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It started out as an offhand comment as the two of you ran to his car.
“You can jerk me off if I get bored.” Trevor turned to look at you as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m kidding! You can suck me off.”
As a loyal employee of Trevor Phillips Industries, you’d gotten used to your boss making comments like that. He was just that kind of person. The only problem is that sometimes it was impossible to tell if he was joking. You’d learned that it was better to just go with it and not ask.
You got in the passenger seat of his pick-up truck and he wasted no time in ripping out of his driveway. He was a man on a mission. You didn’t know much about his relationship with that Michael guy he’d been talking about but Trevor had been on edge ever since he heard him on TV. You hadn’t pried. You wanted to but you didn’t want to put him in an even worse mood. Thankfully, there was a comfortable silence that settled over the two of you, set aside the occasional road rage from your boss, who was actively cussing someone out for merging in front of him. You stared out the window as the desert scenery merged into highways and hills, sky bright and blue and full of white clouds, dancing in the wind. Your mind was stuck on Trevor’s comment and you weren’t quite sure why, but you were feeling bold. Maybe you’d do something about it! You shifted your body so you were facing towards Trevor. His eyes were focused on the road, much to your surprise, but that meant he didn’t notice your advances until your fingers were sweeping over the crotch of his dirty blue jeans. You pinched the zipper in between your pointer and your thumb before clearing your throat to actually get his attention.
“Don’t get me killed, ‘kay?’
“The fuck are you doing?”
“Sucking you off, duh.”
Trevor let out a hearty laugh like he was in disbelief. “By all means, darling, go ahead.” His hand, all tattooed and calloused, caressed your face and squeezed your cheeks like you were a toy. “Can’t promise I’m gonna be very gentle.”
He wasn’t kidding. His cock was barely in your mouth when a hand grabbed at the back of your hair. You licked a stripe from the base to the tip and without warning, he pushed your head down. You gagged and he laughed.
“Come on, you can take it.”
You recovered quicker than you expected. Your head bobbed up and down, wet noises masking the sound of the radio. You tried to ignore the way he was totally swerving. Trevor's grip tightened on your hair whenever he jerked back in between the lines. His groans made up for how rough he was with you. Maybe not for totally putting your life on the line but hey! It was Trevor. You'd gotten pretty used to it.
“Fuckin’ cops…” Trevor mumbled under his breath.
With a concerned look in your eyes, you stared up at him, cock falling out of your mouth. “Trev, what did you just say?”
“Yeah, you might wanna sit up,” he said calmly, shoving his still-hard dick back into his pants. “We’re not done. Don’t think I’m finished with you.”
You wiped the drool off of your face and sat up straight, avoiding eye contact with the cops that were blazing past the two of you. The second his truck crossed into Los Santos, Trevor was pulling into an empty alley and parking. You didn’t have a chance to argue. By the time the words were about to leave your lips, Trevor was out of his ride and pulling you out of it.
“Told you I wasn’t done with you, sweetcheeks.” Trevor pushed you forward, bending you over the dirty red hood of his truck in a swift motion. You put your hands out to catch yourself as his hips jutted into your ass. He made quick work of your pants and underwear, dropping them to your knees and lining himself up with your entrance. “Think you can handle it? Think you can handle Uncle T without getting your pretty little self caught?”
“Trevor, just fuck me already,” you whined, pushing back into him.
“Whatever you want, babe.” He thrusts into you once, filling you up quicker than you expected. The moan he let out was guttural. Your head rolled back, nails scratching at the already chipped paint. One thing about Trevor was that if he was fucking you, he was fucking you hard. His goal was to hamper your ability to walk every time. He slammed inside of you, hands roaming all over your body. He never knew where to put them.
You knew he was taking out a lot of anger on you. You couldn't imagine what it was like to find out someone you thought was dead had been alive for the past 10 years and lied about it. The least you could do was offer him some reprieve.
“You're so fucking tight,” Trevor whined, nose buried in your hair. He was kind of obsessed with the way you smelled and he made that very, very clear. One of his hands was pressed to your neck and the other squeezed your waist. He wasn't choking you. Not yet, at least. Just asserting some kind of possession over you. Your face was buried in your sleeve, trying to keep your moaning to a minimum, but it was exceptionally hard when Trevor’s cock was hitting all the right places inside of you.
You made a mental note to yourself to let him fuck you when he was angry more often.
Very few words were exchanged on your part, as you were trying to preserve some of your dignity and keep quiet. Trevor, on the other hand? He was a talker. Every thrust was accompanied with a nickname and some of the dirtiest ramblings you’d ever heard. You let out a gasp as his hips snapped against yours particularly hard.
“C’mon, you’re doin’ so good for me,” Trevor grunted into your ear, tightening his grasp on your neck. He pushed your head closer to his. “You can handle it.”
You really didn’t have a say in the matter, and you were perfectly content with that.
“Yes sir,” you choked out, words muffled into your hand. Your head felt all warm and fuzzy, eyes closing as you tried to focus on your breathing. Your hand met Trevor’s on your neck, digging your fingers into his skin. He let go just enough for you to catch your breath. There was no way you were lasting if he kept going like this – violent and relentless.
Trevor finally let you go and you collapsed onto the hood, back arching into his thrusts. His hands ran down your torso and grasped tightly on your hips, pulling you into him to meet his pace. You were still trying to be quiet but the undeniable sound of skin on skin wouldn’t be hard to hear for people walking past. You closed your eyes to save some of your dignity, but Trevor? He was loud and proud. He growled your name like a feral beast – you were the only thing quenching his thirst. And the worst part is, you fucking loved it. You loved how obvious he was. You loved the idea that somebody could catch you. You loved letting him use you like a fleshlight. Your orgasm was seconds away from ripping through your body as you buried your mouth in your sleeve once more, trying to mute yourself as much as possible.
“Let me hear you, sexy. Give me somethin’ to cum for,” Trevor groaned. Your eyes were practically rolling back in your head. He grabbed the hand covering your mouth and held it behind your back. “Who’s fucking your brains out right now?”
“Fuck, Trevor,” you finally whined. Your other hand shook as you tried to keep yourself upright.
“Oh yeah, that’s fucking it. You’re perfect. Fuck, I love you.” Trevor leaned over you, hot breath against your neck, chest pressed against your back. His thrusts – sloppy and harsh – jerked to a stop as he came inside of you. An exasperated cry left your lips as you came. At that point, you didn’t give a shit who heard or saw – and people certainly had noticed. It was just another day in Los Santos for them, but for you? You hadn’t came that hard in a while.
You flopped into the passenger seat once more, trying to catch your breath. Trevor’s cum was still dripping down your thighs and it was probably getting on the seat but you couldn’t really care. You watched as Trevor pulled up his pants, fumbling with his belt in one hand as he dialed Ron’s number with the other. You laughed at the spectacle as you tried to find something to clean yourself off with. Dirty tissues, a random piece of cloth – finally, your saving grace; a Cluckin’ Bell napkin. You cleaned yourself off and shimmied your pants back on. You were still shaking.
Trevor got back in the truck and took off again, rambling to you about Michael this and “when I find that fucker” that, but now, his hand was interlaced with yours. He squeezed it like he was trying to make sure you were still there. He needed to make sure you weren’t going to leave him but he wasn’t going to say that to your face. You squeezed his back. He was a piece of work, sure, but deep down there was still a little good left in him.