Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Lawdy, Miss Clawdy - Elvis (NSFW)

A/N: this was inspired by my sister and her love for Eddie Munson

You adjusted the straps of your dress, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was a little more scandalous than what you were used to, but you think it will work for the day's plans. Elvis and you had to attend some gala honoring something you weren't entirely sure about, but his presence was almost certainly required. At least according to Colonel Tom Parker.

You wore a sage green dress that had cut outs on your rib cage, but for the most part you were covered. It was silky and flattering to your body, which you were grateful for. And it had a slit up one of the sides, which you knew Elvis would be grateful for.

It would do. Your hair was curled around your face, and your heels were strappy and tall. It would all do well for the evening. You grabbed your purse and walked down the stairs to meet Elvis at the base, who let out a long whistle at the sight of you.

"Ooo mama," he said, eyes dipping low as you gave him a slow spin. "You think we gotta go to this thang?"

You laughed, pulling him in for a kiss then straightened his suit jacket. You sauntered away, swaying your hips in the way you knew he liked and said, "c'mon big boy. We can't be late."

"Lawdy, lawdy," he murmured, following after you with stars in his eyes.

The chauffeur pulled around the front and Elvis held the door open for you as you slid in. He came next to you, his tanned hand resting on your knee as the car started going. His hands.

Elvis was an attractive man, there was no doubt about it. With a charming smile that showed off white teeth, striking blue eyes, and blessed dark hair that always curled at the ends, Elvis was the definition of handsome for women everywhere. And you appreciated all of it. But if you had to choose one thing that was his most attractive - it would be his hands.

They were always a little calloused, long, thin fingers with slight scars along the tips from playing the guitar until his fingers bled. He always had on loads of rings that felt cool to your skin. Something about those rings were so sexy. And when you felt them touching you as his hands did, it was an added layer to the entire experience. His hands were strong, capable, yet they never hurt you or grabbed at you. They just held you, or praised you, the way Elvis wanted. That's why they were your favorite.

And he was a smart man, so he knew the effect they had. His thumb started to rub your knee slowly as he looked out the window, sending warmth and excitement straight your core. You seemed to buzz slightly under his touch.

"How long is this event?" You eventually asked, your voice a little strained.

"Oh now you wanna stay home?" He teased, dipping his hand to rest more on your thigh. It was so warm and so close to where you needed.

"Just wondering." You said, propping your leg up on the opposing seat, it was a fancy limousine after all. The dress fell to the sides as the slit went all the way up to your hip, where Elvis soon discovered you weren't wearing any panties. His fingertips grazed the skin of your hip.

"They'd be seen."

"Dangerous."

You pouted your lip, "you complainin?"

"Lawdy, Y/N, you'll be the death of me." Elvis leaned in to kiss you, claiming your lips as his. His hand dipped under your skirt to cup your sex, which was shamefully wet under his touch. You moaned, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

Elvis was a wonderful kisser, and he seemed to mold his lips to yours with each touch. He sucked your bottom a little, pulling at it and making your back arch when he touched your clit at the same time. His fingers lazily stroked around your sex, not trying to do anything in specific. He knew how to pleasure you, he'd done it a hundred times, but he wanted you to squirm under his touch. And squirm you did. Your hips started to move to meet his fingers, and just when you made the contact you oh so needed - the car stopped and Elvis pulled away from you.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, which had some of your juices, and sucked. The same rings that felt so cool against your skin now just on shiny display like normal. Elvis gave you a moment to compose yourself, before stepping out of the car.

Lights flashed as paparazzi photographed Elvis, and subsequently you, at all angles. He just kept his arm round your waist, thanked the fans who were there, and led the two of you inside as soon as you could.

After speaking with a few of the officials in charge of the event, and Elvis writing a hefty donation, the two of you found your spots at a table in the front corner of the room. Colonel Tom Parker sat opposite you and Elvis, and upon seeing you he pursed his lips in that way he does when he's annoyed. Parker hated you, and the feeling was entirely mutual. You resisted the urge to flip him off when Elvis wasn't looking.

Some speaker went up to the front and the house lights dimmed. You crossed your legs to listen, your slit revealing your leg but you didn't mind. Elvis's hand came to rest on your thigh like it usually did.

A few minutes into the speech, you felt his hand travel down to your crotch. You tensed, not knowing how to react. While your body definitely wanted this, your mind knew that getting publicly fingered was not something you wanted getting out. Elvis felt you tense beneath him and stopped, stilling his hand to just sit. After another moment his gaze met yours, silently asking for permission to continue.

You bit your lip and nodded. It was dark, Elvis would be subtle, and you were still desperately horny from earlier.

With your encouragement, Elvis's hand quickly snuck under your skirt to cup you. His hand was so large that he could cup the entirety of your sex. His rings grazed your mound and you adjusted a little in your seat, earning a glare from Parker. Parker's opinion mattered the least to you.

Elvis's fingers collected some of the collecting liquids at your entrance, coming up to circle your clit. It was slow movements, nothing so as to alert anyone of what he was doing. But it was maddening all the same as his thumb brushed your clit. He inserted one finger into you, quickly followed by a second pumping in and out.

At this angle, his palm was brushing against your clit giving you that much needed friction. He inserted a third finger, then curled them slightly. You made a small gasping noise, which earned a few looks but you just played it off like it was the wine in your hand and not the fingers in your vagina. Thank God for dark house lights.

Elvis fucking Presley knew exactly what turned you on, and within seconds of that third finger he was getting you ready for an orgasm. He circled your clit, grinding against it as his finger flexed inside of you. They hit that spot that made your toes curl in your heels, made you bite your lip and pray you were a decent actress. Then - he removed his hand. Like that all the tension was gone. The house lights came on and people started to move around and mingle.

Elvis stuck his hand in his pocket with a satisfied grin on his face. You were angry and horny, and completely let down. He knew when the lights were going to come back on because, despite everything, he had been paying attention.

You pouted, taking a large gulp of wine and trying to pretend like you hadn't just been let down. The buzz was still running through you. When you and Elvis got into the car, he lifted his hand that he'd been hiding. While looking right into your eyes, he brought the wet hand, covered in rings, up to his mouth and licked the juices off.