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It’s your third meet and greet within the last year and a half, which maybe should be embarrassing, but who are you kidding? You know what you like, and you like Rhett and Link. You’re clutching the two hand-stitched journals you made them, both with little notes tucked in the middle, telling them how much you appreciate them, signed with your Instagram handle. Your hands are a little shaky, you’d think you’d be used to this by now, but the adrenaline is coursing through you nonetheless.
As you get closer to the front of the line you notice that Rhett keeps looking over at you. You can practically feel his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on your exposed neck, drifting down to take in the warm tone of your thighs peeking out from under your yellow sundress, that smirk on his lips that always drives you crazy.
The first time you noticed this, your eyes locked briefly, but his gaze was so intense you had to look away. Did that really just happen? Or did you imagine it? It felt like you just eye fucked a six and a half foot tall sexgod. There’s a small thrill of power brewing deep in your belly. The second time it happens, you feel bold, you stand up a little straighter and hold his gaze, tongue flicking out to moisten your lips, eyes burning hot until he looks away.
You keep exchanging stolen glances, and it’s definitely no longer in your imagination. You look around occasionally to see if anyone else is noticing this, if he’s looking at anyone else so intently. There’s a flush all over your body, and you’re sure it’s probably visible under the thin straps of your yellow sundress, splashed across your neck and shoulders like a tell-tale sign.
When it’s finally your turn, Link spots you, throws his arms up and says “Hey! I remember you from the last time we were here!” You blush furiously at the attention, stammering out a “Yep, that was me!” He pulls you in for an extra long hug. You hand them both the journals you made, each taking theirs from you gingerly, expressing thanks with giddy smiles.
“You wore that same dress last time, right?” Rhett says and you turn to look up at him. He snakes his strong arms around you shoulders, his large hands burning a path along your skin everywhere he touches. He leans his head down, right next to the ear facing away from the gathered crowd and whispers, barely audible. “I remember wanting to tear it off of you.” You pull in a sharp intake of breath and feel your face burn, a shy smile tugging involuntarily at your lips that you try to tamp down.
“Let’s get your picture!” Link puts his arm around your shoulder, positioning you to face forward.
—
Later that night, when you're back in your apartment, lying in your bed in the dark, you look back at the handful of photos their assistant took on your phone, there’s one where the three of you are smiling at the camera, Link’s arm slung around your shoulder in a friendly hug, Rhett’s hand on your hip, pulling you flush against his side.
In the second photo, Link’s making a silly face at the camera, you are giggling at him, and Rhett is turning his head to look down at you, hand now curled tightly around the flesh of your hip.
The third photo makes your heart skip a beat. Link is pulling away, already preparing for the next fan. But Rhett...Rhett’s gazing down at you, eyes locked on your upturned face, both of you staring at each other like you’re trying to devour each other with your eyes. His fingers squeezing your hip tightly, almost possessively. The moment looks so private, you can’t even believe it happened in front of a room full of people. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your skin, as if an imprint had been burned right through your dress.
Without thinking twice, you post the first photo, with the three smiling faces to your IG story, hashtagging it #ManCrushEveryday before tossing your phone aside and hopping in the bathtub for a relaxing soak to calm your racing heart.
From the bathroom you can hear the ding of your phone notifications going off every minute or so, there’s nothing unusual about that. It’s probably your friend or your mom asking how the show was. Getting out of the tub, you wrap a huge fluffy towel with yellow sun shapes on it around your body, making your way back to your bedroom.
You pick up your phone off it’s place on the bed and your notification screen is full. Your body, relaxed from the tub, instantly tenses, stomach muscles clenching hard when you see the string of instagram alerts.
rhettmc Liked Your Photo 2 min ago
rhettmc Liked Your Photo 4 min ago
rhettmc Liked Your Photo 8 min ago
rhettmc Liked Your Photo 10 min ago
rhettmc Liked Your Photo 11 min ago
rhettmc Liked Your Photo 12 min ago
The little thumbnails next to each notification show your face in various places, usually with a smile.
“How?” You ask to no one, the silence of your room the only answer. You immediately remember that you had transcribed your IG name on the note in the journal you gave him.
rhettmc Liked Your Photo 30 sec ago
Another alert chimes through. Curiously, you click on his username, loading his profile. The most recent photo, marked an hour ago, is a profile of his face, hair tousled, beard glorious as ever. He’s posed in front of a huge painting of horizontal strokes of lemon, goldenrod, ochre and amber. The caption reads: I’m really into yellow right now.
Your thumb hovers over the like button and before you can stop yourself, you hit the little heart. Your own heart is pounding in your chest, your whole body now buzzing with excitement.
rhettmc Reacted to Your Story 20 sec ago
You receive another alert, this time on the story of you, Rhett and Link. It’s just an emoji, a tiny smirking face. You hit the little heart to indicate you like his comment, so glad that this exchange is private. As innocent as the little smiley face is, the implication makes you feel hot all over.
A tiny bubble pops up that says typing and a surge of adrenaline courses through you.
mancrush huh? me? or link?
Your face floods with color, a stupid grin plastered on your face. Is this really happening?
Instead of responding you send back an eye-roll emoji. A beat later you also send a winking emoji. You feel giddy, like a highschooler with their first crush, learning to flirt for the first time.
It’s a slow exchange, back and forth. He hits the like button on a photo of you biting your lip, eyes angled up at the camera through long lashes, and you hit the like button on another photo of his side profile, eyebrow raised over a piercing gray-green eye.
He types cute on a picture of you holding a puppy to your face, it’s tiny tongue licking your chin.
The short word sets your skin on fire, the low persistent stirring in your belly from earlier growing stronger the longer you stare at the notification.
You retaliate by finding a picture of him, stretched out in a lounge chair near a pool, broad chest naked, one arm behind his head, highlighting the muscles in his shoulder and forearms. His hair is a wild mess and he’s staring, eyes squinted, right into the camera. The heat flames even hotter while you type ohh. very nice .
Not a moment after you hit send, another notification pops up, this time he’s sent you a photo from your feed, one of you sitting on the rim of a huge stone fountain, wearing washed out denim shorts and the goldenrod yellow halter top of a bathing suit. Your arms are behind you, propping you up, and your torso is stretched as you lean back. The buds of your nipples pebbled through the thin material, your not quite flat tummy on full display. You remember being apprehensive about posting it back then, but decided to keep it up because you loved how it captured your carefree smile.
This one the notification reads.
A moment passes, then:
i can’t stop staring at it.
im obsessed with that color against your skin.
want to peel it away and see what it’s hiding
maybe
you should
can i
can i call you?
Your heart is hammering in your chest. He really just asked that. He literally just told you he wants to peel your clothes off then asked for your number. It takes all of thirty seconds before you’re typing your number in and hitting send.
Before you can even swallow your excitement, your phone is buzzing in your hand. You accidentally drop it onto your chest, and only then do you remember you’re practically naked, still wrapped in the fluffy towel from your bath. You’re almost tempted to send the call to voicemail to give yourself enough time to put some clothes on. Your hand completely betrays you, grabbing the phone and pressing answer right at the last second.
“Hello?” Your voice sounds shaky even to your own ears.
“Almost din’t think you were gonna answer. Don’t think my ego could’a handled it.” His low southern drawl sounds like whiskey crackling over ice. It’s the sexiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.
“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” You say, a little laugh coloring your voice.
“Fuck, your voice is really sexy. Feels like you’re whisperin’ in my ear.”
“Yours is too,” you sigh. “I’ve got goosebumps just listening to you talk.”
“Yeah?” he answers, voice dropping an octave. “Where?”
“All over my arms.”
“Mmm,” he asks, his voice sounds thick with want. “Where else?
You laugh a little, the absurdity of the situation is just too much. “My chest. My stomach. My… uh… my thighs.”
The groan on the other side of the phone sends electric jolts through you, you can feel wetness gathering between your legs. His voice is so hot. You’ve always thought that, listening to him on the show, or on his podcast, but you never once, in your hottest fantasies, imagine him making that noise, directed straight at you.
“You still wearing that dress?” He asks, his voice sounds rough, his breathing a little quicker than it was a moment ago. “Glad you posted that photo, was ‘fraid I was going to have to rely on my memory again, like last time.”
“Last time?” You ask, curiosity peaked.
“The last meet n’ greet. Told ya I remembered you wearin’ it before. Dreamed about that damn dress for months.”
Now your breath is coming quicker.
“Glad you like it.” You say, not knowing how else to respond.
“Well? Are you? Still wearin’ it?” The curiosity in his voice has you on fire. This can’t be happening you keep telling yourself.
“Uh, no actually. I took it off earlier.”
“Oh, yeah?” He genuinely sounds disappointed. “What’re you wearin’ now?”
“You’re not gonna believe this.” You say, laughing a bit, thinking about the crazy turn your night has taken. “I’m wearing a towel. I actually...uh...just got out of a bath.”
There’s another hot groan from his side of the phone. “Fuck, baby. You’re killin’ me.” There’s a rustling on his side of the line, what sounds like a shirt being pulled over a head. “You’re right, though. I don’t believe you…” he teases.
“No?”
“Mmm, nope. Think I need proof.” His voice is light, so flirty you can barely stand it.
A thrill of excitement pulses through you. “Want me to... show you?”
There’s a sharp gasp, a breathy “ fuck yeah ” tumbling from his mouth in a rush.
“Hold on a sec,” you say, pulling the phone away from your ear, the rush of cold air an instant relief on your heated skin. You reach over and turn on your bedside lamp, casting just enough light over the room to create a warm glow.
You launch the camera app on your phone, pointing it down at your legs, angled up, bent at the knee, little yellow sun shapes just barely covering the very tops of your thighs, pressed tightly together. Before you can lose your nerve you text it to the number that called you.
You put the phone back to your ear just in time to hear a quiet “oh, gosh.” His voice sounds so tortured with need it makes your whole body shudder. “Believe me now?” You ask, toying with the split of the towel, spreading your thighs apart just enough to let your hand glide up and down the smooth skin there.
“Ye- yeah .” His voice sounds really strained and it’s so fucking sexy. You want to keep pushing this forward, needing more.
“What about you? What are you wearing?” You ask, teasingly. “S’only fair that you show me, too.”
“I can do that. Wait a sec.” there’s another rusting sound, a beat, then the buzz of an incoming text. You pull your phone around to look at the photo, heart hammering as you take it in. The angle is similar to the one you sent him, only his legs are flat on the bed. You can see the long expanse of chest, soft belly dusted with blonde hair. Your eyes keep going, lingering on the popped button at the top of his pants and a very pronounced bulge jutting out against the zipper of his jeans.
“Oh.” Is all you can say when you press the phone back to your face.
“You’ve got me hard as a rock, baby.” He whispers, voice dripping with need.
“You should pull that zipper down,” you whisper back. “Looks uncomfortable, th’way your straining against it like that.”
He hisses over the line, the barely audible whisper of a zipper opening sounds so delicious the muscles of your pelvis contract. Rhett’s cock is hard because of you.
He’s breathing harder, sexy little groans escaping over the line. The moment is impossibly hot, and you’re desperate to know exactly how it’s happening. “Tell me what you’re doing,” you demand, voice far stronger than you would’ve expected it to be.
He silent for just a moment, like he’s holding his breath. “I, uh. I just pulled my cock out. Got my hand wrapped around it now.”
“Are you stroking it?”
“No, ‘m just holding it.” he says. His voice sounds shy, breathless, like he can’t believe what he’s saying. “What about you? Tell me what you’re doin’.”
You consider his question. Up until now you’ve just been stroking your thigh with your hands, but now, knowing what’s he’s doing on the other side of this conversation, you let your hand drop to the apex of your thighs. “I’m just running my hands over my skin. My thighs, my stomach. My…” you trail off.
“Tell me, please,”
You know what he wants to hear. You know what you want to tell him. You brush your hand over your stomach, fingertips dancing over your pubic bone, and you dip just the tip of your middle finger into your folds. “I’m grazing my clit with my middle finger. Just teasin’ it. It feels really good but I’m wishin it was your hand instead.”
“ Fuck, yeah baby. I wish it was me too.” He sounds like he’s doing a lot more than just holding his cock now. You tease him, “you stroking your cock, now? Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
There’s a shaky inhale on the other side of the phone, and you close your eyes, squeezing your thighs around your hand. If you concentrate, you can still feel that whisper of breath on your ear from earlier. “Thinking about spreading that towel open, settling myself between your thighs. Wanna know what you taste like. Bet you’re sweet like honey.”
You can’t help the tiny moan that escapes you, dipping your finger lower, feeling the gathered wetness. It feels amazing but not nearly enough.
“Keep talking” you beg, voice low and sultry.
“I wanna wrap my tongue around your clit, like you’re doin’ with your finger right now. Wanna make you moan my name with your sexy voice. Wanna watch your pretty face as
I fuck you with my tongue.”
You can just imagine him settled between your thighs, spreading you open with his tongue, making good on the promise to tease your clit with his talented mouth. You can just picture your hand sinking into his wild hair, pulling him closer to you as you fuck yourself against his mouth, not letting up until you’re shaking.
“Rhett, fuck.”
“Yeah, baby. Tell me what you’re doin’ to yourself. I need to know.”
“Pushing two fingers into myself. Rubbing my clit with my palm. God, I’m so fucking wet.”
“Two fingers? Fuck , my cock is throbbing just thinkin’ about you doin’ that.”
“S’not enough, I need more. Deeper.” You’re whining, mewling into the phone, pumping your fingers as deep as you can, but you just can’t fill yourself up they way you’re craving. “Need you.”
“I know what you mean, darlin, I wanna feel you wrapped around me, wanna feel your wet pussy squeeze me as I fuck up into you. Wanna hold your hips while you ride me. I’ve spent the last three hours thinking about how your hip felt in my hand.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you’re chanting, pressing your sex up harder against your aching palm, desperate for friction against your clit. “Got a picture of you grabbing me. So fucking hot. The moment I saw it I was on fire.”
“Oh gosh, send it to me. Please. I need to see...” His pleading voice is so damn hot, you couldn’t deny him anything.
You pull the phone away from your face, and fire off the photo with one hand, not willing to stop your actions on yourself.
“Fuck!” He shouts, then his voice drops low. “Fuck baby, I can’t believe there’s a photo of this. You were so fucking sexy, I needed to touch you. Wanted to lay you down right there in front of everybody. Been dreamin about that dress and then you were there again, wearing it. S’like I was still dreaming.” He’s babbling, and you can hear the sounds of slick flesh on flesh, he’s fucking himself so good.
The mix of sounds and his voice saying these words is like gasoline on the fire burning through you. You can feel that tell tale flutter around your fingers. “Rhett, fuck, please keep talking, I’m so fucking close.”
“Gosh, baby, my cock is leaking for you, just thinking about what you look like right now. Wanna spread you open with the head of my cock, rub it right against your clit, get myself soaking wet with your juices. I wanna cover your body with mine while I push into you.”
“Please,” you gasp, you’re right on the edge,
“Use three fingers baby, I want you stretched like my cock will stretch you. Want to fill you up. I want to watch your face and feel you cum all over my cock.” His words are shaky, wrecked in his own right, he’s close too but he’s waiting. Waiting for you to fall apart first.
You’re so impossibly close, and having him tell you how to fuck yourself is so damn hot. But it’s not enough, you need more. You pull the phone away from your ear, and with a sudden surge of boldness, your thumb presses the FaceTime button. It takes two rings before he picks up, his face filling your phone’s screen. His pupils are blown, mouth swollen like he’s been sucking on his own lips, hair an even wilder mess than you remembered from earlier. He looks like he’s getting fucked, like he’s as close as you feel.
“Baby, fucking...just look at you!” he’s saying, eyes darting all over the screen of his phone, taking you in. You can see yourself in the viewfinder and you look just as wrecked as he does, cheeks flushed, eyes heavy lidded, mouth swollen with desire. The way his eyes are taking you in feels so hot, so intimate, your whole body sings with pleasure. The feeling slams into you, muscles clenching hard around your three fingers. You close your eyes, tip your head back and a long low groan escapes your lips. “Fuck, fuck! Yeah baby, come for me, please.”
Your body is racked with shudders, wave after wave washing over you. Finally your body starts to settle down, breathing evening out, camera still pointed right at your face. You open your eyes just in time to lock onto his before his brows knit together, mouth falling open, a string of swear words tumbling past his perfect lips. “Come for me, come all over me. Please, Rhett.” Your voice sounds shredded, completely wrecked, barely above a whisper.
He’s falling apart for you, the contortion of his face most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed. You feel one more shudder of pleasure snake through you at the sight.
You’re both breathing hard, exhausted, the adrenaline finally wearing away. He’s staring at your face through the phone, gaze almost too intense. Finally, shyly, you allow your eyes to meet his, thankful that he looks just as wrecked as you feel.
“Wow,” you say, brain total mush, not able to find any other words.
“Yeah, fuck .” You just nod at his response, unable to articulate anything more.
You both take a moment to just breathe, not sure what to say, but not wanting to let it end just yet. Finally, he breaks the silence, lips curled in that sexy smirk that drives you insane.
“I’m in town for two more days,” he volunteers, still breathing hard.
“Yeah?”
“I still wanna make good on my promise earlier, wanna tear that dress off of you, see what you’re hiding under there.” He says, words full of bravado, but his voice sounds shy.
“Hmm,” you reply, lips turning up in a smirk of your own. “I think that can be arranged.”