Hostage Situation

by EphemeralFlames

Summary:

You've been kidnapped and tied up for questioning in Trevor Philips's hangar. Too bad for you that you're exactly his type.

(Trevor x AFAB Reader)

First smut I've written in uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 8 years, pls let me know how you like it ;o;

D e a d D o v e : D o N o t E a t

Chapter 1

(A/N: yeah I’m inexcusable. Don’t judge me. This fic is written as Trevor X AFAB woman.
I haven’t written smut in literal years; [orphan voice] please sir, may i have some reviews?)

(Content warning: Kidnapping, bodily harm, age gap, younger woman/older man, restraints, dubious/non consent, drugging, erotic asphyxiation, dom/sub themes, possessiveness, unprotected sex, and ~ r o u g h  s e x ~)

 

Pain. Darkness. Shuffling noises. That’s what you woke up to. Your neck felt strained. You lifted your head up, rolling your neck to get rid of the crick in it, the rest of your senses slowly coming back to you. You opened your eyes, but were met with light-flecked darkness. Panic bloomed through your chest as you realized you were blindfolded, and that panic only skyrocketed when you tried to move your hands to take the blindfold off, your limbs not cooperating as you were bound up with something at your wrists. 

“W-what the fuck?” You exclaimed, swinging your head around in a confused daze. In your mounting panic, you started to hyperventilate. 

“Calm down there, kid.” A gruff, rough male voice came from beside you, causing you to shriek in surprise. That elicited a dark chuckle from beside you again. “You’re here ‘cuz I wanna ask you some… friendly questions. You’re safe.” The voice assured you. You did not, in fact, feel assured.

“W-who are you? What the fuck? What the fuck is happening, dude,” You babbled, panic bubbling through your chest as if you were effervescent. 

“No one you need to know, doll. Now, are you gonna answer my questions nicely, or are you going to make me use more creative ways?” The man asked. You didn’t like that dark, sadistic emphasis on ‘creative’.

“Y-yeah, sure, whatever the fuck you want,” You said, words pouring from your mouth in panic, “I don’t know what you’d want with me though, I’m just a fuckin’ cashier, man, I don’t do crank or heroin or whatever else people do out here in the desert, I ain’t got n-” Your sentence was cut short by a rough hand clamped over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, I can’t think with your fuckin’ babbling,” The man sounded annoyed, and his grip was aggressive over your mouth. Your body stilled, only moving as you took shuddering breaths through your nose. His hand smelled like old motor oil and dirt. In fact the place (wherever you were) smelled like an old mechanic’s shop mixed with the scent of desert. “You gonna shut up for me?” He asked, his tone impatient.

You nodded sharply. His hand lifted off of your mouth and you kept your yapper firmly shut. 

“Good girl,” he chuckled, the sound dark and husky. You clenched your teeth, trying to ignore the odd bolt of arousal that coursed through you from those words paired with his actions. God damn, it was not convenient right now that you had interesting kinks. “Now, let’s start from the beginning. What’s your name?”

You reply instantly, throwing in your age for good measure. The man gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Alright. Where do you work?” He asked

“A-at the Yellow Jack Inn, I’m one of the bartenders,” You reply. Your breathing was starting to even out but the panic and terror in your chest was not going away.

“When’s the last time you saw your boss?”

“U-um, uh, three nights ago? Just for a few minutes. Randy brought our paychecks in,” You replied, getting more and more confused. What did he want to know about your boss? You voiced your question, but that was the wrong move. You felt a hand grab your hair roughly by the roots and wrench your head back roughly. You felt a hot breath ghost across your face, the sound of his breathing angry.

“I’m asking the fucking questions here, alright?!” He snarled in your face. His breath smelled like a disgusting mixture of cigarettes, beer, and ammonia. He smelt like a meth head. You were glad that his breath distracted you from the absolutely delicious sensation of your hair being pulled roughly. Previous lovers were always so scared to hurt you, but you loved it. You swallowed thickly, and nodded as much as you could manage. He gave your hair another tug, then let go. You breathed a small sigh of relief when you heard him back away a few paces.

“Your boss, Randy , fucked me over, to answer your stupid question,” The man growled. From the sound of his footsteps, he had started pacing rapidly. “And now he’s gonna fuckin’ rot in the sand out in the fuckin’ Senora when I’m through with him! Aaauuuughhhh!! ” The roar of frustration was punctuated by the sound of something metal being kicked and skidding across the floor. You flinched at the outburst.

“Where the fuck is he?” The man asked from in front of you, startling you. You stammered, terrified in the moment to have his angry attention back on you.

“I-I- D-d-don’t–” You couldn’t find your words. A large hand grabbed you by the neck and squeezed hard. Stars danced in your eyes for a moment. His grip was bruisingly tight, and you couldn't speak anymore. You made gurgling noises in the back of your throat as you tried to plead for your life. Red flushed your face, not just from the choking, but from the sudden intense arousal that lanced through you, straight to your core. You clenched your thighs together involuntarily. The hand disappeared after a few heartbeats, and you were left to cough and choke as you tried to recover your breath. 

“I really don’t fuckin’ like hurtin’ women, but I’ll make a goddamn exception. You have five seconds to start talkin’, sweetheart, before I rearrange your pretty face.” The man snarled, his rage palpable in the air. You whimpered pitifully, shrinking away from his anger. You found your voice, finally, and rasped out,

“H-he lives out in Grapeseed, he’s that white house on the big swoopin’ corner headin’ east outta town , I-I don’t, I don’t know if he’s home or, or, or what, but he’s usually home a-after seven pm,” You managed to stammer out, your voice cracking and breaking with terror. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, your face flushed, not only with fear but with arousal. You knew you had some pretty dark kinks, but this was really exploring new territory within yourself.

The room you were in was still. You heard the crunch of sand over concrete as the man who held you captive stepped closer. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him, he was so close beside you. 

“Was that so hard, princess?” His voice was uncomfortably low and close to your ear. You could feel facial hair tickling your earlobe as he spoke. You gasped lightly, the sound almost a light moan, and suppressed a shudder.

You shook your head minutely at his question. His breath ghosted over your skin once, twice more, before you heard him walk away a few steps.

“I’ll be back.” And then the roar of a vehicle’s engine coming to life, then he was gone.

It must have been hours. Your arms were numb. Your ass was numb. Your mind was numb. The blindfold was itchy on your nose. You perked up as you heard the telltale rumbling of a vehicle pulling back in. Your anticipation didn’t last long as you heard footsteps coming back towards you. 

“Well, look at who sat so pretty for me while I went out and did some errands,” The man’s voice purred out once more. His words and dark tone sent a bolt of arousal through you, warming your nethers immediately. You jolted slightly when you felt his calloused hand push up under your chin, but his grip was strong as he tilted your face up. Your cheeks flushed at the contact. “Your boss was there at seven pm on the dot, just like you said. Truthful, pretty ladies should be rewarded, yes?” His voice was dark and lustful. 

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. “I-I-I-” You tried to stammer out a sentence but it caught in your throat. He placed a finger over your lips, shushing you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that little moan earlier. You like this, don’t you, you kinky little whore?” His tone was utterly dripping with lust.

Your face burned red, with arousal and shame and embarrassment. You…didn’t have anything to lose by telling him. You nodded ever so slightly, biting your lip. You gasped as his hand caressed your jawline and neck, his fingers snaking around your thin neck. 

“What a freaky woman you are,” he said, almost contemplatively. His grip on your neck tightened, squeezing a tiny moan from you, the heady feeling of being choked flooding your senses. “You look so beautiful, so helpless.” 

You drew in a sharp breath as he released his grip. Footsteps circled you slowly as he appraised you, like a wolf circling its prey. There was silence for a moment. Then, the unmistakable sound of a knife being drawn. You froze as you felt cold, biting steel at your neck. 

He traced a line down your skin, not quite cutting, but enough to feel the bite of the metal edge. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. He grasped the front of your shirt, pulling it off of your body, and sliced it open with the knife. The fabric fell away from your chest, your tits spilling forth, you never wore bras. You let out a frail, terrified, and aroused whimper.

“Goddamn, I got lucky,” The man whistled, before a large rough hand palmed your right breast. The sudden contact caused you to gasp, your face feeling like it was on fire with a blush. The man chuckled, a low, dark sound. “Oh, you like that, huh?” He asked, gripping your boob a little too tightly. He rolled his hand to grasp your nipple between his fingers and pinched roughly.

“Ow, fuck,” You hissed, flinching, sure that you would have a hand shaped bruise on your tit in the morning. That elicited another chuckle from the man. 

“Your noises of pain are just so delicious , I wanna eat you right up ,” His voice suddenly came from beside your left ear, thick with want . You made a small sound of panic deep in your throat and flinched away, rocking the chair you were sitting on precariously. Another chuckle. “Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crooned in your ear, leaving goosebumps to trail down your neck, “You’ll be safe with Uncle T.”

You could only sit there, bound and frozen, as you heard the jingle of a belt buckle being undone, the quick zip of his pants being shucked off eagerly. 

You flinched, all of a sudden a hand grabbed your hair and held your head steady, a turgid and hot length of flesh slapping against the side of your face. A heady, thick, masculine musk surrounded it. You nearly gagged; it was obvious he hadn’t showered in a few days. But honestly, by no means was it the dirtiest dick you’d ever smelt. He slapped it against your cheek again.

“Open your mouth.” You obeyed immediately when he gave the command, bringing a chuckle from deep in his chest. “Ooh, so obedient. I think I’ll have to keep you,” He said before unceremoniously shoving his cock inside of your mouth, half his length already down your throat. He let out a guttural moan as you choked on the sudden intrusion. Your jaw stretched wide as he immediately started to thrust into your gullet, his member thicker than any you’d dealt with before. His length (as far as you could tell from being blindfolded, you couldn’t see how much was still out of your mouth) wasn’t the longest, but he was thick . 

You sealed your lips over his manhood and swirled your tongue as he thrust, moans spilling from his lips as you did so. The noises he made sent bolts of arousal to your core, your pussy wettening by the second. The hand on the back of your head felt more embracing than forceful as he pounded your face. 

“ Hoooooly fuck, sugar,” He panted, pausing his thrusts for a moment to catch his breath. You coughed and hacked and dragged in ragged breaths as you also recovered your breath from his rough facefucking. 

“You could strip the chrome off a trailer hitch,” he said, pure wonder in his tone. That’s all the warning you got before his hand was forcing your head forwards again onto his cock. He eased it down your throat until your nose was nestled right up against his stomach, his wiry pubes tickling your nostrils. He held you there, even as you started to struggle, your oxygen supplies dwindling by the second. He thrust gently down your throat, his cock pulsing and twitching in your gullet. 

“What a good girl, choking on Uncle T’s cock,” He crooned as you gagged and choked, struggling to get away from his steel grip. Every second that passed by sent wave after wave of arousal and desire coursing through you. You must have wet through your panties already from how much this was turning you on. Just as your struggles were starting to fade and weaken, he let you up for air, withdrawing his cock from your mouth. He slapped it against your cheek gently, leaving a wet imprint on your face. You gasped and coughed for what seemed like forever as you recovered from his rough treatment.

“You’re so quiet, sweetheart. Let’s change that.” You didn’t have time to react as he picked you up off of the chair you had been in. After about half a minute of him carrying you, you were dumped unceremoniously on a soft but dusty surface, presumably a bed. You coughed and sneezed as the dust settled. The man, whose name you guessed started with a T, clambered onto the bed, hands immediately all over your waist. He peeled the jeans you were wearing off, pausing for a moment,

“Oh, look,” T said, his tone excited yet patronizing, "You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, princess. Fuck, I want to keep you,” He caressed your sex over the panties, dragging another gasp from you. Thumbs hitched into the sides of your panties, and he pulled them off of you. What you didn’t see was him stuffing them into his pocket for later. You were laid back on the bed, arms still bound together at the wrists, naked from the waist down with a ripped open shirt, still wearing the blindfold. “God, sweetheart, you’re beautiful.” He murmured, positioning himself between your legs. 

You expected him to immediately go for penetration, but you were proven wrong with a sharp gasp and moan as his hot mouth crashed down on your pussy, his tongue expertly digging through your folds to find your clit. You devolved quickly into begging moans and sharp cries of ecstasy as T ate you out better than you had ever had before. His fingers thrust into you, curling deliciously into your most sensitive spots. Your pussy wept arousal, your legs at some point having been thrown around his broad shoulders, caging him in. The reality of the whole situation, how aroused you were, everything, came crashing down on you as you reached your climax, a high pitched keening moan ripping from your throat, your back arching off of the dusty bed. T rode out your orgasm with you, still happily licking and sucking away at your clit, fingers working away. 

In the aftershocks, your body relaxed, your breath coming in ragged gasps. T gave you one last kiss on your sensitive button before shuffling up, grabbing your legs and pelvis and guiding them up onto his thighs. You barely registered through the daze of orgasm that he was lining himself up with your velvety soft folds. Slowly, almost torturously so, T leaned forwards, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your wet entrance. You were tight, almost unreasonably so, and with his thick member pressing up against your entrance, you had doubts for a split second whether or not it would fit inside.Tiny grunts of discomfort escaped your throat. 

“Shhh, princess, you’re fine, it’ll be fine,” T whispered sweet reassurances to you as he pressed his hips forwards. Your doubts, as well as most logical thought, were erased as all of a sudden, his cock slipped past your entrance, sliding inside. You and T moaned simultaneously as your delicious heat finally surrounded his cock.

 

“Goddamn it beautiful, you’re tight,” He grunted, canting his hips ever so slightly downwards to thrust into you further. You swear you saw stars as his cock nestled fully inside of you, the broad head of it just barely resting up against your cervix. What T lacked in length he more than made up for in thickness, and you swore you were about to split in half. He rests for a few moments, letting you get used to his size inside of your wet, tight canal.

T went gently at first, thrusting in and out of you slowly, languidly. He was taking his time feeling every part of your velvety insides. You bite your lip, little squeaks and moans escaping as his cock dragged against a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. Your mind was yelling that this was wrong, but your body was screaming ‘fuck me harder, daddy’.

“What did I just hear you whisper, doll?” He purred in question, his grip on your waist tightening, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. “‘Fuck me harder, daddy?’ Oh, oh oho ho , FUCK , you are playing with fire, princess,” He growled, tugging your hips up and tilting them ever so slightly, your pelvises lining up again, his thrusts going even deeper. You let out a breathy moan as he buried himself in your guts, shoving harder into you. You didn’t realize that you had said that out loud, and your face lit up, bright cherry red with embarrassment. You really didn't have much time to be embarrassed, however, because all logical thought left you as T shifted his leg positioning and started to piston himself inside of you at an animalistic, frenzied pace. 

Your mind was gone, lost to the white hot tide of pleasure, babbling moans spilling from your lips as you begged him harder, fuck me harder, oh god please don’t stop, all rational thought gone from your pretty little noggin. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, princess, you won’t walk straight for a week after I’m done with you,” His voice growled in your ear. 

You don’t know how long T rut into you, pistoning his hips with unerring energy, but you soon lost count of how many times you came, or if it was all one long orgasm anyhow. He kept showering you with praises each time you reached your peak, his crooning yet gravely voice just inches from your ear. His rough hands grabbed and pinched at your nipples, grasped at every curve, swatted at your asscheeks, and tugged on your hair, your cries of ecstasy rang through the hangar. Through the haze of pleasure, you could tell he was getting close, his rhythm was starting to falter and you could practically feel every time his cock pulsed and twitched inside you.

You could pinpoint the exact moment he came, his thrusts shortening before ceasing completely as he thrust his cock as deep into your pussy as he could manage. Then he let out an unholy, high-pitched noise from deep in his throat, one you really had no idea how to describe other than ‘ dying pterosaur? ’ His hips twitched against yours as he emptied himself inside of you, both of your ragged breathing echoing through the hangar. 

“Holy sweet fuckin’ lord above, you’re such a good fuck,” T groaned out. His cock was rapidly softening, slipping out of you, followed by a deluge of his cum, leaking down your legs. Your face burned, realizing with a pool of dread in your gut that he hadn’t worn protection. You pushed the thought from your mind, that was a Plan B pill problem. 

“You gonna say anything, princess?” He asked, manhandling you down onto the bed to press against his chest, spooning you. You tried to shift and get as comfortable as possible considering your arms were still bound in front of you and you couldn’t see jack shit. T’s voice, dark and husky, was in your ear again, facial hair tickling your earlobe. “I heard all them noises you made, I heard all that begging. You loved that, didn’t you, you dirty girl?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, face burning with shame. “Y-yes…” You whispered, guilt and shame and embarrassment absolutely drowning you. T chuckled, an almost threatening sound.

“Oh, I wish I could keep you…” He murmured, then pressed a kiss to the spot right behind your ear. A faint shiver ran down your spine. You felt him shift on the bed for a moment, the sound of liquid being spilled? You opened your mouth to inquire but got a wet rag to the face, some sort of chemical filling your airway immediately. You started to struggle, but he kept the rag sealed to your face, shushing you. The last thing you heard was his voice, sounding so far away,

“Shh, sweetheart, go to sleep. Uncle T will take care of you.”

 

(A/N: Lemme know if y’all want a part two. :3)

Chapter 2

Summary:

You move to Paleto Bay and try to escape the nagging feeling of being watched.

(A/N: AAAAAAAAA thank you all so much for checking out this fic!! I just. Couldn't leave it alone. Thank you everyone who left kudos!! Specific thanks to my best buddy DebonairDenizen for reading the first chapter against his will. :D go check out his Fallout 4 fic if you like that fandom! and also thank you to theangelmaker, alaxya, winchexter, and rawttenheart for commenting!! <3 Have more fuel, fellow degenerates! Also, if any of you are interested in either beta reading for me, or forming a discord channel for my trevor fanfics, let me knowww :3 Please tell me what you enjoyed!! Your words are my inspiration!) 

 

Consciousness trickled back to you slowly. At first you felt dizzy, confused, and nauseated, like you were going to puke. Your vision faded back in, your ears ringing and hearing muffled. You blink a few times, clearing your blurred vision. You were sitting in the driver's seat of your car, outside your workplace, the Yellow Jacket Inn. Early morning rays pierced the horizon. Sunrise. 

Your body groans in protest as you sit up from your previous slumped over position. Everything ached, especially– 

Your body stills, your hand halfway reaching for your key in the ignition. Everything ached. Your face flushed red. So you hadn’t fallen asleep in your car and had a fucked up yet wonderful dream. You glance down and see that you have a strange shirt on; it's a pink tank top with the word “PUSSYCAT” emblazoned across it. It was loose fit, as if it belonged to someone broader than you. Of course, he had cut open your shirt. 

Your mind's gears were grinding trying to process the assault of information. Instead, you took a nice deep breath, let it out slowly, then buckled up. You turned the ignition on your clapped out Vapid Blade, the engine spluttering and rumbling to life. You shifted gears and got the fuck out of the parking lot. 

 

 

 

When you got home in Harmony, you all but ran into your apartment, slamming the door and locking it. You even moved one of your desks in front of it to further bar anyone from the apartment. The only other entrance was the windows but you were on the second floor. Hopefully deterrent enough. 

You shucked every piece of clothing you had on, noticing that your panties were suspiciously absent and the crotch of your pants were smeared with… with…..

Another bolt of panic. He came inside of you without protection. Your pussy throbbed at the thought of that. Jesus Christ you were fucked up if that turned you on. You turn to your medicine cabinet and rifle through it. You let out a curse; you didn't have any plan B. You suddenly remember handing it off to your friend Mandy a couple months back. You swear again, more vehemently this time. You'll have to go out and get one. 

Ignoring that, you hopped into the shower, turning the water scalding hot to burn away the sin still clinging to your skin. But unfortunately, that is not how it works. As you kept washing yourself, your mind drifted to his strong, calloused hands grabbing everywhere on you. His marks were everywhere; hand print shaped bruises on your thighs and ass. A deep purple one stretched across your left hip from his grasp, a palm shaped bruise on your right breast. 

You found your fingers inching their way to your clit, caressing the sensitive nub, pretending that it was him pressing his fingers onto your arousal so gently. Your eyes slid shut, falling back into the situation in your mind. You caressed your silken folds, teasing your most sensitive area.

“Nnnh…. Oh God, T ….” You whispered into the hiss of the shower, wondering, wishing you knew who he was. You'd never fucking leave him alone if you did, not with that cock and sex drive.  You came with a shudder when you felt a glob of his seed leak out of you, the mediocre orgasm leaving you wanting more, wishing you had his cock back inside of you. Holy shit, you were fucked up if you were actively lusting after a guy who kidnapped and sexually assaulted you last night .

You finished showering, rinsing off and bundling yourself into a soft and cozy towel. You went through your normal after shower routine, your brain craving some sort of normality after the loop you were just sent through.

On one hand, this mystery guy “T” raped you. Plain and simple, he did not acquire actual consent, and if he did it would more likely than not have been gotten under threat. On the other hand, you were intensely into everything he did to you and he inadvertently fulfilled quite a few articles on your Fucket list. He was the best lay you'd ever had in your entire life. True to his word, “T” indeed made you walk funny today, and you probably would for a while. Why was it always the fucked up ones with the best dick? Your head was still reeling as you went about your routine, trying to gain some sense of normalcy.

 

As you sort of expected given what happened, your boss, Randy, went missing. In the following week, ownership of the inn passed on, you quit your job at the Yellow Jack ASAP, and you planned your exodus from Harmony. You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched there. Or really, anywhere you went. With your meager funds scraped together, you packed your bags and moved out as soon as you found a somewhat affordable place. 

You ended up in a mediocre apartment in a town called Paleto Bay, near the state forest. In all actuality you liked this place better; the woods and the more laid back, hippie-type atmosphere suited you better than Sandy Shores and Grapeseed's redneck hell aesthetic. 

You got a job at the local 24/7 convenience store, which paid okay, and had decent hours. Supplementing income with random odd side jobs made it almost comfortable to live in Paleto Bay. You were also an hour closer to your parents as well, so that was also pretty great.

You met a few oddball customers at the 24/7, including one particularly rough-looking, oddly familiar man that would come in once every week on Saturdays for a pack of Redwoods and whatever other junk he picked up. He was strange, never talking, just nodding and sometimes smiling that oddly creepy yet charismatic grin. His body language screamed wound-up predator . He would stare at you over the counter as you rang up his items, his deep honey-auburn stare boring into you. You'd stare back nervously, occasionally glancing at his many tattoos, his scruffy facial hair that changed by the week, his motor oil smeared hands, his taut muscles corded just below the surface of his sun-weathered skin. He was a hot kind of crazy looking mess. 

You shouldn't be thinking these thoughts about men who could be your father's age, carried themselves like they were about to kill, and smelt like the wrong kind of barn, dirt, and oil. He'd grab the cigarettes from your hand, always touching your flesh in some way, slap down way too much money in cash on the counter, the rumpled bills almost always filthy, then walk out without a word. You always cashed it out to the correct change and pocket the rest; you were hurting for the cash and he didn't seem to care to get his change. Something about him touching you always sent your heartbeat racing.

The smell of him wouldn't leave the store for a few minutes after he left. Something in your primal brain said the smell was familiar, but you dismissed that entirely. Your dad halfways raised you in a heavy equipment shop, you were used to the smells he carried.

Even after weeks of routine and working, you still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched in public. The tiny pestering feeling in the back of your head, your sixth sense maybe, was on high alert any time you left your apartment. Sometimes even in your apartment. You took up the habit of pushing furniture in front of your doors at night and sleeping with the handgun your father had given you when you turned 18.

Looking over your shoulder constantly, checking your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray, handgun, and cellphone, telling friends where you would be and when just so if you went missing again, someone would know… you couldn't keep T out of your head. His words and actions haunted you wherever you went, whenever you touched yourself it was his hands you imagined. You were both terrified and anticipatory of another kidnapping, wondering if he was the presence you felt watching or if you were just going insane after the whole ordeal.

The only place you didn't feel watched was out in the woods. You loved hiking and camping, so one day, you decided to go on a day trip out into the forest to look at the native flora and fauna, take some pictures, maybe sling your hammock up and take a nap. So that's exactly what you did. Your first trip on Saturday goes so well, you take yourself off the schedule for every Saturday and go hiking each week instead. Your mental health definitely took a better turn since you started taking time for your hobbies again. 

 

Trevor couldn't believe it. You didn't recognize him at all . The morning he deposited you into your car, knocked unconscious with chloroform, he waited in a nearby car, watching you wake and then speed off. He followed you to your apartment, following every action you did, every time you left your apartment. He was obsessed. You were such a surprise, such a perfect little slut for him, and he wanted to keep you to himself so, so badly. He had to bide his time though, he couldn’t just kidnap you again, no no. Trevor had to make you want him, which in all actuality, he thought that was fairly attainable, considering the delicious noises you made when he pounded the fucking daylights out of your pussy. So when you moved, he followed. 

He had been visiting Paleto fucking Bay every Saturday at 4 on the dot, watching you stroll casually into the 24/7 store past his truck, none the wiser that he was actively stalking you. Sometimes he would be palming his half-erect cock through his dirty jeans, leering at your curves and exposed skin if you decided it was too warm for jeans and switched to shorts. He’d go in, lurking through the aisles, taking every opportunity to observe you in your blissful ignorance. 

Trevor would always go around the store a couple times, prowling like a predator, before approaching the counter, gesturing to the Redwoods. You'd always greet him politely, in an awkward way, like you didn’t quite know how to interact with him. He ached to take you again, to make you his, to keep you forever . He wanted to grab you and drag you over the counter and run away. But Trevor waited. He bade his time. There would be an opportunity, he was sure of it. 

As you’d hand him his cigarettes, he would take them directly from your hand, the barest of touches to your skin sending lightning through Trevor. His thoughts were dark and possessive as he reigned his inner demons in, slapping down who knows how much money on the counter, then stalking out before he lost his control. He wanted so badly to pin you up against a shelving unit and fuck you senseless again on the spot. 

Every week he’d do this, every week he would think the most deranged, depraved, disgusting things he wanted to do to you as you innocently greeted him and handed him his cigarettes in a secret, taboo ritual of Trevor’s own creation. One the other party had no idea about. Something tiny in the back of Trevor's head said this was wrong, but he got good at ignoring that voice decades ago. Besides, he did may more deplorable things on the daily than light stalking of a gorgeous young woman. Like what he did to you in the hangar. 

You weren't at the store the last two Saturdays, which both irritated and perplexed Trevor. He drove around town for a while the second weekend, finally finding your Declasse Blade parked at the park'n'ride that also served as the trail head for the Paleto state forest. Trevor grinned. How perfect for him that you liked to hike. He parked in the furthest parking space in the lot, coincidentally riiiiiiiight beside your car, and settled down to wait for you to emerge from the trailhead. 

Trevor must have fallen asleep at some point because he awoke to the sun setting and your car gone. He swore aloud, expletives flowing from his mouth as he cranked the ignition, his truck roaring to life and speeding off down the freeway. Killing some bikers would make for good stress relief.

 

The next Friday, Trevor stopped in at the store a bit later in the day than usual. There you were, looking boredly into middle nowhere as you tended the cash register. He did his normal laps through the store, grabbing a case of Pißwasser and some chips before taking them to the counter. His eyes were welded to your figure; you had noticed him come in and were already in the middle of grabbing his preferred smokes. Something dark lurched deep in his stomach, something possessive that was utterly delighted that she knew and remembered his preference. 

“Um, hello,” you greet Trevor as you turn around and pass his Redwoods to him. Again, he curls his fingers up to touch the inside of your wrist as he takes the cigarettes. He smiles at you, an oddly charismatic yet slightly unhinged expression. You notice that he has dimples. It’s oddly charming. 

“Um, can I ask you a question?” You ask suddenly, your courage spilling out of your mouth. Trevor cocks an eyebrow and gestures a hand for her to go on. He didn't want to speak; that was one of the things you'd recognize him from. 

“Are you mute?” You tilt your head to the side, your eyes meeting his stare, unabashed for once. You had self medicated with a bit of Mary Jane before your shift and had a bit looser inhibitions. That was a good cover and Trevor couldn't have orchestrated it better himself. He nodded, lifting his thumb up in a positive affirmation. You hummed, “Oh. Okay. I thought maybe you didn’t like me or something, since you never responded to anything I said.” You resumed ringing up his items, mind now at ease. 

Trevor grinned, paid for his items. He reached out and gave the top of your head two solid pats, ruffling your hair and messing it up. He grabbed his stuff and waltzed away as you spluttered, trying to fix your hair in vain. Dickhead.

 

The next day, you woke bright and early to get ready for your weekly camping trip. This time, you were going to be camping overnight into Sunday, something you hadn’t done in a while. You were going to camp near that old RV you found out in the woods, obvious signs of other people doing the same around the area. You hoped whomever owned the RV didn’t mind you camping near it. Little did you know that was Cletus’s camper…who incidentally lent it out to Trevor rather often.

You set out on the trail a little after one in the afternoon, aiming to get to your intended campsite around four. You think that’s about how long it took you to hike the trail to that RV. Your hike was quiet and peaceful, you saw a couple rabbits and a deer, even snapping a photo of the latter. You were having a good day, for once. 

Arriving at the landing the old RV stood at, you noticed a four-wheeler parked beside it. Huh, the owner must be camping this weekend. You wandered off up the gulley a bit, picking a semi-sheltered little knoll about a quarter mile off from the RV. You figured that was space enough. With gusto, you set about setting up your campsite, getting your tent all set up. You’d gone all out and gotten a big canopy tent that you could stand up in and wander about, a blow up mattress, and some other fun camping gear. In no time you had your bed and cooking area set up. You sat up against the tree you pitched under, taking out a book to read in the peaceful midafternoon light. 

Hours later, you finally grew hungry, building a fire and starting to cook what you brought with you. Just reheating some refried beans with flour tortillas and cheese. You finished up your food and decided to turn in for an early night, packing up everything and extinguishing your fire. You retreated into your spacious tent, zipping it closed and getting ready for bed. You even had cute pajamas, ones you bought special. They were some sort of soft cotton spandex blend that you simply loved, in a purple tank top and shorts set. You snuggle down onto your blow-up mattress, content with your camping adventure so far.

You woke to complete darkness, the sounds of night in Paleto Forest, and the feeling of a hand clamping over your mouth. You let out a panicked scream, muffled almost entirely by the warm and calloused hand that smelled like– smelled like–.... Like motor oil… You inhaled sharply through your nostrils. You knew that smell.  Your stomach felt like it dropped right out of your body at that moment.

“Guess who , princess,” The voice you feared, wished for, waited for, wanted, longed for, sounded out beside your ear. Your breathing picked up, both terror and anticipation thrumming through your veins. Your whole body froze. He was hovering over you, you could tell that much in the dark. You tried to speak, but your words were muffled. T took his hand off of your mouth for a moment.

“....T?” You hazarded a guess, and judging by the dark chuckle, your correct guess was amusing to him. 

“At your service, darling . I’m so happy you remember me,” His voice purred out of the pitch black. “Now, are you going to be a good girl for me again?” 

You tried not to sound too desperate when you replied, “Y-yes, sir,” but failed miserably. Your tone was a confusing jumble of apprehension, want, and fear. 

“ Nnnnnnggggghhh , fuck, you’re so sexy, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” His throaty groan was music to your ears. He caressed your jaw as he said this, his weight shifting onto your blow-up mattress. The rigidity of the mattress changed with the additional weight, firming up underneath you as he joined you. His searing hot body heat pressed in on you as he came to rest beside you, laying alongside your body. His broad-shouldered figure dwarfed your own. His hands were all over you in just a moment, slipping under your clothes to caress your soft skin. He smelt like motor oil, diesel fuel, unwashed man, and… pine, just like the woods. It was an intoxicating smell that overwhelmed your senses, snaring you even further into this quagmire of fuckery.

Your breathing was heavy and shuddering, the only noise in the darkness other than the shifting of fabric. His touch was red hot, lighting every nerve he touched on fire as he slid his hand up your stomach, gently caressing your breast, fingers sliding over the sensitive nub of your nipple one after the other. A tiny whimper came from the back of your throat, your back arching ever so slightly off of the mattress. 

“Eager, are we?” T’s gravely voice issued forth from the dark again, mere inches from your face now. You could smell the Redwood cigarettes on his breath. You could hear his ragged breathing, could feel his hard cock pressed up against your side. It seemed he was the eager one. His hands were demanding as they roamed your body, one tweaking your nipple and the other diving below your waistband. You would be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely soaking wet already for this disgusting pervert. T shoved two of his fingers into your core with a lewd squelching noise, eliciting a gasp from you and a groan of lust from him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, princess, you’re so fuuuuhuhuuuucking wet for me. You really are a kinky freak,” He groaned, his voice full of eager ecstasy. Your face burned hot with embarrassment, ashamed of how turned on you were by him. It was made even worse that you didn’t know what he looked like. You knew his voice, his scent, his taste . His rough hands as they fingered you. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you, emptying his load inside your pussy. You knew all that intimately well and had been playing the sensations over in your head on repeat for weeks. The anonymity was killing you. He could be one of your regulars, he could be a perfect stranger, but you couldn’t know.

T’s hand left your breast, his other hand busy fingering your wet heat. You tensed ever so slightly as his hand caressed your jaw again. A shifting noise, then his mouth was on yours, scruffy facial hair sandpapering against your skin. Your hands rose shakily to touch him for the first time under your own volition. Your fingertips tingled as you touched his skin, the contact feather-light and uncertain. The kiss was almost sweet, if you hadn’t whimpered into his mouth in pleasure as he found your most sensitive spot inside of you with his middle finger. His lips curved against yours in a smile. 

He curled his finger into that spot again, repeating the delicious noise that issued forth from your throat. As your lips parted, he shoved his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like a heady mixture of redwoods, beer, and something else acrid that you couldn’t place. You shamelessly kissed him back and moaned like a goddamn whore as he pistoned his fingers into your G-spot. 

You came on his fingers with a guttural groan, his tongue seemingly halfway down your damn throat with how aggressively the two of you were snogging. Your core muscles tensed and twitched around his digits as he slowed his actions, languidly dragging the orgasm out of you with each stroke of his fingers. He broke off the kiss with a dark chuckle.

“Can’t believe you came that quickly, sweetheart. You all pent up for me?” He asked, one hand grabbing your chin, the other one shoving his soaking wet fingers into your mouth. You could taste yourself, your wetness on his fingers, the lewd act making you melt. You gently licked and sucked his fingers clean. From what you could hear, you could tell he loved that, his breathing quickening, ragged and panting. 

“You have no idea how much I want to keep you,” He whispered as he removed his fingers from your mouth, almost inaudible as he ghosted his thumb across your cheek. Your pussy throbbed at that declaration, something submissive in you desperate for him to keep you, to claim you as his, forever. You were in love in the most twisted, sick way. 

“....Y-you can,” You breathed out, having found the last ounce of courage in your body. It was his turn to still completely, the only motion the expansion and contraction of his chest. You wet your lips and say again, “Y-.....You can keep me, if you want,” Your voice is quiet and nervous and eager . T shifted, leaning over you again, his breath fanning across your face.

“ Don’t tell me that unless you mean it,” His voice had taken on a completely different tone. Gone was the teasing and almost playful tint to his words. Raw want, lust, possessiveness, emotions you couldn’t put a word to fill his voice, sending dark waves of arousal through you. He drew you closer to him with an arm around your waist.

“I….I mean it.” You whisper back, your own voice trembling with eager trepidation. Those words were an ignition and T was the payload. He just about tore your pajamas off of your body, his own clothes following shortly, before he dove between your legs again, tongue seeking out your sensitive bud. Your hands tangled into his thinning hair and grasped desperately as he ate your pussy out like a ravenous man starving for weeks, tongue even reaching down to lave over your asshole, one of his fingers probing curiously at the ring of muscle. You wiggled away a bit however, and he left it alone. Something inside of you was surprised that he respected that boundary.

T came up for air momentarily, crawling up so your hips were resting on his thighs, thick erection slapping against your sopping wet pussy. He grabbed your hair roughly and pulled your head to his, his mouth crashing down on yours in a searing and passionate kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue as you made out, your hips jerking ever so slightly against his drooling cock, your hands all over his arms and chest, feeling every muscle, documenting every scar and pockmark. You could literally feel him dripping precum onto your folds. 

“I’m never letting you go, sweetheart, you know that?” He growled as he pulled his head away, hot breath fanning across your face. “You’re mine ,” With the grip on your hair, he tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck. His lips attacked the sensitive flesh above your pulse, sucking greedily, leaving hickeys and marks all the way down your neck onto your shoulder. T was a ravenous beast blinded by lust as he marked you up, a physical declaration of his newfound ownership of you. That would do until T could get you a proper collar. 

The noises you made were delicious in T’s ears as he ravaged your skin. In the same movement, he pulled his hips back, rubbing the drooling top of his cock against your folds, then shoved in roughly, not letting you grow accustomed to his thickness this time. A yelp escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion, the yelp turning into a soft gasp as he sunk his rod deep inside of you. He was so thick you felt like you might split in half. 

“F-fuck, T…” You gasped, your core twitching around his pulsating member. “Y-your cock is so fucking big,” your voice was full of wonder and arousal. The statement drew a quiet laugh from T,

“I’ve been waiting, wanting to hear you moan my name for weeks, sweetheart,” He said, his voice thick with lust. “Call me Trevor.”

 Suddenly, as his words registered in your clouded mind, something clicked in your brain. That acrid smell that hung about him was the smell of meth. First name Trevor. The kidnapping, and subsequent assault. Your boss’s disappearing act afterwards. The vaguely familiar yet mute stranger at the 24/7. You knew this man. You had Trevor fucking Philips’s cock stuffed into your cunt right now and you couldn’t bring yourself to care other than getting more of it inside of you. 

“O-oh god, Trevor ,” you moaned out desperately as he started to thrust, stars appearing in your vision as he hilted himself deep into you. All sense of propriety was thrown to the wind as you moaned his name lewdly, the slap of flesh against flesh and his animalistic grunts the only other noise in the forest. His cock pistoning in and out of you was delicious, dirty, forbidden . He was taking you for his own again and you were letting him, submitting to him, telling him he could keep you forever… You felt so, so dirty, and yet so, so right. Your hands scrabbled at his back, leaving lines of red flesh as your nails scraped along his back. He groaned deep in his chest as you did so, spurring you on to repeat the action.

He thrust into you with unerring energy, pounding you near senseless. He let up for a moment, only to manhandle and flip you around so he was fucking you doggy-style instead. His strong hands found the curves of your hips and drew them back onto his own with a wet squelch. He palmed your flesh, grasping to get a bit better of a grip,

“God, sugar, I could fuck you all day,” He crooned to you, squeezing slightly on each palmful of your flesh. “You’re such a good girl, taking all of Uncle T’s cock,” he snapped his hips forwards again, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your throat. You were putty in his hands as he started to move again, his hips following a languid pace as he teased you with his cock. You whimpered, backing your hips up a bit when he thrust forwards, craving more of him.

“P-please, fuck me harder,” You asked of him, gaining the courage to actually speak up. Your voice is breathy and full of need . He snapped his hips forwards in one fluid, quick motion, ripping a moan from your lips. 

“ Gladly. ”

His hips pistoned roughly into you, so rough it felt like he was going to rip you apart, but the burning pain added to the searing pleasure you felt and all you could do was let out mewling moans and incomprehensible babblings as he bruised your hips with his crushing grip. You asked for harder, and he definitely gave you harder.

Your hips hurt. Your pussy ached and your cervix felt bruised. Your mind was exhausted. At some point during the multi hour ordeal, the early gray of dawn shed its weak light inside the tent, giving you a clear view of Trevor in all his rough glory. He was curled around you, asleep, using your breast as a pillow, your nipple halfway hanging out of his lips. His softened cock slipped out of you ages ago but you still felt his thick seed leaking slowly out of you. Your arms tighten a little bit around the insane man, wondering what the fuck you just got yourself into. You reached for your blanket, pulling it over top of both of you, then closed your eyes and let yourself drift off. You were too tired to care at this point. 

(Please don't forget to comment! :D <3)

Chapter 3

(A/N: Sorry friends, no fuckies in this chapter, but lots of adorable fluff <3 Thank you SO MUCH to everyone that’s left a comment, left kudos, and bookmarked! I’d write out a list of yall but I fear I would forget someone ;A; I have never felt this loved while writing smut omg. If you have any ideas/kink requests/etc, feel free to comment and I might work it in ;o) 

 

You woke up to breath on the back of your neck. You hadn’t even opened your eyes yet, the fog of sleep slowly slipping away from your consciousness, and Trevor was already groping you. One large tattooed hand palmed your left breast, his warm breath spilling over your skin. 

“Mornin’, beautiful,” came Trevor’s husky morning timbre at your ear, voice still thick with sleep. You shivered at the feeling of his stubble scraping at your skin. Judging by how stiflingly hot it was in the tent, it was well into midmorning. 

“Morning,” you reply in a small, quiet voice. A section of you dreaded this part; the uncertainty in the moments after the hookup. Who was Trevor, really, as a person? You weren’t sure what you had gotten yourself into when you told him that he could keep you. A shiver ran down your spine. You had told Trevor that you meant it when you told him he could keep you, and you did . Good fucking god, you did.

His lips are burning on your skin as he presses soft kisses along your neck, up behind your ear. His tongue was hot and wet as it trailed up your neck, tracing the shell of your ear, leaving a trail of saliva.

“Mmh, you taste good,” He mumbled, inhaling heavily through his nose at the back of your neck as he embraced you. Trevor drew you close to his chest, his sweaty skin adhering to yours in the embrace. You whimpered pitifully. You felt like you were gonna pass the fuck out from how hot it felt in the tent. After a moment, you threw your limbs out, disentangling yourself from his sticky grip as you made a desperate break for fresh air. You ripped open the zipper of your tent, the fresh bite of air nipping at your skin. You drew in eager breaths, the midmorning air flooding over your feverish skin. 

“Geez, am I really that repulsive?” Trevor’s voice was still gravely from sleep, but his tone was joking. You heaved in great big lungfuls of fresh air. The breeze blew at the right moment and you swear your whole body got goosebumps. 

“N-no,” you replied, zipping the door back up, but then unzipping the inner layer so air could come in through the screen. The breeze was nice and refreshing on your sweaty skin; Trevor definitely seemed to appreciate the ventilation. You sit back down on the air mattress, happily noting that it hadn't deflated during the night. “I just don't handle the heat well.” Trevor raised an eyebrow at your explanation. 

“Then why the hell do you live around here?” He asked as he sat up. A few drops of sweat rolled down his chest, trailing over his abs then disappearing into his pubes. Your gaze followed the entire trail as it went down, a different kind of heat pooling in your gut. A dark, amused chuckle breaks your concentration and your gaze snaps back up to Trevor's smiling face. He's gazing at you with a knowing look and a charismatic smirk. 

“U-um,” You stammer for a moment. “I, I dunno. I guess I just needed somewhere new.” You shrugged your shoulders. You really didn’t have a great reason why you moved to Hell on Earth, other than it was cheap as fuck.

“Well, I for one am very glad you moved here, sugar,” Trevor declared, his devilish smirk looking delectable on his scruffy face. Your heart skips a beat at the dark gaze he’s casting your way. Your lips part slightly, subconsciously, as you stare back at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights of his truck. 

His head dips down and he captures your lips in a kiss, his stubble and mustache scraping against your skin. You melt into the kiss, heat pooling between your legs again. You were so, so shamelessly horny for this dangerous, insane criminal. You could barely believe what was happening now. Your head felt light, lighter than it ever had before, and you wondered for a moment if this was what being in love felt like. 

The next thing you knew, cold water was being splashed on your face. You jerk up, hands whipping up to your face to wipe the offending liquid off. 

“Jesus, doll, way to give a guy a heart attack,” Trevor says from beside you, armed with your water bottle. You splutter some more water out of your mouth.

“I think…. I think maybe, it would be wise to have breakfast.” You say a bit faintly, sitting upright. The water was already evaporating off of your skin in the midmorning heat. 

 

That leads the two of you to be sitting across from each other in the tent, clothed again, munching on some granola bars and trail mix for breakfast. The silence is….awkward, to say the least. Trevor is eyeing you like a science experiment gone horribly right in the oddest of ways. You’re avoiding his gaze because every time you meet his eyes you’re intimately reminded of how his cock felt buried inside of you last night.

“Did you mean it?” Trevor finally breaks the silence after he swallows his last mouthful of granola bar. You cough on your mouthful of granola, grabbing your water bottle to wash it down.

“U-uh, what do you m-mean?” You stammer out when your airway is clear. You really gotta get that under control.

“When you said I could keep you.” He said, his expression unreadable as he scoots across the tent floor to sit much too close to you. His presence is oppressive . You have to tilt your head up to keep looking at his face. His expression is guarded, but there’s a flash of odd hopefulness as he waits for your answer. 

“Y-yes,” You breathed, heat creeping up your neck. Good fuckin’ God did you mean it. “I….I meant every word.” Trevor’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“You do know who I am, yeah?” He asked, one eyebrow rising up. You nod,

“...You’re Trevor Philips.”

“...And that doesn’t bother you?” He’s skeptical. You shake your head.

“No,” you say, and there’s no lie in your voice. Yeah, he was an insane, demented, rumored-to-be-cannibalistic, criminal, crackhead… Something about him just drew you in like a moth to a flame. Dangerous, probably going to get you killed, but irresistible . A grin splits the skeptical expression on his face.

“Fuck, I must’ve done something right in a previous life to deserve this ,” He reached out as he was saying this and grasped your hips, all but dragging you onto his lap. You melt into the embrace, flush creeping onto your face. His wiry, muscled arms cage you in, and he presses a sloppy smooch to your cheek.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, Princess,” He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. “Mmmh….Mine.” Trevor all but growled in your ear. His pet name and claim over you sent heat pooling in your loins, and a little whimper from your throat. You were down bad.

“...A-all yours,” You managed to squeak out around your nerves. His arms caging around you tightened, and his lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder. He nibbled on your skin, then sucked in, leaving a welt of a hickey to join the rest that he left last night. His breath was hot in your ear;

“And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

 

You’re following Sandy Shores's- and honestly, all of LS- most dangerous criminal out of the woods, a lovestruck expression on your face. He has your backpack slung over one shoulder, him insisting on carrying it. He stopped at the RV, hopping onto the ATV that you saw yesterday. Realization dawns on you; he was the person using the RV. Did he….did he know you were going to be out here? Looking back in your thoughts, he- as the mute stranger- always stopped in at the 24/7 every Saturday until you started taking them off to go hiking and camping. He must have known somehow. The thought twists the knife of affection deeper into your heart.

“You gonna get on, Princess?” Trevor calls to you as he fires up the ATV. You shake yourself from your thoughts and stride over, hopping onto the back of the ATV like you’d done it millions of times. You scoot until your thighs are pressed against his rear, your arms snaking around his waist. You used to love ATV rides, but ever since you broke your collarbone on one, you hadn't ridden one in years.

Trevor takes off on the thing, because of course he would be a speed demon, but you find yourself enjoying yourself and whooping loudly a few times when he jumps the four-wheeler. He’s thankfully taking you back to the park-n-ride where you left your car, but you think your time in Paleto Bay has run its course.

Trevor leaves you off at your car with a grin and a wink, before he speeds off in the direction of your apartment. Of course he knew where it was. Your gut twists in sick affection for the strange man. You follow behind in your clapped out rig, losing sight of him as he runs a red light and continues onwards. You wait like a normal human being for the red light to change.

As you pull up to your apartment building, more of a glorified motel, Trevor is leaning against his ATV, sucking down a Redwood. You step out of your car, watching him. He has a presence not unlike a dangerous predator, and the way his eyes rake over your form makes you feel like his only prey. 

“Took you long enough, Princess,” Trevor says through an exhale of cigarette smoke. His voice sounds funny with the different vibrational properties of the smoke instead of air. You giggle to yourself, then say against better judgement,

“Well, I listen to traffic laws.” You stick your tongue out petulantly as you stride to the door of your apartment. You slide the key into the lock, shoving the door open because it stuck on its door jamb. Trevor follows you into the dimly lit apartment. 

Your life was still carefully boxed up in plastic and cardboard, only a few dishes in the sink and some clothes strewn around the signs of habitation. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as Trevor slid up behind you, arms encircling your shoulders. His hot breath puffed into your ear. 

“Guess we got some movin’ to do,” Trevor mused, his mustache tickling the shell of your ear. “I’ll be back in a bit, Princess. Pack up your shit, you’re comin’ home with me tonight.” He presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek, then leaves you, hand pressed to your cheek, a dopey and dazed grin on your lips. You’re not sure what’s in the future, but it’ll definitely be interesting.

 

Well. You didn’t know what you expected, but uh. Trevor’s trailer is a fucking mess. And you will not be the property of a fucking slob. 

“I am not staying in these conditions,” You say immediately, turning to Trevor, who has the good grace to look slightly awkward about the fact that his trailer is a fucking biohazard. “I’m cleaning. Where’s your cleaning supplies?” Trevor scratches the back of his neck, mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘picky fuckin women’  and disappears into the bathroom. He returns with some trash bags and a broom. 

“Will this work?” He asks, tone hesitant, and it’s so painfully obvious to you that no one ever taught him to clean. Your disgusted expression softens to one of understanding. You take the items from him gently, standing on your tiptoes to press a shy kiss to his lips. 

“It’ll do for now. I’ll start picking up trash and recycling. Would you mind starting to pick up your clothes?” You say, already opening up two bags and starting to attack the possibly sentient pile of refuse beside his futon couch. Trevor grunts, then disappears into his bedroom.

It takes three hours and fifteen garbage bags to clear out all the trash, recycling, and other various refuse. You place the last dish in the dish drainer, feeling quite drained yourself. But at least it was clean . Sort of. You still needed to mop and vacuum, but thankfully you had some of those in your possessions in the back of Trevor's truck. 

Trevor comes back in from his takeout run, bringing back Chinese for the both of you. He stops short, eyes widening as he took in his newly sort-of-clean trailer.

“Shit, Princess, I should have kidnapped you years ago,” He said, eyebrows shooting up to his receding hairline. You giggled.

“Well, I might not have been legal,” You quip, a smile on your face as you dry two plates and forks for the both of you. That remark has Trevor gobsmacked silent. You take the takeout from Trevor, setting it on the table, then setting your plates and forks out. You had also found some beer in the fridge and set out two of those. As both of you sat down to eat, it was excruciatingly clear that Trevor hadn’t had this sense of normalcy in his life in who knows how long. As you doled out some lo mein onto your plate, you examined him closer. 

Every other time you’d ever encountered Trevor, he had this odd, twisted, feral energy to him. Now, without chaos around him or caused by him, that energy was misplaced into confusion. His eyes were downcast, staring at his beer like it had personally wronged him. You reach your hand out and put it on his, your small hand dwarfed by his rough, calloused, scarred, and tattooed one. His dark brown gaze snapped up to meet yours. You said nothing, squeezing his hand comfortingly, then you let go and went back to your food. 

The silence continued, but it seemed just a little more comfortable between the two of you. 

 

When the two of you finally settled down to go to sleep, on sheets and blankets you retrieved from your belongings, Trevor still seemed off-balanced. You crawl into bed, him shortly following after shutting off the lights. Both of your bodies locked together like you were made for each other, Trevor spooning you. A tiny sigh of contentment escaped you as you relaxed into his embrace. 

“G’night, Trevor.” You say softly, affectionately.

“...Night, Princess.” His voice returns. You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

Chapter 4

(A/N: I am insatiable, and I’m sure y’all thank me for it. A little Trevor Perspective in this chapter :3 Again no sexies but promises that the next chapter is going to be S P O I C Y! Much thanks to everyone who's come back to read, new readers, and everyone who's left kudos and comments!!! You fuel me <3)

 

When Trevor awoke, he was alone. For a moment, his heart sunk down to his toes. His stomach flipped. Was it all just a dream? But as his senses filtered back to him through the fog of sleep, the clean sheets he was nestled in were foreign, and a strange scent filled the air; pleasant, floral…. You. He growled deep in the back of his throat. Why weren’t you here when he woke up? Did you get cold fuckin’ feet and run? The thought sent a bolt of cold sickness to his guts, the familiar feeling of red rage creeping into the edges of his consciousness. If you ran… He wouldn’t be able to forgive the things he’d have to do to get you back. 

Trevor ripped the covers off of himself, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He was about to get up and storm out of the room, out of the trailer, on a warpath to find you, when he was stopped by one innocuous thing. 

A pair of his sweatpants and his pink “PUSSYCAT” tank top were lying at the foot of the bed, a pair of underwear and socks folded on top of it. His brain stalled, the glowplugs inside his diesel motor of a mind warming up from the gesture. He reached out, touching the pile almost reverently. He picked up the tanktop.

Trevor didn’t think he’d ever see this tank top ever again when he dressed you in it after that fateful first night. The first time he had a taste of you and he couldn’t fucking get enough. You were more addicting of a drug than speed, alcohol, acid, cocaine, PCP, MDMA, fucking any drug he had ever imbibed. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. Trevor knew he was a very… passionate man, in every sense of the way. Every emotion he felt, it was jacked to 110%. Hell, 220%. He…he didn’t want to scare you away. Not when you made him feel wanted for once. This was the most normal he had ever felt since he was a kid, sitting at the table and swinging his legs back and forth eagerly as his mother dished out dinner. 

With a growl, he tried to force the thought from his mind. He didn’t need normal. He needed a fuckin’ beer, maybe some speed if he could rustle any up without heading down to Liquor Ace. He dragged the new, clean articles of clothing on. Jesus Christ, you were already domesticating him, and that rubbed his feral fur wrong. He stomped into his boots and left the bedroom, but drawing up short once more-

There you were, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in the entirety of existence, standing in front of his stove in cute-ass little pajamas, cooking him breakfast. The winds fell out of Trevor’s sails as fast as they filled them. He slid up behind you, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head and inhale your unique scent. He couldn’t get enough of how you smelt and tasted. It was made all the better as you leaned into his embrace.

“Good morning, Trevor.” Your soft voice, the voice that made him want to make you scream his name, issued forth from below his head. You were focused on the pancake that you were flipping in the pan. It hissed lightly as the wet surface contacted the hot pan.

“Mornin’, beautiful.” Trevor said in his rough, growling morning timbre. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pressing your soft form further against his chest. Your presence is a balm to the raging thoughts always tormenting him, nipping at the edges of his sanity. As he breathed your scent in, breath after breath, he reasoned that maybe normal was a good change of pace. At least for right now. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair, the only sounds were the clinking of silverware on dishes. Dishes that matched. Dishes that Trevor didn’t recognize. A quick glance into the kitchen confirmed his suspicions; you had hauled a few of your boxes into the trailer and had already started integrating yourself into his life. Trevor was lost in his thoughts, his cup of black coffee in a mug emblazoned with cartoon kittens losing its steam as he examined the drastic changes to his home in less than 24 hours. He was caught short by his own train of thought; home, not just a place to stay. A place of rest.

“Trevor?” Your gentle voice spears through his ruminations. He turned his honey-brown gaze down at you, and the look you were giving him was enough to make his withered heart beat again.

“Yeah, kitten?” Trevor replied, voice less rough than when he woke up, as he set his coffee down on the table.

“Who’s Ron?” Was all you asked, head tilted so adorable to the side like a little puppy. God, speaking of puppies, he needed to get you a collar. ASAP. Trevor had to ignore the errant thought of pinning you down onto the table and eating breakfast off of you. 

“Ron’s just one of my, uh, workers. Why?” He asked, stuffing a piece of bacon into his mouth and chewing aggressively.

“He came around about half an hour before you woke up, looking for you. He introduced himself then ran off. Oh, and he told me that someone named Chef needed you at ‘the site’ when you woke up.” You replied, raising your hands to do air quotes. Trevor’s mood shifted, and not in a good direction. He noticed that your posture became rigid as soon as he did. His jaw clenched down on the bite of bacon he had in his mouth. He had to restrain himself from shouting at you because you hadn’t told him the second he was awake. You didn’t deserve his ire, Ron did for not waking him up himself. 

“Ugh. Great,” He spat, tone immediately on the verge of anger as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He grabbed his coffee and chugged the rest down, grabbing the last strip of bacon on his plate. As he turned to address you, his tone softened, “You stay put, alright, Princess? This town ain’t safe for you to go wandering by yourself. You need anything, call me. Or Wade. He lives out behind us.” And then he went out the door, gone in a moment’s time. You were left in the dust, blinking confusedly. You didn’t even have his cellphone number. But that last thing he said, before he left- 

“...lives out behind us.”

Us sounded nice.

 

Trevor was pissed. While he was out on his impromptu camping trip with you, the fucking Lost MC had broken into and raided his pseudoephedrine stores out at Mackenzie Airfield. Ron could only watch on, with a brand new shiner on his left eye courtesy of Hell Personified, as Trevor raged and threw shit around the already ruined hangar. Not only had they stolen his drugs, they had slashed the canvas of his project biplane, and he was fucking livid. 

“Alright, Ron,” Trevor whipped around and pointed a threatening finger at the cowering man, “I need you on damage control. Clean this mess the fuck up, I’m gonna go pay the Lost a fuckin’ visit.” Trevor growled as he started to stalk off.

“U-um, Trevor?” Ron’s nervous stutter halts him in his tracks. Trevor takes a long breath in through his nose, holds it for a few seconds, then lets it out slowly. He looks over his shoulder. 

“Yes, Ron?” His tone is dangerous. 

“Wh-what about that uh, th-that lady in your trailer?” 

“Good thinking, Ron. When you’re done here, you go and make sure that perfect piece of ass stays safe, got it?” Trevor said, then stalked away. Ron’s left behind with a puzzled look on his face.

 

It was near sunset when Trevor finally parked his truck in front of his trailer. He killed the ignition, sighing. He felt that wide emptiness that yawned inside of him, that only appeared after his rage bled out when he made other people bleed out. As he got out of his rig, flakes of dried blood fell off of him. He paced sedately to his front door, with all the calm of an oncoming storm. He ripped open the door, casting a glance around. Ron was sitting on his couch with a pink coffee mug emblazoned with rainbows and puppies clutched in his hands. The cowardly man’s eyes widen as he takes in Trevor’s appearance.

“Where is she?” Trevor asked, voice eerily calm for how covered in blood he was. Ron pointed a trembling hand to the bathroom, where he could hear the shower running. Trevor grunted, nodded, then pointed at Ron, then the door in an unspoken command. The timid man was out of the trailer in record time, his mug of coffee left on the counter. 

Trevor stripped his clothes off right outside the bathroom door, leaving a mess of flaked off dried blood. He stepped into the bathroom, the scent of your shampoo diffused in the air. 

“Trevor?” Came your voice from behind a new shower curtain. The bathroom looked spotless now, not a speck of mildew to be seen. You’d been busy while he was gone.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m joinin’ you. Close your eyes, yeah?” He said. He waited for her agreement before slipping into the shower. There you were, in all your wet and naked glory, hand over your eyes.

“Um, Trevor? Why do I need to cover my eyes?” You ask. He grabs his 3-in-one soap and squirts a generous amount into his hands. 

“I’m…. I’ve got a bit of blood on me, darlin’. I don’t want you to see it.” He says as he quickly lathered his body up, rubbing it into a pink lather. The hot water cascaded down him, washing, burning away the physical evidence of his sins. When he looks up, your hand has dropped away from your face, and you were regarding him with a quirked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. That expression sent a surge of heat to his groin. 

“Trevor, I told you that I’m not bothered by what you do. Plus, I’m a woman, I can handle some blood.” Your tone is amused, and it puts a smile on Trevor’s face. He didn’t realize you weren’t a weeping wallflower. He looped an arm around your waist, pressing your soapy body up against his. The feeling of your soft curves sliding against his battle-hardened body grounded him in the present, your presence filling that cold void inside of him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as your arms came up to embrace him. 

“Mm. You’re not as fragile or delicate as you look.” He chuckles against your wet skin. You snuggle into his wet embrace.

“I missed you, Trev. I was worried about you.” You said quietly, barely audible over the hissing of the shower. Your words sent an arrow stabbing through his heart. Had he ever heard anyone tell him, genuinely, that they missed his presence? Trevor couldn’t remember.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me.” He mumbled, tightening his grip on his only lifeline to sanity. 

 

You and Trevor lay in his bed, lights off, naked, hair damp from the shower you both shared. You had removed his old broken TV and set up your own small flatscreen, some dumb reality show played in the background, but all Trevor could pay attention to was your soft body pressed up against his, your leg thrown over his pelvis, your head resting on his pec. Your breathing had evened out into slumber ages ago. Trevor had to piss so badly but he wouldn't disturb you for the world. He watched the flickering light from the TV dance across your slackened face, and wondered again what he ever did to deserve someone so perfect. He used the remote to turn the TV off, pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and closed his eyes. That was a question he may never get an answer to.