Work Text
You’d been away from Belch for too damn long. It’d been a couple weeks — actually two and a half weeks — and you’d been counting the days. You’d been on vacation with your family, thinking about him nonstop. As soon as you got home and finished up with talking to your parents, you called him. His mom picked up the phone. “Hey, Mrs. Huggins. It’s me.” “Well, hey, honey. How are you?” “I’m good. Home from vacation, finally.” “Oh, good. We’ve missed you.” You smiled. She was so sweet. “I missed you, too.” “Do you want me to put Reggie on the line?” “Sure, if you don’t mind.” “Here he is.” You heard the phone rustle as it was passed off to Belch, then he spoke up. “Hey, baby.” “Hey, babe. How are you?” “You know. Getting on. You?” “I’m good. Finally home. I want to see you.” “Cool. I’ll be there soon.” “Awesome. Bye. Love you.” “Love you, too, baby.” You were on the curb, waiting, when he pulled up. You were halfway in the car before you saw it: Belch had a beard. It wasn’t the beard that most guys his age grew, either. It was a real beard, short and trim but definitely there. “Holy shit,” you said. “What?” “Babe, you have a beard.” He chuckled, brushing one hand against it. “Yeah. I thought I’d try it out. Grows pretty fast, so why not, y’know?” “Yeah.” You stared wordlessly at it, reaching out to touch it. It was softer than you thought it would be. “What?” he asked. “I love it,” you said, breathless. He laughed, a full thing that had you giggling with him. “Yeah?” “Yeah. I — god, I can’t wait to — I want to feel that between my legs, babe.” He grinned at you. “You wanna find somewhere to park, baby?” “God, yes.” “Okay.” It was only five minutes later when you were parked in a secluded area of town, both of you in the back seat. He was slowly peeling your pants off, and you were trying not to be impatient. “Please,” you said. “Hm? You want something, baby?” “Please, I need you to eat me out. Like, bad.” He smiled, then finished taking off your pants, carefully hanging them over the back of one of the front seats. He knelt between your legs, nosing at the front of your underwear. You sighed, still impatient. “You better ask nicely,” he said. You blushed. “Please eat me out, babe? Please? I want to feel you on me.” “Okay, baby.” He slowly took your underwear off, tossing it to the floorboards. Then he threw your legs over his shoulders, getting a giggle from you. “Love doing this, you know,” he said. “I love it, too, babe,” you replied. He gently licked at your hole, his beard bristling against your skin. You sighed, running one hand through his hair. He ended up fucking you with your tongue until you were begging for more. “You want me to fuck you, or should I just finger you, baby?” he asked. “Finger me, please,” you said. He held two fingers up to your mouth, and you opened up, licking at them like they were a dick. He groaned. He took his hand back and slid one finger into you, smooth and slow. You moaned. “You like that, baby? You like it when I finger you?” “Yeah, I — oh, god, yeah, keep going.” He slid his finger into you fast and hard, soon adding another and another. You came on his fingers, moaning. He came up and kissed you, and you held his face, your fingers finding his beard as you sighed into his mouth. “You really like it?” he asked, gesturing at his face. “God, I love it. You’re never shaving again,” you said. He grinned. “Okay.”