Work Text:
The set had gone quiet a couple of hours ago. Only the hum of the generators seeped in from outside; everything else came from inside her trailer, a soft lo-fi playlist humming from her tiny speaker, warm and dreamy like a heartbeat under blankets.
Despite it being winter, the little space was heated just enough to make the air soft and slightly too warm, the kind of heat that clung to the skin and made everything feel closer.
Britt sat cross-legged on the small couch, dressed in a white ribbed tank top and loose grey sleep shorts, her hair was still damp from a too-quick hot shower. Clean skin, warm from the heater, wrapped in a blanket she didn’t strictly need but kept anyway. Exhaustion buzzed through her like static, not heavy, just steady and insistent.
A knock tapped against the door.
She lifted her head. “Yeah?”
“You decent?” Adam’s voice called, muffled through the metal door.
“Barely, but come in,” she said.
He cracked the door open, peeking in with caution that lasted all of two seconds before stepping inside and locking it with a quiet, automatic click —muscle memory between them by now. He kicked off his sneakers by the door without thinking, nudged them neatly aside, then peeled off his socks and left them tucked inside the shoes before crossing the tiny space toward her.
He still wore his favorite green hoodie and navy sweatpants, the night air clinging to him in a cool, metallic way, like set rigs cooling down and wind sneaking between trucks. His eyes were tired but warm, that familiar flicker he got when the day had wrung him out in just the right way.
“You?” she asked.
“Never,” he said with that lazy, crooked half-smile. He dropped onto the seat beside her, stretching his legs until his knee brushed hers. Her playlist shifted into a slower track, all bass and soft edges.
“You want some tea?” she asked, reaching for the unplugged kettle out of instinct.
He laughed softly, rubbing his thumb along his jaw. “Honestly? Not really. I’m too wired for something cozy and too tired for something stronger.”
“Fair enough,” she muttered.
Something crossed her mind, stopping her mid-motion. She grabbed an old Altoids tin from the side table, its metal dented and scratched, and snapped it open with a flick of her thumb.
Adam blinked, amused.
“Wow, an Altoids tin?” he said, eyebrows lifting. “Yeah, very on-brand for you.”
She frowned lightly, pulling out a slightly bent but perfectly rolled pre-roll.
“What does that even mean?” she asked, half-defensive, half-smiling.
He held up both hands in surrender, chuckling.
“Nothing. It’s just very you. Neat. Cute. Unexpectedly organized.”
She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
He nodded at the tin. “Peppermint-coded.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” she muttered, tapping the joint against the tin. “You’re unsuferable.”
“And impossible to get rid of,” he said, easy and smug, settling back with a grin. “Clearly.”
“It’s for creative recovery, okay,” she said, lifting her chin in mock authority. “No judgment.”
His mouth curved, warm and entertained. “Creative recovery, huh? And here I thought you were offering me chamomile.”
“Chamomile is step one,” she said. “This, is step two.”
He leaned back, eyes tracing the joint, then her mouth, then the deep, hazel shimmer of her eyes as they caught his.
“Then by all means,” he murmured, voice dropping just enough to tighten the air between them, “recover.”
She rolled the joint between her fingers, checking the tip, smoothing the bent edge with a drag of her thumb. The movement was slow, practiced, she didn’t rush anything that mattered to her. Adam watched her with that half-absorbed fascination he always had when she got focused on something small. Like he was trying not to stare and failing quietly.
“You mind?” she asked, though her tone made it clear she already knew the answer.
“Not even a little,” he said.
She leaned forward to grab her lighter from the small metal tray on the counter. He leaned back, eyes dragging from the joint to her mouth before lifting to hers, something flickering across his face, a quiet, unguarded pause, like he hadn’t meant to look at her that long but just couldn’t help it. The lighter flared, the flash of gold making the green in her eyes blaze for a moment, brighter than the flame itself, and she inhaled slowly, lips closing around the paper, cheeks hollowing as the ember glowed orange. Her exhale unfurled in a soft ribbon, curling through the warm air before fading.
She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the couch. Her shoulders softened; her breath deepened. A quiet sound slipped out of her, not a moan exactly, but not far from one. More like a sigh that had forgotten how to behave.
Adam swallowed. “Good?”
“Mm.” Her smile was slow, lazy. “Very.”
She took another slow drag and passed the joint to him, holding it out between two fingers. Not offering. Inviting.
He didn’t take it right away. He watched her first — the way her pupils opened a little wider, the faint pink rising along her neck, the way her crossed legs shifted with an uncharacteristically lazy ease, like her body had decided to relax before she did.
“You sure?” he asked softly, nodding at the joint.
“Go on,” she murmured, inching it closer to his hand. “Loosen up a little. I promise I’ll keep this between us, your kids don’t need to know daddy hits a joint after work.”
Adam froze for a beat.
The word daddy hit him low and hard, but something else tugged at him too. A hesitation. A quiet truth. He took a breath and let it out slowly, almost embarrassed.
“I, uh— haven’t done this in a long time,” he admitted. “Like… not since after the kids were born. Everything just got… different.”
Her expression softened. Hazy, yes, but sharply tuned to him.
“That’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be good at it. Just relax.”
A breathy, self-conscious laugh slipped out of him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling like she knew exactly what that admission had cost him. “Let me corrupt you a little.”
That did something to him.
He finally reached for the joint, fingers brushing hers. The touch was barely there, but her breath caught anyway. He noticed; his eyes dipped to her mouth, then pretended not to.
He brought the joint to his lips and took a tentative hit. A slow inhale. A steady exhale. A warm, surprised sound slipping out of him like the familiarity had landed deeper than expected.
“Wow,” he said after a moment. “You don’t play around.”
“I don’t,” she said, smirking, settling deeper into the cushions. “Not with the important stuff.”
The music had shifted, bass deeper, edges warmer. She sank into it, limbs going loose, movements slower and more fluid. Her smile was a little more open. Her gaze lingered a little too long wherever it landed.
Adam noticed all of it. Especially the way her mouth stayed parted after she exhaled, absent-mindedly inviting.
She leaned back again, head tilted lazily toward him.
“You’re staring,” she murmured.
“You’re imagining things.”
“No,” she said, voice a little lower now, a little hazier. “I’m not.”
He didn’t deny it this time.
The air felt warmer. Or maybe that was just her. Maybe it was both of them, sitting too close, breathing the same smoke.
“Britt,” he said, barely above a whisper.
She lifted the joint to her lips again, eyes locked on his. “Relax,” she teased, exhaling smoke and a smile. “We’re just recovering, remember?”
But the way she looked at him — heavy-lidded, slow, unmistakably turned on — told him a different story.
A story they both already felt unfolding between them, inch by inch, breath by breath, the moment he crossed the door.
Britt lifted the joint again, taking a final, slow inhale, long enough for the tip to glow a deep, steady red. She held the smoke in her lungs, eyes half-lidded as she pinched out the ember with two fingers and set the joint on the small metal tray beside them.
Her fingers lingered there a beat too long, like the warmth had followed her skin. When she turned back to him, the smoke was still coiled inside her mouth, softening her edges, painting her lips a deeper pink.
Her eyes had darkened, heavy with something that made the whole room feel warmer. Her pupils were blown wide, her mouth soft and parted. The blanket long forgotten where it fell.
Adam didn’t move toward her. He didn’t have to. The space between them was already collapsing.
Her knee brushed his again, intentional this time. Testing. Wanting.
Then she shifted closer.
And closer.
Until she was right in front of him, her breath held, her lips hovering above his.
“Open your mouth,” she whispered, voice silk-soft and smoky.
His breath caught. “Why?”
A slow, wicked curve tugged at her lips.
“I want to try something.”
He obeyed before he had time to think, mouth parting, chest rising, eyes locked on hers like she’d just reached inside him and rewired something vital.
She leaned in until their breath mingled, her lips barely a whisper from his.Then she let it out—slow, warm, intimate—her final drag exhaled straight into him. Smoke flowed from her mouth into his in one long, unbroken ribbon of heat. He inhaled instinctively, taking her breath into his lungs, her taste, her warmth, her intention, all of it hitting him at once.
The intimacy of it all felt indecent. Private. Like something only lovers should share.
When the last curl of smoke slipped into him, she didn’t pull far, just enough that his shaky exhale brushed her lips.
The air between them pulsed.
Whatever this was, there was no coming back now.
He was so fucked.
His cock hardened almost instantly, a sharp twitch against the fabric of his sweatpants that he couldn’t hide, not even for a second. It throbbed, straining, reacting purely, helplessly.
Her gaze dropped, and she saw it. Saw him pulse under the thin cotton. Her breath hitched.
He swallowed hard, jaw flexing, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe properly. She leaned back just enough that he could take her in, the lazy half-smile forming on her lips… and then, his eyes flicked lower.
Her nipples peaked under the thin, still damp fabric of her tank top, the outlines sharp and impossible not to see. The sight struck him hard enough to steal his breath. His cock twitched again, heavier this time, a reaction he couldn’t hide.
“Jesus, Britt…” he whispered, voice cracking open.
She followed his gaze downward, then looked back up, eyes slow and blown wide. She didn’t cover herself. Didn’t move. She just sat there, letting him look, letting him feel the way his body reacted to her.
“That got you worked up?” she asked softly, not teasing, not mocking, just breathless and a little stunned by the intensity of it.
He made a sound he couldn’t hold back, hips shifting once before he could stop them. His jaw tightened, eyes locked on hers.
“Not just that,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t feel it? When you blew the smoke into my mouth…”
She leaned in, slow and deliberate, noses brushing, her breath warming his lips.
“Tell me,” she whispered. “What did it do to you?”
His exhale came out shaky. He didn’t move this time, but the hard press of him against his sweatpants gave him away.
“It…” He swallowed. “It was like you kissed me without actually kissing me. I felt it... everywhere.”
Her teeth caught her bottom lip, her breath catching at how simply he said it — no games, no deflection, just truth.
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, feather-light.
Then she slid closer, lips ghosting over his ear before she bit his earlobe, soft at first, then firmer. He sucked in a sharp breath, body jerking under her, eyes slamming shut.
“That’s why you twitched?” she purred against his skin, the words ghosting over the spot she’d just bitten. “Because of that… or because of me?”
His breath broke, a sharp exhale he couldn’t hold in. His hand slid up her thigh, gripping gently but with no confusion about how badly he wanted her.
“Fuck, Britt,” he murmured, voice rough and honest, “because it was you. All you.”
Her breath caught again, a helpless sound, and she moved without thinking, swinging one leg over him, straddling his lap with a slow, unsteady exhale, settling right over the thick, hard line of him. The move pressed her heat down onto him through both their clothes and he groaned like it physically hurt him.
“Yeah,” she whispered, leaning in until her mouth hovered over his. “I felt it too.”
Her lips skimmed his barely there, barely anything, a whisper of contact that felt like a threat more than a kiss.
“God— you’re killing me,” he breathed, low and wrecked.
She didn’t retreat.
Her hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair as she guided—no, tilted—his head to the side, just enough to bare the line of his jaw to her.
Then she bit him.
Slow. Purposeful. A claiming drag of teeth that ripped a choked sound out of him. His breath stuttered hard; his thigh flexed under her.
She smiled against his skin.
Her fingers tightened slightly at his nape, tilting his head another fraction, exposing more of him.
She bit him again, right at the hinge of his jaw, sharper this time, and his hips jerked underneath her without permission.
“Mmm,” she murmured, lips brushing the spot she’d just marked. Her voice was a velvet taunt. “Killing you, huh?”
He sucked in a ragged gasp.
She delivered the third bite lower, right at his chin, a quick, filthy nip that made his breath break completely. Her hand held him where she wanted him, firm and easy, like she’d been waiting to do this.
Finally she pulled back enough to meet his eyes — dark, amused, hungry.
“Good,” she whispered, brushing her mouth against his, still refusing to give him a real kiss. “I love watching you fall apart.”
Her hips rolled once, slow and testing. The thick line of him dragged over her clit through the thin fabric of her shorts and the friction punched a low sound out of both of them.
“Fuck…” he choked, breath stuttering, both of his hands came up to her back, sliding under her tank top, palms warm and wide as he urged her closer without even meaning to. His fingers flexed there, a helpless, greedy encouragement that matched the way his hips twitched up to meet her.
She did it again, a little more pressure, a little less hesitation. Heat sparked low and sharp in her belly, her body humming in a way that made thinking feel optional.
“This,” she said quietly, fingers sliding into the hair at the back of his neck. “This feels nice.”
“Yeah?” he asked, softer now, breath catching.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Right here. Feeling how hard you are under me.”
His jaw flexed, hands moving down and settling on her thighs. “That’s definitely happening.”
She watched his face as she rolled her hips again, slow and deliberate. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second, then snapped back to her, dark and hungry.
“You wanna kiss me as bad as I want to kiss you?” she breathed.
He swallowed, thumb brushing the bare skin of her thigh. “Fuck yeah,” he said. “I really do.”
“Then kiss me,” she whispered.
He reached up, thumb brushing her temple, and she leaned into it instinctive, like her body had already decided. The last inch between them vanished.
Their mouths met, soft for barely a second before heat surged through both of them. Her fingers curled in his hair. His hand slid to her neck, holding her like he didn’t trust her to stay away.
She tasted like smoke and mint and something warm underneath. When his tongue brushed hers, she inhaled sharply against his mouth — the kind of sound that made him pull her closer without thinking.
She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, gentle but deliberate. His breath broke, a low, rough sound escaping before he could swallow it. She soothed the bite with another kiss, deeper this time, their mouths finding a rhythm that felt too natural, too easy.
His hand traced from her thigh to her hip, thumb brushing the edge of her shorts, holding her there, wanting more but not rushing it.
She broke the kiss only long enough to breathe against his jaw, her lips brushing his skin. “You feel too good,” she whispered, voice ragged.
“So do you,” he murmured, breath shaking against her cheek.
She nipped at his jaw, slow and teasing. “You’re making it really hard to pretend I’m not losing my mind over you.”
Her mouth drifted down his neck, finding the sensitive spot beneath his ear. When she lingered there, kissing and tasting, he inhaled hard through his nose, a sound he didn’t manage to swallow. She felt the jolt run through him and smirked against his skin.
“I’m really, really high,” she admitted, lips brushing his throat. “And so horny. I want you so bad it’s stupid.”
He laughed once, short and broken, hands gripping her thighs. “Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle right now.”
She rolled her hips again, just to prove his point, slick heat dragging slowly over him through both their clothes. His head tipped back a fraction.
“Fucking christ, Britt…”
Her fingers slipped under the hem of his hoodie, palms flattening over his T-shirt, feeling the heat radiating off him.
“Take this off,” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. He lifted his arms, letting her peel the hoodie over his head. When her hands returned, sliding beneath his shirt this time, his breath stuttered — muscles jumping under her touch like his whole body had been waiting for it.
“You’re burning up,” she sighed.
She kissed him again, deeper, her hips grinding down with more pressure, the friction turning rougher, wetter. The damp between her thighs soaked through her shorts, coating the thin cotton, and she could feel how hard he was, how solid and thick he felt beneath the soft give of his sweatpants.
His hands dragged up her back, fingers slipping under her tank top, palms finding bare skin. She shivered at the contact, goosebumps racing up her spine even though she was burning.
“Tell me if you want to slow down,” he managed, voice frayed at the edges.
She brushed her nose against his, lips grazing his mouth. “I don’t,” she whispered. “Not even a little.”
Her hips rolled again, harder, and whatever sound he made vanished straight into her mouth as she kissed him, her fingers dragging down his torso to the waist of his sweats. His hands slid higher beneath her shirt, palms gliding over the curve beneath her ribs.
He cupped her breasts through the thin fabric, thumbs grazing just under the peaks.
Her head dropped against his forehead, breath breaking. “Oh,” she whispered, voice thin and wrecked. “Okay. That’s—.”
“Sensitive, are we?” he breathed, mouth at her jaw. “I can feel how worked up you are. You’re practically shaking for it.”
A raw little sound slipped out of her, uncontrollable.
“Yeah, keep going,” she said, and it came out more like a plea than she meant.
His hands skimmed up again, this time dragging the tank top with them. She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the hem and tugged it over her head in one quick motion, tossing it aside.
For a moment, everything stopped.
Her skin was flushed and warm, breasts rising with each quick inhale, nipples tight in the soft trailer light.
His reaction was instant, brutal.
His cock jerked against her through the fabric, his breath punching out of him in a single ragged exhale. “Goddammit… you’re so beautiful.”
Her mouth parted, something hot and helpless flashing across her face at the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.
“Thought you’d like that,” she whispered, then kissed him, slow and sure, her bare chest pressing into him, every movement dragging heat between them.
His hands slid up her sides and cupped her fully now, thumbs circling, teasing, testing. She arched into his touch like he’d flipped a hidden switch, a choked sound catching in her throat, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Adam—”
He lowered his head, kissing between her breasts before his mouth found one, lips closing around the tight peak. The wet heat of his tongue flicked over her nipple, and her hips bucked sharply, grinding down on him in a helpless rhythm.
“Oh... fuck...”
He groaned into her, sucking a little harder, teeth scraping in a careful, claiming bite that sent a full-body shiver racing through her. Her fingers scrabbled in his hair, holding him there, chasing the pull of his mouth.
“Yeah, keep doing that,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. His mouth kept working her, hot and relentless, while his hands slid down to the dimples just above her ass, guiding her into a slow, grinding rhythm right where they both needed it.
Her fingers drifted lower, tracing the line of his stomach, feeling each muscle jump beneath her palm. Then, without hesitation, she slipped her hand under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, warm skin meeting heat.
His whole body jolted.
Her fingers wrapped around him in a slow, claiming grip, and a strangled sound tore from his chest as his hips thrust into her hand — pure reflex, pure want.
“Fuck…” he gasped. “You’re— Jesus, Britt.”
“Yeah,” she said, kissing his jaw as she stroked him again, slow but sure. “I want you just like this.”
He groaned, deep and raw, gripping her hips for balance as she worked him. She squeezed gently at the base, thumb brushing the slick tip, his breath broke in a helpless, shuddering exhale.
“That’s it,” she whispered. “Let me feel you.”
His head tipped back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut, thighs tensing under her as another broken sound climbed out of him.
He slid his hand into the back of her shorts, fingers squeezing the soft curve of her ass, then dipping lower, finding nothing but heat and slickness.
No panties. Of course.
“Fuck…” he groaned. “You’re soaking wet for me.”
Her breath shattered as his fingers slid through her, a slow, sure stroke that made her hips jerk.
“Yeah,” she managed, voice high and ruined. “That’s… that’s all you.”
They moved together in a messy, frantic rhythm, her hand working him, his fingers working her, the couch creaking beneath them as everything coiled tight — fast, hot, impossible to sustain.
The way they were tangled suddenly felt too tight. Too limited for everything breaking open under their skin.
He kissed her hard, breath breaking against her mouth. “Get up,” he panted. “I want to taste you.”
Heat snapped through her like a live wire.
She slid off his lap, legs shaky, and pushed her shorts down in one smooth motion, baring herself completely. He shoved his sweats and underwear off too, kicking them aside without looking. The warm trailer light hit the slick, wet shine between her thighs, and Adam’s breath punched out of him. “So fucking gorgeous.”
She climbed onto the couch, knees bracketing his torso. He guided her up with both hands, settling her over his mouth with a deliberate, hungry certainty.
“Right here,” he said, voice wrecked. “Sit on my face.”
She lowered herself onto him and the first stroke of his tongue made her whole body arc, a sharp, broken gasp ripping out of her.
“Oh my god—”
He groaned into her, vibration shooting through her, and gripped her hips to keep her steady as he licked her slow and deep, tasting the heat of her. She rocked over his mouth without even meaning to, fingers digging into the back of the couch.
“Oh—fuck—” she choked, thighs trembling around his head.
He pulled her down on him, tongue sliding lower, tasting her deeply before circling back up. And then, his nose brushed her clit by accident.
She whimpered, a raw, high, involuntary sound that snapped something loose inside both of them.
“Oh—oh my god—do that again—” she gasped, her hips jerking down, chasing the contact.
He obeyed instantly, angling his head so every slow lick dragged his nose right over her clit, bumping it with soft, devastating pressure. She cried out, thighs squeezing around his head, her whole body trembling as he kept doing it, messy and perfect.
Adam held her right where he wanted her and went in again, slow circles first, tiny flicks after, learning her the way a man learns a secret he never plans to let go of. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth, soft at first, then stronger, and her breath fell apart in pieces.
“Jesus—yes—yes—Adam—”
She tried to hold herself up. She failed.
Her thighs shook uncontrollably. Her hips rolled down like her body was making choices without her brain. Her hands slid into his hair, tugging when his tongue slipped lower, entering her, dragging a long, deliberate lick through her folds before circling back up with devastating precision.
“Oh my fucking god—” she gasped, voice breaking. “Adam, please—just—”
He didn’t tease. He didn’t pause.
He flattened his tongue and licked her in one long, slow stroke that made her knees buckle.
Her whole body pitched forward, hands slapping against the couch for balance. He gripped her hips, holding her steady, and dove back in—faster now, tongue and mouth working her with hungry, unrestrained focus.
She broke. Hard.
A sharp, helpless cry tore out of her as her orgasm slammed through her, liquid heat spilling over his mouth as she squirted against his tongue. Her thighs clamped around his head, her entire body trembling while he held her firm and kept licking, slow strokes that dragged every last aftershock out of her.
When she finally managed to lift herself enough to see him, his face was slick with her, completely ruined, lips swollen, pupils blown wide with nothing but hunger.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, letting out a shaky laugh. “Okay. Wow.”
His hands stroked her thighs—slow, reverent, like he couldn’t believe she’d just done that on him.
“Come here,” he rasped. “I’m not done with you.”
She crawled up his body, settling between his legs, his hot, hard, leaking cock press against her inner thigh. She grabbed his face and kissed him, tasting herself on his mouth, and wrapped her legs around him instinctively.
“I need you inside me now,” she whispered, voice soft but sure.
He groaned, forehead pressing to hers.
“Yeah. God, yeah.”
He lined himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through her wetness and she shuddered.
Then he pushed in. Slow. Deep. Inch by inch.
Her breath caught. His mouth fell open. Their bodies locked in a single, perfect moment.
“Adam,” she gasped.
“Britt…”
He buried himself inside her, fitting like something they’d both been aching for. She felt every part of it—the stretch, the heat, the way her body tightened around him in a helpless clutch.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed against her shoulder. “You’re so tight.”
Her nails dragged down his chest lightly, enough to make him shudder. “Harder,” she whispered. “Fuck me, harder.”
He did. He pulled out a few inches and slid back in deeper and she gasped, her legs tightening around his waist.
“Fuck—” It broke out of her, raw, needy, almost painfully.
“Mmhmm,” he grunted, breath catching. “I know.”
He kissed her as he thrust again. The couch creaked beneath them, too small for the way they moved, but neither cared. The tight space made it hotter, more desperate, more necessary.
She pulled him up, kissing him like something inside her had finally come loose—open-mouthed, breathless, wanting.
“Oh, god,” she moaned as he drove deeper.
“So fucking tight and perfect for me,” he groaned into her mouth. “I can barely… Goddamn…”
His hips stuttered, pleasure spiking. She let out a choked laugh into his neck.
“Don’t hold back,” she breathed.
He braced himself on his forearms underneath her, looking up at her, hair messy, lips kiss-swollen, eyes dark and blown wide with lust.
One hand slid up her torso to cup her jaw, guiding her down into a quick, breath-stealing kiss as he thrust up into her.
Deeper. Harder. Deliberate.
Each sharp, rising drive of his hips hit a place inside her that made sound tear out of her, raw, unplanned, impossible to swallow.
Her hands planted on his chest as she gasped, rocking down to meet every upward thrust he gave her.
He groaned at the sight of her riding him, at the way she tightened around him with every pulse of heat between them. Her hips found a desperate rhythm, chasing exactly where she needed him.
“Yes,” she gasped, tipping her head back. “Adam—yes— right there.”
He thrust up into her again, deeper this time.
Her hands grabbed his shoulders, fingers trembling. “Don’t—don’t stop—please don’t stop—”
He didn’t. He held her hips tight, guiding her into the same frantic pace her body begged for. Every thrust sent a sharp, helpless sound tumbling from her mouth.
Her thighs tightened around his waist; her breath came in broken little bursts. Her forehead dropped to his. “Oh, I’m so close...”
He thrust once again, precise, deliberate, hitting the sweet spot inside her that made her cry out.
Her whole body seized around him, pleasure ripping through her so hard she curled over him. Her orgasm hit fast and brutal, clamping down on him in tight, pulsing waves that dragged a groan out of his chest.
“That’s it,” he breathed into her neck. “Come for me, Britt. I want to feel you all over my cock.”
She shook through it, hips stuttering, nails dragging down his back as her orgasm tore through her in sharp, uncontrollable waves. He held her close, guiding her gently through the aftershocks, thrusting just enough to keep her riding the edge until she melted against him—boneless, trembling, breath catching on every exhale.
When her breathing finally settled—barely—she slumped against his chest, flushed and shaking, her forehead pressed to his shoulder.
His mouth brushed her ear, voice wrecked and low.
“Turn around for me, yeah?”
The command hit her deeper than he meant it to. She inhaled sharply and shifted immediately, scrambling forward on unsteady limbs until she was braced on her hands and knees, hair falling over one shoulder in a dark, messy curtain.
He steadied her with both hands, thumbs brushing over the dimples just above her ass before sliding down to cup her fully. He squeezed once, rough and hungry, then dipped his head and gave the curve of her ass a quick, sharp bite that made her jolt and gasp.
And before she could even breathe out his name, he pushed into her from behind in one slow, devastating slide that ripped a broken sound from both of them.
“Fuck... yeah, just like that—” she gasped, collapsing forward for a moment.
He thrust again, deeper this time, hips slapping against her ass in a building rhythm. Her moans spilled out uncontrolled, louder, utterly wrecked as he fucked her hard and deep.
“Right there,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not—,” he panted, fingers digging into her hips. “Not stopping.”
Her body rocked into his, back arching, breath breaking.
He slid one hand up her back, pressing lightly between her shoulders to arch her deeper. She nearly came right there.
“Holy shit—”
Her arms trembled, hips meeting his instinctively with each thrust. Electricity pulsed through her.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her upright, her back pressed to his chest, so full by him. She cried out, the new angle hitting her cervix, making her whole body jolt.
“God—Adam—”
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her neck, voice shaking as he thrust up into her.
Her hand flew between her legs, fingers circling her clit, and Adam groaned at the sight — at her touching herself while he stayed buried in her to the hilt.
“That’s it,” he panted. “Touch yourself for me.”
She did, messy, desperate, her whole body starting to tremble.
“I’m gonna—” she gasped.
“Yeah,” he breathed against her skin, thrusting faster. “Come for me again.”
She broke with a cry, orgasm hitting hard, her body shaking as he held her tight. Her walls clenched around him so intensely he choked on a groan.
“Fuck—”
He couldn’t hold back anymore. Not with her coming apart around him for the third time in a row.
He thrust a few more times — deep, helpless — before he sank all the way in, hips pressed flush to her ass, his whole body locking as his release tore out of him.
His breath broke against her shoulder, a low, broken sound he didn’t bother to hide.
They stayed like that, bodies fused, breaths tangled, riding out the last tremors together.
When the tension finally eased, he slid a hand over her stomach and exhaled shakily, forehead dropping to her back. Then, with a care that felt almost tender, he eased out of her. She shivered when he withdrew, his cum leaking warm and slow down the inside of her thighs.
“Jesus…” she whispered, dazed.
He steadied her hips, guiding her gently down onto the couch. She collapsed onto her back, chest rising fast, hair wild and damp around her face. He lowered himself beside her, immediately pulling her into him, legs tangling naturally, skin still humming with heat.
Her head settled on his chest, breath unsteady but softening.
“Are you…” he whispered, brushing her hair from her forehead, thumb lingering, “okay?”
A quiet, blissed-out laugh puffed against his skin. “I’m— yeah. I’m better than okay.”
He smiled, kissing her forehead slow and warm. “Good.”
Britt lay half on top of him, the blanket forgotten somewhere on the floor, her body still humming with aftershocks. Adam stretched beneath her, chest rising slow and steady, one arm wrapped around her like he wasn’t entirely sure he could move yet — and didn’t want to.
Her hand slid over his abandoned hoodie on the couch, curling into the soft fabric the same way she curled into him, like she wasn’t ready to let go of either.
“Stay,” she murmured against his chest, voice faint and warm.
He tightened his hold around her ribs. “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
The trailer settled into a soft, unreal quiet. Not the lonely kind from earlier — a warmer one, thick with shared breath and the faint, sweet smell of sex clinging to their skin. Outside, generators hummed like another universe far away.
Inside, it was just them.
She nuzzled her cheek into his sternum, fingertips tracing slow patterns along his ribs. His hand drifted up and down her spine, grounding, pulling her deeper into the warmth of the moment.
A blissed-out sigh escaped her.
He smiled into her hair. “That good, huh?”
“Good feels like an insult,” she mumbled. “I lost all bone structure. I’m a puddle. A happy puddle.”
He laughed quietly. “I’m pretty sure mine left my body somewhere around the moment you—”
He cut himself off, groaning, covering his face with one hand. “Nope. Never mind.”
She propped herself up just enough to see him, eyes glossy and amused. “What?”
He peeked through his fingers. “Nothing.”
“Adam.” One raised eyebrow. That tone.
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. It’s just… Jesus. I just meant… we didn’t really stop to think. Or, you know, do the whole ‘responsible adult’ checklist before I was inside you.”
Her laugh bubbled warm and shameless against his skin. “Yeah, well. That never stopped us before. Plus, that’s what happens when I’m high and you’re hard.”
He pointed weakly at her. “So you’re blaming me.”
“I’m blaming us,” she corrected, kissing his jaw in a slow, smug glide. “But yeah, mostly you.”
They rested like that for a moment, wrapped around each other in a silence that didn’t feel like silence at all, more like an echo of everything they’d just done.
Then she murmured, conspiratorial and soft, “You know what’s wild?”
He brushed his thumb along her hip. “Tell me.”
“I forgot how fucking good it is to have sex when you’re high” she murmured, kissing along his jaw. “Like—illegal levels of good.”
He laughed, helpless. “Yeah. I think I ascended. It’s like everything’s ten times hotter,” he muttered, still catching his breath.
“And ten times louder.” She hid her face in his throat. “I almost screamed your name.”
His hand slid down to cup her ass. “Almost?”
She gasped and slapped his chest. “Shut up.”
He kissed her wrist. “I’m shocked we didn’t wake everybody.”
She smirked. “Most people here have definitely fucked in a trailer.”
“I haven’t.”
“Well, you have now.”
His answer was a groan as he dragged onto him.
“Please don’t tell me what my face looked like.”
She opened her mouth to start anyway, and he slapped a hand over her lips. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
She licked his palm.
“Oh my god.”
She smiled into his skin, wicked and soft. “What? Too intimate?”
He moved his hand to her cheek, kissing her temple. “Everything you do right now is too intimate.”
“Good,” she whispered. “I like it.”
Their lips met again, slow, languid, the kind of kiss that felt like slipping deeper into warm water. Nothing frantic left in them. Just heat and comfort and something dangerous under the surface.
He pulled back slightly, noses brushing. “We should hydrate. Or actually sleep. Or pretend we’re responsible adults with a six a.m. call.”
“Nooo,” she whined softly, sliding closer until her hips brushed his, lazy and suggestive. “I’m not moving. And we both know we’re not sleeping anytime soon.”
He huffed a laugh, breath shaky. “Britt—”
She kissed the corner of his mouth, smiling against his skin.
“You know what, maybe I need another hit to recover,” she murmured. “Or to ride you again. Hard to tell.”
His breath stuttered, fingers tightening on her waist.
“Goddamn, woman. You’re dangerously insatiable.”
“What?” she whispered, amused and wicked. “We’ve got four hours to kill.”
He groaned and pulled her fully on top of him, arms locking around her like gravity.
“Yeah,” he breathed, voice low and wrecked. “We do.”
Warmth settled over them, the trailer wrapping them in soft heat and shadows. Their bodies stayed tangled, breaths falling into an easy, charged rhythm that felt like its own pulse.
They didn’t move. Didn’t plan to.
They hovered in the thick, sweet haze between afterglow and the bright, unmistakable promise of more.
And neither of them had any intention of spending those hours asleep.