Work Text:
Stan really wasn’t subtle with it. You were easily able to discover the bag on top of his desk as you were retrieving a file from his office. The lumpy way it sits on the desk makes you think of a cheesy pinup poster, as if the bag was begging you to find it. You pluck up the bag with your fingers, sliding the file under your arm as you make your way back into the shop, where Stan is counting the drawer from today.
“Now where’d you get this?” smirking, you hold up the bag, letting it dangle between your middle and thumb finger.
Stan’s face is confused as he looks up, his eyes widening when he sees the bag. “It’s not what it looks like,” he stammers. “It’s—it’s medical!” His eyes look away for a brief second, a telltale sign that he’s lying. He’s letting you know he’s lying on purpose, you’re sure, the ex(? some things you’ve seen around the shack could beg to differ)-conman having too much experience under his belt to be so foolish and open when lying. Your only response is your eyebrow raising, and your smirk widening.
He shakes his head as he pokes his tongue into his cheek, finishing up counting today’s cash and closes the drawer, slipping some money in an envelope. “What, you snoopin’ through my stuff now?” he huffs.
You laugh. “Only when you leave it out in plain sight for me to discover,” You walk up to the counter, still letting the plastic bag dangle between your fingers.
“Who said I did?” his voice becoming playfully gruff as he gives you a quick glance, feigning disinterest as he begins to organize the rest of the cash into separate piles.
You snort. “Stan, you could’ve just asked if I wanted to smoke with you.”
“Who said I wanted to?”
Your gaze turns into mocking. You lift the bag again, which catches his eye.
He tilts his head, fair enough , then gives you a cautious look. “You’re old enough to smoke, right?”
You roll your eyes in response, “Young enough to out-smoke you, probably,”
“Oh-ho ho,” a smirk begins to tug at Stan’s lips. “We’ll have to see about that, now won’t we?”
You laugh as you turn away, walking towards the door leading to the patio. You hear his loafers clicking against the wood as he follows you.
You settle on the couch, switching between folding and unfolding your legs as you wait the five seconds it takes for him to reach the patio (you decided to unfold your legs, it felt too formal). When he enters, he leans against the wall, arms crossed and facing you on the couch. You notice the tie around his neck is untied as it was before, but his shirt has a few more buttons popped open, exposing some of his chest hair beneath his undershirt.
“You got any experience smoking?”
“I went to college, didn’t I?” You respond, and present the bag to him.
“Fair enough.” and he joins you on the couch, opening the baggie with a pop. You watch his hands reach in and grab one of the few pre-rolls in it, admiring his fingers. You try not to think about how they’d feel inside you.
“Sure you can handle this stuff?” he asks, his tone challenging. He’s holding the joint out and you pluck it from his fingers, sticking it in your mouth. You reach your other hand out, silently asking for a lighter.
Stan scooches closer, his presence pressing into the small space between you. He reaches into his blazer and pulls out a lighter (a fancy zippo one, and you hate how intense the twist in your gut is, because a it’s a goddamn lighter for christ’s sake and that really shouldn’t turn you on–), flicking it on before you can take it. The flame dances, casting a warm glow over his smirk. You know exactly what he’s up to, the ever constant charmer, continuing this little silent flirting game you’ve been having for months. Who are you to refuse his advances?
You lean forward, letting the tip of the joint catch fire. You watch him through eyelashes as you do so, then slowly straighten your back. You inhale, grasping the joint to pull it away as you exhale, your eyes catching the greyish smoke escape your lungs and dissipate. The way it curls in the air is mesmerizing, and your body instantly feels more relaxed–lighter, as if you had just been sprinkled with pixie dust and are preparing to take flight.
Stan reaches over to take the joint back from you, your fingers brushing lightly. You try not to flinch out of surprise–you’re not sure if this weed is that good, or if you’re just that eager for the older man to touch you. He settles back into the couch, leaving some space between you. The cool night air is humid, tickling your skin.
“Stan,” you feel tumble from your lips, attempting nonchalance. “You ever shotgunned before?”
Stan’s lip curls, his eyebrow slightly raised; he knows exactly what you’re up to.
“Once or twice,” he responds, trying to keep his grin controlled. “It’s been awhile though. Why, you never tried it?”
“Done it a few times. Was it a thing back in your day?” you joke. “Did you also use pine needles to give your stash an extra ‘boost’, and have to use leaves as the rolling paper?”
Stan guffaws at the ceiling at that, his neck stretching. You admire the new skin revealed from his shirt as he throws his head back. “Making jokes about my age are we?”
“No, no,” you reassure, reaching over to grab the joint for another hit, but a chuckle makes its way through. “I was just curious.”
Stan grins at you as you pass the joint, a glint in his eye. “You wanna make sure you’re not outta practice for your next lover?”
You purse your lips to hide your smile, to hide the jolt that shoots through your gut as Stan says that. “Who says I’m looking for one?” You ask.
Stan shrugs. “Figured someone like you’d be looking for a fine partner to get frisky with. With looks like yours, I’m honestly shocked that you haven’t been hitched yet.”
“Maybe I’m just waiting for him to make the right move.” You say, feeling bold. You reach for the joint and take a hit, you hold eye contact as you inhale. Stan’s eyebrow raises, the corners of his lips quirking up. You let the smoke escape past your lips, exhaling softly and slowly. You feel your head fog for a few seconds, the weed working its magic.
You hand the joint back to him, watching the way his fingers hold and flick it with a slightly awkward jerk of his thumb, ash falling from the tip. He doesn’t look away from you.
“What,” Stan relaxes then, his parted lips stretched into a grin. “all his other moves weren’t good enough for ya?”
You shrug, exaggerating it just a little bit. “Not sure if he likes me the same way yet,” That’s a lie. You’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re preoccupied with work, his eyes traveling up and down your body, as if he’s undressing you with his eyes. You think about how close he is, and how it isn’t far from his excuses to get near you like this when you’re together, hands lingering on your waist as he brushes past you, when he leans forward to get a better look at a new attraction you’re working on for his exhibits.
You’re no stranger to being close to Mr. Pines, The Man of Mystery. You want to see what else he’s got planned besides just smoking a joint.
Stan brings the joint to his lips, taking another drag as he sets the lighter on the arm of the couch. His arm rests across the back of it, much closer to your shoulders than they were when you sat down. His free hand reaches for you, bringing a hand to your jaw and pulling the both of you closer together.
“How’s this for a proper move then?”
It feels like stars are dancing across your skin–or maybe you’ve just been sitting wrong and need circulation in your body. Your lips are already parted for him, and his eyes glance down to them, a soft smile crossing his own.
“Relax, kid,” his gruff voice sounds even more rough now after hits with the joint. In your gaze following the smoke escaping his lips, his eyes lock with yours, the air feeling thicker now that your body heat is intermingling.
“I’m relaxed,” your throat feels tight, and your lips a little dry. You lick them, hoping to satiate the feeling. He leans in and exhales, and you inhale, the smoke hitting the back of your throat, and you try not to cough.
Stan chuckles at you as you chase his lips when he pulls away, which barely even touched when you shotgunned. They start to tingle.
His hand wanders up your thigh, pinching your calf under your shorts. The skin of his fingers make your own feel like it’s sparkling, and you feel your cheeks erupt with warmth as you feel him slowly exhale against your face. You inhale deeply to keep yourself from making any noise, which he surely finds amusing, responding to it with a small chuckle that furthers the arousal in your gut. Your hand snakes around his neck, the other settling on his shoulder, rubbing near his shoulder blades. You crawl into his lap, settling onto his thighs after you let him shift to make himself comfortable against the cushions. He brings the joint to your lips, and you part them to take another hit.
“Jeez kid,” Stan breathes, his gaze sultry, roaming around your body, to your lips wrapped around the joint. “You sure got some pretty lips.”
This weed has definitely hit you hard and good, because the shot of confidence it gives you is enough to give you the courage to blurt out, “Would be better if they were wrapped around your cock, don’t you think?”
Before you can even feel shame in what you just said, Stan grins, his teeth all on display, and the look in his eyes is dark and wanting . “You read my mind kid.”
Your hands slide down his chest, the fabric slightly raking against your fingertips. The metal of Stan’s belt feels nice and cool, and you savor it as you undo it, slowly sliding it out of the belt loops. You run your hand up from the seam of the pant’s crotch up Stan’s covered length, and you watch the man’s hips slightly roll up from the couch’s cushions.
He lets out a low gasp. “Kid you better get on with it, or I’m gonna cum right in my pants.”
Now what a pretty sight that would be. Fuck, you bite your lip, imagining him suddenly on the couch, hands behind his back as he squirms as you palm him.
You shoot a look down at his crotch, admiring the bulge in his pants. You fidget with the waistband of it and you can’t help but imagine what that would look like, Stan’s expression filled with embarrassment and arousal as he does so. “I’d honestly like to see that,” you whisper, as you unbuckle his belt and start to tug his pants down to his ankles, Stan briefly lifting himself off the couch to assist you. Your knees meet the wood of the patio floor, the brief concern of splinters lodging in your knees shooting across your thoughts, until you’re distracted by the way his cock bobs from the refinements of his underwear.
“Well?” Stan asks patiently, his tone seeming to attempt its sultry sound, and you look up to find Stan’s chest slowly rising up and down, his eyebrows knitted together. It’s not a command, it’s a beg.
You take him, starting with small licks to the tip, softly sucking, before slowly engulfing his length into your mouth, your tongue continuing to tease him as you go. Stan gasps with every stroke of your tongue against him. You look up at him through your lashes as you slip your mouth off of him and rest your tongue against him again, trailing up and down. The sight is adorable; his lips are parted, his cheeks flushed with pink that reaches his chest, expanding with deep breaths, his breath regulated as if he’s controlling himself; he most likely is. You’re driving him wild, and it hasn’t even been fifteen minutes since you’ve started blowing him.
A string of saliva follows your lips, the only thing connecting you to Stan’s cock before it breaks. He reaches forward to wipe the excess off your face and licks it off his thumb, and he cups your cheek. You look up at him. “I’m gonna fuck you,” you say.
His thumb startles on your cheek, but his only response is raised eyebrows, prompting you to continue.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” you repeat. “Right here, on this couch. I don’t care if someone sees us. I want to see how you fall apart under me.”
“Woah,” Stan whispers, you assume he doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud, and you smile at him.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good Stan,” you run a hand up his stomach as you stand to begin unbuttoning your shorts. Fingers hooking under the waistband, you slowly tease your shorts off your hips, gauging Stan’s reaction the whole time; which has his mouth open, ogling you.
You sway your hips a little as the waist band reveals your underwear, before slipping the legs off of you one by one. You step back into Stan’s space before kneeling again, running your hands up and down his thighs.
“You’re not gonna want to have anyone else touching your cock after I’m done with you.”
He grins around the joint between his lips, taking one last inhale before leaning to tap it out in the ashtray. The smoke lingers, curling around the space between you.
“C’mere,” he beckons you, and you stand back up, keeping yourself between his legs, resting one outside his hip as you lean forward. He breathes out the smoke when he takes your cheek and pulls you into a kiss.
You barely even try to inhale as the smoke escapes past your lips, Stan barely hiding a cough. It’s wet and maddening, Stan moving his tongue straight into your mouth, like he’s starved. You grind your clothed sex against his, and he breaks the kiss to moan against your cheek. You grin.
“Wanna be inside you,” Stan gasps. “C’mon pumpkin, I’m all wet and ready for you,”
Now that makes your sex twitch so hard it’s almost painful. Fuck, this guy is sexy.
“I’m not stopping you,” You say, and Stan’s hand begins to stroke you underneath your underwear. You start to feel a wet spot making itself known in the fabric.
“Fuck kid,” he gasps. “You’re so wet. Can’t wait to have you on my cock. Tell me about all the things you wanna do to me, baby.”
“Mm, I wanna suck you off…wanna eat you out, wanna ride your cock like no one else has,” you rub his shoulders as you list everything off, the weed making your lips loose.
“That’s…a lot,” Stan says, with a breathless chuckle. “You got a grocery list of things you wanna do to me?”
You open your eyes and look at him. “Too much for you?”
“No,” Stan says, matter of fact. “Just not sure if I can keep from coming doing all of that at the same time.”
You chuckle, leaning back in, teasing a kiss. “Well, there’s always next time.”
Stan raises an eyebrow, his gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips. “Oh?” he questions, a smirk playing on his lips. “Next time?”
“Mhm,” you say, becoming impatient at the lull of conversation. “You can undress me, you know,”
Stan lets out a pleased noise as he does so, his thumbs hooking under the waistband of your underwear, watching your sex the entire time as he slides the clothing off your hips. His thumbs take turns rubbing your hips as he slides them off your legs, keeping you balanced. His hands make their way to your waist, guiding you to grind against him. You spit into your hand and spread it across your hole.
Stan palms at your ass, kneading the skin. “Can’t wait to have you on my cock pumpkin, you’re gonna look so good, me filling you up,”
You bite your lip to prevent a moan from slipping out, and you reach for his cock to drag it against your hole. As you grind against him, Stan watches, his gaze focused on the way your hips sway, meeting your small thrusts with his own. His eyes travel over you in marvel, and he brings a hand to your chest to fondle your nipple, while he sucks on your neck. His tongue is wet and covers you in a healthy layer of spit, his teeth nipping at a sensitive spot, making your hips stutter in their movement. The vibration of his chuckle feels like it shoots straight down to your groin, and you let out a gasp.
“Touch me,” you whisper.
Stan hums. “I am touching you sweetheart,”
You grab his unoccupied hand and bring it to your sex. “Touch me more,” you say.
Stan gently starts rubbing his thumb against you, circling at your most sensitive spot, and you choke out a moan. His pace is slow, agonizing as he moves a few more fingers to stroke you properly, spreading your slickness around your sex. His eyes find yours again, his nose bumping against yours to signal another kiss. You oblige him, his tongue flicking against your mouth in time with his strokes, driving your hips to jerk.
“That’s it pumpkin,” he praises as you start gasping into his neck. “Hump my fingers like you’re desperate for it.”
“You’re so good to me, Stan,” you rasp out after nibbling on his neck, the only thing keeping you grounded in the moment. You gently swat his hands away from your sex, grabbing one of them to pop a finger in your mouth, tasting yourself. Stan moans at the sight.
“Leave some for me, why don’t’cha,” he quietly begs. You smile around his finger before removing it with a pop. As Stan licks you off his other finger, you reach for his cock, stroking it twice before moving yourself closer to rub against it. The two of you gasp at the sensation, and the effort it takes for you not to start ramming yourself against him is excruciating.
“Moses, kid,” Stan keens. “Just put it in already, you’re torturing me,”
You let out a chuckle. Obliging him, the head of his cock pops into you, and as soon as you start to sink down on him both of you sigh as you slump forward, Stan reaching behind you to cup your back. You wiggle your hips, feeling the head of his cock hit your walls, making you gasp into his lips.
“That’s it Stan,” you sigh. “Take what you need, yeah?”
Stan groans with your response, pushing himself up to slide deeper in you. When the head of his cock hits your peak you murmur, wiggling your hips again, and slowly sliding off him, creating a slow and agonizing pace that leaves you and Stan grasping at each other.
“Kid,” Stan gasps. “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna be able to take this– fuck ,”
You shake your head. “C’mon– mmn– just a little more, wanna– ah –wanna keep you in me for as long as I can…”
You pant out praises towards Stan and his cock as he hugs you closer to his chest, his hips against you creating lewd slapping noises as he begins to pick up the pace.
“Touch me Stan,” you cry. “Make me cum,”
All Stan gives you in reply is a whimper as he grabs hold of you again, stroking back at your sensitive spot to match with his pounding against your hole.
“Gonna cum,” Stan rasps. “Gonna– uh- ah -ah –!”
Stan jams his cock right back into your hole as he cums, and the feeling of him twitching inside you is enough to make you keel over, your vision erupting in colors as the warmth of your orgasm overtakes you. You grind yourself against him as your orgasm reaches its peak. Stan is crying out near your ear, and you stroke the back of his neck, gently scratching at his nape, soothing him, but giving yourself leverage as the two of you ride out your orgasm.
You suddenly recognize the spurt of juices releasing from you, and you catch sight of it diffusing against Stan’s chest. Stan seems to also feel it, leaning back just a bit to watch you come against him. His mouth hangs open in awe.
A few more ruts against each other and you’re both spent. You rest your arms on his shoulders, and Stan’s hands have now moved to your waist, sliding up and down your torso.
“Holy shit,” you gape. “Stan, oh, I’m so sorry–your shirt–”
Stan huffs, still recovering from his orgasm. His hands squeeze you, as he looks down again, as if he’s restraining himself from coming again. Your sex pulses again, making your hips jolt.
“ Hah –” you cry, and Stan kisses your cheek for comfort. You resume your pets against his nape, relishing the purr-like noises Stan makes.
“So good Stan,” you whisper into his skin. “Did so well for me,”
Stan’s fingers twitch against your skin again. “All for you babe,” he sighs.
“I am sorry about your shirt,” you apologize. Stan’s demeanor seems out of character when you feel him shrug against you.
“I’ll clean it out.”
You lean back, giving Stan an incredulous look. “What, your post-nut clarity is gonna ward you off from trying to snag a few bucks off of me?”
“You made me cum kid,” Stan chuckles with a smirk, head resting against the cushion of the couch, fingers still stroking your skin. “That’s enough of a payment for me.” He opens an eye to look at you.
“Maybe I can owe you another one,” you tell him. “Just to really make up for it.”
Stan grins at you, tugging you close as he sits up. “Oh yeah? You serious about there being a next time?”
You lean in, feeling the lingering warmth of him under your hands, his breath mixing with yours in the cool night air. “Shut up and kiss me, old man.”