hasit | knock you down a peg

knock you down a peg

[After the dust settles, after her own business is resolved, Leia finally gets to come and visit Gravity Falls. It's a quaint place, and different from how she'd imagined it, but she's surprised, come evening time, how much it reminds her of Endor. Tall trees framing the night sky, the late summer moon hung low in the sky. Mabel and Dipper left not two days ago, and the house is alarmingly quiet in their absence. But after everything, Leia's not complaining about silence. About being alone in a house with Stan, the crickets and frogs singing through the open windows.

She stretches out next to Stan in bed, the lamp next to them turned down low. One hand smooths through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead, and she kisses him on the nose.]

You know, I've been thinking.

[It's not hard, judging by the tone of her voice, exactly what topic she's been thinking about.]

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[That sound is all the encouragement she needs; his verbal encouragement is only the icing on the cake. Emboldened, she lets her fingers slip down to his taint, pressing gently, massaging into that spot, seeing if she can't stimulate his prostate while she's down there.]

That's my brave man. [Her voice is low and a little breathy with excitement as she offers him some encouragement.

[He shifts under her to get comfortable as her fingers slide down past his balls and press and-

He sucks in a breath, back arching and a shiver running down his spine, the praise and the tone of her voice getting to him just as much as the fingers pressing against his taint.]

[She'll take that as a good sign; Leia sighs against Stan's neck, letting her finger slide back and forth across that expanse of skin. The lube keeps things nice and slick as she slowly teases lower and lower, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear as she does.]

[She sighs against his neck and he shudders, turning his head toward her to nuzzle his lips against her forehead.

It feels...weird. Intimate, but not really in a good way, yet. Even the shock of pleasure when she first pressed her fingers there was almost too much. He shifts, anxiously, his knee swinging in and almost against her arm, but he opens his legs again.]

[Leia can feel him shifting, fidgeting, and that's her sign to slow down, to take a little more time; her hand drifts back up to his cock, giving him a little more attention there. She lifts her chin enough to regard him with patient care.]

Still okay?

[Checking in frequently is important; she can't just plod stubbornly ahead like an AT-AT unit.]

[He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when her slick hand slides back to his cock, the tension draining back out of him.

When she looks up at him, he looks up at the ceiling, not wanting to disappoint her.]

You ain’t done anything yet.

[Leia's brows raise upward, and her hand stills. She gives Stan a Look, cocking her head at him.]

If you want me to stop, I will.

[He looks at her and has the decency to look sheepish under that Look.]

Nah, I’m just... Psyching myself out over it, is all. Like how the leadup to getting a shot’s always worse than the shot itself.

[She smiles knowingly, gaze dropping for a moment, and leans up to kiss him on the cheek.]

Just relax. Let me take care of you.

[Her hand slips down again, only after she's added a little bit more lube, and begins to run down his shaft and then back behind his balls. Her fingers slip a little closer to his entrance, now, rubbing in gentle circles.]

Hah, relax, easy for you to say you're not the one taking fingers where the sun don't shine-

[The sass bleeds out of him when her fingers brush over his entrance, brow furrowing but not protesting the weird sensation.]

I've done it before. [She says it so nonchalantly, like one might say they've ridden a horse or flown in an airplane. Her finger starts to circle his entrance, not quite dipping in yet, but getting him acclimatized to the sensation.]

Besides, I've seen you handle much more frightening things.

[As she says that, her fingertip begins to press, very gradually, against his asshole, letting the lube and that tight ring of muscle do most of the work.]

You- what- You what??

[You broke him, good job. He doesn’t have anything to say to her remark about how he’s faced scarier things, now he’s stuck on the fact that some idiot didn’t appreciate that she has the most perfect cunt in the universe and decided to get cocky and go for the back door instead.

On the bright side, this also opens him up for her finger to slip inside, his hole only clenching down around her once it’s already in.]

Stanley, I'm fifty-three. I've tried a few things in my time.

[If he'd known her as a free-spirited eighteen- or nineteen-year old, there'd have been no doubt in his mind, honestly.

Her smile darkens, feeling him give over to her finger, and she coos out a soft, encouraging sigh.]

That's it, sweetheart. You're doing so good.

I'm seventy and I never thought about tryin' this until now--

[His counter trails off with a confused but not protesting sound. Her little sigh and praise makes him blush, brow furrowing as he tries to relax to let her keep going.

He shudders out a sigh, and shifts.]

Never too late to teach an old dog some new tricks.

[Her finger twists inside him, shifting angles, pressing firm but gentle against his inside walls where she knows there are more nerve endings that will give him something to concentrate on. Meanwhile, up above, she starts to press more kisses into Stan's throat, her breath warm against his skin.]

[It feels weird. It feels strange and full and not good yet, like her finger is tickling him from the inside.

But her kisses on his neck, the way he can tell that she really is getting her engine revved by doing this to him, all of it keeps him from complaining. It has to start feeling better eventually. He trusts her.]

[She's doing her damnedest to keep his trust, here; there's always the off-chance he won't like it at all, and she'll stop if that's the case, but part of her's also convinced that she just needs to find the right spot, the right movement, and he'll see the light, so to speak.

With that in mind, she lets her finger move deeper, pressing further inside him until she's in up to the knuckle, feeling for his prostate.]

[He closes his eyes, hoping that'll help, his brow furrowing as her finger moves deeper inside him.

And then she crooks her finger just right and hits the same spot she'd pressed against from the outside and he gasps, his back arching and legs jerking up.]

Holy--

[There it is. Leia grins triumphantly into his neck before pulling back to look at his face; her finger eases back for a moment, before giving him another nudge in the same spot.]

Is that good, honey?

[He looks like a mortar shell just dropped in front of his face. When she nudges that spot again, his head tips back and he keens, his cock twitching and drooling a string of precome into the hair on his belly.]

Hope you don't want this lasting too long if you're gonna keep pushing that button, sweetheart.

[His voice is shaky.]

[That's all the warning she needs to pull her finger back, giving him a break from that onslaught of sensation. Leia gives him a sly wink, pulling out to the very tip of her finger before the pad of her middle finger comes to join the first in pressing into him, slow and steady.]

Just making sure I wasn't completely off-base.

[He sucks in a breath and tenses when she comes back with two fingers, but this time it’s easier to relax enough to let her breach him. His inner walls shudder around her fingers, as he takes quiet, panting breaths to try and keep himself steady.]

Save the ‘I told you so’ for later, sugarbun.

Me? Never.

[Her free hand reaches up to smooth back Stan's hair back reassuringly as she presses back into him with two fingers now, stretching him open steadily.]

You feel incredible, honey.

[His breath hitches at her praise and the hand petting his hair back from his face. The invasive feeling of two fingers inside him stokes the hot ember of arousal into what feels like an inescapable furnace.

He moans, low and raspy, pushing his hips back against her hand.]

[The hitch of his breath, that moan, the push of his hips, all conspire to stoke the warm ember of want in her stomach, her need to hear more of the same, and with far more need behind it. Slowly, but with increased intention, she strokes him, crooking her fingers in that same come-hither motion every now and again.

Watching him closely for a reaction, she slowly spreads those two fingers apart, stretching him out around her.]

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