Ghost on the brain, so Copia drabble🐀
went to the 11th ritual, and it reawakened my ghost brain. made me think about the Eras and how far it's all come and the succession of the papas— particularly about Copia, who we got to see as a nervous cardinal, and then eventually a more confident Papa— like his estranged brothers before him.
Now he's Frater. As he sees it, he was a star that has since supernovad. And in the cooling of his core, he can't forget the sheer heat and colors and lights that was his "death" —so, he collapses.
Old habits die hard, and it's never been more true. There was a cardinal you once knew. You remember his hitching breathes and hands that twitched and scratched at the couch cushions yes refused to move from his sides as you rode him— He'd tell you later, sheepishly, that he didn't know what to do with his hands and didn't want to make a fool of himself— he apologizes, and says he wishes he knew what to do with himself.
It calls to mind the papa that was once a nervous cardinal. How now... then.. he can muster the courage to touch you back, to rest a hand on your thigh and guide your hips against his and not be afraid for you to hear his pleasure.. Now, he grabs your ass and flips you on your back, letting you see how he takes you. Later, after you ask where "that" came from, he tells you , with a humble confidence, that he knew what he wanted. You.
And now, you ride a Frater that was once a nervous cardinal that became a confident Papa. All these titles pile on his shoulders—and even after shedding their duties, his shoulders are no less heavy— His hips buck up hard when you call him by his name, "Copia"...reminds you of a papa who's hips bucked when you called him "Papa" for the first time.
Fraters' hands are by his sides. The way they're poised is lazy, but you can see the tension of restraint that makes tendons flutter beneath the skins surface. His breathing hitches, and he moans low and loud for you, head leaning back against the arm of the couch with parted lips and knotted eyebrows...
Later, he tells you he wished he'd let his hands roam your thighs and chest and that, jokingly, he'd have to make up for lost time.
So you ask why he didn't, and he'd tell you-
He just didn't know what to do with his hands.
titsay
snowghoul
germansingergirl
origamiaround
gummygunk
theartofmadeline
janainaart
