Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

114. Cold

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"Striker, look—over there."

Striker turned his head to look where I was pointing: To our far right there was a small—very familiar—oasis in the middle of the dry, barren plains. A single tree grew beside a tiny pond, and a few scant patches of grass were scattered around the water.

"Do you remember that place?" I asked quietly.

"I believe so," he said, one of his hands releasing Bombproof's reins to hold my waist.

I covered his hand with mine and laced our fingers together. "It's where we made love for the first time."

A soft, almost inaudible sigh escaped his nose as he craned his head over my shoulder and pressed his lips to my temple. "I remember that real well," he murmured in my ear.

"It seems like so long ago now," I mused.

"It's been close to a year since then, I believe."

"A lot's happened in the past year. . ."

"I'll say," he remarked. He looked out at the sun slowly descending past the horizon, the rippling glow of the giant orbs of floating magma in the distance painting the landscape various hues of orange and yellow. "It's gettin' late. What do you say we set up camp for the night?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why, were you thinking of camping over there so we could reminisce?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Well, I'm certainly not opposed to the idea."

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"Striker," I whispered as I felt my lover slip his hands beneath my undershirt and roughly feel my bare waist. One of them migrated down toward my jeans, and his fingers quickly undid the button and slid into my panties.

A shudder racked my body when he began tracing circles over my clit, and I leaned back against the trunk of the small tree to allow him easier access to me. Striker pulled my bottoms down to my ankles and continued to play with me, lightly rubbing my clit a few more times before sliding a finger inside me.

A small, needy whimper escaped me each time he stroked my sweet spot, his hand eventually picking up speed. He planted slow, open-mouthed kisses on my neck and chest, his breath warming my skin, and he reached down to undo his pants and free his manhood.

The cool evening wind chilled me to the bone, which was only made worse by Striker removing my bottoms and opening my flannel shirt, and I shivered terribly underneath his frame.

"Cold, darlin'?" Striker asked, lifting his head to look down at me. I nodded, and he draped the blanket Miss Daisy had packed over our frames to shield us from the winter air.

I slipped my arms under his jacket and secured them around his broad chest, clinging to him for warmth, and in return, he held me closer to him.

He let out an airy chuckle. "You even feel like doin' this?"

"Y-Yeah, but. . ." I briefly bit my lip before saying, "It's not like I can enjoy it while I'm freezing."

Striker grinned, finally taking his fingers out of me and tucking his erection back into his pants. "Hang on," he said, pushing himself off of my frame and wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. "Lemme get the fire goin' some more."

He stood and plucked a few limbs off the tree above us, then broke them up and added them to the small fire he had started earlier, the flames growing with each piece he placed in the kindling. I shifted closer to the fire and stuck out my hands to warm them, and Striker sat back down beside me, opened the blanket around me, and pulled me into his lap.