” She smiles. “But I have no idea how we make this work.”

“What do you mean?” Now it's her turn to take the cigar.

“Well, I'm not going to change anything about my life. I really can't. And you have a whole life of your own. I can't ask you to uproot all of that just to be with me. What if we… don't… what if it ends? And then what?” She smokes for a bit in silence and then speaks softly.

“What if I die tomorrow?” He blinks and his eyes flash with something he's not ready to admit.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, honey?”

“What if I'm driving to work and one of those big trucks hits my car and I die?”

“Don't even talk like that.” He takes the cigar back, gritting his teeth.

“What if it happens in three years? What if you die?” Elvis is visibly uncomfortable with the way this conversation is going.

“You better make your fuckin’ point, Tink.”

“We have no idea what might happen tomorrow. Or in three years. All we have is right now. You can't live your life thinking about all the ways it can go wrong. What kind of adventure would that be?”

“No kind.” She takes the cigar.

“Exactly. So now I'm gonna ask you this. How do you wanna live your life right now?” Elvis looks at the woman in front of him: the one who ran on stage and then threw paper airplanes over the wall to get to him and make sure he was okay, the one who made him leave the house for the first time in too long, the one who convinced him to jump into a freezing pool and then made love to him even when he thought he couldn't, the one who brought him back to life and shows him every second that it's worth living.

“With you.” He reaches out and cups her cheek and she smiles and leans into his hand like a cat. She takes another quick drag and then kisses his palm.

“Then why do we need this big plan? Let's just live and be together until we can't anymore. Isn't that better?” He takes the cigar and puts it out in the ashtray. Jo isn't sure whether she should cry or not, so she just sits and watches him.

“You never cease to amaze me, honey.” He pulls her into his lap straddling his thighs and kisses her lips gently. Then he whispers. “Let's be together until we can't anymore.”

“Yes…” She giggles and nods. He kisses her again with more urgency this time and on the third kiss, both of their mouths are open as their tongues dance wildly against each other. She rolls forward, pushing her skirt up her thighs and presses herself against him. He moans softly into the kiss and grabs her ass with both hands, pulling her in as close as she can get. Reluctantly, she breaks the kiss. “Should we go upstairs?”

“Why?” He kisses her neck and drags his tongue up to her ear– a move he hasn't tried in years. She groans as he nibbles on her earlobe.

“Well, I'd like to do more than just kiss you-”

“We're on a perfectly good couch.”

“Elvis.”

“Tink.” He lifts her up and flips her over so that he's on top of her. “I had this couch made deep like this for a reason.”

“I'll try not to think about how many women you've had on this couch..” She giggles as he kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

“Smart girl. But I have to say, you're my favorite.” He lifts her sweater over her head and off, tossing it across the room. His lips drift down her chest to the place where her bra meets her skin. He gently pulls the cup down and slips his tongue around her nipple. Her back arches as he pulls it into his mouth and then releases it, moving over to her other nipple. “I want this off, honey.”

She nods, sitting up a little to unfasten her bra and take it off. He grunts when he sees her breasts bounce free, leaning down to kiss and nibble her soft skin.

“I bet you say that to all of us.” She lets out a small half-laugh. He stops and pulls back, looking down at her seriously.

“No, I mean it, Tink. I don't think I want any more. Just you.” She holds her hand up to the side of his face and traces the line of his brow down to his jaw and up to his lips. He kisses her fingertips and waits for her to speak, but she doesn't. She just runs her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder, finally landing at the middle of his chest under his necklace and directly above his heart, her eyes following the path she makes with her hand. He starts to get nervous that he's said something wrong. “Say something, honey.”

Her eyes flit back up to meet his clear blue ones and she opens her mouth, but closes it again.

“What is it?” Now he's really worried. She's never been speechless before. Finally, she speaks so softly he can barely hear her.

“I don't know how to tell you that I think I was meant for you without sounding like I'm crazy.”

“Oh, honey. If you're crazy, then so am I.” He dives into a deep and passionate kiss as she pulls at his clothes, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders and shirt over his head and off. He yanks her skirt down her legs, tearing at her panties with a fire he hasn't felt in years. The need to be close to her is so strong, it overwhelms any sense of doubt or apprehension as she pushes his pants down just enough to free his erection. The next thing he knows, he's on top of her with his cock sliding in and out of her as she whimpers and moans and claws at his back. He groans with the sensation of her wrapped around him as he pounds her with a fervor he didn't know he still had. The heat of their passion is matched only by their love for each other.

“Oh God, Elvis.” She moans in his ear as he hits her g-spot at a relentless pace. Her legs wrap around his waist and he grunts with the change in angle. Their skin burns with sweat in the places where it meets and she whimpers as she feels her climax approach. “Oh fuck!”

Her body shakes involuntarily as her orgasm slams into her like a freight train, rushing through her with the speed and intensity of a lightning bolt. She clings to him as he continues to rut into her while she cums, her pussy throbbing and pulsing around his dick.

“Goddamn, Tink, honey, I love it when you cum.” He moans and slams into her one last time, pressing his forehead to hers as his cock twitches and fills her with warmth.

They lay there, both of them trembling in the aftershocks of their orgasms. He kicks his pants all the way off and then rolls onto his back to settle her against his side with her leg and arm thrown over his body.

“Move in with me.” He whispers into her hair. She picks her head up and looks into his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Move in here and we'll be crazy together. You are my big adventure, honey. Live with me.” He holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he talks.

“I'm gonna need to pack more than that little suitcase.”

“So that's a yes?”

“That's a fuck yes, babe.” He giggles and tickles her sides excitedly and they laugh together on the big-enough couch, naked and unafraid of the future… for now.

******

What next?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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[dreamer-xoxo]

i wish i was a teen girl in the 60’s fan-girling over the beatles, elvis, and audrey hepburn.

[psycheetamore]

Our main man Austin Butler is so versatile. He can wear everything. There is one particular outfit that has got my mind going more than any other (and I am ashamed to say it is not the loin cloth...) ... I am keen to learn your preferences...

Which

And nooooo... all of the above is not a choice...