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callme-darling · 16 days

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all these ppl in ur asks talking abt Pierre has me tweaking thinking about a continuation of ur rival!pierre fic where he picks a fight w u in front of everyone then goes on to worship u when yall r alone 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the cow prince & the dairy queen (pt.2)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: rivals with benefits dynamic, pierre is a bit of a prick, smut, little plot, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, mentions of alcohol, pls let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this isn’t really a finished piece, but pls accept these pierre chavanges crumbs🙏🏻 (side note: this is lowkey FILTHY)

you can find pt.1 here

it had been a few weeks since yours and pierre’s fling in the pasture. a part of you was content to leave it as that—a one time act of lust; nothing more, nothing less. you both seemingly went back to your respective work; tending to your own farms with little more than an occasional nod or glare in the others direction depending on the day.

you would have been happy to never speak of it, let alone think of it. it seems, however, your happiness is irrelevant when it comes to circumstance.

fabrice was hosting a small, informal get together for the community. well technically another of his friends put it all together, fabrice simply agreed to host it at his house. and just about everyone in town was invited; including, of course, pierre chavanges.

initially, you were going to decline the invitation, but it was rare to see anyone else these days, and rarer still to be able to talk to them for more than a fleeting passing-by. so you agreed and gave fabrice a kind thanks before hanging up the phone. and now you stand in his yard, mentally kicking yourself to be so naive to think this was a good idea.

all was well for the first half hour or so. you made amiable conversation with some people you knew, some you didn’t, and the plastic cup in your hand was a comforting weight of liquid courage. yes, all was well—until you heard a loud chorus of cheers come from near the house. instantly, you smile fell when you saw whose presence was the cause for the ruckus.

you secretly had hoped he would decline the invitation, much like you almost had. but, also like yourself, he must have felt a keen obligation to his friends to at least make an appearance.

and almost immediately, your eyes met. his eyes narrowed in on you, like a predator singling out the weakest of the herd. you finish your drink and slide into a thicker part of the crowd, hoping to get the pair of lingering eyes off of you.

for nearly an hour you succeeded in avoiding one another. but then, as the party gradually began to taper off and more people began to head for their respective homes, you were drug into fabrice’s kitchen for a ‘final round’ before officially calling it a night.

and to everyone’s surprise, and your dismay, pierre had managed to stick it out too.

everyone was in boisterous conversation while you studied the contents of the cup in your hand, the earthy beer a little musty to your tastes.

“say, y/n-“ you’re pulled from your thoughts by one of the guys, “you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. don’t tell me we’re boring you.”

you force a small laugh at the jest, your eyes briefly glancing around the small room, unsurprised to find pierre looking straight at you. “no, no,” you shake your head, reclining your hips against the counter. “just been a long day.”

“the queen probably finds our conversations below herself.” the guys laugh heartily at pierre’s cheap jab. you just roll your eyes, you and pierre are easily the most sober in the room, so you excuse the others. but your glare finds pierre’s easily.

his tall friend picks up on the animosity quickly despite his inebriation, his eyes glimmering with drunken glee as he points, “ooh c’mon guys. let’s not fight, you’re both equally insufferable when you get like this.”

“i’m perfectly fine. i’m afraid it’s your friend who can’t get off his high horse.”

pierre doesn’t break eye contact as he tilts his head slightly, “she’s right. we should be nice to her majesty. we all know she’s had a rough season, after all.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean, chavanges?” your grip tightens around your cup enough to make the thin material crackle.

everyone else seems to catch the tension in the atmosphere shift from friendly pestering to something more hostile. everyone but pierre, whose lips ever so slightly twitch into a shit eating grin.

“what do you think it sounds like?”

you hold his hard stare for a long moment. ‘it’s not worth it’ you decide. you turn slightly to pour the remnants of your drink into the sink. “it sounds like it’s time for me to excuse myself.”

the boys make sounds of disapproval, some of them throwing their arms up at pierre in a silent complaint of ‘what the hell man?’, but pierre only kept his steely eyes on you, an air of indisputable satisfaction behind his expression.

you’re walking along the dirt road that’ll take you home when a set of yellow headlights illuminate your shadow. you shuffle to the side of the path, nearly standing in the shallow ditch when the vehicle slows to a stop just behind you.

“get in, princess.”

you roll your eyes when the distinct tone of pierre’s voice hits your ears. you ignore him and begin walking in the direction of your house again. a strong gust of wind wips past you. instinctively, your arms wrap around your midsection as you grumble under your breath.

pierre merely inches his truck forward, it’s muddied wheels creeping alongside you. “c’mon, get in the truck. it’s freezing.”

you grit your teeth. “i’d rather take my chances freezing then, thanks”

he chuckles and the sound nearly has you seeing red. “go the fuck home, chavanges.”

it didn’t matter how cold you were, or how nice a ride in the warm truck cab sounded. you were not so desperate to grant him the gratification of doing you a favor, no matter how minuscule.

“christ y/n,” he practically growled in nothing short of annoyance, “get in the fucking truck.”

you stop walking, a huff of warm breath dissipating into the cold air. you stand against the cold wind for a moment longer, feeling his eyes rake over you from behind. then with a resigned sigh, you wordlessly stalk to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door.

neither of you say a word as you slip into the seat, but you can feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you finally say.

you catch the way his tongue prods the inside of his cheek before he starts driving along the quickly darkening road.

“you’re really pissed?” he asks after a long stretch of silence.

you’re looking out the window, forehead resting against the cool glass. “you’re really an asshole?”

“come on now, don’t be like that.”

you chuckle at the audacity of this man, though it comes out more like a scoff. “i take it back. you’re a piece of shit.”

“mm, that’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning my name,” he says flatly. “though, it has been a bit so maybe my memory is getting foggy.” and the pointed look he gave you left you with no need to discern what meaning lurked under the surface.

you held your breath as you leveled his gaze. the tension in the cab was oppressive. it took a good moment for you to realize he had parked his truck in one of the pull-offs. your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“tell me, princess,” you hated how your stomach fluttered at the way he said the nickname you hated so much, “does it make you angry when i do that?”

“you’re going to have to be more specific,” you breathe out. “you do a lot of things that piss me off.” you mentally curse when you catch yourself glimpsing to his lips.

he grins. “do you hate when i call you out, give you a hard time? does it make your blood boil?” he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s leaning closer, his eyes sharp as they scan your face. “and does it make you angrier knowing that the guy who gets you so riled up is the same guy you let fuck you in a field a couple weeks ago?”

you swallow, jaw clenching as you turn to look out your window again. then in a moment of stupid courage, likely fueled by the traces of alcohol still running in your veins, you ask the first question that flashed in your mind.

“is this your way of saying once wasn’t enough for you?”

“yes.”

his reply was quick and void of any hints of deception. your lips parted when his answer shocked your system, instantaneously leaving you at a loss for words.

he gauged your reaction, eyes searching yours. when you say nothing, he sighs, though it’s more blasé than irritated. “you know, you’re real annoying when you go quiet like that. for all the complaining and whining you do, i know you have something in that little head of yours you want to say.” he reaches across the console of the truck to gently grab your chin. “yes or no?”

you didn’t need any further context to know what he was asking. you chew on the inside of your lip, chin titled ever so slightly by his thumb, and nod once.

“that won’t do.” he clicks his tongue and murmurs lowly, “use your words, princess.”

you lean in close, eyes steady on his as you whisper, “you can fuck me, chavanges, but i won’t beg.”

his eyes glinted with an unsaid challenge. the thumb holding your chin brushed over your bottom lip, the featherlight touch submerging your stomach in water. “we’ll see about that.”

when he pressed his lips to yours, you swear your senses completely shut everything else out. his movements were slow, languid, as his lips moved in time with yours. his tongue gently nudged past your lips.

even now, you can tell there’s been a shift since the time in the pasture. pierre was much more deliberate and subdued.

you could feel yourself leaning more into his touch, the top half of your body nearly laying on the center console. his rough hand found your jaw and pulled you even closer with a muffled groan.

you straddled his lap in the cramped truck, your ass threatening to bump against the horn until two hands pulled your hips securely on top of his. “fuck, you’re pretty like this.” the combination of his throaty compliment and his fingers digging into your hips had your breath hitching.

eyes half lidded, you peer down at him. your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you keep your face hovering over his. “what would you do if i just up and left? just got out of this truck of yours and left you here like this.”

pierre have you a cheeky grin, unadulterated confidence gleaming in his eyes. “we both know you wouldn’t.” he leaned close so his lips tickled your ear, “i fuck you too good for you to even consider it.”

“then you better not disappoint, chavanges.”

his grin only grew, grip on your hips moving to cup your ass. “don’t you worry, princess. just let me take care of ya.”

“oh? is the prince feeling chivalrous?”

a hand on your neck has your eyes fluttering as he whispers against your warm skin, “i suggest you be nice.” then his lips were on your throat, tongue teasing the sensitive flesh while his teeth nipped little red marks across your chest.

you fingers are in his hair as he undoubtedly leaves marks that won’t fade for a couple days over your skin. you’ll be irritated tomorrow, but for now you allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of his fleeting touch.

his large hands gave your ass another squeeze, grinding you against his jean-covered, half hard cock. you always hated how your body betrayed you, the way you can feel your pussy practically soaking through your panties and onto his lap.

pierre groans underneath you, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head, his other hand unclasping your bra with a fumbling grasp that only added to the heat of the truck. his lips abandon your neck in favor of your tits. his eyes watched you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the sensitive nub under his tongue. his palm groped at your other breast, fingers teasingly pulling at your skin as you whine.

his mouth pulls off you with a minute wet ‘pop’. he grinned up at you, eyes no doubt studying the growing blush on your cheeks. “y’know, you sound prettier like this than when you’re bitchin’.”

you tugged his hair, a warning.

he ignores it. “fuck.. i can’t wait anymore.” it’s embarrassing, how your pussy clenched around nothing at his words. your chest shone with the warmth of his spit as his breath fans across your skin. you shudder as his fingernails skim up your arm and down the front of your collarbone. “gotta feel that little pussy of yours, been too long.”

the transition to you shimmying your worn jeans down your legs was anything but graceful, but pierre didn’t seem to mind as his own hips raised to deftly push his own pants to his thighs. the windows were already beginning to fog over with a sheen of warmth. you both took a moment, chests softly heaving in unison before pierre’s hands rubbed along your ribs and waist, wordlessly soothing the nerves crawling over your skin.

he brought his face closer to yours again, his nose nudging the column of your neck before inhaling. “been thinking about this since that day.”

you’d sooner take yourself out to pasture than admit you’d been the same. you could practically feel his sick twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers, the heat emanating from his body making your mind hazy. you whine despite yourself, pussy clenching around nothing when his finger traces over the elastic band of your panties.

“pierre, don’t tease.” it’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out breathier than needier than you anticipated.

his touch becomes more assertive, borderline experimental, as his thumb dips to the front of your crotch, easily ghosting over your clit while his eyes watch you with a glimmer of piqued enthusiasm. “are you in a rush?”

his warm breath paired with the tentative touches makes your eyes flutter. “i wanna take my time with you, this time.” finally, his long fingers tug the slick material covering your heat to the side. the calloused pads of his fingers tease your wet folds. you flush with a bright heat when the only sound in the truck is the audible wet clicking coming from pierre shamelessly playing with your soaked pussy.

your head falls to pierre’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as your hips twitch to meet his hand. there’s no doubt your bottom lip is gonna be bruised with how you’re biting into it, but it does little to stop the pathetic sounds from reaching his ears.

“fuck..” his low groan sends sparks down your spine. “you’re so fucking wet, i love it…”

as if to emphasize his words, he slips two long fingers into your dripping hole. your hands clutch onto his shoulders, nails pricking through his shirt but god- you were both so pent up at this point, any humiliation only added to the desperation.

pierre’s lips pressed a wet kiss onto your shoulder. the feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your cunt doubled with the material of your soft panties catching your clit with each shift of his palm, you were made pliant in a matter of minutes.

“god… missed this,” pierre stifles a groan when you clench around his fingers embarrassingly tight, “so much.”

a hand on your throat drags your face to his and his mouth is on you before you fully register his fingers leaving your heat. you’re holding back a whine when he finally frees his dick, blushed an angry red and leaking pre, from his boxers. your eyes are fixated on his cock and it only strokes his ego.

pierre’s breath warms the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you can deny it until you’re blue in the face, but i know you’ve been thinking about how i fuck you everyday since the field.”

you drag your gaze to meet his and even in the darkness of the truck cab, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

his thumb smears the precum from his tip down his shaft as he gives his cock a pump before you lift your hips. your head falls back slightly as you sink down onto his length. you both breathe softly when you finally bottom out, and it takes everything in you not to start bouncing on his lap.

instead, you bite back a small moan and give the man beneath you a heady glare, “you better not fall for me, chavanges.”

he returns it with a toothy grin, mouth already coming to hover over yours. “i definitely won’t fall for you. i just love to hate you.”

#ꕤ ₊˚✧ mailbox .#♱₊˚✧ filth .#swann arlaud #bloody milk #petit paysan #swann arlaud smut #pierre chavanges

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