Sam Wilkinson Smut– Mac Miller concert

“Son of a bitch, you better not back out again.” My friend whined as I swallowed Xanax.

“I won’t; I promise. I’m just nervous, s’all.” I shakily smiled to her. I’m not a big fan of crowds– or people for that matter, but, I got my best friend Quinn tickets for her favorite rapper, Mac Miller, who happened to be performing in a few towns over. She squealed excitedly as we climbed into my Buick Enclave and hit the road.

“Who’s opening again?” She asked.

“His name is Sam or something. He’s pretty cute, I looked him up on twitter the other day.” I said, plopping a grape into my mouth. We pulled up to the venue sooner than expected, and if anything, my nerves have gotten worse. We got in line and in quite quickly, going into the personal box seats, being greeted with two leather love seats, a mini bar and a snack bar. She looked at me and squealed once more, before jumping on me and hugging me.

“I love you so much, thank you.” She said, before kissing me on the cheek and getting back into her seat. A cute and familiar looking guy came into our section, standing in-between our seats.

“You two ladies ready for an awesome show?” He said. Quinn looked at me confusedly before looking at him, smiling and nodding.

“Great, enjoy the show beautiful.” He said with a wide white smile, his hand lingering on my lower back.

“Whoa what the fuck was that?” She grinned, making me on my forearm.

“It’s starting, shh.” I said as my cheeks began glowing. The same guy that was in our section was now on stage with a microphone in his hand.

After his set, which was amazing, the crowd was buzzing. Mac came out, and i’ve never heard Quinn scream so loud in my entire life. Once the show was over, we were both covered in sweat and alcohol, which was sprayed across the crowd. Our hair held the scent of weed, considering the dude in the box seats next to us was rolling and smoking all night. We were basically out of breath from screaming all night as we walked out of the amphitheater.

“Want to get some drinks? I know a place not too far that doesn’t card.” Quinn asked, with a smile. I nodded excitedly and hugged her from the side. We bought some merch before going back to the car and heading to the bar. Wow, that rhymed. I’m a poet. The bar was only a few minutes away, a cute rustic vibe coming from it. We walked in to be immediately a kind ‘Hello.’ My eyes traveled around the bar and landed on the guy from earlier, the guy that opened for Mac Miller. Oh, and Mac Miller. Mac Miller?!

Quinn was frozen in her spot, and quite frankly, so was I.

“Okay,” I whispered, “Breathe. It’s just, you know, Mac fucking Miller; and the hot blonde guy. Let’s wait for them to approach.” I said breathily as we walked further into the bar. Several pairs of eyes followed us up to the bar where we sat, ordering drinks.

“I thought I recognized you.” The blonde guy whispered in my ear.

“Are you stalking me?” I gasped, jokingly, as I sipped my rum and coke.

“I should be saying that about you.” He smiled, sitting down next to you. He looked back to Mac and signaled him over.

“Sam, right?” I asked him. He nodded and smiled. “You are?”

“Y/N.” I smiled as he took my hand in his and brought it up to his lips.

“This is my buddy Mac, as you both know.” He smiled, patting Mac on the back. Quinn was all smiles, as she shook his hand, her entire body basically shaking.

“Come back to my booth, let me buy you another drink.” Mac insisted. Quinn obviously accepted and followed him back towards the booth they were sitting at.

“What about you? Wanna go back for some more drinks?” He asked, his hand moving hair out of my face. I nodded once and smiled feebly. We walked back to the booth, his hand on my lower back and quickly moving south.

“Cheeky.” I whispered to him as I climbed into the booth. Quinn was practically glowing, Mac’s arm around her shoulder and a drink in the other.

“Is it okay if I get a picture of you two?” I asked Mac. His smile grew wider as he saw the look on Quinn’s face.

“Of course.” He smiled, while taking a drink.

After several drinks and flirty touches from Sam, he announced quite obviously that he was heading toward the bathroom. Before he left, he leaned into my neck and mumbled “It’s an open invitation sweetheart.” He smiled, lightly biting the skin on my neck. My heart fluttered in my chest as he walked towards the bathroom.

“Okay but seriously,” Mac started, “If you don’t go join him, I’m going to have to hear him whining and vigorously masturbating.” Mac said while laughing, pulling Quinn closer to himself as she laughed.

I rolled my eyes and climbed out of the booth and pondered off towards the bathroom, going through the same door Sam did.

“Sammy?” I whispered, walking into the dimly lit and surprisingly nice bathroom. He sat on the arm chair in the corner, leaned back with his hands on his thighs.

“Come here, baby.” He whispered lustfully, his lip between his teeth and his eyes hooded. I walked over to him and straddled his lap, his hands going to my hips, then my butt, pulling me into his chest.

“Give me a kiss, baby.” He smiled. I leaned up and pecked him.

“Is that what you wanted?” I smirked. He grabbed me by my neck and pulled me back down to him, our lips immediately connecting. My hand rested on the back of the chair for leverage. He pulled me down so my chest was against his, his lip grinding into mine as he bit my lip. He unzipped my shorts and slid his hand into my underwear before whispering, “Do you want me to?”

“Yes, please.” I whined raspily, my voice still hoarse from the concert. His cool fingers rubbed my clit before sliding his index and middle fingers into me. I rested my hand on his chest as I threw my head back from the euphoria.

“You’re so fuckin sexy, baby.” He said, his lips trailing around my neck and landing on my collarbone. I reached my hand down to the growing bulge in his pants, but he brought my hand back up to his chest.

“We don’t have time. Is the door locked?” He asked. I shook my head ‘no’. He patted my butt twice before I hopped off of him and locked it,  him coming up behind me and reaching his hand back down my shorts. I leaned my head back on his shoulder, his lips gently grazing my hair as his fingers curled inside of me. He removed his fingers before placing them in his mouth, his tongue swirling around his fingers, his eyes closed.

“Mm, so sweet.” He moaned in my ear. My legs went weak, thank god he was holding me. He pulled my shorts off leaving me in my cute cream white polka dot lace trim thong. His fingers hooked underneath the band and let it snap gently against my skin.

“S’cute.” He smiled. I observed his actions from the bathroom mirror, his eyes meeting mine in the reflective surface.

“Bend over.” He said, gently moving me towards the counter. I leant over the cool clean granite, the fumbling of his belt making me anxious and excited at the same time. He slid my thong to the side and rubbed his tip between my folds, the sensation making me rest my heated cheek on the cool counter.

“Fuck baby.” I moaned as he inched in.

“That’s just the tip, princess.” He smiled, taking my hair into his hand and making a fist, pulling my head back. He pushed all the way in, until his stubbly pelvic bone was touching my butt. He slowly moved his hips back, before forcefully slamming back into me, my hips turning red from knocking against the smooth rock. I moved back as he moved forward, his rips rolling with every movement.

“You’re so tight baby, I don’t know how long I’m going to last.” He rasped out. Once he was fully in, I clenched around him, seizing his actions momentarily. He pulled my hair back, and slammed into me, his fingertips leaving imprints on my skin.

“Are you close baby? Hmm?” He said, his hand moving down to rub my clit, but missing by an inch. I grabbed his hands and moved his fingers to the correct spot before resting my hand on top of his on the counter. With every circle he made with his fingers, he applied more and more pressure, causing me to tip over the edge and release. He pulled out of me and flipped me around in record time, before helping me to my knees.

I brought him to my mouth, tasting myself on him. I jerked the part I couldn’t fit into my mouth and flicked my tongue against the part that I could, his release shooting down my throat. I immediately swallowed it and ignored the taste before cleaning up his length. It was quiet for a moment as I put my shorts back on, standing up and meeting his eye. He giggled and lifted me up onto the sink and kissed me; really really kissed me. His phone beeped, signaling he had a text. He pulled it out of his back pockets and read it before chuckling.

“Everyone want’s to know if we fucked on the bathroom sink.” He smiled.

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When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun Chapter 13: Of Braids and Brides (Part Two)

I wonder why it’s less terrifying to face the boy you love once you know that you love him. Why I’m not half-sick at the thought of going down to supper with a headful of sweetheart ribbons declaring my love, knowing that he will never love me in return.

Because love is not an expectation, catkin, murmurs my father in my mind, an echo of a conversation from my childhood. It doesn’t cease to be simply because it isn’t returned. That’s why so many hearts break: the weight of love, borne alone and unreturned, becomes too much. Sometimes they shatter, sometimes they split cleanly in two and fall apart, and sometimes they crack slowly and silently over a period of weeks, months, even years.

Of course, any broken thing can be repaired, he explained, but not all choose this path. Some prefer a heart full of holes that can never truly hold love again, and for those pitiable folk whose hearts have been shattered, every last piece must be found before the heart can be made whole once more, and some of those pieces they’d rather remain lost forever.

My heart will never be broken, I told him firmly, with an eight-year-old’s stubbornness and ingenuity. I’ll build a great stone wall around it so no one can get in.

It’s rather late for that, catkin, he replied with a gentle laugh. Your heart is brimming with love already: for your mama, your sister, and me. What’s more, you could build a tower as high as the sky and your sweetheart would still find your heart. Be he a sparrow sheltering at your shutters or a mousekin burrowing through the soil to make a nest in your cellar, a bee in the honeysuckle growing up your walls or a sunbeam spilling across your hearthrug at noon, he’ll find you and you’ll love him so fiercely that you’ll tear down those walls with your bare hands just to embrace him.

I look in the mirror again and raise a hand to cover my naked heart. “You were wrong, Dad,” I whisper. “I didn’t have to tear down the walls. They crumbled when I saw him.”

Your Eyes are the Color of Buies Creek

The older you get, the easier it is to lose yourself in memory. Link Neal never much liked thinking about the past; nostalgia was not a feeling he was fond of. Plus, the most important part of his past was still a part of his present, so he reasoned that there probably wasn’t a point to looking back when he still looked into Rhett’s eyes every day.

Rhett was a constant presence in his life, whether they were creating something, arguing, sitting at their respective desks in the studio, or eating lunch together. It was difficult for Link to believe that they had been together for so long; surely any other two people who had been together as long as they had would hate each other. He supposed that meant he and Rhett were meant to be… Somehow. He loved is wife dearly, and knew Rhett loved his just as dearly, but there was something between the two of them that felt oddly like the word Soulmates.

“Link, can you come over here for a second?” Rhett’s voice pierced his thoughts, and Link immediately joined his best friend, pleased to be shaken from such weird and possibly dangerous thoughts.

That night he didn’t sleep very well.

Sometimes when Link looked at Rhett, he found himself getting lost. Not because he was thinking about how beautiful Rhett’s eyes were, but because he was amazed at how familiar they were. For a fleeting moment when he looked in Rhett’s eyes, he saw a seven year old boy who got stuck inside for recess, he saw an awkward high school student, the man he went to college with, the man he had spent his entire life with. 

Link did not like feeling nostalgic, but every time he looked into Rhett’s eyes he saw the past.
An amazing, beautiful life spent with the only person in the world he wanted to spend it with. 

Good Mythical Morning was a way to distract Link’s thoughts from Rhett, oddly enough. He dropped into performance mode and allowed himself to become lost in interesting conversations, nasty food, highly scientific experiments, you name it. But it was a welcome reprieve, and he loved the predictability.

“You know what time it is.” The words fell from his mouth as easily as ever. Link pulled over the Wheel of Mythicality and spun it in one go.

“Old men having a staring contest.” Rhett immediately turned to Link, but the latter was slightly more hesitant. “Come on young whippersnapper,” Rhett wheezed, squinting in Link’s eyes, “I can barely see ye, how can I know when ye lose?” Rhet leaned closer to Link, who was making an odd old man sound and trying not to laugh: “Git away from me ye beanstalk” and then it was over. 

Once they were finished and holed up safely away in their office, Rhett confronted Link. “Are you alright man? You’ve been acting weird for a few days.”
Link shrugged, “I’ve just been thinking about the past a lot, you know. It’s been messing with me a little. We’ve known each other for so long, Rhett.”
“Don’t remind me.” He let out a small chuckle. “Is that why you won’t look at me?”

Those words somehow forced Link’s eyes into Rhett’s own, and he felt the breath leave his chest sort of, “I see everything when I look at you.” That sounded really stupid.

“Everything is kind of a lot.”

“I know.” Link didn’t really want to talk about this anymore. He felt weird and awkward and he wanted to forget this.
“You know what I see when I look at you?” Rhett asked after a moment.
“Buies Creek.”
After that there wasn’t much more to be said. Everything Rhett needed him to know was in those two words, because to them, Buies Creek was nearly everything.