What Ian, The Nurse and Old Man Heard | By : anarchytissues Category: G through L > Jurassic Park Views: 2790 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own Jurassic Park/World and it's characters. I don't make any money from writing this story. |
Disclaimer: I, the author of this fanfiction, do not own the Jurassic Park series or any of it's characters. Owen Grady and Dr. Ian Malcolm do not belong to me and are the property of their respective creators. I do not make any sort of profit from writing this story. JT Malcolm belongs to me and Amelie belongs to a friend of mine, I'm sorry Uni.
Author's Note: This is why Jesus doesn't talk to us anymore. Also this fic is a giant joke but I hope that this fact does not take any possible enjoyment.
“Owen,” JT said gently, her already quiet voice sounding more hushed and shaky than usual. Her narrow hands gripping onto the puke green coloured sheets; hazel eyes glazing over slightly as she looked over at the man. “This is gonna sound bad but... Can you leave for a bit?”
“Uh, sure. But, can I ask why?”
She squirmed in her seat, a heavy flush staining her tanned cheeks a deep shade of pink. “I'd... rather you not. Ha...”
Owen nodded, gently patting the woman on the leg before standing up. A soft whimper escaping her at the contact, even if it was through several layers of fabric. He froze before going to look her in the eye, holding in breath and worrying if he had hurt her with his touch.
“H-hey, you alright?” He asked, raising an eyebrow when he noticed her parted lips and half-lidded eyes. Her breathing was heavier than earlier—or maybe, it wasn't and he had only realized just now. She did seem kind of frustrated and surprised when he came in...
“Yeah. Just... Go, please.” She snapped, sharp ice covering her words as a dagger shot from her eyes. She must have realized how nasty she sounded since she immediately went back to the softer voice and glancing at him shyly. “S-sorry. But. I feel sick but like not like get a nurse kind of sick just—“
Owen sat down, leaning in to whisper something to her. “Hey. Calm down, it's fine.”
She swallowed, closing her mouth and slowly taking deep breaths. “Okay.”
“Alright, can I ask what's going on?”
JT sucked on her bottom lip, looking away from the man. Her hand gripped onto the front of Owen's shirt and pulled him in close—her lips only a breath away from his jawline. The feeling of her warm breath and her skin barely brushing against his sent chills up his spine. “Listen. I am super fucking horny right now.”
He tensed up. Well, it made sense but he was embarrassed that he didn't catch on way sooner. The brunet liked to think he knew when a woman was turned the fuck on, but JT was always super flustered around him.
Unless that meant she was always...? Damn.
“Oh.”
“I was just beginning to jerk off when you came in. You interrupted the J/O session—”
“I get it.” He said, his voice causing a rumbling feeling at the base of the woman's spine. “So...”
“Owen. Either you fucking get me off right now or you get the fuck out for like... twenty minutes or more and tell the nurses to keep the fuck out of my room.”
He pulled away from her, staring at her intensely—a look she had returned. Was she serious?
Well, if she was. He didn't mind. At all.
But she had a broken pelvis; walking and moving her hips in any sort of way was painful. So what positions would they even be able to do? Wait, it wasn't like he had to get off with her or anything. Good god. He could be a dick yeah, but he would never make someone in this state take his dick—or at least, in the way he usually liked to give the dick. She would fucking die if he were do to that kinda shit right now.
Okay, maybe not die but she would probably be wishing for death from it hurting so bad.
Maybe.
Or would it be that kind of pain where she'd give him a high five for destroying that fucking pussy. He hoped that she had pet insurance—NO. He was not going to tear that shit up. Right now anyway. Her weirdly insanely hot dad would probably be pissed that his daughter had to stay in the hospital for an extra week because of him smashing and banging—smanging, in other words—her to kingdom come.
Regardless. Owen was going to help a bro out.
“Alright.” He said, moving the hospital bed railing down and out of the way before going to move the crinkly hospital bed sheet out of the way.
“Holy shit.”
“What?”
“...I wasn't serious.” She swallowed. “But...”
“But what?”
JT glanced at the clock on the wall before looking back at him hotly; it made Starlord stand up like a flagpole, and if she kept looking at him like that, the inside of his pants would probably look like a Jackson Pollock painting. “Let's fucking do it, Mr. Grady. Fucking turn my pussy inside out—tear my shit up, get all up in my fucking guts with your rock hard fuck tool.”
Holy shit. Owen thought, sweat beading at his forehead and the back of his neck as the younger woman continued to assault his ears with vulgarity.
“'kay.” He said, hitting the button to make the hospital bed more flat as JT pushed the awful bedsheets and hospital gown out of the way. His green eyes were greeted with the sight of the ugliest pair of panties he had ever seen. They looked like they were made out of ruffled cheesecloth with the same shade of pukey sea foam green for the waistband.
“They're from the hospital, fuck off.” JT said, noticing what he was staring at.
“I didn't say anything.”
“Fuck off, Owen.” She muttered, pushing down her panties awkwardly—as if she was trying to avoid any more pain in her hips. It failed and made her curse loudly.
Owen swallowed, beginning to hesitate going through with this now. “Maybe we shouldn't do this—”
“Oh, fuck no. I haven't gotten laid since 2008. We are fucking doing this shit.”
“Oh. Okay.” Owen said, standing up and working on undoing his pants. “You sure?”
JT nodded, a hand moving to her sweet jellybox—her love nectar gushing out of her obscene hole and staining the starchy bed sheet. “Shit dude, I don't think we need too much foreplay. I'm already gushing like crazy.”
“No, we gotta do this right. Trust me with this.” The man said, his voice low and husky as his pants finally dropped to the floor. He awkwardly moved onto the bed near her pelvis, his strong hands slowly pushing apart her legs as gently as possible—which still managed to hurt the woman quite a bit. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” She hissed, hazel eyes screwing themselves tightly closed. “What are you gonna do?”
“Well,” Owen smirked as he leaned in towards her currently empty cum bucket. “I'm about to help myself to an order of Chicken McPussy, if you know what I'm saying.”
And help himself to Chicken McPussy he did. He fucking dove right into that shit like it was the first meal he had in weeks—it was like a dog destroying his food bowl. He chowed down on her box, sniffed her rose bush, nibbled her peach and munched on her carpet.
In other words. He was performing the best cunnilingus that JT ever experienced and it wasn't like in 2008 where that fucker Tyler awkwardly licked her urethra for twenty seconds before saying “I can't do this.”
Fucking Tyler.
Owen's lips and tongue worked her meat curtains with gusto—she could feel his desire with every little movement. His tongue ran up and down her slit, swirling around her stiff JEWEL and gently prodding it like a broken elevator button but you weren't quite at the point where you were getting increasingly frustrated and impatient and mashing it, I mean that would be kinda painful first of all.
“FUCK,” JT screamed as he applied more pressure—but not so much pressure that he'd knock a scoop of ice cream off the cone. Her sinful cream gushed out onto his more than willing mouth, her overwhelming flavor filling up his mouth with every mouthful. “HOLY FUCKLE DUCKLE ASS FUCKING PISS SALT ASS, OWEN FUCKING GRADY.”
A nurse walking by the room stopped at the sound of JT's screams before bolting the fuck out of there. Holy shit, someone was fucking eating a fucking box lunch in this hospital and they didn't even care. Damn. She needed one like that.
“Lovin' the taste of this special sauce on my bikini burger, JT.”
“Oh my fucking god,” JT breathed as Owen spoke before shoving his tongue into her snack shack. “Hoooooly shit, dude.”
If his mouth wasn't busy right now, Owen would have grinned. Hell yeah, he was the fucking king of playing in the sandbox. He didn't sip or drink from the furry cup, oh no, he fucking downed that shit like water.
JT gasped and screamed, trying her best to not squirm to avoid any pain in her pelvis—though she was kind of failing. But Owen was so fucking awesome at tending to her lower gardens that she couldn't let pain distract her from that. His tongue somehow managed to tickle against her g-spot, making her squeal in delight; her hands gripping onto his caramel coloured curls.
Seeing the reaction that he got, Owen continued to punch that spot with his tongue; more vicious woman sauce dripping out into his tongue from her french fry dip. She let out another scream—startling an old man two rooms down from hers along with the same nurse from before—as her love tabasco sprayed out onto Owen's face.
While the woman came down from her orgasm, Owen stood on his knees to push down the cotton correctional institution that was his pants; JT's hazel orbs practically bulged out of her eyes—making her resemble the actor that played her father but we won't touch on that right now—at the sight of the man's pulsating womb crusher.
Shit was as thick as a can of coke and long as an extra large Chance the Stallion—hell, Bad Dragon should honestly make a mold of Owen's whore-pipe, it was so beautiful. His velvety weights were the size of decently sized grapefuits; they could probably provide cushions for JT's nonexistent flat bannock ass, they were so big.
“How the fuck do you even fit that shit in your pants, dude?” She asked, wide eyes practically boring holes into his massive obelisk of pleasure.
“I dunno,” Owen said, moving between JT's legs and taking care not to hurt her. The leaking tip brushing against her swollen pleasure pearl that was hidden in a heavy evening gown—aka her 70's porn star pubes. “It's like how can Bad Dragon fit their dongs into tiny boxes, no one really knows. But you ready, though?”
“Hell yeah, dude. It's time to gut this love salmon and bake that skin loaf in this fuzzy oven.”
“Shit, you have such a way with words. If I wasn't already half-naked, my clothes would have leaped off of my body and folded themselves nicely before putting themselves away. It's so fucking hot.”
JT grinned, reaching down to line up the torch of cupid—holy shit she couldn't even get her fingers completely around it—to the entrance of her dripping tampon tunnel. “You're lucky that I like my tube steak raw, Mr. Grady.”
“Ha. Baby, that's the only way I serve it.”
With that, Owen placed his hands on the sides of her head and prodded her axe wound—a fitting name for it, as he planned to split her in half like a piece of lumber. She hissed at the contact, unsure if it was out of frustration from his teasing or from the anticipation-slash-fear of receiving that magnificent slab of prime fuckmeat that she had been fantasizing about for three years.
“I swear to fucking god, Owen. Give me that hot beef injeCTION—!!” She said, only to be cut off by Owen slamming his spam porpoise into her tight stench trench—which was more of a wizard's sleeve now thanks to his slightly unrealistic size. “SWEET FUCKING DICK PISS CHRIST JESUS HOT SAUCE CHRISTMAS CAKE.”
It was incredible. Owen's cervix knocker managed to hit every single sweet spot—even some that JT wasn't aware of because Fuck You Tyler—and stimulate them all at once. With each thrust, it ignited a white hot flame inside of JT's thick frame; spikes of almost painful pleasure drove themselves deep into her core. It was as if he had dropped a heavy stone of heat into a sea of sinful delights and caused ripples that grew into huge waves throughout her body.
JT had felt amazing, there was no pain—at least none that she needed to call the nurse for to beg for drugs that wouldn't come for four hours. It would be a pleasant hum—or maybe a slight discomfort when sitting down at the very most—that rang through her lower half. Finally something had clicked within her.
Owen Grady's penis was so amazing that it had fucking healed her pelvis that was broken in two places and her head injuries.
She lovingly gazed up at Owen; his face flushed a pretty shade of pink, viridian lanterns for eyes half-lidded in ecstasy, salacious lips pursed into a hard line which muffled his low groans and his light sepia locks damp with sweat that rolled down his face and neck. The musk that came from his body was intoxicating; he smelt like raw power which came from both his muscular form and steely courage. His natural scent mingled—almost flirtingly—with a faint scent of cologne that vaguely reminded JT of her childhood.
Oh god, that was her dad's cologne what the fuck—
The woman couldn't even finish the thought-slash-realization that would normally blue ball the fuck out of anyone; her second orgasm had snuck up on her like some dick snatching goblin assassin.
“O-Owen...” She choked out, her words drowning in moans and both of their heavy pants that filled the air. A trembling hand raised itself to touch the man's face, stroking along his jawline before pulling him into a deep kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance, much like when Charlie was being a little shit and Blue was not having any of that. Her thick legs reaching up and around Owen's waist, forcing him to take more shallow thrusts.
She could taste the mint on his breath from the gum that he was chewing earlier as their tongues swirled and danced inside her hot cavern. Their fleshy muscular mouth organs meeting together like some sort of pink wonderful and swapping fluids. Any moans were swallowed and muffled by the other's mouth. It was romantic and passionate or whatever.
Pulling away from what seemed like forever—which was only like three seconds—JT gasped out. “I'm gonna...”
“Me too, babe... S-shit.”
“Fucking cum inside me, Owen. I-I want my eggs fertilized, not fried. Fill up my mayonnaise drain with your tadpole yogurt... P-please!” JT wailed out, hands moving from his face and down to his shoulders. Her nails dug into his sweat slickened flesh. “I WANT YOUR RAPTOR BABIES, OWEN GRADY~!”
Owen grunted, slamming his hips into hers wildly; her velvet walls massaging his now twitching DNA rifle, signalling that his love bullets were ready to lock onto target... her ovum. Shit was gonna be so cash. He rammed his cock into her one final time—bashing in her cervix with his battering ram before his thick yellow-white baby batter splattered into her battered sex.
Cum completely filled her to the very brim and gushed out of her penis fly trap, leaking onto the bed below them. After what seemed like eons, Owen began to pull his perverse fuck stump out of her grandest canyon. Imperial Juice was still shooting out of his Hyper Weapon, shots landing on her face while the fuckfluid poured out of her and onto almost the entire floor like a cum waterfall.
Suddenly the door swung open, surprising Owen from the beginning of their would-be afterglow.
There stood a tall, dark and handsome silver fox of a man who wore all black like some jackass. A bouquet of flowers and bag from Jack in the Box landing on the part of the floor that was not covered with semen.
“What THE FUCK, JT.” Ian Malcolm said, stepping towards the couple but slipping on a large puddle of monochrome love nectar and landing flat on his ass. Owen jumped off of the bed, realizing that JT's dad was back from the food run he left for right when he had shown up.
“YEAH FUCK YOU DAD,” JT said sitting up and flipping the man off with both hands. “SUMMER OF 1996, DAY WHEN INDEPENDENCE DAY STARRING JEFF GOLDBLUM, WILL SMITH AND BILL PULMAN CAME OUT. REVENGE, YOU SPINDLY OLD FUCK. HOW'S IT FEEL WALKING IN ON THAT SHIT.”
Amelie Dixon poked her head in through the door and saw the mess. “Holy fuck.”
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