Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Dirty, Dirty Feeling - Elvis (NSFW)

A/N: even in my possessive fics consent is sexy

You sat sipping your soda as Elvis danced across the stage, thrusting his hips and laughing as he sang the lyrics. He was completely magnetizing and you didn't even realize you'd been zoning out until the straw hit the back of your throat. You quickly pulled it out, embarrassed and hoping nobody near you noticed.

As the performance drew to a close, Elvis thanked the audience for coming and one of his security guards came to guide you away before the rush got too extreme. Your regular routine had been to leave a little early so you could spend the evening with Elvis.

As the security guard, who you had gotten to know as Darryl, led you to the wings of the stage the two of you began to chat a little. You spoke about the performance, how amazing Elvis had been and how fascinating it is to know him. You made a passing comment about how grateful you were to have him.

Darryl smiled shyly, saying, "I don't know, miss, I think he should be the grateful one."

Your eyes widened, "excuse me?"

"Well, he doesn't exactly treat you right. You're all pretty and smart and he just goes about doing whatever."

Your throat tightened at his words. You knew Elvis had affairs with many women, lots of his fans specifically. It didn't bother you as much as it might have because you knew he was yours. Through better or worse, this man was yours eternally. So you ignored Darryl's very bold comments.

He seemed completely ignorant to the way you fell silent and continued, "you're a mighty lovely woman, miss. Very pretty."

Suddenly a warm hand came around your waist, fingers squeezing tightly. Elvis appeared by your side, covered in a layer of sweat and visibly angry.

"My girl is very lovely," he said in a deep growl.

"Yes sir," Darryl said quickly, trying to cover for his earlier mistake.

But it was too late. Elvis's jaw was set, teeth grinding as he looked Darryl up and down. "I think you must've gotten your place confused, sir. This is my girl and I love her how I like."

"Of course."

"Mm," was all Elvis's reply, turning to you as though Darryl no longer existed. "Go to my dressing room, love."

"Okay," you said meekly. You could feel a certain type of possessiveness rolling off of Elvis, and he did not seem pleased with the conservation he walked in on. It wasn't your fault, of course. You hadn't done anything to encourage the way Darryl was speaking but you hated to see Elvis upset. He wasn't violent or particularly mean but especially after such a long show, you knew that he needed to rest.

You went into his dressing room, sitting on the red couch and trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in your stomach. Was Elvis going to fire him? Or worse, would he make a scene and yell at the poor man?

You didn't have to worry or wait long because Elvis stormed into the dressing room, slamming the door behind him. He went to you, pulling you up from the couch and giving you a searing kiss.

Immediately your arms flew up around his neck, moaning into the touch of his warm tongue as he claimed you in the most animalistic way he could think of. His teeth even grazed at your lips and he pressed your body along the length of his. The tent in his trousers made you gasp, and Elvis took that opportunity to slide his hand up your dress and cup your sex.

"Mine," he said in a low voice, dropping his head to pepper wet kisses along your neck. "My girl. My pussy. Mine."

You were surprisingly turned on by this display of possessiveness and rolled your hips along his hand. He pressed you against the door, tongue eagerly lapping at your skin. Elvis tore off your underwear in one quick movement, making you jump as the elastic fell around your legs.

"E-Elvis!"

He paused, his hot breath still against your skin as he said, "you don't want this?"

"I didn't say that." Your voice was breathless.

"Do you want this?"

"Yes."

That was all he needed. His fingers dived into your folds, feeling the collecting wetness as he searched for your clit. When he found it your hips bucked and it went for it earnestly, circling it slowly and picking up his pace with his kisses. When he bit on the juncture between your neck and collarbone at the same time his fingers stroked your clit, you bit back a moan.

"No, say my name baby," Elvis said hoarsely, pulling away so he could zip down his suit enough to get his pink, dripping cock out. He was positively pulsing with desire and you didn't hesitate to part your legs.

He lined himself up at your entrance, looking into your eyes for confirmation, before sliding inside in one quick thrust. You gasped at the feeling of being so full, and Elvis brought a hand to the base of your neck. Fingers just holding on, not squeezing but a presence.

Then he started to thrust. At first they were slow, experimental to what the two of you liked. But when he found that sweet spot that made your toes curl and raspy moans slide from your mouth he slammed into you. His fingers at your throat started to tighten ever so slightly, and you placed your hand over his to show him the right amount of pleasure. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, haziness creeping into your vision. It was perfect. So fucking perfect.

"Say my name." He demanded, pinching your nipple through your top.

You moaned, "Elvis."

"Louder."

"Elvis!!"

"Who do you belong to?"

God that phrasing, it made your hips move more eagerly to meet his thrusts, "you. You!"

"Mine, all fucking mine."

Then his fingers circled your clit, others coming to squeeze at your neck and you screamed loudly. Stars completely took over your visions, white dots sparkling around the image of Elvis's face screwed up in pleasure.

He followed after you, pounding one last time as he moaned your name into the crook of your neck. Then he pulled out, spurting onto his stomach. The two of you just gasped for air, staring at the sweaty versions of yourselves.

Elvis pulled you in a for a hug, kissing your forehead, "you're all mine baby."

"I got that," you said, your voice hoarse.

He laughed, "that guy gave me a dirty, dirty feeling."

"Maybe you should feel it more often."

He chuckled, "naughty girl."