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ssinnerplazahotel · 5 months ago

Text

𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙚&𝙀

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter One*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC:5k

Warning: age gap, eventual smut, fluff

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Masterlist: Prologue

YOU WEREN’T YOURSELF WITHOUT YOUR MOTHER. You didn’t think you would be yourself ever again. You carried a piece of her with you—a silk scarf wrapped over your head and around your neck, patterned in a floral paisley print. The red matched the skirt you wore. You had purposely chosen a blue blouse that day, being that you were a true believer that the clothes you wore should reflect the way you felt on the inside. You, of course, couldn’t always abide by that rule. If you were to, you’d be wearing blue all the time. You carried your mother in the hairstyle that she had sent you to the nearest hairdresser to have done. She had the appointment and style picked before you even knew you were going to Memphis.

“If you look your best you feel your best,” She had said. As if three hours in a salon would make you feel any better or different about your situation. “You’re gonna look just like Donyale Luna!”

You may have looked your best the day you arrived at your aunt's house in Memphis, but you felt nothing short of miserable.

“You’ll sleep in Chris’ old room,” Dawn mused as she led you through the single-story house. You tried to look around to take in everything you saw but there wasn’t much to look at. Nothing special caught your eye in the plain, empty house. Apart from the old choral sofa in the living room and a few dull paintings on the walls, the house was minimal. “He stays on the road fixing houses most of the year. So it’ll just be us the majority of the time.”

You tried to smile as you walked over to the twin-sized bed in the middle of the room. It creaked under the weight of your single suitcase. You surveyed the room. Similar to what you saw of the house before it was very minimal. There was a tall rosewood dresser opposite the bed and a wardrobe in the corner. Above the bed was an old, washed-out painting of a dove soaring through the cloudless sky holding an olive branch between its beak. Your eyes lingered on it as Dawn rambled on behind you. Although it would never be your home, you could make the most of it if you genuinely wanted to.

“Thank you, Aunt Dawn, it’s really nice of you to let me stay.”

“You can stay as long as you like.” Dawn smiled at you. “Go ahead and get your things put away, we’re off to work when you’re done.”

“Work?” You asked. You were no stranger to work, not by a long shot. Being the youngest of two, you had been working from a young age. When you were still a small child, your father had taken your brother with him when he left. It wasn’t much of an anomaly, just another part of your life.

You were caught off guard by Dawn’s mention of a job. A job where the two of you would work together no less.

“You didn’t think you’d show up all pretty and get out of earning your keep, did you?”

She laughed. She was quite the comedian when she wanted to be. You usually enjoyed that about her. But right now, when all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry, you weren’t in the mood for her jokes.

“I didn’t know, that’s all.” You forced a laugh. “Is there anything I need or~”

“Oh no, everything we need is already there,” Dawn said. “I would leave that scarf, you wouldn’t want it to get dirty.”

“I’ll take it off in the car.” You examined your outfit and wondered if it was suitable for the job. You asked Dawn just what job it was.

“Housekeeping for the Presleys.” She straightened out the collar of your blouse.

“The Presleys?” You repeated—your mind registered the name slowly. It took you all of two seconds to realize who Dawn was referring to. “Elvis Presley?”

Your expression was so shocked it looked like dread.

“You heard of ‘im?” Dawn asked, crossing her arms with a prying smile. “The girls and the women run around here like chickens with they heads cut off since he come back from the service.”

“No.” You quickly changed your answer as you registered the question. “I mean, yes. Who hasn’t?”

“His songs play every day on the radio, especially here in Memphis.” There was an edge of distaste in her tone. “I’m lucky when I can find a station playing anything else.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I like the Elvis I know. I don’t know about that person everyone makes him out to be.”

Dawn always had some elaborate explanation for everything. You could always count on her to have some sort of mystery behind her words.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t change?” You asked, but the question was futile as you were already in the car headed to Graceland. “I feel overdressed.”

“You’re fine. The Presleys don't believe in being overdressed.” Dawn laughed as she took another right onto a long curving road that led right to the front of the house. You couldn’t deny the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach as you eyed the house through the passenger window. You felt yourself starting to regret ever coming. Before you could say anything you were already climbing out of the car.

“Ms. Dawn.” A male voice called. Your head snapped immediately in its direction but you relaxed when you saw that it wasn’t him. Instead you saw a lanky guy with wavy blonde curls, the sides gelled away from his face. “I’ll take her off your hands a while.” He held his hand out with a smile.

“Don’t get lost pulling her around back again,” Dawn said pointedly—handing over the keys to her car. “I’ll know if you did.”

“You know everything.” He went to climb into the car, his eyes stopping on you before he waved his hand in a halfhearted hello. You barely returned the wave before he was climbing into the car and driving away.

“That’s Joel, the Klatten’s boy.” Dawn led the way inside as she spoke. “He likes to pull the car around. His dad’s a mechanic so he practices under the hood from time to time to try to impress him. They own the dealership in town. You wouldn’t know it.”

You nodded your head. It was hard not to focus on the anticipation building in your gut. You weren’t exactly a fan—you or your friends never bought any of his records and you hadn’t bothered seeing any of his films. Yet, you were absolutely trembling at the thought of meeting him. At the thought of seeing him with your own two eyes.

Once inside you braced yourself for the encounter. You didn’t want to be caught off guard by his sudden appearance. It wasn’t until you saw him barreling down the stairs with two other guys hot on his trail that you realized that nothing could have prepared you for seeing him for the first time. Even as he roughhoused with the other guys and shoved them the rest of the way down the stairs you felt his presence. You couldn’t look away. Even if you wanted to, you were too struck by his beauty. You didn’t want to miss a second of his smiling face as he reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes met your Dawn’s, he offered a smile and a polite head nod. You almost thought he was going to completely ignore your existence. You would’ve been perfectly fine if he had. But he stopped short when he saw you—sending the others crashing into him.

“Let’s go, E. It starts in half an hour, we’ll never get there in time.”

“Hold on a minute.” Elvis held his hand up, his eyes somehow still on yours. He turned and headed towards you. “Ms. Dawn, how are you?”

He spoke in a deep southern accent as he stalked over. As they exchanged pleasantries you took a moment to quickly look him over. You forced yourself not to stare, it was nearly impossible when everything about him caught your eye. Everything from the forest green sweater he wore to the way he towered over you with his hands in his pockets. Something about his stature almost looked shy, but you quickly dismissed that thought. Elvis Presley was anything but shy—you didn’t need to be a fan to know that much.

“Who might this be, Dawny?” His voice said, ripping you from your thoughts before they went haywire. You met his eyes briefly—you couldn’t hold his gaze as your aunt introduced you.

“My niece,” She said, putting her arm over your shoulder. “ She’s gonna be staying with me for a while. I figured she could help us out around here.”

Elvis agreed—his eyes shifting to you again. “Can always use an extra pair of hands I s’pose. It’s nice to meet you, honey.”

“You too.” You felt as though your body was betraying you in the way it reacted to him. The hairs on your arms stood at attention, your palms were tacky, and there was an endless shiver running down your spine. You had never experienced such a fierce and immediate attraction.

“Pretty scarf.” He nodded at the piece of material still wrapped around your head.

“I meant to take it off.” You rushed to remove the scarf. He stopped you with a wave of his hand.

“Leave it.” His lips twitched into a smile. “It compliments you.”

You let your hand fall away from the scarf–staring up at him with the overwhelming urge to cower under his eyes. Not because you were afraid, but because every second his eyes were on you it felt like you would spontaneously combust.

“Let’s go, EP.”

Elvis’ smile widened and his eyes darted across your face once more. You couldn’t tell if he was aware of what he was doing to you, or if he was simply waiting for you to thank him for his compliment.

“I-I gotta get goin. Daddy’ll get all the paperwork and stuff figured out for your niece here. It shouldn’t be an issue havin her hired.” His eyes finally left yours. He and Dawn shared a few more words that sounded muffled to your ears before he finally made his exit. “Take care, Ms. Dawn.”

“Thank you, you too, Mr. Presley.” Your aunt responded as she headed further into the house, expecting you to follow.

“It was nice meeting you, honey,” He said again. You looked over your shoulder at him briefly before scurrying after Dawn. You found her in the kitchen tying an apron around her waist.

“Look at you, sweating like a sinner in church.”.

“Stop it. I’m not.”

“Mhm. Don’t you go getting any ideas. I work here, I don’t need you messing this up for me.”

“I don’t have any ideas.”

You tied the apron that she had handed you over your skirt. She reached under your chin to unravel your scarf and deflated a bit as she placed it in your hand.

“You just stay out of trouble and keep a low profile. You’ll blend right in.”

You tied the scarf around a loop on your apron, keeping it there as you followed Dawn’s directions. You did everything she said. You stayed out of trouble and kept your head down for the day. Even when supper came around and everyone gathered in the dining area, you didn’t meet Elvis’ eyes again. Although there were a few times that you swore you felt his on you. It must’ve been all in your head.

After a few unfamiliar glances from the other residents, you seemed to blend in perfectly just as Dawn had expected. As you were leaving that night the two of you ran into Elvis again. He was leaning against one of the pillars outside—alone.

Your aunt’s words rang through your head as you avoided eye contact, nodding politely when he wished the two of you a good night.

***

“There are more dishes up there than in the kitchen.” Dawn motioned for you to follow her to the kitchen. “I’d get the two confused if I didn’t know any better.”

You hummed in acknowledgment of her words but didn’t give a verbal response. You got to work putting the dishes in the sink. There was never much conversation between you and your aunt, not like there was when you were younger. You stayed out of her way as much as you stayed out of everyone else’s. She usually left you alone when she saw that you weren’t interested in conversation, which you were grateful for.

As you were busy polishing the last of the glasses you felt another presence enter the room, not your aunt or any of the other help. Despite your brief encounter months ago, you still recognized the musk of his cologne and the click of his shoes as he walked—his feet dragging the ground with every other step. You turned in time to watch him walk across the kitchen, his eyes meeting yours before you turned away.

“Excuse me,” You muttered. You dried your hands and made your exit. Or at least you attempted to.

“Don’t mind me, doll.” Elvis stopped you. “I’m just grabbin a glass.”

You hesitantly turned back to the sink. You stood there unmoving for a moment before coming back to your senses. Your heart rate increased rapidly as you forced yourself to continue shining the glass in your hands.

He said your name suddenly. “Right?” He wondered, pulling a glass from the cupboard. His voice startled you.

You saw him coming closer and felt the urge to move away. “Can I help you, Mr. Presley?”

“Elvis.”

“Can I help you, Elvis?”

He lowered his head and chuckled shortly. He walked over and stood beside you by the sink. He smiled as he turned the faucet. “Nah, baby, you just keep doin what you’re doin.”

You turned your attention back to the dishes. You felt his eyes boring into you but you didn’t meet them. You expected him to—or at the very least hoped he would—leave the kitchen after running water into his glass. He didn’t. He leaned against the sink with one arm folded in while he drank the water—making no move to leave.

“Tell me somethin,” He propositioned. He swirled the water in the glass, twirling it around a few times before stopping—sending the liquid spinning through the glass weightlessly. “Why is it that every time you see me you get all spooked and run away?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Pres~”

“Elvis is fine.”

You turned your head in his direction. You almost mistook his insistent tone for being upset, but you saw that he wasn’t when you met his sapphire gaze. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean, Elvis.”

“You just did it.” Elvis laughed. “Dropped everything you was doin and ran for the hills.”

“I wasn’t running,” You denied. He laughed at you. You felt yourself almost become flustered by the way he tipped his head back slightly to laugh at you. There was something infectious about his laughter. Even in your flustered state, you couldn’t be upset. “I wasn’t, I’m…trying to not get in your way.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, chuckling slightly as his laughter came to an end. “You scared of me?”

“No, it’s just not my job to be in your way.” You tried to remain professional, focusing on the glasses you were putting away instead of his influx of inquiries.

“What kind of accent is that?” Elvis asked, completely ignoring your response to his question.

“Wilmington.”

“You’re from North Carolina?”

You were shocked by how much that piqued his interest. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” He asked, his eyebrow quirking. “I know a lot of great spots in North Carolina.”

You didn’t engage in the conversation. You reached for the top shelf of the cupboard, having to stand as high as you could on your tiptoes.

“Do you want me to~”

“No,” You said quickly, abandoning the leftover glasses on the counter. “I’ll put them away later.”

“I don’t mind,” Elvis insisted, setting his glass down and stepping forward.

“Mr. Presley, my aunt thinks it’s best if I keep my distance a-and stay out of your way,” You blurted—stepping away from him.

“Keep your distance? From me?” He asked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“N-Not only from you,” You said. “From everyone.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Dawn told you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble. She wasn’t solely talking about Elvis then.

“Why she tell you that?” Elvis asked with a troubled expression. “Dawn’s like family around here.”

You shrugged your shoulders, fidgeting with the front of your apron as you avoided his eyes.

“How old are you, birdie?” He asked suddenly. Birdie—he must’ve thought you were skittish and fragile.

“Seventeen.” You answered after a moment.

“Ohh.” Elvis drawled as if he’d figured it all out. “She thinks you’re just a baby.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Oh, I can tell. But you are to her.”

You looked away, you felt the warmth of the room suddenly. “Either way…I think it’s best if I do what she tells me. So I’ll stay out of your way.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” He stepped closer—drumming his fingers along the counter.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“If I want you out of the way I want it to be my decision. And I don’t think I do.”

You had to check if he was serious. He had a bit of a smirk on his face. His eyes flitted to where his fingers still traced the edge of the counter before settling on yours again.

“If you asked me to leave you be I’d try, of course,” He continued, moving impossibly close to you. Your breath hitched. “But I have to say, I haven’t got much practice at doin what I’m told.”

“Gotta start somewhere.” You didn’t mean it as a joke, but that didn’t stop him from releasing a deep chuckle. He reached out and took ahold of the scarf that was still tucked securely into your apron. Your mind short-circuited as you watched him finger the material. “I think I should listen to Dawn.”

He nodded, his eyes focused on the scarf as he ran his fingers over the patterned silk. You wanted to step back. You were too close. “Good girl,” He finally said. Officially knocking the wind from your lungs. For a moment you thought he was commenting on the fact that you had kept the scarf around. His next words, however, cleared that thought right up. “You should listen to your auntie.”

You didn’t take a breath until he walked away, watching dizzily as he grabbed his discarded glass and dumped the rest of the water out. He sighed heavily as he set the glass in the sink, staring down at it for a moment before turning on his heel and heading out of the kitchen.

“Don’t mind what I was sayin before.” He stopped short and faced you. “I was just messin. I don’t want you in any trouble with Dawn, she can be—y’know.”

“It’s okay.” Although he wasn’t apologizing something about his tone seemed apologetic. “Take care, Mr. Presley.”

“Thank you, honey, you too,” He said with a final smile before he was gone.

You released a tense breath and leaned against the counter. You removed your scarf from your apron with unsteady hands and stuffed it in your pocket. Pushing it down—all the way down. Along with everything you felt at that moment.

“Just push it down,” You told yourself. “Way, way down.”

***

“A live-in position?”

Your aunt had professed the news so excitedly when she first broke it. She smiled wildly and packed the house up in a hurry. She went on and on about how she would be able to save and buy a new house with the new position. Room and board and a steady paycheck weren’t things you would ever expect her to decline. Had it been offered by anyone but Elvis Presley.

“I might even save up enough to pay off the car.” Dawn beamed as she taped off another box. “You could work fewer hours, and start studying for the placement test at the school. Like we talked about before.”

You made yourself busy with helping her pack everything away. You tried to distract yourself from the thoughts that ran through your head as you got everything ready for storage. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but dread the change that was coming. You absolutely dreaded the thought of not leaving Graceland every night. You especially dreaded not having every other weekend away from the house completely. Especially now that Elvis, despite claiming that he didn’t want you in trouble with Dawn, had somehow made it a habit to coincidentally show up wherever you were in the house. Of course, you tried to write it off as all in your head, but you couldn’t make it up.

Despite this inner turmoil, you celebrated your aunt’s promotion gladly. You knew that it was something that would make a huge difference in her life and that was enough for you to push away your complaints. You had your personal things moved into one of the empty rooms of the house and from there the rest was history.

You continued with your daily chores, wrapping up around eight as usual. Instead of leaving, you enter your room on the second floor of the house. You were nervous that first night, Dawn’s room was on a completely different side of the house. You felt secluded from the only person you knew out of all the people living there. At times, you wished you could call up your mom and tell her all your worries, but you tried not to worry her with any bad news—only good. You wanted her to think you were happy here, even though you weren’t.

You gave up on sleeping after tossing and turning for a couple of hours. You got out of bed and wrapped yourself up in your coat, adjusting the scarf on your head before walking out of the room. You could hear a lot of commotion still happening around the house despite the early hour of the morning. A few people lingered downstairs, too many to pay you any mind as you slipped out the front door. You sighed at the silence you were met with. You walked a few steps, leaning against one of the pillars with your arms crossed. You were exhausted, but you knew that being in a new place would keep you up. That and the noise.

You were done fighting it.

The front door opened again as you were standing there, and you didn’t even have to turn your head to know who it would be. He didn’t say anything as he leaned against the opposite pillar, crossing his arms in a similar manner.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” You asked after he didn’t break the silence himself—he usually did.

“Nah, I saw you slip out.” He shifted towards you. “The noise keepin you awake?”

“A little,” You answered honestly. “I’m not a huge fan of new places either.”

“New places?” Elvis asked incredulously, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been workin here for months.”

“It’s different now.” You found his eyes already watching you—they usually were. “I can’t get away from you as easily now that I live here.”

“Maybe you’d find out that I’m not so bad if you stuck around for more than a minute.” He seemed to be enjoying the light conversation. You figured it was because he wasn’t used to you saying more than a few words to him at a time.

“Everywhere I go, somehow, you’re right there,” You said. Maybe it was because you were delirious and sleep-deprived, but you found yourself not caring what your aunt might think as you bantered with Elvis. “Why is that?”

“I like watching you,” He admitted. “I’m tryna figure you out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that—hiding the smile on your face. When you lifted your head you were met with an astonished smile.

“She laughs,” Elvis stated as if it was an anomaly that he wasn’t yet aware of.

“What?” You asked, though you heard his words clearly in the dead of the night.

“I’ve been watching and you hardly ever smile, you never laugh,” He stated, tilting his head. “I was starting to think you didn’t have it in you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, you knew you couldn’t respond with the truth. You were already pushing the boundary you had so vehemently tried to uphold by carrying on with this conversation. You couldn’t possibly wreck everything by actually opening up to him about your mom and the move to Memphis that you still were acclimating to.

“A little girl like you should be laughing all the time.” He continued after your silence.

“I’m not a little girl,” You said after another beat of silence. “And what do you expect me to do? Laugh while I dust your end tables?”

“Aw, birdie, don’t get cross now,” He chuckled. There that nickname was again—birdie. “I just wanna know what goes on inside that pretty head of yours.”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Your walls came back up as quickly as you had let them down.

“I see you goin outta your way to take care of everyone and to make everyone comfortable,” He started again, you weren’t sure if the man had ever tried to catch a hint in his life. “Who’s takin care of you?”

“You’re being inappropriate.”

“You haven’t told me to go away.”

“Go away.”

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, you hardly had any patience so it didn’t take much to wear it thin. “I’m starting to wonder what goes on inside your head, y’know?”

“I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.” He suddenly decided to move towards you.

“Really?” You asked, your tone mildly sarcastic. “Okay then, what do you think your friends inside would have to say if they saw you talking to me right now.”

“I don’t think they’d have anything to say,” He responded. “We’re not doing anything wrong here.”

“I don’t think you believe that.” You had to fight the urge to back away from him as he stepped closer.

“You think I give a shit about what they think?” Elvis asked, his cool eyes hardening under the dim lights outside. “Really?”

“I do,” You said matter-of-factly. It seemed like the air thinned with every step he took, and your legs became more unsteady beneath you. “Or at least I think you should.”

“I don’t care and I’m not gonna start.” He stood close enough now to place his hand beside your head on the pillar you were leaning against. He leaned down to meet your eyes. “Is that why you’re so nervous all the time? Because you’re afraid of what they think of you?”

“They don’t think of me, Elvis, that’s my point.” Your voice was hardly steady as you forced yourself to keep still. “The only time people like that, or people like you, think of someone like me is when a chore is left undone. Or when you make a mess and you need someone to clean it up. That’s why I don’t understand what you want with me.”

He spoke your name and you were genuinely shocked. He had rarely called you anything outside of ‘honey‘ or ‘birdie’ in the months that you knew him—you thought he’d forgotten it. You stiffened when you felt his cool fingers gently slip under your chin but you let him lift your head to meet his eyes. “W-When I think of you…baby, that’s not what I’m thinkin about. When I look at you that’s not all I see. I can’t help that I’m drawn to you—that I want you. I want to know who you are, I want to know what you think, and how you feel. Since I first laid eyes on you, you've been on my mind~ b-but not for any of those reasons.”

You were too overwhelmed. He was too close. His words sent the blood rushing from your head. There were tears in your eyes but you didn’t feel like crying, too much was happening all at once and you weren’t exactly sure how you got here when the two of you were joking a second ago. You stumbled away from him, trying to make a break for the door but failing as he steadied you with his hands on your waist.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” He said. He kept his hands around you until he was sure you wouldn’t sink to the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I shouldn’t’ve…I don’t know.”

You closed your eyes in an attempt to force away your tears, you were having a hard time processing his words. You didn’t understand where all his feelings were coming from or why he was feeling them at all. “It’s a lot…”

“I know,” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was suddenly embarrassed after his spiel. “I just don’t want you thinking I see you any differently because you’re…”

“You can’t even say it?” You heaved incredulously.

“N-No, I’m t-trying not to say the wrong thing. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, birdie, that’s it, honest.” His leg started to shake restlessly. “Ask anybody who knows me, I-I believe that we’re all created equal. A-And if I cut you right now I know we’d bleed the same~”

“Oh please, Elvis, you don’t have to preach to me~”

“Then stop tryin so goddamn hard to make me out to be something I’m not.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“That’s what it feels like.”

You watched him kick at the ground with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. “I don’t think you’re one of them. I just think you know too many of them to ever truly be my friend.”

“What they think shouldn’t reflect who I am,” He said without looking up from his shoes, his voice low. “If I could weed out every goddamn racist I knew or worked for I would, but I’d be left high and dry.”

You fell silent, each of you staring off in thought for what felt like forever before he finally spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, honey,” He said, turning his back to you. “Go on back in the house.”

“Now you’re telling me to go away?” You teased in an attempt to lessen the tension in the air before you went inside. You felt like you did something to upset him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the conversation that way. “I thought that was my job.”

He looked over his shoulder at you. His features softened when he saw the small smile playing on your lips. “And I thought you were a good girl who did what she was told,” He said. “I guess we were both wrong.”

You shrugged, walking back to your respective pillar and leaning against it. You leaned your head against the post.

“I meant everything I said before, y’know?"

"...I believe you."

***

#elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x black reader #elvis imagine #interracial love #black reader #elvis fluff #austin butler #the bikeriders #austin!elvis x reader #austin elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis presely smut

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pictureinme · 1 year ago

Note

pleasee do a dom!kitten x sub!reader

thank u so much for requesting! i've been planning on doing purely dom!kitten for a while <3

dear mistress

dom!patricia 'kitten' braden x f!reader word count: 1.7k tags: dom/sub dynamics, mistress kink, teensy bit of fluff, established relationship, vaginal fingering, choking, p in v, unsafe sex

(ao3)

Kitten comes up behind you, trapping you in her tight embrace, "Hey, pretty girl."

You smile coyly, rubbing her arms that are wrapped around your chest, "Hello to you too, little miss handsy."

Her height difference was stark whenever she wore her platforms, such as now, and you adored it. She kisses the top of your head, humming in contentment, "I missed you, doll. You been good for me?"

Your flush with warmth at her words, "Of course, Kitten. Aren't I always so good for you?"

"Don't push it, you know you have a tendency to be… naughty," she puts an emphasis on the last word, her breath hot on your ear.

Kitten traces your body's curves with her hands, feeling each contour through your thin clothing. You moan under your breath, leaning into her touch.

"I wouldn't ever disobey you, my Kitten."

She tightens her grip, "I'm not yours tonight, doll. You're mine."

You pick up on her meaning, and smile widely, excited for her next move. It had been so long since she took the lead.

"Undress yourself for me, dear (Y/N)."

Kitten lets go, and you turn around to face her. She's wearing her faux fur jacket, along with her floral bell bottoms, both an obnoxious yellow. Her hair was in brown curls, acting as a halo framing her face, where lips were adorned with a coral color.

You bite your lip as you look her up and down, and you begin to unbutton your dress. It was simple, just a multicolor paisley pattern, but Kitten always said it suited you.

Revealing your matching bra and panties, she smiles, "All done up for me… how precious is that?"

She admires your lacy white get-up, moving to embrace your warm chest in her cold hands. You bite back a whimper when Kitten squeezes, and she giggles.

“Don’t get shy on me now, love,” she starts to unclip your bra, “Lay down for me.”

You quickly set yourself down on the plush duvet, stripping yourself of your bra in the process. She mimics your movements, unzipping her yellow jacket, and unbuttoning her blouse. As she tosses both to the ground, you look up at her with lusty eyes.

“Oh, little (Y/N), what am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you’d like… Mistress.”

Kitten’s eyes sparkle at your honorific, and she moans gently, “Naughty, naughty, naughty…”

She opens your legs suddenly, revealing the spot of wetness on your otherwise pristine panties. Her mouth opens slightly, in awe of your desire for her. A manicured finger gently presses against you, and your hips buck up.

“Now, now, you said you’re always good, right?” You nod, “Then keep still while Mistress plays with you.”

Obeying, you feel her begin to pull your panties to the side, revealing your wetness to the cool air. You shut your eyes tightly at the feeling of her slowly spreading you open with her fingers, and Kitten takes quick notice.

“Look at me when I touch you.”

As quickly as you shut them, you open them even quicker, matching her darkened gaze. You love seeing her take control.

“Good girl,” she smiles softly, her soft lips curling, “Now, what would my good girl want?”

“I…” you try to answer, but she’s started kissing up your thighs, “I want you to make me yours, Mistress.”

Nodding, she nips at your soft skin, “I wouldn’t expect anything else from my perfect little pet.”

She pushes two fingers inside of you, and you whimper gently at the very welcome intrusion. Curling as she thrusts them in and out, you feel a familiar warmth slowly growing.

The obscene noises being created from her thrusts were delicious, and caused Kitten to rub her thighs together, unbeknownst to you.

Her fingers filled you up so well, and she could tell from the nonsense falling from your lips. She rubs her thumb around your clit, and you almost fall apart right there.

“Oh, fuck… Mistress, you’re good, so good, yes!”

“Is my pretty (Y/N) going to come all over her Mistress’ fingers? I haven’t even added a third yet…”

She adds another finger as she prompted, and you know for a fact you’re close.

“I wanna come for you, please, please…”

“Poor girl,” Kitten hums, feigning pity, “Let go for me.”

Your mouth falls open, releasing a long whine as your body shudders. Her fingers stay curled inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm. She only relents when you grasp her wrist pleadingly.

Kitten rubs your thighs as she gets up to tower over you, her lips millimeters away from yours. You don’t dare close the gap, for fear of punishment. Luckily, she doesn’t make it hard for you.

She crashes her lips onto yours, and you savor the taste of cigarettes and lipstick. Her tongue seems to claim every inch of your mouth, and you adore it. Her little moans mixed with yours sounded heavenly.

Separating from you momentarily, Kitten’s eyes look wild with desire, “Pretty girl… let me make you feel even better, yeah?”

You nod quickly, not wanting her to get any other ideas. Grinning, she pulls down your underwear fully, tossing it on the slowing growing clothing pile. Kitten rids herself of her bell bottoms, leaving her bare, minus her skimpy panties.

Of course, they matched the rest of her now discarded outfit, with lacy yellow detailings. She was always a stickler for color coordination. Normally, you would appreciate her style sensibilities, but seeing her hardness straining against the fabric, there were other priorities.

“Take them off for me, pretty.”

You jump to fulfill her request, and slowly pull down her panties. Her length bobbing up to hit her stomach, she smirks at your stunned reaction.

Biting your lip, you watch Kitten push you back onto the bed, her body moving hypnotically. She kisses your forehead rather sweetly for the mood that was set, and moves back to kneel in front of your wide open legs.

She stares adoringly at your wetness, nearly dripping onto the duvet, and tuts, “So messy for me.”

You flush warmly at her comment, but can’t focus on that for long when she starts to tease you with her tip. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can barely hold back a whine of pure need.

Once Kitten decides her length is prepped well enough, she pushes in slowly. You will never get used to that feeling.

Her mouth hangs open, eyes lidded, but still staring at her entering you, “Good God, you’re tighter than ever, my (Y/N)...”

You exhale slowly once she bottoms out, feeling a certain kind of fullness only she could provide.

“Kitten…”

She raises an eyebrow, stilling any possible movements, “Pardon?”

Your eyes widen at your mistake, “Mistress, mistress!”

“That’s right, you don’t get to call me that right now, little one,” Kitten manages to push even deeper into you, and you stifle a groan, “Be good for me, and I can overlook that little… mix-up.”

You nod vehemently, and she smirks. Beginning to thrust in and out of you, painfully slow, her breathing is ragged. She was just as lust-drunk as you were. Emboldened by this, you clench down on her length, eliciting a high pitched moan from her.

“Naughty little (Y/N)... I love it.”

Kitten’s movements pick up, and she reaches a hand to cup one of your breasts. Arching into her touch, she kneads in time with her thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your string of curses made her chuckle darkly, “Don’t be so crass while I’m treating you so nicely.”

She pinches your nipple to punctuate her words, and fucks you in earnest. You practically mewl at this, and it only increases her desire to ruin you.

You try to resist meeting her thrusts, but you just can’t when it feels so good. Kitten doesn’t stop you, but instead grabs your hips to force you to properly meet the movements. You loved the feeling of being used by her like this, you would give anything for her to feel the same level of pleasure she was giving you.

“Mistress, I’m close again, please don’t stop…”

“You’re not coming again before I do, greedy girl,” she maintains her rhythm, accompanied with her nails digging into your hips.

Kitten’s movements seemed frantic and desperate as she fucks into you. You grab at one of her hands on your hip, emboldened by the pleasure. Before she can protest, you bring it to your neck.

She smirks, and begins to wrap her hand around you, adding just enough pressure for you to feel every inch of pleasure heightened.

“So pretty like this, all desperate for me,” her voice cracks mid sentence, “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Make you all mine…”

You moan as loud as you can with the hand wrapped around your throat, and feel her stutter inside you. Kitten stills, all the way in, and you feel her release.

Just as quick as she stilled, she starts to move again.

“Good girl, waiting for me,” she tightens her grip, “Come for your Mistress.”

You shut your eyes tightly, feeling another wave coming on. In a flurry of ‘thank you’s’ and ‘mistress,’ you feel that coil in your stomach unfurl suddenly.

As you come down from your high, you see Kitten above you panting just as hard as you.

“Thank you, thank you, Mistress…”

She smiles tiredly, and lays against your chest, “No need to thank me, doll, you did absolutely amazing.”

You smile into her embrace, and you begin to pet her brown curls, causing her to hum contentedly. If you died in this moment, you would be okay with that.

“So good to me, Kitten,” you kiss the top of her head, “Can’t believe I’m all yours.”

“You had better believe it, love, cause you’re gonna be mine forever.”

She sits up, and slowly pulls out, making sure to not overstimulate you too much. Wincing, you feel her release dripping from you.

“Oh, my…” Kitten kneels to be eye level with your entrance, “So much dirtier than I thought, pretty girl. Guess I have to clean you up, hm?”

#kitten braden x reader #patricia braden x reader #breakfast on pluto #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

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whositmcwhatsit · 1 year ago

Text

The Gate Girl

Written for the prompt: "What are we going to do with [all of them], [this], [these ___ ]?"

A/N: Pure self-indulgence full of all my favourite things. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

None of this would have been possible without my muses, my teachers, and my pests: @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @missmaywemeetagain, @from-memphis-with-love

Word count: 6387

It was a warm spring evening in Memphis and Chrissie was already regretting the knitted sweater she was wearing beneath her corduroy pinafore minidress. She could feel beads of sweat sliding down her spine and resting near her tailbone. There was no relief to be had from the humid heat standing on the worn grass by the side of the fieldstone wall, surrounded by knots of people talking quietly to each other and pausing to take photos with little instamatic cameras.

Chrissie viewed it all with experienced, familiar eyes. She had been coming to the gates ever since she was old enough to nag her parents to drive her and had albums of pictures of the walls, the little guardhouse, the house off in the distance behind the trees and so many blurry shots of expensive looking cars going into and out of the gate.

Even so, she had felt a little twinge of dread when Lori had suggested driving down. The Chrissie who had spent all that time mooning over Elvis Presley felt very far away and she aimed to keep it that way.

Going off to college out of state had been her escape from the old Chrissie, the boring, insecure, people-pleasing Chrissie who let people walk all over her like a doormat. Lori had never met her. No, since they found each other during the first few disorientating days of school, Chrissie had worked hard to become who she had always wanted to be, cool, confident and aloof. She didn’t wait around to be noticed anymore.

“So, the guard at the gate says that he thinks Elvis might be coming out soon,” Lori said, ambling over with a grin. “He also told me three times that he’s really close with Elvis because he’s his cousin. “

“Yeah, he does that,” Chrissie murmured.

“I think it’s wild that you have your own rock star in your neighbourhood. Best we ever got was some crummy band that once opened for Strawberry Alarm Clock at a festival.”

“Yeah, well, around here he’s just Elvis, we don’t think of him as a rock star or anything like that,” Chrissie said. She was jealously eyeing Lori’s paisley nylon blouse. Somehow she’d managed to dress right for the typical weather of the town that Chrissie had lived in most of her life.

“Wild,” Lori murmured, her eyes sliding over to a group of young guys, who were leaning against the wall, hanging out. “Just Elvis.”

Lori being Lori, they were standing and chatting with those boys by the time a frisson of excitement went through the crowd as movement had been spotted up on the driveway. The boys forgotten, Lori rushed over and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the gates where the guard was urging everyone to step back and keep themselves safe, not that many listened.

It was definitely Elvis coming out. Chrissie had learnt over the years that one car could be hit and miss, usually miss, but when you had more cars leaving at once, and certainly a train of them, Elvis was nearly always leading them.

“Stay over this side,” Chrissie murmured as Lori spotted a less crowded area on the other side of the gate. “He likes to drive, he’ll be over this side.” Lori’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took her in, like she was figuring something out, but then the cars arrived at the gate and they were swept forward with the rush to greet them.

Elvis was indeed driving and he put the car in park at the open gate to sign some autographs and let people lean slightly into the window to take photos. Through the silhouettes, Chrissie could see him wearing his dark tinted sunglasses and a black suit with a high-collar red shirt. It looked good against his pale skin and black hair, very dramatic.

“We should get closer,” Lori said, tugging her wrist. “I want to see what the fuss is about close up.” Chrissie sighed and nodded, knocking her hip against the front headlamp as she was dragged. She locked eyes with the front passenger for just as second and then recovered, but not for long.

“Hey, Cupcake, that you?” Her blood turned to icy water as she registered the words that Sonny called out the passenger window. She thought about ignoring him, but he wasn’t quiet and there was still that pull, that twinge, that prevented her from being rude, especially here at home. She flashed Lori a panicked smile and then hurried around the front of the car to the passenger window.

“It is you!” he remarked, pulling his sunglasses down his nose. “Damn, girl, what happened to you?!” She yanked on her skirt, feeling the colour creep up her face as she tried to come up with something appropriate, a flippant, off the cuff remark that would both impress him and put him in his place.

“I grew up,” she shrugged, catching herself trying to flip her hair over her shoulder and forcibly putting her hand down by her side.

“Yeah, you did,” he agreed with a sly grin. “Looks good on you, though I sure miss those cakes of yours!”

“Well, you could always buy them, you know. Santos Bakery over on South Highland, still tastes as good when you have to pay!”

“No, I think for sure it was all that love you put into them.” She giggled, it just slipped out, and she had to close her eyes to calm herself down. When she opened them again a split second later, she was looking straight into the face of Elvis himself as he looked over to see who Sonny was chatting with. He lifted one side of his mouth in a small smile, casual and intimate. Chrissie had no more desire to giggle. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could make a noise at all.

“It’s been a while,” he said quietly. He probably said that to every girl at the gate, she told herself, just in case they were regulars.

“Yeah, I, uh, went off to school… up North.”

“I was just saying, E, that we’ve been missing all those cakes and things she used to bring us. Remember that one with the cream and the strawberries? Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.”

“Mmm hmm,” Elvis murmured, still looking at her, unreadable behind his glasses. He ducked slightly as someone slightly too eagerly waved a record sleeve through the window to be signed and almost thwacked him in the side of the head. “How are you finding school, honey? What is it, March? You home on break?” He paused to scrawl his signature on something and then turned right back to her, eyes fixed on her face.

“School’s great. I mean, the work’s hard, but-“ She stopped, looking to Lori as she bounced up to her side and grabbed her arm. She felt a strange wash of emotions, some pride at being found standing making small talk with Elvis like they were acquaintances, embarrassment that Lori would find out how much of a try-hard she used to be, and a little fear that Elvis’s intense stare would drift away to Lori’s pretty blond head.

“Well, anyway, I guess we better be headin’ on out,” Elvis remarked, absently kissing the cheek of someone’s baby as they brandished it at his window. “It was good seeing y’all.”

“You too,” she managed, smiling so that he wouldn’t know how her stomach had dropped. “Drive safe.” She stepped back and Lori stumbled along with her, attached to her arm, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as she ducked down to look through the car.

The engine started up, but the car didn’t move on, and they watched as Elvis leant across and said something in Sonny’s ear. Chrissie instantly thought that they were making fun of her and waited for the chorus of laughter, but instead, Sonny nodded and his head turned towards them.

“Hey, Cupcake!” he gestured with his head, beckoning her over. Elvis was looking straight ahead, gripping the wheel like she was the one who wouldn’t let him go.

Trying not to meet the eyes of the other people standing around trying to eavesdrop, she stepped back up to his window. “Uh, we’re going to watch some movies over at the Memphian. Y’all feeling like joining us?” The way that Lori squeezed her forearm in a death grip let Chrissie know her opinion on the matter, but she still paused and looked at her so that they didn’t sound too eager.

“I’m not sure, we were planning on going out tonight… I guess it could be fun though.”

Sonny’s wry smile showed her that he wasn’t fooled as he murmured, ‘Uh huh. Well, ask for me when you get there. I’ll let them know you’re on the list.”

“Okay, thanks. Maybe we’ll see you there.”

“Bye Elvis!” Lori called as they stumbled back in time for the car to almost skid out of the entrance and into the traffic. There was a rumble of disappointment from the crowd as they watched the cortege of cars follow him out. Some of the fans, who always tried to chase Elvis when he left the house, ran for their cars; others were discussing whether they were going to maintain the vigil until he returned.

Chrissie finally turned to Lori before the girl’s stare melted her face clean away.

“So, you didn’t tell me you knew Elvis Presley.”

“Hardly,” Chrissie snorted. “He doesn’t even know my name. I just hung around a little when I was younger. I guess he and some of his guys got used to seeing my face.”

“Suuuure, Cupcake,” Lori retorted, sniggering into her cheek. “What the hell was that anyway?” Chrissie flushed, somehow hoping that she hadn’t picked up on it.

“Look, I’ll tell you on the way, but you gotta promise not to judge, because I was young and an idiot.”

Ten minutes later, Lori was cackling so hard that Chrissie thought she was going to pee her pants.

“Shut uuuup!” Chrissie whined. “You promised!”

“Oh, but it’s adorable!” Lori gasped, wiping her eyes. “And actually pretty cunning. ‘Hi Elvis, my family owns a bakery, do you want to sample my goods?’.” Eyes on the road, Chrissie reached over and shoved her purely for the breathy, high-pitched impression alone.

“It wasn’t like that,” she insisted, shifting her shoulders uncomfortably. “One time someone didn’t collect their birthday order and Mama was fretting and saying, ‘What are we going to do with all these cupcakes?’ I was about to head up to Graceland and I knew there’d be lots of people there at the gate- free advertising and all that. Then Elvis came down and he saw the cakes and he took some and it- it snowballed from there.”

Chrissie had genuinely believed that Elvis was simply being polite the way that he always received her care packages so enthusiastically, especially after the time that she had tried to give some brownies to Priscilla and she had demurred, saying that she and Elvis didn’t really like sweet things.

For a while, Chrissie had stopped bringing anything, convinced they had all been going into the trash the whole time. The next time Elvis had come across her at the gate, however, he had demanded to know what other boy she was treating instead of him. That night had been the best night of her life, as he had hung out with them all for a couple of hours, and he kept coming over to tease her about switching her affection to someone else, promising he was going to win her back. It still made her shiver thinking about his arm around her shoulder, his lips pressing little butterfly kisses into her heated cheeks.

However, that was when she was a silly little girl. She was a woman now.

The parking lot next to the Memphian theatre was full of cars, so Chrissie had to park down the street next to a store that was closed for the night. People were milling about outside and, as she approached the main entrance, someone told her not to bother because they were telling people that the theatre was full and nobody else would be let in.

“We were invited,” Lori replied loudly, pushing her on even as she was hesitating. Lori took responsibility for knocking on the locked door, banging with increasingly force as the two men inside the foyer had a conversation and pretended they weren’t there. Eventually, one of them sauntered to the door.

“Sorry, we’re all full. Better luck next time, ladies.”

“We were invited!” Lori bellowed. “Some guy told us to come to the door and ask for him!” She looked back at Chrissie, prompting her.

“Yeah, Sonny West said he’d put us on the list.” He turned and said something over his shoulder, before pulling out a ring of keys and opening the door.

“Okay, girls, you been before? You know the rules? You don’t sit in front of Elvis, you don’t approach-”

“Yeah, I know the rules,” Chrissie muttered, grabbing Lori’s hand and dragging her towards the main screen door.

“Barely know the man,” Lori was muttering to herself. “Elvis who, she said.”

Chrissie elbowed her in the ribs as they stepped into the muted darkness, pausing for their eyes to adjust. The screen was still curtained and there were people milling about, finding their seats and visiting with their friends in other rows. It was certainly pretty crowded and the only available seats were towards the back in what were usually the make-out areas. Not that Chrissie would know much about that…

In the shadows, it would have been difficult to make out Elvis, it wasn’t like he really did have a golden aura, but everyone knew his seat, the one he always chose halfway down the rows at the aisle, the one everyone was forbidden from sitting in. So, they were all aware of his presence even if they couldn’t actually see him.

“Where’s his wife?” Lori whispered loudly as they took their seats. “Isn’t he married?”

“She stays in California mostly now,” Chrissie murmured back. “I don’t think they’re really together anymore.”

She might not have spent much time at the gate recently, but she was still part of the ever-efficient Elvis fan grapevine that stretched from Las Vegas to Palm Springs, Beverly Hills and right over to Memphis, exchanging news, speculation and stories. For a while, there had even been a mimeographed newsletter.

Surveying the rows, for the second time that night, Chrissie locked eyes with Sonny, who was moving slowly up the aisle, running his gaze over the murmuring, fidgeting crowd. He flashed her a grin and pointed at her, before crooking his finger and beckoning. Figuring he was talking to someone behind her, she busied herself with smoothing her skirt and crossing her knee length boots at the ankle.

“Cupcake, hey!” he bellowed across the theatre between cupped hands. She slid down in her seat, wondering when her life had begun to resemble her nightmares. When she peered back over the seat, he urged her over with his arm. Lori was already rising, kicking her feet to get her to move.

“You made it!” Sonny said with a grin. “We saved ya seats.” He indicated to two seats directly across the aisle from Elvis’ usual place, which was empty. Her thoughts swirling, Chrissie thanked him and went to slide into the row.

“Hey, you know what, thinking about it, how about you and me swap places, darlin’?” He pointed across to the seat beside Elvis’. “You can sit over there and I’ll sit here with… What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Lori,” she said, wide eyes sliding from his tall, broad frame and over to Chrissie. Chrissie knew that look; they occasionally exchanged it in bars when they were dancing and teasing and flirting and then realised that they had bitten off more than they could chew.

“I think I should sit with my friend,” Chrissie said quickly, shoving her ahead of her. “She’s not from here and I ought to take care of her. Thank you, though, really. I appreciate the offer.”

Not long later, the lights finally went down, the murmuring faded into silence- another rule- and Chrissie trained her eyes on the screen, trying to ignore the pull of the empty seat alongside her. She clearly failed, as when the mere glimpse of black passed her peripheral vision, she started and froze in her seat.

As the credits played, she counted to two hundred, that seemed a reasonable amount of time, before she turned her head slightly and glanced over. Immediately, Elvis turned too, giving her a closed-mouth smile that curved his cheekbones deliciously even in the shadows of the theatre.

Caught out, she smiled back and turned back to the screen, feeling a strange warm weight settling upon her like someone had tucked a heavy warm blanket over her.

“He keeps looking over,” Lori muttered out of the side of her mouth. “I feel like any minute, he’s going to… Oh shit, I think he’s coming over.” They both seized up, sitting up high in their seats, but though Elvis rose, he strode off up the aisle, followed by a phalanx of his guys. As soon as the fire door opened and slammed shut, the volume of the whispering crept up, people probably wondering if he had left, whether he was just using the bathroom, or visiting the concessions.

“You should have sat next to him,” Lori said, wincing guiltily. “That would have been a great story, wouldn’t it? The time you were Elvis Presley’s date at the movies?”

“Nah, it’s more fun watching… Whatever this movie is, with you. Besides, we can always lie and say it happened anyway!”

Lori giggled and nodded, staring up at the screen as an airplane took off from a night-time runway on screen.

With the main attraction missing, they gradually got into the action happening on screen, so much so that Chrissie was startled when a hand touched her shoulder. She recognised the heavy set, balding man as someone who was in Elvis’ circle.

“You Cupcake?” he asked, his eyes darting between the two of them almost furtively.

Chrissie wasn’t sure how to answer that, so Lori did it for her.

“Elvis wants to talk to you, he’s up in the balcony.”

Unlike Sonny, he hadn’t couched it in a question or flirting, he said it like it was her duty to do as she was told. Chrissie looked at Lori and knew her eyes were sending the same SOS that Lori had sent her earlier in the evening. Lori nodded resolutely, slammed her hand into hers, and rose, pulling her up.

“He, uh, he just wants her,” the man said, pointing at Chrissie.

“Well, sugar,” Lori replied, putting on an awful Southern twang, “he’s gonna have to take what he’s given, cos we done come as a pair.” They didn’t give him any opportunity to reply, but he didn’t seem the type anyway, running his tongue over his slick lips and stepping back out of their way.

In the foyer, a small group of Elvis’ guys were hanging around the concession stand. There seemed to be a competition going on about how far away someone could stand and still catch a piece of popcorn being thrown into their mouths. Chrissie and Lori exchanged looks and then turned towards the door that was marked ‘Private’. None of the guys stopped them, so they pulled it open and climbed the steps in anxious silence.

At the top, there was another landing with doors leading off. The one directly ahead of them had an old-fashioned sign above it that said ‘balcony’. She took a breath, looked at Lori, who squeezed her hand, and then yanked it open, only to be confronted by searing white light.

“Oh Lord, I’m blind!” she mumbled, stumbling back into Lori, who knocked into the door and only just managed to save them both by gripping the handle.

“Shit, I was just fooling around! I’m sorry, honey, are you okay?”

Chrissie squinted, seeing only purple and pink blobs as she felt arms wrap around her waist and lead her further into the balcony. Gradually, the blobs faded and Elvis’ concerned face swam into view above her.

“You okay, Cupcake? How many fingers am I holding up?” She narrowed her eyes at the black leather gloved hand he held up.

“Six?” she half-joked. “What was that?” He flashed a sheepish grin and lifted a black flashlight the length of his forearm.

“I just got it and I didn’t realise it was so powerful. I’m so sorry, honey.”

Being in his arms, wrapped in his warmth and inhaling his scent, she felt a bit giddy as well as still overwhelmingly blind. She frowned slightly and reached up to snatch his sunglasses.

“Well, I think I need these more than you do,” she mumbled, sliding them onto her face. They promptly slipped down her nose and she had to tilt up her face to see through them. She just saw a pink-tinted blur.

Laughing from his belly, Elvis reached out and pushed them back up for her with his finger, brushing a light peck on her forehead that she barely caught before he moved back.

“Well, now we’re the blind leadin’ the blind, darlin’.”

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway and they both turned, Chrissie having to look over the top of the glasses to make out Lori standing there awkwardly.

“Oh, you brought your friend,” Elvis murmured, tightening his hold of her waist with one arm.

“Hi,” Lori said, waving self-consciously.

“She’s visiting with me for break,” Chrissie explained. “She doesn’t know anyone or anything… I mean, she doesn’t know where things are.” He fixed her with a lopsided smile that told her she was adorable like a puppy or a toddler and his eyes fell to her lips, before he gently took his sunglasses from her face and put them back on.

“No, that’s okay,” he shrugged, “the more the merrier. Come on in, sweetheart.” He gestured for Chrissie to take the seat to his left, which she did after floundering for a moment at the loss of his arm around her. “Do you ladies want a drink or anything?”

They both declined and sat primly on either side of him, adjusting slightly as he spread his legs so that his knee was pressed against each of them and he took up both armrests.

“So, you’re visiting? Where are you from, honey? What’s your name?”

“Lori, and I’m not really from anywhere- I’m an Air Force brat, spent a little time in a lot of places, but weirdly I’ve never been to the South, so I knew that I had to come when Chrissie invited me.”

“Chrissie?” he echoed questioningly, looking to his left.

“That’s me,” she nodded emphatically.

“Noooo,” he replied playfully, leaning in and shaking his head right in her face, “you’re my sweet little Cupcake.” He pecked her cheek, lingering with his hot lips against her skin. “I’ve known you longer than she has, I know who you are.” She shivered, basking in the tingly warmth of his attention, just like she had that night a couple of years earlier, but then she remembered that she was different, she wasn’t that Chrissie anymore.

Before she had even made up her mind to do it, she turned her head, her lips brushing against his. That was all the encouragement he needed, his hand coming up to clasp her head and he kneaded his lips against hers, exhaling into her mouth.

Chrissie thought that she enjoyed kissing, but she had clearly never kissed anyone properly before, Elvis showed her that. His tongue slid against hers, even as he was sucking on her top lip and drawing her closer, his hand moving from the back of her head to grasp her neck. Every part of her was sparking and humming as she slipped her hand underneath his black jacket into the searing heat at his back.

“You do taste sweet,” he murmured, his lips grazing hers as he spoke. “I always wondered.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that except by blushing and leaning forward over the arm of her chair, trying to snag his mouth again. This time, he ducked back, though his hand was still wrapped around her throat, his thumb rubbing rhythmically against her pulse.

“Wait, honey, we ain’t being fair.” He turned to his right, where Lori was sitting looking at them, her cheeks pink and her mouth half open. Chrissie’s eyes dropped to where Elvis was holding Lori’s hand. “Lil Lori’s sitting here all left out, ain’t that right, honey?”

Lori’s eyes focused suddenly, but not on Elvis. She looked to Chrissie and the look she wore was different from anything Chrissie had ever seen before, but she still knew what it meant. She swallowed and nodded her head slightly.

Lori turned to Elvis and smiled. It was a deadly, sinful smile that usually bewitched and entrapped the boys at school within seconds. Elvis, it seemed, was not immune to that smile and he leant across, not loosening his grip on Chrissie, and kissed her too.

Chrissie got to see what that looked like from a distance, her eyes fixated on the movement of his plump lips, the tightening of his jaw, the way that his dark hair mingled with Lori’s pale golden bangs. It was mesmerising. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs tightly to answer the tickling and tingles below her belly.

“Whoo, boy, now Cupcake’s bought me some sweet things before, but nothin’ compares to this,” he said, turning to each of them as he spoke like he was watching a tennis match. His lips glistened in the light from the screen and Chrissie reached out her hand to run her thumb across the bottom one, just to touch its pillowy softness. She gasped as he opened his mouth and nipped at it, using his tongue to soothe any hurt.

“You enjoy the show, baby?” he said softly, smirking in that confoundingly innocent, but sexy way that only he could manage. “See, now, that’s not fair on me. Both of you girls got to watch, but what about little ole Elvis? Where’s my show?”

Chrissie looked from him to Lori, feeling strange, like she was being stretched, pulled too far in different directions. Lori winked at her and then turned her blue eyes to Elvis.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Nothing bad,” he assured her in a soft, playful voice. “Just a little kissing, honey, that’s all.”

Lori shrugged and then flashed her dazzling smile at Chrissie, who felt frozen in the glare as Lori climbed onto her seat on her knees and leant across Elvis, who happily leant back. Lori’s lips were soft, softer even than his though not as full, and she lacked his finesse, but it felt nice as they massaged hers. Her eyes flickered open as Elvis pulled back the curtain of Lori’s hair that had fallen across her face and he gazed at them both with sleepy, tender looking eyes. Lori’s hand clasped her face before sliding down onto her shoulder and then lower. Chrissie shivered in anticipation.

“That’s enough now,” Elvis said gently but firmly. “Gonna make a man feel jealous, and I already lost you once to those boys at college.”

As Lori retreated to her seat, he cupped Chrissie’s face between his big hands, the metal of his rings pressed hard into her cheekbones.

“But you ain’t ever done nothing like that for those college boys, have you, sweetheart?” He didn’t wait for her answer, swallowing down her shallow breaths as he kissed Lori’s lipstick from her mouth. “Bet none of them’ve kissed you like this neither, huh.”

His voice was soft, low and kind of hypnotising. Chrissie wanted to shake her head, to gaze at him adoringly and tell him that she would never let anyone touch her the way that he was doing. That was how she knew it was the wrong choice.

“Some have,” she said, her voice hoarse and small.

He drew back, staring at her with his mouth slightly open, his lips ripe and glistening. She watched him reach up and take off his sunglasses, narrowing his eyes. All the better to see you with. Finally, a little too late, he laughed gently and playfully and she felt sure that she had just scored a point in whatever game they were playing.

“All grown up now, huh,” he observed with a twitch of his left eyebrow, echoing her words from earlier in the evening. She very slowly raised her own eyebrows and nodded.

“Well, what else you let ‘em do?” he asked, his voice low and leaning into gravelly. She felt the cool leather of his gloved hand on her thigh, sliding underneath her skirt. “You let them put their hands up ‘n’ under- under..?” She clamped down on his forearm without thinking and earned herself a pleased smile. “Naw, no, you’re still a good girl, aren’t you, sweetheart. My sweet lil cupcake, still a sweet lil treat.”

He tilted his head and nuzzled into her neck, moving so that she could see Lori peering over his back with a look of complete bewilderment on her face. Chrissie twitched her face into an expression that was the equivalent of a shrug.

Hey, uh, Elvis?” Lori murmured, tapping him on the shoulder. He paused and Chrissie felt him exhale a hot sigh into the crook of her neck that swept down through the wool of her sweater. She shuddered.

“Yes, honey?” He pulled back, his fingers sliding between Chrissie’s like they were two kids on a date.

“What’s that?” Lori asked, pointing at the blue-ribbon pendant around his neck, half buried in his jacket and the gold chains. He looked down, tightening his mouth.

“This here? This is a medal I got for being one of the ten outstanding men in America.” He held out the pendant that showed two hands stretched out to touch one another. “They only give that to people that’ve made a real difference, you know, honey, presidents, businessmen, athletes. Scientists. No fooling, it’s a big deal. I had to give a speech and everythin’. And if you think I was nervous standing up there, no script or nothin’, in front of all those people, you’d be right!”

They oohed and aahed over it while he sat with a proud smile, telling them about the trophy he had at home and the pin that was on one of his other jackets.

As he finished talking, the credits began to run across the screen.

“Aw, it looks like the movie’s over,” Lori sighed. “Thank you for inviting us, it was really nice of you.”

“That’s just the first movie,” Elvis returned, frowning slightly. “The night ain’t even getting started. You girls hungry?” He didn’t wait for their answer, yelling out ‘Jaaaaaames’ at the top of his voice. Chrissie peered over the side of the balcony and saw some people looking up.

The short, stock man from earlier came stumbling up the stairs, eyebrows raised in question.

“We need sustenance, man, hamburgers, Pepsis… Unless you girls want milkshakes?” Chrissie bit down a smile at him finally giving them a choice of something and even then it was only which drink they wanted.

While they waited for their food, the second movie started rolling. Elvis sat back in his seat, clasping each of their hands, and squinting slightly at the screen. Chrissie looked at his impossibly long, thick eyelashes flickering as he blinked and wondered whether he wore mascara. She wanted to ask for a recommendation.

“Quit it, I can feel those eyes burning a hole in me, woman,” he muttered, shooting her a sideways look, the line at the corner of his mouth twitching up. “M’trying to enjoy the movie.”

“Sorry.” She turned back to the screen, looking at Charlton Heston’s sweaty face.

“I’m only teasin’, baby.” He tugged her forward by the hand, kissing her again, and she had the same loop-de-loop sensation in her stomach as the first time. “I like you looking at me. Makes me feel good.” He pulled her hand onto his thigh and pressed it down as he kissed her, moaning a little into her mouth.

By the time James returned with their food, Elvis was buried beneath the two of them as they rubbed their lips, their hands, their faces and their bodies over every part of him they could get access to. When Chrissie got worried about how high his hand was on her bare legs, or how he was a little too insistent, he would turn to Lori and she would watch until her heart stopped pounding so hard and her chest loosened. She could feel herself growing wet, the ache intensifying between her legs, and she wondered how far things would go.

The girls picked at their burgers, their appetites directed elsewhere, but Elvis tucked into his hungrily, eyes drifting over to the screen to keep tabs on the action.

“You like movies?” he asked them. “I love movies, ever since I was a kid. All I wanted to do was be a movie star.” He shoved some fries into his mouth. “Be like Brando, or Monty Clift, or James Dean. I’d study ‘em all the time, trying to figure ‘em out like they were a… a.. math problem or something.” He huffed a laugh at himself.

“Well, you got your wish,” Lori observed. “You’re a movie star. I went and saw you in the movies.”

“Hell, I’m sorry, honey!” he returned dryly. “You want me to refund you the money for the tickets?” He shook his head, chewing fast so that he could finish his thought. “No, I ain’t done it yet, made THE movie, the one that’ll change the way everyone sees me, make ‘em see I can be a real actor if- if they just gave me a chance. Not even close. Not yet, but I will.” The girls nodded, it was impossible not to, he sounded so sure. “You believe me, don’t you.”

“I think you could do anything,” Chrissie told him quietly, immediately beset by the impulse to cringe, which was overwhelmed by the sight of his face lighting up. He nodded, a lopsided grin spreading across his face and making his eyes twinkle.

“Well, shit, I probably could if’n you only keep looking at me like that, honey,” he returned, looking down bashfully.

Food finished, they turned their attention back to the movie for at least two or three minutes, before hands started to knead and rub again, lips started to caress and nuzzle, and Chrissie somehow found herself sliding down Elvis’ body as he sat sprawled in his seat, her mouth sucking and licking at his throat, the coarse hair on his chest, the red linen shirt covering his warm stomach. She reached his belt before he reached down and stopped her.

“Not like this, sweetheart,” he said so tenderly and sweetly that her heart curled up at the edges. “It’s not gonna be like this for you.”

Instead, he scooped her back up onto his lap, where she could feel the hard bulge of him pressing against her thigh, and he let the tip of his nose graze slowly across her cheek and down into the neck of her sweater.

With his other hand, he reached over and gathered Lori to his side too and they cuddled up together to watch the third and final movie of the evening. Sometimes, he would turn slightly and whisper silly comments into her ear and press his pout into her pulse point, making her shiver. Others, he’d give Lori a pinch and make fun of how chatty she was.

They forgot, at least she forgot, that they were canoodling with a world-famous entertainer, a rock star, a man who had conquered everything and everywhere by the time he was their age. For a few hours, he was just their dorky, silly friend with the beautiful face and the softest, most kissable lips.

As the sun rose above the municipal building across the way, Lori and Chrissie rose from their seats, stretching their tingling limbs and rubbing their gritty eyes. Elvis stopped them at the door, clasping Lori’s chin and giving her a soft peck on the lips, before turning to Chrissie and taking her hands.

“Hey Cupcake,” he said with a small smile, looking up at her through his brows bashfully. He pulled at her hands, making her sway slightly in front of him. “Thank you for coming tonight and, er, all those other nights too. It, uh, it meant a lot… It means a lot, to have people rooting for you, especially… especially when things aren’t going so well.” She couldn’t help herself, sinking into his arms and gripping him tightly. She was so tired that she thought she could quite easily doze off with her face smushed against his warm chest.

“There’s that look again,” he remarked as she drew back, gazing at him in fresh wonder, unable to comprehend how the night had happened. “You make a man feel bulletproof, honey. And, uh, I promise I won’t ever let you down.”

“I know,” Chrissie replied, frowning slightly. He kissed her one last time, as sweet and needy and delicious as the first one.

“Come up and visit with us again sometime, okay?” She nodded, reaching out to push his sunglasses up his nose. He grinned.

As they wandered up the street in the greying dawn, arms linked and emotions numbed, Lori turned to Chrissie with a frown.

“That felt a lot like goodbye, didn’t it?” she said.

Chrissie sighed and nodded, thinking about how she could grab some boxes from the storeroom at the back of the bakery to pack away all her photo albums and autograph books.

“Yeah, it did,” she murmured. “It was.”

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