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Outside the Mystery Shack, a light rain quietly pattered against the tin awning over the porch. The room smelled of old books, the dust on the exhibits that Dipper hadn't gotten around to wiping off, and the coffee Stan had brewed an hour ago and then promptly forgotten on the table. You were sitting on the couch, curled up under a soft plaid blanket, sorting through the papers Pines had asked you to "take a quick look at." Of course, that little task had stretched into a two-hour session of deciphering his creative bookkeeping.
Well, what of it? Since you're dating and living together, it's only natural.
Stan himself was sitting at the writing desk in the corner, hunched over a worn-out notebook. In one hand he held a pencil, with the other he nervously fidgeted with his tie knot, deep in thought. You watched him from under your lashes: focused, with his brows slightly furrowed, he looked incredibly handsome. Especially when the light from the desk lamp caught the grey hairs on his chest, visible through his unbuttoned shirt collar.
"So you got away with it again?" you said, shaking your head as you set aside another paper. "And the tax office didn't notice a thing?"
Stan looked up, a smug grin spreading across his face, the kind that always made your heart skip a beat.
"Honey, I've been in this business for thirty years. Of course, I got away with it."
You snorted in response but couldn't hide your smile.
"Sly dog," you teased, shaking your head. "I wonder, are you the same way in bed?"
The tragedy of your love story was that you hadn't been able to give in to passion yet. Either some monster would wander into your woods, too many chores would pile up, or his twin brother would drag him off on a world tour. And if the kids were visiting, that was the cherry on top of this celibate sundae.
But now, it seemed, fortune had stopped its sly grinning and gifted you a genuine smile.
A pause hung in the air. The pencil stopped in his fingers. Stan slowly lifted his gaze to you: heavy and knowing, the kind that sent shivers racing down your spine.
"Honey," he chuckled, setting the pencil aside. "I'm way more resourceful in bed."
Before you could even blink, he got up from the desk and headed for the couch. Your light, teasing laugh caught in your throat as Stan stopped right in front of you. He looked down at you, and in that look was something primal that made the room feel suddenly stifling.
"What?" you tried to keep your tone playful, but your voice betrayed you with a slight tremble.
Instead of answering, Stan leaned down and, without a word, took hold of the edge of the blanket. You giggled, trying to squirm away, but he was already pulling the fabric from your shoulders. The cool air hit your skin, and you shivered, this time from anticipation. And in the next second, Stan deftly wrapped the end of the blanket around your wrists. Not tight, but enough so you couldn't move your hands.
"Hey!" you protested, tugging against it, but he just grinned, sitting down beside you.
"Well? Feel like you've been caught, doll?" He traced a finger down your cheek, and you couldn't help but close your eyes at the touch.
"That's not fair," you breathed out. "I wasn't ready."
"That's the whole point," he whispered, leaning closer. "I'm a sly dog, remember?"
Stan winked mischievously and pressed his lips to your neck. Gently at first, teasing. You squirmed, trying to free your hands, but the blanket held tight. He just laughed softly, the vibration of it traveling across your skin.
Pines kissed you slowly, expertly, like he was savoring every second. His lips traveled from your neck to your collarbones, while his hands roamed your body, gripping your hips, stroking your waist. You were already breathing heavily when he suddenly stopped.
"Stan..." you whimpered, tugging at your bound hands. "Don't stop."
"Patience, beautiful," he said, his eyes glinting. He pulled back just enough so you couldn't reach him. "It'll be worth it."
You growled in frustration, and he just chuckled, leaning in again, but this time his fingers found your hips, pulling off your shorts. The cool air hit your heated skin, and you instinctively arched your hips up.
"That's it," Stan hummed approvingly. "You're learning."
He was in no hurry. Pines teased you just as skillfully as he apparently swindled tax inspectors. His fingers traced the inside of your thigh, barely touching, making you arch and clutch the sheets, trying to pull him closer. But the blanket around your wrists was a secure bond.
"You know the secret to a good trick?" he asked suddenly, pausing and looking you in the eye. You groaned in desperation.
"What?" you hissed through clenched teeth.
"Surprise." He grinned and, in one smooth motion, freed himself from his pants and entered you.
You cried out at the suddenness and the feeling of being so wonderfully full. Stan stilled, giving you time to adjust, his eyes dark with pleasure.
"See," he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. "Cunning and experience, baby."
"God," you breathed, but your voice broke into a moan as he began to move.
Stan wasn't rough, but he was relentless. He set the pace, speeding up, then slowing down again, and every time you were on the edge, he'd pause, looking at you with that sly grin.
"Not yet, doll," he'd whisper, stroking your clit with his thumb in time with his thrusts. "You don't want it to end too fast, do you?"
"I want..." you gasped, unable to finish the sentence.
"I know what you want," he rasped. "And you'll get it. But only when I say so."
Pines increased his pace again, and this time he didn't slow down until that electric charge began building inside you, finally crashing through your entire body. With a moan, you gripped the blanket with your bound hands, arched against him, and as the wave overtook you, you cried out his name, clenching around him in a sweet, pulsing release.
Stan only let himself go after your cries subsided. He came right after, deep and hard, holding you tightly against him.
For a while, you lay in silence, breathing heavily. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm on the roof. Stan was the first to recover. He untied the blanket from your wrists and began to gently massage the reddened skin.
"Too tight?" he asked, concern in his voice.
"It's okay," you whispered, pressing your cheek against his chest. The hairs tickled your skin pleasantly, and you happily buried your nose in them, inhaling his scent.
Stan chuckled, stroking your back.
"So, doll," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "Convinced? I'm even more resourceful in bed than I am with taxes."
You laughed softly, feeling happiness swell in your chest.
"Convinced, honey." You lifted your head and pecked his stubbly cheek. "But tomorrow, I'm getting my revenge."
"Oh, I can't wait," his eyes sparkled with that familiar glint. "Let's see whose cunning wins."