Chapter Text
Fuck ass early, Lester awoke abruptly with pins and needles stabbin’ into his arm. Shit felt like all his blood was coagulated into one end of a poorly filled sausage. He was almost content to accept that his last moments on earth would be spent crushed under his girl, but he was soon made uncomfortably aware of his gut feelin’ like something was stepping on it.
Apparently, you didn’t think it would’a been nice to key him into your WrestleMania late-night plans ‘cause you just about had him in a dang anaconda vice!
For the sin of needin’ to get to work, y’did your best to grip onto him like a sea monster.
Needin’ to drag himself away from you at asscrack o’clock was his least favorite part of the day, but the gyet’er dun mindset had done right by him so far.
He’d give ya a goodbye kiss, but you tended to roll away and press to the wall once he was out of bed. He left ya with the corner of the bedsheet pulled off the mattress and the rest of the bed stuff bunched up beneath you. None of it looked comfortable for your back, but he’s learned to stop questioning the shit you do in bed.
Lester’s known you for a few short years now, and it’d take nothing short of a carnival settin’ up the elephants in the bedroom for you to wake up in the mornin’, sleepin’ pill or not.
Honest to God, you’ve probably got more care instructions than a pet unicorn. At night, gettin’ to bed was a hundred-step process! Y’need the bedroom cold and dark as a crypt, your water bottle,—for him to put your fluffy socks on for you!— And after all of that! Y’still ask him for a back rub most nights, ya witch!
Three cuddle positions had to be performed nightly, and all of ‘em included bending him as if y’thought he was Stretch fuckin’ Armstrong
After years of his lonesome and good ol’ Jill as his long-time girlfriend, Lester thought sharin’ a bed with a lady who tolerated him might be pretty sweet. —And it is, don’t go gettin’ him turned around on that!— But, y’aint such a flower in the moonlight as you are a daisy in the sunshine.
You’re a kicker, a blanket stealer, a frequent waker-upper to go to the bathroom, and y’clutch onto him like a parasite! Suffocatin’ him and the like! Tuggin’ on his leg in weird ways by jamming it between yours!
But in the early mornings? Right after he came home from his mornin’ shift, when the world was dreamlike and fuzzy, you were nothin’ short of an angel.
All soft and inviting, just about beggin’ for someone to come and take advantage of your sleepin’ self.
You’re pretty when you're zonked the fuck out.
Like Sleeping Beauty! —Wait, Snow white! ‘Cept that bitch had to deal with however the fuck many gnome dicks all up in her business when she slept, and your lucky ass just had one of ‘em to put up with.
Seein’ you with early morning light lovin’ up on your bare stomach, teasin’ you for the way your shirt’d ridden up in your sleep,— Lester decides he didn’t need to barge in on the moment just yet.
The planes of your tummy were already kissed into warmth but that didn’t stop the sun from comin’ back to admire its handiwork. Summer paints you pretty. He watches eager rays of light come to caress your form, pawing atchya ‘cause you were too gone to the world to do nothin’ about it.
The heat wouldn’t bother you much, since you were also a ray of sunshine and all that. Heh.
For someone so bright, you slept like the dead.
Y’spent the last few days pokin’ round your favorite spot at a nearby creek; Lester crisped up like a sinner in church, cookin’ red as a fuckin mudbug while you looked as if you’d been brushed with gold.
He wasn’t the biggest fan of sweat-sticky nights choked up with air as thick as a dang blanket; he got up early, and the long days made the nights feel downright mean. Lester was itchy in places that had no business itchin’, sweaty in places that had no business sweatin’… but watchin’ sunlight eagerly rubbin’ up on his girl left him too smug to bother stickin’ breath to any of his grievances.
Y’look nice all sun kissed and golden, but that wasn’t the reason for your dainty lil halo and wings.
You were one of those rare good things, and Lester knew he was one lucky son of a gun. Lookin’ atchya for too long burned your image into his mushy lil heart and fuck if he couldn’t go a day missin’ you without feelin’ like he’d gone and lost a limb.
His idea of “Home” was a sorry fuckin’ thing till you came along and aired out the place.
Your mess blended right in with his as if it’d always been there, girl stuff and lady crap covered the dresser and the floor, but there was more to it than that. All he could say to make sense of the way he felt was that you had no problem takin’ his dirty laundry and seein’ to the holes and grime that’d built up over the years. Y’know, metaphorical holes as well as real ones.
With you smack dab in the middle of his bed, snuggled up with his pillows and surrounded by his things— a ticklish pulse of pride bobbed up in his soupy feelin‘ stomach.
No matter how long it’d been, Lester figures he’ll never get used to the feeling. He didn’t have much to be proud of, ‘sides your pretty self, and some part of him still felt guilty for it. Hell, what did he do to deserve somethin’ like you? You were a happy accident, and he wasn’t sure what exactly he paid to call you his.
Pretty as sin. If he accidentally drove over the crossroads one too many times until unknowingly selling his soul,— Lester would go back in a heartbeat to ask if the devil wanted his left nut and maybe a kidney too. You were too good of a deal and ‘aint nothin’ good could come out of cheating the devil.
That weird mix of guilt and pride had Lester finding a tooth to push his tongue against once catchin’ the direction his thoughts were flyin’ off to. It was too dang early for his Mama to come crawlin’ out of her casket. Lester shooed her off, deciding he didn’t feel like botherin’ with confusing happiness for somethin’ he oughtta feel bad about today. ‘Specially not when there was a girl in his bed, tempting him toward places an old dead woman had no business being.
Unlike his thoughts that were hootin’ and hollerin’, playin cowboys and indians in his skull, y’ain’t moved an inch since Lester peeked in the room.
The even tide of your breath made for still waters, but the current was there. He figures you’re fine when you don’t react to him crossin’ the room and honkin’ one of your tits.
You had one arm thrown over your eyes, the other reachin’ above ya and your legs spread like a starfish. Lester thinks y’look like a cat taking up all the available space just for the hell of it. You’re a greedy lil thing, which makes him feel better for the way he can’t keep his grubby hands off ya.
You were warm skin and eerie stillness, Lester tries to come up with the artsy words he wants to say, but he lands on thinking y’look pretty, if a little dead.
Not that the two ideas couldn’t mishmash every now and then. ‘For a dead girl, you’ve got nice tits.’ He thinks while pushing your shirt up to your collarbones, intent on exposin’ your cans. He ain't washed his hands yet, but they’re not too dirty.
Lester spends a moment kneading your tits, pushing them together, rubbing his thumbs against your nipples.
No matter the way love makes a fool out of him, somethin’ indecent crawls outta his ego. Damned thing’s got a billion legs and it smells like a porn theatre. It enters one ear and slithers out the other, lettin’ him know that the only thing keepin’ you safe from the bastard shit he could do to ya was willpower alone.
Before the horny thorny critter thing can pierce him in the pisser, he rubs himself over his pants to lessen the shock.
He loves that you feel safe enough to think nothin’ of popping one of your coma pills. Providing for you in the way a man should, givin’ you the stability he worked hard to keep in place made him feel like he had a metal bat swingin’ between his legs.
You trusted him to take care of you, and he would. But what was he supposed to do when y’leave him with your vacant body and nothing else? With your trust just floatin’ ‘round the place, completely up for grabs?
The stink bug gassin’ up his dick notices the way the bedsheet’s crumpled up like packaging beneath you.
It makes ya look like meat.
He’d say you looked as easy as grocery store steak, but that would mean he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of earning his dinner.