#started cute and went downhill from there 🤠

[laracrofted]

your back beneath the sun

synopsis: rhett never wears enough sunscreen. luckily, his girlfriend is there to take care of him.

pairings: rhett abbott x fem!reader (no y/n)

warnings: 18+, minors dni, explicit smut (unprotected sex, slight slight overstimulation, oral), swearing, bad sunburns. please wear sunscreen and also condoms. (wc: 1.5K)

note: someone listened to preacher's daughter at the beach and thought about rhett abbott's shoulders all afternoon. i'm someone.

much love to @lewmagoo who fed the rhett abbott on the beach thoughts. and summoning a few people who might like: @theharddeck @bradshawsbitch @rhettabbotts @roosterbruiser

Rhett Abbott is a stubborn man. So damn stubborn.

You’d never understand what Rhett went through with Royal Abbott as a father and Perry Abbott as a brother, always asking him to shoulder the weight of burdens that weren’t his, always asking for more and more and more. You couldn’t fault him if Rhett had come out of the other side more hardened, more guarded.

Especially not when Rhett softened for you, looking at you with those blue eyes that held oceans and streams and all manner of wonderful and beautiful and wild things. You loved him because, not despite.

You could, however, fault him for this. 

“Did you put any sunscreen at all? I mean, Christ, Rhett.” 

Rhett had never been to a beach, not a real beach, not something other than the lake shores that land-locked states sometimes called beaches. He’d grown up with swimming holes and occasionally, hot springs. You’d grown up near beaches; learned to swim in the ocean.

You were so excited to show him your world; same as Rhett had shown you Yellowstone and Grand Teton a few months back.

You drove down to a rented cabin and for a whole week, rode horses and hiked through the wooded mountains in the afternoons and made love in the evenings beneath the biggest and most beautiful blanket of stars you’d ever seen in your whole life. It was surreal. 

And now, Rhett is here with you for a whole week in a beachside bungalow that cost more than a pretty penny. It's well worth it.  

You spent the whole day at the beach, breathing in the salt air; splashing around in the cool ocean waves that lapped at the shore; picking out the prettiest sea shells to bring home with you.

He was beautiful, relaxed beneath the sun, eyes squeezed shut as Rhett napped on the beach, stretched out like a barn cat. 

He didn’t have any worries here. It was only you two. 

You admired him, admired the length of his beautiful back and big arms, strong from hard work. He has a scar on his shoulder, faded and years old now, from when Rhett didn’t dodge a bull fast enough at the Amelia County Rodeo. You pressed your lips against the raised skin and traced the shape of your name between his shoulder blades with a light finger, careful not to wake him. 

He stirred, mumbling something unintelligible but unmistakably fond, and rolled over to pull you against his side. You slept the rest of the afternoon away, there in the sun.

You’d been diligent with your sunscreen, but apparently, Rhett hadn’t been so careful. 

“I put… some on,” Rhett grumbles, pulling a shirt on to hide the evidence from your questioning gaze and visibly wincing. He abandons the shirt and sits on the edge of bed, dressed in his unbuttoned jeans. He looks around the room, bottom lip jutted out in an almost pout. 

You think Rhett might be a little embarrassed but can’t actually tell because Rhett is already red all over. His shoulders are the worst. A painful cherry red that is warm to the touch. You press gently, and Rhett lets out a sound that is close to a whimper. 

“Hands’re cold.” Rhett mumbles, pressing his face against your middle, leaning in. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling through the strands in the way that Rhett likes. He hums. “Feels good. I’m so hot.”

He can be such a baby sometimes.

So different from the Hometown Hero Rhett Abbott, from the Abbott Ranch Rhett Abbott. He would never be so open, so vulnerable around anyone else. He is your Rhett here. 

His complaints are almost endearing, begrudgingly so. 

“I think I have some aloe.” 

You put the bottle in the fridge for a few minutes to get it as cool as possible and bring him an Advil. He doesn’t argue, placing the pill on his tongue and swallowing it dry. You retrieve the aloe from the fridge and gently push him down on the bed with a spread palm, running down his chest. 

“Turn over. Get on your stomach.” 

His grin is devilish. “Isn’t that my line, darlin’?” 

You bite back a smile. “Are you in pain or not, cowboy? Turn over.” 

He goes.

You kneel on either side of him, hovering above his back, and Rhett reaches back to run a finger over your bare calf, closing his hand around your ankle in a loose hold, stroking. Not to start anything. 

Rhett just wants to feel you, hold you. 

Affection pinches in your chest.

Aloe is cool on your palms, and Rhett lets out a low moan, near pornographic, at the cold sensation, the soothing press of your hands, always gentle against the warm skin. He sighs into the pillows, stroking the pad of his thumb across your ankle bone. 

You are thorough in your attention and gentle.  

He deserves gentleness. You do too.

You are both working on that together, learning that gentleness doesn’t need to be bought or earned, learning to accept gentleness and love and affection. It is a work in progress, but at least, Rhett will accept this. 

Rhett is so muscular, so solid beneath your hands. You are very thorough.

It is more of a massage now, but Rhett doesn’t seem to mind. 

He moans again, lifting his hips underneath you, pushing down into the mattress in a way that makes you wonder if Rhett is reacting to the aloe anymore or in the absence of the fading pain, is focused on your hands now, running over all of that bare skin and muscle.

He answers your unspoken question, reaching a hand back to grab ahold of your thigh, stroking a thumb under the hem of your dress, all the while humming absentmindedly into the mattress with closed eyes. 

His voice is a low, rasping rumble. A rough repetition. 

“So good, darlin’. Feels so good. So good.” 

You remember the morning, a moment in the quiet pre-dawn blue, and Rhett between your spread thighs, pinning you open with the same shoulders that are now red with sun, rutting down into the mattress. He came at the same time as you, untouched and overwhelmed with your taste and your sounds and – 

So good, Rhett. Feels so good. 

You lean down, brushing your lips across the warm shell of his ear, smoothing your cool hands across his shoulders. He shivers beneath you, between your parted knees. 

“Shame I won’t be able to ride you with your back all burned. Isn’t that your favorite position? Cowgirl?

You’re much less smug when seconds later, Rhett has you on your stomach, bent over a precarious stack of pillows, one large hand resting on the back of your neck and the other splayed across your stomach, guiding you back against him.

His second favorite position. 

“You’re still my pretty little cowgirl like this, right, darling?”

He rasps the words against your shoulder, breath warm, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, biting down and sucking on the sensitive skin. His broad, worn palm slides down your stomach, cupping the spot between your legs, holding you there. Nothing to do but close your eyes and – 

“Answer me.” 

You choke out the words. Moan them. 

“Yes, I’m yours, I’m yours.” 

At the end, when Rhett is growing more desperate, more uneven, pulling out and pushing back in at a bruising pace, Rhett pulls you back against him, upright, and murmurs, “Come for me, pretty darlin’. Come for your cowboy.” 

He circles your clit with wet fingers. Bites down on your shoulder again, leaving a half-moon indent that’ll be visible in any sundress or bikini for the rest of the damn vacation. Loud as the words Rhett coaxed from your mouth. 

I’m yours, Rhett, I’m yours. 

You come with a high-pitched keen, muffled by the hand that Rhett puts over your mouth. He is unsatisfied, coaxing one more from you, limp with pleasure against him, unshed tears welling in your eyes, before Rhett follows you over the edge, spilling into you with one last thrust. 

After, Rhett brings you a damp rag and runs it between your thighs, cleaning the stickiness from your skin. He leans down and kisses you there, tongue darting out to taste you both, lavishing. You can’t do anything more than weakly spasm, still sensitive from the morning and now, even more so.

His chuckle vibrates against your core, but Rhett pulls back.

A clean cloth waits on the edge of the mattress, creating a damp spot on the sheets, and Rhett wipes the remnants of the aloe vera from your palms with the cloth. Presses a chaste kiss to each one. 

He crawls over you, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, damp with sweat, and with a nudge, tips your chin back to give you a gentle but thorough kiss. You are liquid against him, warm and tired from the sun. Content. 

It isn’t long before Rhett dozes off next to you, exhausted from the sunburn. You set an alarm to wake you both for your dinner reservation and curl up against his side. He is warm and solid. 

He might be stubborn, but Rhett is yours. 

end note: posting before i have a chance to be self-conscious. 🤠