sundown | for cable (nathan)

[ Her eyes linger on him while he considers what to say. The liquor has kicked in. She doesn't feel quite as self-conscious as a few moments ago. And he's very fit. She can see the muscle shift under his skin. ]

Smokey? [ A smirk plays on her lips, assuming the cat must be grey or black judging by its name.

Now her turn, she bites her lip as she thinks. Most people find the seven siblings to be shocking enough, but she'd already offered that factoid. ] My sister and I were born exactly a year apart. And I started playing piano when I was three.

[ The next batch of drinks hit the table. She gives a passing glance to the owner, then returns her gaze right back to him. ]

When did you retire?

Yeah. Was supposed to be a barn cat but he moved in. Cats.

[Cable shrugs, but he's obviously fond of him. He listens with interest, realising he glossed over the amount of siblings she has. He refrains from the reactions she's probably heard a million times, save for one:]

Bet you've never experienced silence the way you do now. [His lip quirks, offering a small smile.]

About fifteen years ago. Injured. [And he doesn't offer much more than that.]

Do you still play?

[ She nods. He doesn't offer and she doesn't push him to, figures it's none of her business. Though, she concludes the scars must be from there.

But - he was listening. That warms her. ] You have no idea. The silence is lovely. But, every so often, it can be just a little too quiet. [ Not often. She enjoys her family in spurts. ]

Whenever there is a piano available. I can't exactly fit one in my briefcase. Trust me, I've tried.

You have a barn?

Not in the traditional sense-- not for cows, I mean. But it's a big property and I grow stuff and make stuff so you get.. rodents.

[Which he suddenly realises is not something he wants to talk to a girl about when he would like her to come see it sometime.]

Keyboard doesn't really have the same feeling, right? Like going from steak to burgers.

[ just gonna ignore the rodents bit thx ]

Not really, no. [ Francesca is feeling very buzzed now. And equally warm and fuzzy.

And horny.

Her eyes fall to his hands, admiring them, perhaps too openly. ]

What do you make?

[It is obvious what she's looking at, even if he wasn't observant. He wonders what she thinks of when she looks at them. The imperfections? Or how they'd feel on her?

It's not like he hasn't been thinking about how soft her hands were. How soft other parts of her are.

He takes a drink.]

Woodworking, mostly. Furniture. I like to make stuff. Like to fix stuff too, cars. Stuff with motors.

[He feels terribly awkward because he doesn't want to brag, but adds:]

My truck was a hunk of shit when I got it. Nice to bring it back to life.

[ She often feels awkward and floundering in conversations so he's not alone.

They're skilled hands. Dangerous, too, something whispers. He's a soldier; she had her suspicions by the way he held himself, and something else inexplicable about him, and he had confirmed it. The thought ghosts up her spine.

She breaks out of her trance, just long enough to meet his eyes, those nerves from earlier tempered. ]

I'd like to see.

The truck?

[Oh? ..Ohh. He's not stupid, but he's a little stupid. But he gets there.]

Sure. How about I give you a ride home?

[He doesn't want to end this early, but he also doesn't want to sit around longer. Be nice to stretch their legs. Maybe he can sweet talk his way into a tea at her place. Or take her to get an ice cream. What do people her age like?

If she doesn't decline, he'll move to pay their tab.]

[ What do people her age like? Well, fucking usually.

She agrees to the plan and doesn't oppose him paying the tab. He's probably traditional. If the owner gives them a dubious look as they leave, Francesca pretends not to notice.

She was raised with four brothers, so she's appropriately impressed by how much he's fixed up the mass of metal sitting on the sidewalk. It does take hauling herself up with his help to get into the front seat. ]

It's nice out tonight. [ If he catches it, there's a suggestion baked in there. Maybe they should go on a detour.]

[Nate feels the eyed on him as he leaves with Francesca, feeling both the weight of scrutiny and smug. Because he's leaving with a beautiful woman, so he stays winning.

The truck is classic in make, but it's cleaned up well. The interior is sleek and comfortable and he's obviously quite happily installed various things on his dashboard to modernise it. This includes the bluetooth that picks up his classic rock playlist, so the soft sound of Street Cafe by Icehouse is what fills the silence.

There's a subtle tightening of his grip on the steering wheel at her suggestion. He has diligently been driving her home, but it's not a big town and he becomes aware that he actually doesn't want to come to a situation where they part ways for the night.]

I know a place.

[He says it softly, sparing a side glance toward her before looking back at the road. His hand resting on the gear stick shifts, brushing the backs of his fingers innocently over the side of her thigh. It should have been obvious, but at that moment he realises just how badly he wants to fuck her.

They pull down a secluded road, the scenery becoming less suburban and more like some sort of nature reserve. There are lampposts every so often, which makes him hope she doesn't think he's a serial killer when he pulls up alongside the lake.

He flicks his tongue over his bottom lip, thinking before he shifts closer without fully leaning in.]

Do you feel safe out here? With me?

[ The road bleeds on and on. She wasn't lying about the beauty. She doesn't think she would ever leave this place unless she had to. As they drive, she keeps the window halfway down, the air outside damp from the recent rain shower.

Francesca doesn't know exactly how far she wants this to go, only that she wants it to go. Until he parks and turns to her, and her mind is made up.

~~She's going to fuck this old man.~~

There is a charge in the air, a heaviness that insulates them in the truck cabin. One she knows, but has never before experienced. Not on her end. She's been in cars with men before, boys compared to him. But she'd never really wanted them to do more than politely kiss her and see her home.

Her voice is soft. She had spent almost the duration of the drive studying him, his profile. Her eyes linger on his mouth now. ]

Yes.

[ She moves closer still, closing more of the distance, and chances reaching for the hand lain closest to her. Running her fingertips over his knuckles, his hand massive under hers. She makes a little noise, imagining it between her legs, around her hip. ]

[Although it's plainly obvious that she wouldn't have suggested a diversion from the trip home if she wasn't comfortable, he needs the surety of it. Hearing it is music to his ears, but still not as pleasing as the noise she makes.

He's aware that the way he expresses his scepticism risks making him look insecure. He's not, really. Introverted and private, but he knows what he offers. He just wants to make sure she knows what she wants.

When it seems clear to him, there's no better time than now. He repositions, leaning toward her so he can graze the back of his free hand over her cheekbone. He makes a little noise too, a little, hoarse hum like he knows he's really about to enjoy this. He catches her lips, kissing her firmly without holding her in place.]

[ It's almost innocent, the first of many kisses. Her eyes flutter shut when his mouth seals over hers. Soft but there, she meets his energy, leaning some weight forward to press more into the kiss.

After a moment, she pulls back a fraction, a small smile perched on her mouth, smiling to herelf -- resolved -- before lifting her fingers to his jaw and replacing her mouth on his. Her tongue brushes against the seam of his lips. That innocence has gone. ]

[Nate's pulse quickens as his own eyes close. It feels like he's been aching to do this since he first laid eyes on her, and it's every bit as nice as he hoped.

He offers her a small smile when they part, a little surprised when she eagerly reaches out and initiates. His lips part easily, one hand slides around her waist and the other into her hair. His tongue pushes past her lips to dance with hers, but he likes the way she leads. He allows it.]

[ She tastes him thoroughly, whiskey-drenched, her tongue lapping at his. His palm radiates warmth through her shirt. Her own runs down the column of his neck, resting on the collar of his shirt, fingering the edge.

Again, she breaks the kiss, her lips damp from them. It's all simply to scoot forward, using his shoulders in order to crawl over and into his lap. ]

Okay?

[The kiss is heated, but still restrained for him. He tries not to let his thoughts run wild, even if he's already imagining her clenching around his cock. Already imagining how the sounds she'd make if she allows him to fuck her nice and proper. He's very sure she's never been with a man his age, so he's very sure she's never been serviced the way she should be.

He suddenly thinks he may not be too far ahead of himself, he blinks a moment. Processing that he has a lap full of her. His hands almost immediately rest on her hips, leaning up to press his lips to her jawline.]

Would you like a tour of the back?

[Cable reaches behind them, sliding open a partition between the front and back seat, fumbling his hand to flick a switch. There's soft lighting from panels revealing an interior that has been gutted and replaced with a small but perfectly comfortable and cozy looking bed.]

Ladies first. [Mostly because he wants to see her ass when she crawls in.]

[ That stubble-kiss earns him a shiver.

Would you like a tour of the back?

She hadn't even thought to look in the back. So much for being aware of her surroundings; her older brothers would be livid with her for that, but even more so for being out in the middle of nowhere with a man twice her age.

Francesca smiles, murmurs a soft affirmative, then makes her way out of his lap and into the back. She's pretty aware of where his gaze will be; she's wearing a skirt, so he'll get a nice look at her thighs through her tights as she crawls.

It makes it feel all too real, as she settles into the bed, resting on her knees and looking especially coy. ]

Do you invite every woman into the backseat of your truck?

[It takes enormous strength not to bury his face in the back of her stockinged thighs when she crawls ahead, but she remains blissfully unaware that she's climbing into the back of a pervert's car.

He lets the car idle, maybe she'll feel safer with the lights on, maybe the music is nice too.

Although he's broader (and old) he obviously manoeuvres himself through the gap often. He only grunts a little when he slides through and positions himself opposite her. It feels ridiculously like a teen movie to sit across from her like this, but he won't lie, it's nice.

He huffs out a laugh at the question, casting his eyes aside and rubbing his neck.]

No. Nope. You're the first. [He looks back up at her, taking in the view of her with a smile.]

Feel lucky?

[ She enjoys how the question flusters him for all of a moment. Followed by that smile, and butterflies kick up in her stomach, expanding up to her chest.

Voicelessly, she nods. She wouldn't lie that it pleases her to know this isn't a frequent thing for him; if it was, she doesn't know if it would matter, cheapen this. She's glad she doesn't have to find out.

It seals the deal for her. ]

It's nice. Romantic, one might say. [ Their knees are not quite touching. She draws herself closer to him so that they do, her cheeks flush, wanting his lips on her lips, on her neck again.

But she hesitates. Her fingers pick at her skirt. ]

I haven't... I've never...

Think that's the company. [To Cable, it's just his outside bed. He does like mood lighting and there is Journey playing softly in the background, so maybe she's right. But he's more interested in the way he feels when he looks at her and the way he aches to crowd over her.

Instead, he lies back as if he's submitting to her like a big dog. He notices the hesitation and he hears the nerves. At her words, he assumes she means in a car, outside or with an old man. Any combination. He beckons for her to come to him, his free hand stroking over her leg.]

We'll go slow. And if you want to stop, we'll stop.

[ She doesn't know what possesses her to be so bluntly honest with him, and if he will mind in the first place. It's not every day you lose your virginity to a complete stranger, in the back of his truck. As far as she knows.

It's not that she's been saving it deliberately, for some ambiguous special moment. If you asked her, it simply never felt right before; she was never interested or aroused enough to cross that line. And it was never a big deal to her, not like she remembered it to be with Daphne.

Still. His answer soothes her to the root.

Tenderly, she sidles up to him, to lay at his side on her stomach. Her kiss is one of gratitude, of unadulterated want. Her leg shifts to hook over one of his, brushing against his crotch without quite meaning to, but shuddering to discover he's half-hard. ]

[Nate gratefully accepts her onto his lap, helping to position her as she slots over him. When she shudders, he takes it to be eagerness and it firms him up even more. He's very taken with the idea that she'd like his cock so badly.

He kisses her back, matching her energy. Maybe even hungrier, catching her bottom lip with a soft bite. His hands run up the back of her thighs, hitching her skirt up as he does. He uses the hands on her backside to help ease her hips into a slow, grinding rhythm against his thigh. It brings mutual satisfaction, dragging her thigh up against his crotch for more friction.

He licks inside of her mouth, grumbling into the kiss so she knows he likes the feeling.]

[ He's wearing jeans, but the layer of her tights and underwear to pad the drag of her cunt over denim.

She's now firmly in unknown territory, but she has the steadiness of his hands to fall back on. At first unsure, she starts to grind against his thigh, friction adding to an already amped up energy, clit stimulated with every movement of her hips.

His pleasure encourages more wetness out of her, her mouth falling open with her own, letting him assume lead. Her fingers travel to feel the bulge of his cock, and she has to stop rocking against him and kissing him so she can duck her head down to see the outline it makes.

She sounds terribly innocent when she asks: ]

Can I see?

[Once she gets the measure of it, his hands slide up her sides to fit over her waist. He slides his hands under her sweater, cupping a breast over her bra.]

Mm. Good girl. [He murmurs into the kiss, barely hearing himself. He feels her hand on his cock and his hips shift, encouraging it. He arches a brow at the request, sitting up a little under it.]

If you want it, take it out.

[He suggests, mostly because he wants to watch her pretty fingers work open his pants and briefs to handle him. His eyes are dark when he watches her, now that it's certain they'll fuck he's starting to intently observe her. He can feel the warmth between her legs and wonders what she tastes like, how tight she grips.

He drops a curious hand down, slotting under her thighs and over his own so he can rub his fingerpads over her tights.]

You're already wet. [Not judgemental. Pleased.]

[ If she wants it. There is no if about it.

She's very wet, he's right to clock that. The observation is made with such pleasure, she presses herself into his fingers. If he touches firmly enough, he might eke some dampness onto his fingers.

In the meantime, she meets his challenge and shimmies up so that she may sit on his massive thighs. They're hard and muscular under her, and thankfully the truck interior is high enough her head doesn't touch the ceiling.

Denying her own ache, she gets to work: brushes her palm over his covered crotch again, before undoing his belt, then the button and zipper. Her long fingers tug his jeans apart. She's never so much as touched a cock before. His jerks when she eases her hand in, feeling shaky but hopefully not showing it. Her knees tighten at either side of his thighs as she pulls him free, his cock springing forward, majestic in itself.

Jesus. How is she supposed to take him? She doesn't have anything to compare him by, really, but her vibrator looks like a thimble right now. Francesca's intake of breath signals her concern, but her mouth is still watering nonetheless. ]

Show me how you like it?

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