Work Text:
You were genuinely surprised that your friends brought you here; this seedy little bar a few blocks down from the rave that they had also shanghaied you into going to, though, to be fair, it didn’t take much to convince you.
Another little surprise was the fact that you and your best friend were drunk enough to enter the wet t-shirt contest. Not just enter, but place first and second! It didn’t win you much; a year’s worth of free tacos and tequila, and a plastic medal, but that’s what you do during Spring Break in Guadalupe: stupid shit.
The third place winner, however, caught your drunken interest, somehow. First of all, it was a guy who won third. A few of the girls that entered huffed and puffed jealously, but even though he was miserably thin, it seems like he was much more fit in his earlier years. You heard around that he had been stranded here, living off whale meat and sea water, wondering how in the hell he managed to live off of rancid whale blubber and Mexican water that should have turned his intestines inside out. But you think less of it when you see him smile. An adorably gapped smile that had some kind of naive innocence to it.
You and your friends walk by, hearing him talk (or at least trying to talk) to the bartender. British. Consider your interest piqued. You pull up a seat at the bar a few patrons down, just shy of his earshot as you watch him down his tequila prize one after another.
“So, any vegetarian tacos for this year’s worf?” he asks. The bartender just looks at him. His smile falters. Poor guy. You take pity on him and go over to translate for him. No, no vegetarian tacos. ‘ Who the hell eats veggie tacos anyway?’ you think. “Chicken tacos?” he asks you. You translate. He’s in luck. “Can I ge’ th’year’s worf in a day?'' he asks. You furrow your eyebrows remembering the dozens of pot brownies he ingested shortly after the contest; you're slightly concerned but ok, sure, and the bartender answers no before going to fill orders for your friends.
He frowns a moment, then thanks you for translating. You stare at his still wet t-shirt...then accidentally beyond to his white jeans. Of course the thermostat had to be turned to near freezing for the contest, but it was affecting him too, as he was still cold and wet from it. He catches your gaze and covers his boner, that cute little face of his blushing. “‘S cold, yew know,” he says defensively, though his dark eyes were focused blushingly on your winning tits.
You smirk at him and head back to your friends for a round of free tequila.
You hear the digital jukebox playing Drake's ‘Controlla’ and it draws your hips to the dance floor. You're feeling pretty good; the tequila and Royal Fucks all night giving you an interesting buzz. At some point your friends decide to hit another bar, leaving you to dance inebriated and alone. It's not the first time it's happened, but at least Third Place stayed.
And he’s watching you. Hungrily.
You eye him; his black eyes, that azure hair, and suddenly he's walking towards you, stumbling a little as he decides to watch you a bit closer, his gangly legs perched on the bottom rung of the bar stool on the edge of the dance floor.
‘
Gal your body good and you're special to me
Wanna make you my lady officially
From yuh tickets fi buy den mi willin' fuh pay
Fly yuh in from distance away’
You look back at him, a little smirk on both of your faces as you sway to the melody… you find yourself dancing rather seductively, running your hands through your still-wet hair, your eyes rolling closed as you dance…
‘
Right, my eye just changed
You just buzzed the front gate
I thank God you came
How many more days could I wait?
I made plans with you
And I won't let 'em fall through
I, I, I, I, I…’
You feel a presence behind you; salty sea water and tequila, mingled with some kind of sweet thing that fills your nose pleasantly. You feel his long fingers on your waist, his hips pressed against yours as he follows your movements.
‘
I think I'd lie for you
I think I'd die for you
Jodeci "Cry For You"
Do things when you want me to
Like controlla, controlla
Yeah, like controlla, controlla…’
You let your fingers do their own thing, slipping through his damp hair as he presses closer into you. He's well endowed; that hard on you saw earlier feels larger than it looked now that it's pushed against you, and shit, it feels good.
You push back against him, hearing him groan at the feeling of your ass against his hardened cock. One of his hands ghosts upward, your prized nipples falling prey to his thin fingers. Had you been sober, you would've smote him into oblivion. But you're not. And he's practiced, obviously, and it feels wonderful. You keen quietly at him. “Yew like tha’?” he says in your ear. The chill ripples down your spine and settles somewhere in your underwear.
You nod at him, biting your lip as he keeps sending shocks of pleasure through you.
‘
Yeah, okay, you like it
When I get, aggressive, tell you to
Go slower, go faster
Like controlla, controlla
Yeah, like controlla, controlla
And I'm never on a waste ting shawty
I do it how you say you want it’
Drake has the right idea, you think. And you vaguely wonder if this hot and heavy bluenette could maybe…
“ Oh…” you gasp. He's nibbling on your ear, taking a bold handful of your breast in one hand and dipping a finger teasingly under the waistband of your shorts with the other.
He’s a daring bastard. And you absolutely love it. Let's see how long he can play…
You turn to face him, your eyes boring into his. You cock an eyebrow at him, a playful smile on your lips. You take his wrists and pull him towards the back door that was open to the alley, pulling him along so that you're not too far from Drake's music, but far enough so that no one would know what you're up to.
You back against the brick wall, pulling him onto you as he sucks at your neck with the dedication of a starved vampire. You moan your approval, Spanish praises tumble out of your mouth fluently as he ruts against you, kissing you harder. He lifts you up, just enough to wrap your legs around his waist, and for the love of all that is pure and righteous! Was he built by the gods? Endowed by Adonis himself? It’s not even out of his pants! At least not yet...
“ Te voy a llevar a casa esta noche ,” you say in his ear. He looks down at you.
“Um, ‘M 2D?” he says. He's giving you a confused look. It's so cute you can't stand it.
“2D,” you repeat. He smiles at you as you break away from him, then, again, pull him towards the road to hail a cab. Not even a few minutes into the ride, just after you tell the driver where to go, you're ramming your tongue past his lips, letting him feel you up in the back seat. You guess the driver has been dealing with this all week so you drunkenly remember to tip him generously when he arrives at your apartment.
Your friends haven't come back yet; it's too early anyway. Which was good, because this tumbling onto the sofa and grinding against his manhood would be relatively awkward otherwise. You flick on some music to drown out the eventual noises and ‘Controlla’ was playing on the radio, too. You’re still buzzed and this song has a hold on you so you perform an amateur lap dance for 2D. He slumps back against the sofa, watching you as you tease him with your body, tossing your damp t-shirt off. He slips out of his as well, dark bruises and protruding ribs make you frown sadly at him. You feel bad for him, so you make sure that he at least has a good night with you after whatever he’d been through.
You take his hands and place them on your hips, letting him hook his thumbs in your belt loops and pull you close to him. He kisses sweetly at your hipbones, nipping at the skin of your belly as he prizes your shorts off you. You’re still wearing your swimsuit bottoms that tie on the sides, having stuffed the top in your purse for the contest. He tugs at the ties and the fabric falls away.
“¿Tienes un condón? ” you ask him.
“Un con--oh! Er, no, I-I don’...” he stutters. You think for a moment, then remember the box of flavored rubbers in your roommate’s room. You dash in and out, returning with the first one you touched in the box. Banana. Ew. You’d sooner put him directly in your mouth before that disgusting yellow latex. And since you’re thinking about it…
Fumbling hands unbuckle 2D’s belt and you yank his sodding trousers off; you’ve never seen a man actually go commando before but sweet baby Jesus…he’d never wear underwear again if you had a say in the matter. Long and thick, warm and red and throbbing with want. If you ever prayed for the perfect penis, this might be it. You grip him softly, watching him meld into the sofa as you start a rhythm before brushing your tongue along the smooth head, circling around the tip before taking him altogether.
His hips rise a bit as you suck him, his head falling back onto the sofa, his hands either in his hair, your hair, or scratching at the cushions. You're not that great at blow jobs. You haven't done it since your last lover months ago, and even that was an inexperienced fiasco. But you assume he's enjoying it by the way he groans and bites his lips, a bit of bucking as you lick around his sensitive head.
You pull off with a pop, licking away the saliva that had run down your lips. 2D thumbs away the trail on your chin, then pulls you onto his body, urgently pressing his tequila-flavored lips onto yours, delving his tongue into your mouth. You welcome him in, rocking your hips against his and feeling his hands running along your thighs. It's making you hot and needy. You're tempted to forget the nasty tasting condom and let him fuck you bare, but the whole STD and/or children thing nags at your conscience. Besides, he's ahead of you anyway; he's already ripping open the package, grimacing at the smell of fake bananas and lube.
You rise off his lap long enough to let him roll the rubber down his length. Your eyes roll back as he stretches you out, biting your lip and moaning loudly and holy shit it feels good! “ Ah... fuck…” 2D swears at you, his nails dig into your hips, pushing you further down his length, damn near grinding you into his groin.
His tongue finds its way to your nipples and he bites and sucks on them, thumbing whichever one is neglected at the moment. He's making you keen so loud you're sure your neighbors could hear through the thin walls.
“ Mm , sí papi. Que me jodan más fuerte …” you sigh down at him. You’re so sure he has no idea what that means, but when he smirks at you, you wonder where that naivety had gone. He lifts you off, standing up and forcefully turns you to face the back of the sofa, planting your knees on the cushions. He slides inside you, starting slowly and sweetly until…
“Ah! Oh! Mmm, sí !” you squeak as he thrusts so hard your teeth knock against themselves. Your hands curl around the top of the sofa back, eyes scrunched shut and screams reverberate off the walls.
“ ¿Te gusta eso? ¿Te gusta cómo papá te folla?” he growls at you. You were surprised. If he could say that, then asking for chicken tacos shouldn't have been a problem. You don't devote a lot of thought to it; he's making you feel too good. “ ¿Dónde está el dormitorio?”
2D slows down and pulls out, letting you lead the way to your bedroom. You’re really excited now. He lays you out, eyeing you like a tasty treat he’s taking his time with savoring before he presses his tongue to your clit, licking and sucking away, knowing he's driving you insane. He gets you closer and closer before he abruptly stops to look at you, licking away your arousal on his lips before shoving back in with his thick cock. He’s being aggressive like you wanted, hitting all those nice little spots that makes you scream in earnest.
He places a hand on your breast, the other thumbing at your clit, almost violently bringing you to Nirvana before he comes too, a shuddering moan passing through his lips as he collapses next to you, stroking your face sweetly.
“Didn’t know you knew Spanish,” you breathed at him in English, “You had such a hard time at the bar.”
“I don’ know Spanish all tha’ well,” he admitted, “Jus’ those couple o’phrases. Friend o’mine tol’ me to say ‘em if I was t’eva entertain a Spanish lady. ‘Course it go’ me in ho’ wa’er once so I never said it again ‘til now.”
You lay there panting, a smile on your face like you’d just had the night of your life. “So, where are you going to go?” you ask him.
“Dunno. Not sure ‘f I can go anywhere, love,” he says sadly to you, “Nowhere t’go, really.”
You frown at him, stroking his blue locks. “Stay here,” you tell him. You huddle your body closer as he pulls your blanket over your naked bodies. He’s not threatening looking, in fact he seems...kind of stupid. But sweet. You wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with him, honestly; the apartment was more of a crash pad for wandering students anyway. So long as the rent was paid, the landlord couldn’t care less.
He squeezes you to his body, kissing your neck before nuzzling into you with that adorably gapped smile. “Fanks, love,” he says to you, “‘M migh’ take yew up on tha’.”