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Wishing she didn’t have to hurry, nevertheless feeling the excitement of it in her veins – have to move, have to move, quick, quick, quick, can’t get caught – Phee bounces on her favourite four-inch denim cork-heeled wedge sandals as she approaches her destination with hurried steps, arriving there at last. She’s made it, for there, tucked into the corner of this fire station she's snuck into, is that plain, nondescript door that she knows from her ramblings through the space earlier, the one she knows leads to a tightly packed storage closet. The door is heavy as she reaches to pry it open, much heavier than she’d anticipated; it takes a bit for Phee to brace it open enough so that she can slip through, though thankfully it makes almost no sound as she lets it close softly with a huff and a gentle click behind her.
Seeing the big, broad back of Clyde standing there, she smiles, the feel of it on her face big, delighted – smug – for she is pleased to find she has managed to surprise him as she had been so eager to do.
So far, she muses, everything is going exactly to plan.
It is so rare that she manages to sneak up on her man, for he is usually so attuned to every shift and every sigh in the space around him, tracking every movement with those quiet eyes of his; he is always so quick to observe the world around him. For such a quiet man, he is nevertheless always very careful to note everything around him. He has missed her arrival here today, though, and the sensation of having surprised him makes her almost feral, spiking her already heady sense of anticipation regarding what she has planned - and she has planned a great deal.
Her hand is on the broad expanse of his back, tapping gently, as she whispers his name.
“Clyde–”
He doesn’t jump, but, turning, he does give her that little evil eye for which he’s famous – she’s been a bad girl, that look says, and the sensation of being on the receiving end of it has her squirming delightfully.
“Shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that, Sugar," he tells her, trying, and failing, to be stern, "best be careful, can’t always be sure how he might react.”
Close enough now that she can touch him, she reaches up to slide her hands up the length of his chest, the soft white cotton t-shirt that covers it stretched tight, before she slides them around his nape to tug on the deep dark brown hair that curls slightly there as the length of it reaches the back of his neck. Silk under her fingers, his hair clings to the tips of them, almost as if to hold tight, even as she digs her hands further in to luxuriate in the softness of it.
"Good thing I know what I'm doing then."
Caressing the soft skin buried under all that hair, she watches as his smile, the one he saves almost exclusively for her, spreads across his face as she does so, the crooked, wide, gap-toothed grin she loves moving across his face, his dimples flashing deep and open, his deep brown eyes soft and dark, fond.
He’s so cute when he smiles.
“Don’t have long to play with ya, darlin’," he tells her in warning, reminding her of the plan, "supposed to be heading out with the fire crew, won’t be long now ‘til they call me, ten minutes at most, I think; just hidin’ here waiting for the call to come in.”
True, for she sees he’s already wearing the big boots and pants suitable for the role of firefighter he’ll be playing to sneak back into the Monroe County Penitentiary. The big, thick, blue suspenders he’ll draw up later sit draped haphazardly across his hips while the jacket and hat he’ll don before slipping out the door are thrown carelessly across a tall stack of boxes in the corner.
The look suits him, but then, Phee thinks, how could it not?
Licking her lips as she looks up at him, she feels the rush of the moment returns – he’s so handsome and she absolutely can’t wait to swallow down every last inch of him. A wide smile crosses her face - she can feel the mischief in it even as she does so – as she thinks of how much she looks forward to ruining him.
She can hear the dangerous, wicked purr in her own voice as she moves just that little bit closer, all but pressing her body up against his.
“That means you have ten minutes, then?” she asks, and smiles as he gives her a small nod in affirmation.
Good. More than enough time.
True, they won’t have much more time than that; once the call to the station of a fire at the prison is made, the alarms will ring through the station, giving him just enough warning and thus just enough time to sneak onto the runners of the roaring fire engine as it leaves the station. Then he can hitch a ride with the other firefighters to race across the county to the very institution he and Joe Bang broke out of this morning. Given that there’s currently a riot underway in that very prison, his fellow inmates are about to noisily set off a small fire – no one is likely to spot a couple of extra firefighters catching a ride in the chaos. Between his disguise and the hubbub, it should be enough of a distraction to allow him and Joe to sneak back into the jail and firm up their presence there – being incarcerated during the heist at the speedway down the way is the best alibi there is, after all.
Clyde, she can see, has his mind still deep in heist mode, his clever brain running through all the scenarios one more time.
“Yeah. Ten minutes. Not an exact science, maybe, but I think I’ll have enough warning, should be able to– unh, Phee, whatcha doin’ there, darlin’?”
Waiting for his brain to catch up to his body, she’s meanwhile already midway to her goal of getting him free enough from those big (delicious) firefighter pants to get at her goal. Even while he was talking, her hands had already begun their slide all the way down the length of his big, broad chest, slipping deftly into the opening of his pants, her quick fingers having undone the fastening with a few flicks of her wrist. In fact, her fingers are already almost where she needs to be, her fingers moving quickly south, past the elastic of his underwear and into the skin-warmed cotton beyond, searching out her goal – a sigh escaping her lips as her hand moves easily to claim once again what she wants.
Though his hand had moved to stop hers, she’d slipped past it easily enough and soon finds the smooth, velvet of his skin, his cock hot, heavy and thick, already hardening under her touch. It’s even easier then, as she twists her grasp so she can wrap her fingers around him, he's so delightfully girthy, her fingers barely close around him, as she holds the base of him firmly in her palm and gives him a gentle tug.
“Phee?”
She thinks he might be whimpering as she rubs her thumb across the tip of him, feeling the little swelling of moisture drip from onto her slick fingers from the slit she’s looking forward to licking clean later before she hears him whimpers again, though this time she thinks it might only be a second before those delightful noises turns to groans.
“Should be able to take care of you in five, ten minutes max, but you’re going to have to cooperate,” she tells him as her other hand reaches to his hip impatiently to tug the undone pants of the firefighter's uniform down; they fall to pool at his ankles delightfully easily and, pleased at having him free to her hand, she returns her attention to her much anticipated task.
Looking up at him, she orders him to do as he's told, her voice low, fierce and determined.
“Remember now, darlin'," she tells him with a smirk as she uses his own endearment against him, "cooperate and concentrate.”
It's turning him on, the way she takes charge, for Clyde’s breathing a little heavily now, looking down at how she takes him in hand, the shiny white teeth of his crooked smile dug in, hard, into his plush pink lower lip, and Phee, glancing down as well, can see why. Though he still wears his briefs, she can see as he does the shadow of her hand as it moves against the fabric of his underwear while she moves it up and down his shaft and cups his balls. There’s a little wet spot showing against the light grey fabric already, and, drooling, she can almost taste the saltiness of it on her tongue, can almost feel how heavy and thick it will feel as she takes him between her waiting lips - it has her drooling a little.
Siddling in, she wraps her free arm around his waist as one of Clyde’s arms finds its way around her shoulder, pulling her close to kiss her, hard, those plush lips soft on hers, his facial hair a delightful contrast as it scratches her skin, while the other winds around her waist to pull her closer. Moving up, his good hand moves quick as a snake to reach in through the loose opening of the bodice of her yellow sundress to massage her breast through her little matching bralette, his touch scorching through the thin, delicate, lacey material, and she suddenly has as much difficulty breathing as he does.
There’s a definite whimper that echoes through the air then, though she’s not sure it might not be her, or that it might not be the two of them exhaling together.
“Want to taste you,” he groans roughly, his voice a dark velvet dream against the skin of her neck as he breaks the rough kiss to suck at her – he’s all but begging, and she knows he doesn’t mean he wants to just taste the breasts he currently has his hand all over, he does, but he also means he wants to taste her cunt, her mouth, her ass, he means he wants to taste every last part of her – and as much as she wants that too, she forces herself to keep her focus on what she needs to accomplish - she knows the timing is going to be tight as it is.
He still begging - “Please, baby, let me feel you– get you up and flip your skirt – let me taste you, please, darlin', please,” - but, resisting the urge to let him have his way, she manages not to let him distract her, and instead, she keeps her hand moving slow and steady. As she feels the length and girth of him growing, throbbing, his dick pressing insistently against her palm – he’s almost ready for her to take into her mouth, she can tell, she grins, feral, the power of having this big, relentlessly clever man at her mercy intoxicating. He’s teetering already, she can tell, and she can’t wait to push him all the way over the edge.
“Not enough time for that,” she tells him, her voice breathy and broken as she bats his questing hand away from where it continues to play at her breast, as she stays focused on her goal.
Ten minutes, they’ve got ten minutes, at most, she thinks.
“Now concentrate,” she reminds him as, ignoring his protests at the loss of her body against his, she shifts over to step in front of him, sinking to her knees as slowly as she dares, giving him a bit of a show despite the time constraints, all the while cursing with reluctant acceptance the hard concrete floor she finds herself on.
She can feel it in her hand as he goes rock hard as he looks down to see her staring directly at him, the full length of him sticking against his briefs for precious seconds before she frees him. Nuzzling her face against the coarse, curly dark hair that surrounds his cock, breathing in that familiar, delicious scent of him as it lingers, she moves quickly to open her lips and suck him down.
This time, she’s sure his groan could be heard outside and she has a moment of panic thinking of disastrous consequences should they be discouvered.
“Quiet,” she reminds him, her voice harsh as she commands him, doing her best to stay in charge while she takes him over. “Quiet. We’ve only got one shot at this before I lose you for three months, remember, so shush up and concentrate.”
From her knees, she watches approvingly as he raises his thick fist to his mouth, bites down hard to stifle the delightful noises he makes, even as she, more slowly this time, takes him into her mouth. Letting the heavy length of his cock rest there as she moves her mouth around him, feeling as always how much better he feels in her mouth than even he does in her hand.
She can't take her time with him, or at least not as much time as she’d like – she’d like to tease him, edge him, torment him a little until he lost his mind – so she does her best to send him hurtling towards the edge, but, even cognizant of the time, she still takes care to be thorough. She’s had a fair bit of practice playing with this glorious cock of his, after all, and she puts all that knowledge to good use now as she makes sure to push him to bliss and beyond as quickly as possible. Licking with an eager tongue that familiar, thick vein that lays on the bottom of his dick, suckling the tip, using her hand as she jerks him off to the same rhythm as her mouth sucks – he’s soon panting above, the whining and whimpering of him barely constrained by the way he crams his fist in his mouth, if possible shoving it in further in a vain effort to stifle the glorious sounds he makes.
Just the way she likes it.
He’s losing control quickly, she can sense it, as he moans and sways above her, the little whimpers of his deep baritone distinguishable even through his fist as he does his best to stay quiet as she’d commanded – yes, he’s close, very close, he’ll go soon, she can tell.
She just needs to give him a big, sure, shove.
As his right hand moves suddenly to tangle in her hair, shoving through it to get to the back of her head, allowing him to guide her in the direction, pressure and suction he likes, he’s soon mindlessly fucking her face with little care to the force of his actions, allowing her to concentrate on really sucking him off – and she knows it won’t be long now. He’s still being good, staying quiet even without his fist to break the sound - the devilish part of her wishes she had the option of making him scream - but he's full gone now, unhinged in the mindless, hurtling, unthinking search for the release her mouth can bring him.
The only sounds in this little constrained space as his, his whimpers, even as he tries to be quiet, filling the room, hushed, and thinking of how vocal he normally is with her, she almost mourns it.
Next time, she promises herself, next time.
In the meantime, she has a job to do – one he clearly appreciates.
Sure enough, moaning, jerking, whimpering, she finds him breaking as he whispers with a broken voice that might otherwise be a yell – “I’m gonna come, Phee–” he groans in warning, a broken whisper, “I’m gonna–” – and, head tilted back, her neck arching in a change of position that has her groaning in relief, she sucks just that little bit hard on the tip on him, swizzles the slit there with the edge of her tongue – and opens her eyes to watch as his head throws back, his body seize and shake and he groans.
Smirking around the thick length of him, she can feel it as he erupts into her welcoming mouth, the salt of his thick spend hitting the back of her throat with such force that she can’t help but gag, his cum so thick and generous it spils out of her open mouth, running down from the edges of her lips and staining her neck and the cleveage bared by her sundress. Smiling, she keeps her eyes on him, watching as, panting uncontrollably, his hand still twisted in her hair, he looks down at her with that fond and almost bemused look on his face he always has in these moments. As, devilish as always, she opens her mouth next, to show him the proof of her devotion on her tongue, lets his cum sit there a second before she makes a show of swallowing what’s left of it.
She’s still licking her lips seconds before the peeling, demanding, eardrum-shattering alarm of the bells calling the fire crew to the station rings, so loud it shakes the building, so overwhelming it momentarily drowns out all other sounds and all other thoughts.
She grins; her timing is clearly impeccable.
As, tugging on her arm, he helps her clamber awkwardly to her feet, feeling the tingle in her toes from where they’d gone to sleep from her position on the concrete floor, her knees aching, they both jump seconds later as they hear a deep, heavy clanging on the door to the store closet as Joe Bang whacks the door hard in summoning and in warning, not caring about the volume of his voice, loud even as it's almost drowned out by the alarm.
“Get your ass out here, Logan, unless you want to miss your ride,” he yells – and Clyde and Phee work together to move.
Clyde, shoving his dick back into his briefs, rucking up his pants and suspenders, does up his fly, then he taking the helmet she hands him before kisses her quickly, heavy and quick, his tongue delving deep into her mouth as if he seeks to swallow her whole. He’s shoving his helmet onto his head in seconds, throwing on the jacket she’d passed him as she shoves him out the door to run towards the fire truck, jumping onto the runners alongside Joe.
“Don’t know what the fuck you were doing in there, but hope to hell it was worth it,” Phee can hear him grumble as Clyde leaps on to take his position and she only smiles, feeling the adrenaline fade as the firetruck tears away into the night.
Slumping back against the closed door of her hiding place, she feels her heart pounding, the blood rushing through her as it flows back into her legs, and the adrenaline fades.
Made it, if only barely, and it had been so worth it.
Safely hidden in the storage closet, she swipes at her skin with on rag best she can, waits five minutes, takes a deep breath, waits another five more, until she hears the station house cleaning out, until the hubbub dies down, and she can casually stroll out from her haven. Then she only has to make her way back through the front loading bay and back into the public parking lot without anyone noticing, hardly a challenge with everyone either gone to respond to the fire alarm at the jail or deep in their living areas and offices located in the bowels of the station.
Strolling into the welcoming sunshine, she takes a casual look at the parking lot and, spotting a familiar face, moves to join her cousin, languidly perched as she is on the edge of a stone bench near the front entrance of the station, the sun shining in her chestnut-coloured hair. It’s hardly a surprise to find her there, given the details of Logan's plan, and Phee, taking a spot next to her, smiles.
One would have to be extra stealthy to get anything past Rey Solo. Arriving for a family visit earlier that month, had known immediately there were shenanigans afoot. The same had been true of her husband, the ‘city-slicking lawyer’ they all teased Rey about, a man too smart for his own good, for moments after they’d arrived, he’d been pulling Clyde and Jimmy aside to ask how he could help with any ‘family business’. When it was clear they needed a distraction at the firehouse to keep the chief occupied enough not to notice the two additional and unknown members of the fire crew who would be hitching a free ride back to, and into, the jail, he and Rey had quickly volunteered.
Getting herself comfortable on the sun-warmed stone now, Phee raises her face to soak in the rays.
“How’d Ben do?” she asks, casual, comfortable with her cousin as she is with almost no one else.
Rey was already doing the same, her bright hazel eyes so like Phee’s hidden by her big dark city sunglasses, a contented expression on her face – a smug little kitten who’d definitely been at the cream.
“Unsurprisingly,” Rey smirked, “Ben found some Health and Safety violations, serious ones; he’s putting the Chief through the paces of his inspection now.”
Phee smiles in turn; she bets he did.
“He found some Health and Safety violations? Your husband? Shocking .”
“Indeed. Let me tell you, Phee, we were all surprised during his thorough inspection of the station on behalf of his ‘client’ – their name being withheld for confidential reasons, of course, you understand – shocked, dismayed even.”
A little laugh.
“The Chief himself was surprised most of all by what Ben found.”
“Naturally.”
“Naturally.”
This time, Rey’s smile is knowing as she turns her face slightly from the sun to glance at her cousin.
“Oh, Phee, by the way, you might want to fix your lipstick.”
Phee’s hand is halfway to her face before she remembers; she hadn’t worn any today.
Turning back to her smart-aleck of a cousin, she sees the Cheshire cat grin grow on her face as she gloats, her laugh ringing out.
“Gotta cha.”
Phee, unperturbed, simply returns to her previous position, turning her face towards the sun like a flower, for the warmth of it, gentle for this time of year, feels delightful.
Smiling, she starts counting down the days until Clyde gets out – after today, she counts 87, tomorrow when she wakes, it will be 86, then 85, and then 84. It feels like forever, but she’ll survive, for it is not that long, she consoles herself, she can write, visit.
Anyway, she knows it’ll be worth it.
"Nice day," she comments idly, smacking Rey in mock anger for the trick she'd played on her.
"Productive," her cousin agrees.
They turn their faces in tandem back to enjoying the rays of warmth.
“Oh, and Rey?” she says, eyes closed behind dark glasses of her own as she worships the sun; three months to wait, and in the meantime, she figures, a well-earned case of revenge always provides a fun distraction.
“Yes, Phee?”
And in this case, so tempting in how easy it is, it tastes extra sweet.
“You might want to fix your skirt.”
She doesn’t move or open her eyes, doesn’t even both to look to see the impact of her words, rather, she simply continues to soak up the warmth as she hears as her cousin leaps from her stone seat to her feet, cursing a blue streak the entire time, shifting back and forth to check her clothing is in proper position as she does.
From the sound of how Rey shifts her skirt, it appears it had needed some ‘arranging’ – meaning that Phee’s shot in the dark had been aimed well. But then, it’s hardly a surprise: her cousin and her husband are delightfully predictable.
All the while she torments her, Phee engages in a bit of sun worship and counts down the days; 87. 87 days until Clyde comes home.
It’s not that long, she tells herself, and it isn’t as if she can’t see him. In the meantime, she’s sure she can find something to occupy herself; maybe if she works on it, she might even manage to have a bit of tan by the time Clyde gets out – he loves when her skin turns a bit golden brown, he loves to suck at it, loves to explore where the tan ends and the skin kept safe from the sun’s rays begins. He loves to taste the difference on every part of her, loves to lick every last bit of her skin until he’s sure he can’t tell the difference between the tanned bits and the rest.
She loves it so as he does.
Yes, she thinks, she’ll keep herself busy, get a bit of a tan and count down the days until he can enjoy it.
In the meantime, they can both dream of how much fun it will be when she gets her lips on him again.