Chapter Text
The harsh midday sun begins to scorch your exposed skin as you carefully packed your tattoo equipment into the paniers of your Vortex. Glancing down at your watch, you noted you had ample time to make it out to your next client. Good, no rushing around today, you think to yourself. Kicking the machine into a dull roar, desert sand clouding up behind you, you wheel out onto the weathered tarmac and head out to Stab City. In no time, the aptly named trailer park loomed before you, corrugated metal shapes jutting out from the dirt. Pulling up in front of a particularly battered trailer home, you give a short sharp whistle. Donny, the guy you were due to work on, bursts out of the screen door with a scowl on his face.
"Hey you ain't welcome round these parts no more darlin'! I suggest you turn around 'fore things get loud," he hollers.
"The fuck are you talkin' about Donny? You asked me to come down here. We've got an appointment scheduled for 1pm, or did you forget?" you quip back at him.
He strides down off the decking and makes his way towards you and you're quick to notice his body language is not at all friendly. You're not quite getting your head around why one of your steady customers is suddenly flipping out on you. Growing irritated, you attempt to get to the bottom of what his damn issue is.
"Are you telling me that I've brought my kit all the way down here for nothing? If you're having second thoughts about the design, I've got time to re-draw it..."
He stops you.
"Nah it ain't that. Rumour mill is sayin' you're kickin' 'bout with Trevor Philips these days. That sound 'bout right?"
You're confused. What did Trevor have to do with your day job? And it's not like you were dating, not properly, but even so how the hell did these guys know?
"I mean yeah sure, but what's that got to do with me coming down here? I've pretty much known you since I set up in Blaine County, Donny. You guys got beef or something?"
Donny eyes you with suspicion.
"You really don't know? Maybe that's a talk you need to have with that psycho boyfriend of yours then."
You can feel your brow furrow, muscles in your face twisting all on their own at the suggestion of Trevor being the problem. Whatever the root cause is, it's clear you're getting nowhere chewing it over stood here, desert heat only adding to your waning mood.
"Fine, whatever Don. I'll catch you later."
He huffs and folds his arms.
"Yeah I wouldn't count on that sweetheart. Just move on out ah here before the runners get back."
-
The run in at the trailer park perplexes and annoys you most of the afternoon, so much so that even putting distance between you and Sandy Shores doesn't seem to help. Usually coasting the open roads has a way of calming your nerves but today it's barely made a dent. You motion to the server for a refill on your coffee and continue to simmer. Knowing that Trevor is neck deep in illegal shipments, the most you could guess at is some kind of turf war? Whatever the issue, it had clearly more than rattled the trailer park lads to hear that you were with T. You knew it'd all be resolved eventually, but resign to the fact freshly poured coffee is demanding your attention. You sip and consciously relax your shoulders, allowing your worries to be put on the back burner, eyes hazily watching cars pass outside. Pulling out a pen from inside your jacket you mindlessly doodle on the corner of your napkin - cathartic concept drawings of eventual tattoo designs. You always did your best work on the road and it doubled to soothe your constantly racing mind.
Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket you open a new message, the contents of which cause you to snort with laughter into your drink - a selfie of Trev laid back on his beat-up couch wearing nothing but a tiger-print banana hammock and a floral silk dressing gown now has your full attention. Your eyes focus on his cocky grin and the way he rests an open palm on the bulge in his underwear. Definitely saving that, you muse to yourself. Goddamn.
"Adorable Trev. Show me more x" you type as you smirk, hitting send.
You take a mouthful of coffee and feel the remainder of your angst begin to dissolve. Nothing like arousal to clear the mind of worry.
"K gimme a sec I got company xxx", he replies.
He's got someone over but he's still in *this* getup? You silently chide yourself for the briefest pangs of jealousy and remind yourself you're not officially an item, but you hunger to have him for yourself all the same. Sharing does not agree with you in the slightest.
Another buzz, another message. No words - simply a picture of Trev in a small shabby bathroom, one leg crudely propped up on the toilet lid, hand firmly grasping at his unclothed cock. Even with a semi he's still impressive. Your ache to touch him reverberates from deep within you. It's mad that you can go literal years without any interest in a person, but when fascination manifests there's no stopping you. Everything about his physicality is rugged and menacing and it sings to you, especially at the thought of lording over him, making him whine and moan at your behest. Thick muscular thighs spattered with dark hair, trailing upwards to his toned stomach, pink and silvery scars haphazardly decorating his body with reminders of reckless behaviour... You'd happily stare at him all day but settle for sending a reply.
"You'd better be wearing that the next time we fuck. Speaking of which, you free this evening? x"
"Come over now. I wanna play xxx"
"Thought you said you've got company? x"
"Yeah just my buddy Michael. Don't worry tho this ain't a threesome request, I don't share. Thought we could make a game of making him uncomfortable. It'll be fun xxx"
You mull it over. On the one hand you'd never met this Michael guy before, so you were acutely aware you had no idea about what you were about to walk into. On the other, the sudden idea of teasing Trevor mercilessly in front of another person tickled you. It was the latter that ultimately won out. You were bound to your darker impulses and Trevor had that all figured out, not that it was a difficult task. Not to mention you wanted payback for him costing you a client this afternoon.
"I get to tease the fuck out of you in front of your bud? Sure. Gimme your address x"
"We're supposed to be annoying Mikey, not me xxx"
"I'd much rather watch you squirm until you can't handle it any more. You've been a bad boy and bad boys get punished. Address. Now x"
"What did I do? I mean I'm always a bad boy, but what am I being punished for baby doll? ;) xxx"
"We'll discuss it later. You going to let me torture you or not? x"
"NE Sandy Shores, Zancudo Ave. Red Bodhi outside xxx"
-
Trevor answers the door in his dressing gown and underwear, with scuffed tan work boots and grubby socks only adding to his eccentric style. You smile, admiring the way his tattoos wrap around the harsh contours of his body, ink faded with age. Something about his get up that you can't quite place a finger on is stoking your fire and you feel the embers creeping up your thighs and into your core. He's all wrong but it feels so damn right. Stepping from the threshold, he steals you into the assurance of his long arms, nibbling his way up your neck before locking you into an inescapable clash of mouths and tongues. His saliva mixing with your own is like mana. Your hands reaching inside the silk fabric and winding around his torso, you breathe in a heady scent of gasoline and motor oil, drawing out a hum of approval from your chest. Reaching up to his neck, you growl lowly into his ear.
"Slutty looks really good on you," you say with a dark chuckle, "Missed you Trev."
He makes a barely audible whine and clutches you tighter, nosing into the crook of your neck.
"Missed you too sugar. Like, a whole fuckin' lot."
The impatient sound of a man clearing his throat can be heard from within the trailer, interrupting your reunion.
"Hey T, who's this?", the man says.
The figure wears a crumpled but expensive looking suit, garnished with various stains. You assume this is Michael. He looks as though he may have been a bit of a ladykiller in his hayday - a once classically handsome man, but the years have bestowed him with a tired face and a sizeable paunch that protrudes over his waistband. As painful as it is, you partially separate from Trevor and step inside. He still has one possessive hand on your lower back, tracing small circles, as you stand before the disgruntled stranger.
"Mikey, this is (y/n) - and - (y/n) this is Mikey," turning to look at you he explains, "Me and Mikey have worked together since the old days, we go waayyyyy back."
Michael leans on the kitchen counter nursing a bottle of beer. He does not look impressed in the slightest. Miserable even.
"Yeah sometimes I wish we didn't go waayyyy back," Michael grumbles mockingly.
"Don't be like that Pork Chop, you know I'd take a bullet for you any day of the week," Trevor laments.
Michael shifts uncomfortably, leaning back and looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else right now.
"Yeah I know T..." he sighs, turning towards you "So, (y/n), how long have you had the displeasure of knowing this psychotic asshole?"
You grin broadly, inwardly reliving the time you had spent with Trevor so far. Looking up at Trevor's harsh hazel eyes, you softly place a single hand upon his chest. He's delicate and unbreakable all in one; a mirror of yourself.
"About a month?" you smile.
Michael shoots Trevor a look but you can't quite figure out its meaning.
"A month and you haven't thought to run for the hills yet? I don't know whether to be impressed or alarmed..." Michael scoffs.
Trevor doesn't like this. Not one bit. He strides forward, breaking away from you and presses his chest against Michael's threateningly.
"Listen here Pork Chop, I adore (y/n) and she wouldn't be here unless she wanted to be!", he spits.
"That's the part that worries me," says Michael in response.
Stepping between the two men, you push at Trevor's sternum, willing him to calm himself.
"Hey, hey! Gents! Can we chill the fuck out for a second?" you plead, "I'm not sure what you're getting at but I can assure you I'm here of my own volition. Now can we just take it easy? Enjoy a drink?"
Trevor eyes Michael with a hint of attempted intimidation but eases off, his hand returning to the curve of your lower back.
"Ok, ok..." Michael bemoans, "We can chill. It's not like I want to be back home anyway."
"Why, Amanda still grinding your gears?" Trevor kvetches, handing you a beer before pulling you to sit on the couch beside him.
It's a little raggedy but functional, like much of the furniture in the room. You shift against Trevor, finding comfort in nestling closely to his body, revelling in the soft warmth of him.
"Yeah something like that..." Michael sighs, "Anyway... So are you two, like, a thing then?"
You laugh at him. He's apparently more emotionally stunted than the rednecks you're used to dealing with. Surely most people would be glad their friend had found someone to obsess over?
"Yes we're a *thing*", you mock, "Why, does that offend you?"
Michael shifts off his elbow and points a stubby finger, motioning between you and Trevor while glaring sharply at him.
"So long as whatever *this* is doesn't interfere with business, carry on T. Just don't come crying to me when you're all alone again, I haven't got the damn energy," Michael gripes.
Trevor rolls his eyes, but his voice wavers ever so slightly like he's genuinely wounded, "Well I'm just *charmed* that we have your blessing Mikey," he says sarcastically, "Now will you lighten the fuck up?"
Michael barks forth a short humourless laugh, a sad attempt at shattering the awkwardness, and shrugs.
"Yeah, sure. Nice to meet you (y/n)..." he says with all of the enthusiasm of a wet dishcloth.
You recline on the couch, leaning into Trevor's ribs as he moves to drape an arm around your shoulder. You enjoy his overprotectiveness. It makes you feel safe. Sliding a hand up Trevor's leg you allow it to rest atop his thigh, brushing the dark hair with the very tips of your fingers. The fact you were here to torture him hadn't slipped your mind so you figure it's as good a time to start as any. Feeling his leg jerk slightly in response you can't say he agrees.
"So...You guys got any funny stories about the way back days?" you inquire, hoping to lighten the mood.
-
It's late into the night and the coyotes can be heard yipping and howling in the distance, punctuating the desert with their chatter. Several beers later and the mood has changed considerably, with Michael having shed his suit jacket and button down, clinking a glass bottle against that of his running buddy's and cheering whatever hilarious shitshow of a robbery they'd just reminisced upon. Droplets of beer had soaked into his under shirt, pooling outwards into strangely mesmerising patterns. The truth was, you were trying to distract yourself from Trevor's need for your touch. It was excruciating given you had felt him shifting beneath you all evening; your legs draped sideways over his, still seated on the couch, him trying to rub his crotch against you to find just the slightest amount of friction but failing completely. Even though it was equally painful for the both of you, you were determined to exact your punishment upon him. Michael chuckled and stood, a little uneasy on his feet.
"I gotta take a piss," Michael announces before shuffling to the bathroom, pulling the weak concertina door closed behind him.
Straight away, Trevor's eyes are wild as he leans in to nibble at your earlobe, growling as he does.
"Come on cupcake, just touch me a little? I'm dying over here. I neeeed you..." he moans.
Closing your eyes to sharpen your focus, you will yourself to not cave to his touch, ignoring the sheer force of the magnetism between your bodies. You let out a small huff and snap open your eyes, gazing into his as you snake your hand into your own underwear and coat a single finger in your juices. Withdrawing it again, you move the finger up towards Trevor's lips at an agonisingly slow pace. His lips part in anticipation, tongue extended, eager to taste you.
"Bad boys don't get treats," you say with an air of indifference, taking the finger away from his face and plunging it into your own mouth to suck.
Trevor shoots you a look of fury, lip curling up over a lopsided snarl, eyebrows drawn tight. He lets out an irritated grunt and ruts up against your leg in frustration, grinding hard in attempt to find relief for a brief moment. No matter how much he wanted you, he had agreed to play in accordance with your earlier demands and if anything Trevor was a man of his word. Otherwise he'd most definitely be pounding you into the couch right about now. Instead he sits there, begrudgingly obedient, every inch of him aching to break you. Striding back into the room, Michael seats himself on the dining room chair facing the couch. He studies Trevor's sulky expression, reading him, before softly laughing under his breath. It doesn't go unnoticed, as Trevor shoots daggers at his buddy, daring him to say something.
"What, she holding out on you T? I know that look, seen it a thousand times. The one that says you've been told you can't have it your way," Michael jests, "Not often I've seen you actually do as you're told though..."
He was all too used to being denied sexually and it amused him greatly to witness Trevor on the receiving end for once. Lifting your leg to wrap it around Trevor's back, you lean into him, using your beer-free hand to stroke at the back of his neck, shushing him. This actually seems to work, soothing the deep rumbles of anger within his chest, but the chagrin remained painted across his face.
"Unlike you Mikey, I actually respect women," Trevor scorns before turning to you, speaking lowly, "Can I at least know what I'm being punished for now? Now that this fat snake isn't going to give me a break..."
Michael scoffs at the thought of anyone being bold enough to punish Trevor, knowing full well the extent of his past indiscretions.
"So long as you're ok with me being open about it?" you probe. He nods in response and you continue, "You know how I ride out to tattoo clients? How they're usually the same guys I work on, repeat customers if you will? And how they're mostly all bikers?"
Trevor eyes you sheepishly, like an unruly puppy being scolded for eating the trash again. You have an inkling he knows where this is going.
"I had an appointment over at Stab City today and was told in no uncertain terms that I'm not welcome anymore. Now why might that be?" you say calmly with an authoritarian tone.
Michael seems to be eating this awkward exchange right up, stifling his giggles as he swigs his beer. Trevor adjusts his position, turning toward you as much as he can manage with your legs locked around him.
"Baby, I... The Lost MC are my competition, it's all turf war bullshit," Trevor says, yielding to you.
"T didn't you *kill* the competition?" Michael interjects, a hearty laugh escaping from him.
"Most of them. So what? Those fuckers had it coming!" Trevor seethes, "Always got a new chapter moving in to fill the crater I leave behind... I swear they're like roaches!"
You set your beer down on the floor and embrace him, still quietly stroking at his neck while you shush him gently. He leans into you and grunts quietly.
You try to reassure Trevor, "You know I don't care that you have beef with them, but I'm mad I lost some of my best customers. I haven't figured out how they knew about us either..."
"Yeah that's my bad too..." he sounds a little dubious, "I sort of got high and shouted it from the rooftops. Literally. Maybe more than once. I was happy, you know? You make me happy (y/n)".
His expression is still a little wary but a small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth and feels like home.
"Right so lemme get this straight? You tattoo bikers," Michael laughs, "and you're giving T blue balls because he's scared off most of your customers? Man, reality TV ain't even this good."
"He's on time out," you insist.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing Mikey. As I recall, Amanda hasn't touched your dick in months," Trevor spits.
"Hey, low blow T! That's not cool!" Michael sputters.
You chuckle. Both men were fast becoming your new favourite source of entertainment. Palming over Trevor's stomach, reaching around to his hip you slip your thumb in his waistband and softly trail back and forth. He hums with gratification that you're finally giving him some physical affection, regaining his confidence.
"Speaking of which, it cool if I crash here tonight T?" the older man asks, "I don't think 'Mand is gonna appreciate me rocking up at stupid o' clock."
"Sure thing M, mi casa es su casa amigo. Just don't get all jealous when we're banging each other's brains out later," Trevor says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
"That's assuming she even let's you," Michael sneers.
Trevor's face falls as he locks eyes with you, boring a hole into your resolve, pleading. You reach up to kiss his cheek, stubble scratching at the surface of your lips as you stroke at his jawline.
"Don't worry babe," you reassure, "Time out doesn't last forever."
He looks positively delighted, pulling you in for a long drawn-out kiss. You don't deny him, instead allowing his tongue to invade your mouth ravenously as you squeeze at the flesh around his waistline, thumb rubbing harshly at his hip bone.
"Alright, alright kids, no need to show off," Michael chides, "Anyone for another beer?"
"Sure," you say.
"Do you even need to ask?," Trevor grunts.
Michael totters toward the fridge before tossing you each a cold one, seating himself back down once he managed to crack the top off his own bottle. The three of you continue to banter well into to the night; the guys recalling bad jobs gone wrong and comical misadventures, Michael making jabs saying this is the cleanest the trailer has been in a long time, Trevor explaining he had Ron tidy up or else he'd break his leg, with you enjoying the silent torment of your lover. The sky was just beginning to lighten, hues of peach and pink cutting through the inky darkness, as Michael began to yawn in quicker succession. He announces his need to get some shut eye and the relief from Trevor is unmistakable, his building excitement noted by the pattern of his breathing, the way his chest rises and falls deeply with assurance. He grabs another couple of beers from the fridge while you both bid Michael good night, heading off to the bedroom. This being the first time you've been to Trevor's place and his bedroom is unexplored territory to you. Bending over to give him a good view of your rump, you unlace your boots and place them by the doorway. Climbing up onto the large double bed which takes up most of the room, you lean resting against the wall as you sip your beer. Trevor kicks off his boots and joins you, tangling his legs with your own as he patiently awaits his prize.
"You've redeemed yourself T," you coo, stroking his face.
"Does that mean I can bend you over the bed and fuck you into next week? I can't wait to pump you full of cum..."
"Shhh... such a dirty boy..." you smile, "You've done well but your punishment isn't quite over yet."
You rest your beer on the side table, swinging your leg over to straddle both of his legs but stop short of his pelvis. He looks apprehensive and you notice he's already rock hard, dick straining obscenely against his underwear. Tilting his chin up toward you, you meet his mouth for a brief kiss before pulling away again.
"You're my plaything for the night, which means no cumming unless I say so. Do you think you can handle that?" you say darkly.
"But kitten... I'm so hard it hurts..." he whines pitifully.
"The sooner you endure it, the sooner you get to cum," you whisper.
He rocks his hips into the empty space between you both and moans, before finally giving a permissive nod.
"Good boy," you hum, lips curving into a twisted smile.
You slide downwards, positioning yourself between his legs, as you begin kissing at a deathly slow pace. The occasional nibble and lick causes him to tense up as he fights the urge to touch you, not wanting to displease you. Meanwhile you were savouring the sensation of his flesh beneath your tongue, between your teeth and growing hungry to have his length buried deep inside you. It was only the whimpers and grunts he was making that kept you on task, evoking a burning need to witness the man before you fall apart. Upon reaching his inner thighs, you pawed firmly as you pried them open, licking either side of his manhood.
"You're going to be the death of me (y/n)..." he utters desperately, hand running through his own thinning hair as he leans back further against the wall.
You slide your fingers into his underwear, beginning to pull them down, Trevor lifting his ass off the mattress slightly to assist. He draws one leg upwards, unhooking his ankle from the bunched up fabric and sets it back down. Now face to face with his cock, your own needs were beginning to distract you. Salivating, you resume licking and biting at the sensitive skin between his legs.
"Hold your cock and balls up," you breathe with salicious urgency, "But no playing with yourself."
You hook around his thighs, dragging him down the mattress and spread him open even further, cruelly licking down the fingers that cradle his balls. Flattening your tongue, you drag and press it against his perinium, earning various curse words from Trevor's disgusting mouth. Bringing your thumbs to press into the nerves around his ass, you lick straight over his puckered hole, massaging the surrounding tissue as you work at him. He moans toward the ceiling, privately questioning which god saw fit to drop you into his lap and what he'd done to deserve you. Suddenly, taking the plunge breaks his train of thought, as you dart the tip of your tongue into his hole and revel in the feeling of him wriggling beneath you. He's crumbling and you love it. Working a fingertip beside your tongue, you alternate licking and pushing into him, before long finger fucking Trevor while he pants above you, him staring down with glazed eyes as you torment him.
"Mm not gonna last much longer..." he grunts.
Resenting his building orgasm, you pull your finger from his ass, as you move up to his waiting mouth, allowing him to taste himself on your kiss.
"I'm going to get undressed while you calm down a little. Can you do that for me?" you ask, voice filled with wanton desire.
Trevor pants but nods, pupils dilated as he watches you hop off the bed and begin to shed your clothes. You poke your head into the living room, the deep snores emanating from within hopefully signalling Michael was asleep. Not that you cared either way. Truthfully it was more for his own sake as you ruthlessly teased and fucked his best friend in the other room. Naked, you climb over Trevor as he releases his hold on his dick, slicking his throbbing length with your nectar. Your core is burning, coiled tight and begging for sweet release. Positioning yourself above him, you sheath Trevor's cock inside the warm clutches of your cunt, hands pressing bruises into his body. You almost can't take it and have to pause to compose yourself. Sensing your control slipping, Trevor tangles his arms around your back and bucks up into you, forcing a breathless gasp to tumble from your lips. He swallows it as he invades your mouth, the taste of him causing an involuntary squeeze from your walls, threatening to push him out. Rutting into you, he seeks to bury himself in the sanctity of your depths, hands almost crushing against your limbs as he holds you in place. It would seem that the good boy act was over. He had done so well lasting this long that you didn't mind, but it was like a switch had flipped and there was no bringing him back.
"I'm gonna fuck you so good you'll be begging for my cum in no time sugartits," he growled, emphasising his words by twitching his cock within you.
The roles had reversed and you were done for. He had you exactly where he wanted you, speared on his dick, pulling your wrists roughly down beside his thighs so you couldn't move. You attempted to sit up, to slide up his length, but he rammed deeper into you, using his hold on your arms against you.
"I'm all for being teased baby girl, but it's only fair that I get to return the favour," Trevor purrs, "Especially after your humiliating me in front of Mikey made me so fucking hard."
He thrusts into you again, feeling you squirm, trying to goad you into crying out.
"I like it when you struggle cupcake," Trevor growls as you whimper, "What did you expect? Just fucking look at me - you said it yourself - I'm a sick fuck baby."
Eyes feral and full of lust, he emphasises his words with another push of his thick cock deep into your cunt, your juices leaking out and onto the both of you. You attempt to tear your hands from his grip but it's no use. He's biting and licking at your throat, a bit more forceful than you're used to but it hurts so good. Tears begin to prickle the corners of your eyes and you bite your lip to halt the desperate whimpering you can hear yourself making. Rolling your hips forward, you try to ride him the best you can with limited mobility and he laps it all up - greedily eyeing the way you're using him to get yourself off.
"Look at you trying to milk me," Trevor snarls, "I guess slutty looks good on both of us baby".
His depraved taunting is bringing you closer to your edge. Craning his neck, he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks hard, flicking his tongue against the barbell, switching across to give the same treatment to the other. Now it was your turn to crumble. You begin to ride him harder, trying to get his head to rub against your g-spot as you moan under your breath.
"What's that cupcake? Speak up".
"Trevor please, I want to feel you cum so bad," you plead.
"Told you I'd make you beg for my cum, (y/n)," he teases, "Cum on my dick and I'll fill you right up baby doll."
With that he releases his hold on your wrists, finally allowing you to rub at your little pearl, the final threads of you coming undone. You feel the waves inside crashing down, cunt wrapped exquisitely around his dick and squeezing tightly, your wetness seeping out as you struggle to breathe. Bracing yourself on his shoulders, you hang your head and ride out the last of it, shifting backwards and forwards, as Trevor grips onto your buttocks. He thrusts into you with force and it threatens to overwhelm you. Shuddering, you moan his name, feeling your core heating rapidly.
"Don't stop Trev," you pant.
He's spurred on by your encouragement and you can tell by the way he savagely bites into your shoulder that he's almost there. You grip the hair at the back of his head and tug, wrapping the other hand around him to fuck against him even harder. Grunts and growls are the only noises he's capable of making right now, as he nears the end. With one last stab of his cock, he spills his seed within the heat of your cunt. You both swear as your second orgasm tears through you, bleeding Trevor dry of everything he has. Leaning against him, you hold each other as you wait for the room to stop spinning. Then you hear a cough from the other room.
"You guys finishing nailing the fuck out of each other yet so I can go back to sleep?" Michael grumbles.
"Yeah we're done Pork Chop, nighty night buddy!" Trevor grins.
A loud grumpy sigh and a noise that can only be assumed is Michael's body hitting the sofa sounds through the dimness of the trailer. Trevor lifts you off him and lays you down beside him. Summoning the last of his strength he reaches over the side of the bed, before a sock is launched at your face to clean yourself up. Sorted and both ready for sleep, Trevor protectively wraps himself around your body and inhales your scent, nose tickling just behind your ear.
"Night babe. You did good holding out that long you know," you praise him.
"Yeah I just couldn't do it any longer than that sugar, it felt like my balls were gonna explode," he mumbles into your neck.
You wriggle your body against his and hum, sleep descending on the two of you. You vaguely recall hearing him mutter something else just before you drift off, but you're not sure if you dreamt it.
"I love you (y/n)..."