copia loves kissing you everywhere. on your lips or your cheeks, shoulders or stomach. he presses kisses to the tip of your nose because he thinks you're cute. he just can't resist you, ever. he kisses you right after you wake up and right before you go to sleep, saying he won’t have a good nights sleep if he doesn’t kiss you. he puts you gently on the bed, kissing you from your cheeks to your nose and chin down to your jaw. moving down to your neck and shoulders, he goes lower, gently kissing your belly and inner thighs, a smirk on his lips, his mismatched eyes never leaving yours as he reaches his treasure.
Summary: Three times Copia finished faster than he wanted to, and one time it worked in his favor, while falling for you on tour.
A/N: This wasn’t even on my list of fics to finish this week, but here we are.
This thing between you has had to bloom in shadowy corners and fragmented moments. Stealing away to get takeout together in one city, making out on the bus on the way to another. It’s like being a teenager again, Copia thinks, except teenage him would never have pulled someone as gorgeous as you.
Even now, even as Cardinal Copia, leader of the Ghost project, he can’t help but feel a bit like the rug is going to get pulled out from under him. Surely he’s going to screw this up somehow.
Tonight you were there when he got to his dressing room after the ritual, and now the door is locked and you’re in his lap. Your hands tangle into his hair. “Fucking amazing, C.”
“We are pretty good, huh?” he says with a grin.
“Literally, you’re a rock star.” You lean in to kiss him, and oh your kisses are unholy. He feels them in his chest, as if with every kiss you’re pulling his heart closer and closer to you.
He feels them further down, too. Or maybe that’s just your thigh, pressed against his aching cock. He’s been hard since halfway through the show, ever since he looked over at the wings and saw you dancing in the shadows. He’s sure you could see it. He has nowhere to hide in these pants, after all.
But you don’t seem to notice, or if you do you’re ignoring it. You’re not wiggling in his lap to tease, just to settle yourself more securely so you can focus all your attention on kissing him. He tries to focus all his attention on kissing you. He really tries.
It’s the little things that do him in. Your fingernails on the back of his neck, tracing up and down. Your lips and tongue, drinking him in. Your voice, in the softest, smallest moan. And your perfect thigh, pressed just so against his cock.
Copia groans into the kiss as he comes, the after-show adrenaline only heightening the rush. He tries to kiss you through it, tries not to give himself away, but he has to break away to breathe and you look down and he looks down and fuck, these pants really don’t hide anything.
“Oh!” You shift back in his lap, but press little kisses to his forehead. “Poor thing, too worked up huh?”
“I can—ngh.” He shudders. “I’ll rally, fuck, I can—”
“You don’t have to, it’s been a long night—”
There’s a knock at the door, and you both flinch. “Boss?” It’s Cumulus. “Change of plans, venue needs us out in twenty. You good?”
“Yes! Yes, thank you.”
You give him another kiss, but not one of the unholy ones, just a peck on the cheek. “Rain check?”
***
A few days later, the opportunity to cash that check arrives. There’s severe weather farther on down the route, so the caravan has pulled off the road for a couple of hours to wait out the storms and reroute if necessary. The ghouls are delightedly exploring a Buc-ee’s, and you and Copia have the tour bus completely to yourselves.
After making out for a while (in his bed! horizontally!), he’d gotten your pants off, and now he’s exactly where he wants to be, with his head between your legs. It’s the best sensory overload ever—the texture of skin and the taste of your arousal and the scent and the sounds and and and—
Focus. There are so many little places that need to be licked and sucked and stroked, and he intends to find them all. You’re trying to be quiet—the bus isn’t that soundproof—but you keep making sweet little sounds, whimpers and gasps that are like lightning bolts to his cock. Only the painful press of his zipper has saved him so far.
Something changes, your whole body pulls just a little tighter, and he knows. He pulls away just enough to growl, “Gonna come for me, baby?” You can only whimper in response, hands tugging at his hair. He redoubles his efforts, and in a moment you’re arching against him, your pleasure flooding over his tongue. You cry out, unable to hold back, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. His own pleasure flares within, but he keeps going, letting you coast to a gentle finish.
“Copia!” you whine. Scratch that, that’s the best sound he’s ever heard. He props himself up over you, and you pull him to your mouth. It’s barely even a kiss, just sloppy open mouths pressed together, your tastes above and below blended into a bewitching cocktail. Oh, he’s in danger.
You’re gazing up at him, your beautiful eyes sparkling, and he knows he’s never going to be able to say no to you when you look at him like this. “Fucking hell, Copia. Can I return the favor? Please?”
“If you want,” he says. “But… don’t feel like you have to.”
You nudge him to lay where you’ve been, the mattress warm from your body. “I want to,” you say. You kiss him again, and whisper “I want to taste you everywhere.” He shivers, and feels your smile against his lips.
He curls his fingers into the bedspread, clenching hard enough to hurt. If he lets himself touch you, he’s going to fall apart, he’s sure. You kiss down his neck, fingers trailing down his chest, and every single heartbeat throbs. It aches. It’s so good. He might die here.
You settle yourself between his legs, gently pressing your hand to the bulge in his jeans. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” you say, before you unzip and pull the fabric aside. “Oh!”
Copia chokes off a sound, the release of pressure making him arch his back and shift his hips. He needs, he needs you so badly, and now those sparkling eyes are roaming up and down his cock and he’ll do anything you ask, anything at all.
You lick your lips. “Look at you. Fuck…” You wrap your hand around him, your fingers not quite able to touch. “Oh Copia, when we get a night off…”
He squeezes his eyes shut. It’s too much, the warmth of your hand and the thought of the rest of you—the pressure is building, he can’t hold it back. Taxes. Venue contracts. Papa Nihil.
It’s no use. You slowly stroke your hand down to the base, and press the flat of your tongue to his head. He breaks, pleasure coursing through him like electricity, his own heartbeat drowning out everything else.
But then he realizes you’re coughing and spluttering, and his heart sinks. “What…?”
“Sorry!” You lean over to get a tissue, and blow your nose. “I got the angle just wrong, you shot straight up my nose there.”
“Fuck.” Copia would curl up and die if he could move. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“No worries.” You gently clean him up and snuggle into his side. “I shouldn’t have let you spoil me so long. Next time, I’m taking care of you first.”
Next time. Oh thank Lucifer, there’ll be a next time.
***
You’re both riding the high of a ritual that went off without a hitch, and call time for the bus isn’t until noon tomorrow. When you arrive at his door Copia wants to say things that he shouldn’t, starting with “how about you room with me from now on?” But he just pulls you in for a kiss. “Well, the night is ours tesoro, what do you want to do?”
“You know damn well what I want to do.” Your hands are already creeping down his sides, hooking into the elastic of his post-show sweats to pull him against your body. “I want to ride your beautiful cock until neither of us can move.”
Every time you’ve tried you’ve been thwarted—a change of schedule, a bus breakdown, someone needing something from one of you. And while hands and mouths are wonderful (especially your hands and mouth) the anticipation of this thing not done has been gnawing at you both.
But he can’t let you get your hopes up. “Baby, I…I might not last that long.”
“I don’t care.” You nuzzle his neck, kissing just under his ear and something lurches in his belly. It’s like you’re trying to set him off. “I have wanted you inside me for fucking weeks, caro.”
“Oh.” He shouldn’t have taught you that word, it does something to him when you say it. He feels your grin against his neck. “We have to—to go slow, I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You won’t.” Your hand is suddenly right there, wrapping around his cock and his knees very nearly give out. “I want this, Copia.” You squeeze, and he’s already out of breath. “I want you, all of you.”
But he’s not about to let you dive straight in. He gets you undressed, licks and sucks and fingers you until you’re writhing beneath him on the bed. He has to try so hard not to listen to you, because every sound you make is a stab of pleasure that brings him dangerously closer.
“Copia please!” Your hands are tight on his wrists, trying to drag him up the bed. “Please, I’m so close, come on!”
Lucifer give me stamina. He relents, moves to kiss your forehead. “However fair and pure, you crave the wand, eh?” He rubs against you for a moment, but it feels too good, he has to move back.
You glare. “Don’t tease me right now, I crave you.”
“You’ve got me.” He barely touches you, lets your heat envelop the tip of him, and already he can feel himself about to boil over. “Tesoro…”
You take his face in both hands. “Copia. Please.”
Deep breaths. He can do this. He rocks his hips slowly, your perfect heat consuming more and more of him, and then his hips are flush with your body and everything just feels so much and he’s going to die here, his heart can’t take this. “Tesor—oh fuck!”
“Yes!” You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him so tight he thinks he might black out. “Yes, caro, just like that...”
Copia should try to distract himself, hold himself back, but he can’t think of anything but you. The way you feel inside and out, every heartbeat, every breath, the way your body clenches onto him like you never want him to leave, you are a gateway to the blessed Inferno and he is this close to falling in—
You cry his name.
He’s gone.
When he can think again, he’s face-down on your chest, moving up and down with your breath. It’s almost like being rocked to sleep, he thinks. Maybe he’s dreaming. Your hand is in his hair, petting him, and everything feels tingly. “You with me, caro?” you say, sounding a bit dreamy yourself.
“Si, amore.” Wait. Did I just say—
It’s like fast-forwarding through a tape, the last few minutes all catching up to him at once. Did I just—and you— He bolts upright, the pleasant tingles turning to cold shards of anxiety. He finds you gazing up at him all starry-eyed, and that calms the heart rate, a little. “Tesoro, I— Did I really finish that fast?”
“Yeah, you did.” You’re still gazing fondly. He’s not sure how. “That was so hot, caro.”
“Was it?”
“Are you kidding?” You arch and stretch before sitting up, and he still feels a twinge in his belly even if his cock is out of order for now. “The Cardinal Copia, who just had thousands of people screaming for him, who could have had any one of them he wanted, is so enamored with me that he comes just from being inside me for a minute?”
“I—was it only a minute?”
“Maybe less. I didn’t count.” He could die, but you just wrap yourself around him, nuzzling that damn spot under his ear. You know too much. “Do you know what a rush that is?”
“Amore, I can—” Too late to stop himself again, and this time he feels the burn of your gaze. You know. He’s too fast in every way, it seems.
“Amore,” you repeat, matching his intonation. “Do you mean it?”
“I…”
“Cause you’ve said it before, in the heat of the moment. I just wondered…”
You’re looking at him that particular way again. He could never deny you anything you want, and now you want an answer. “I do mean it.”
Before he can assure you that he understands if you don’t feel the same, you smile. “Oh, good. I was going to feel really awkward if it was just me.”
“Really?”
“Really, amore.”
***
Amore. You’ve learned to wield that word like a dagger, striking him in the heart and leaving him breathless.
It’s five minutes to show time, and you’re racing the clock trying to suck him off in the dressing room. It’s not professional, but it’s been days since you’ve had quality alone time and you’re both running low on professionalism right now.
You pull off of him, working him with your hands while you catch your breath. “Come on, babe.” Copia bites his lips together to keep from whining. “I know you’re close, I can feel it.”
And he can too, a wave rising in his body that he can’t quite give himself over to. The instinct to fight, to keep going, is too strong.
But you know him so well. You tease his most sensitive spot with just the tip of your tongue, staring up at him with those eyes that bewitched him. “Give it all to me, amore,” you say, and you only have seconds to swallow him down before he spills everything he has down your throat.
He makes it out the door with a minute to spare, knowing he’s going to spend the whole first half of the show plotting what to do to you at intermission...
thinking about copia sucking cock/the strap so beautifully.
he's on his knees, staring up at you while you push the tip against his lips. there's a twinkle to his eye as you praise the way he opens them. he's warm and inviting.
"sweet thing," you coo, cupping his face with your hands. "so obedient for me."
a hand comes up to brace against your hip. his thumb strokes with reverence across the flesh there, and he takes the tip into his mouth. he whimpers a little at the weight of it atop his tongue.
"you want it?"
he mumbles a "mhm" around your cock and bobs his head just a little, eager to take you in even further.
and who are you to deny him?
so you thread your fingers through his greying hair and squeeze gently, guiding his head down the shaft. it's a small movement, allowing plenty of time for him to begin adjusting to the intrusion.
he lets out a muffled groan as he bobs his head again, making a show of how much deeper he's taking you with each back-and-forth movement. both hands are grasping your hips now, gently tugging them towards his face.
the noises he makes turn more choked and strained as the tip of your cock nudges the back of his throat. his nose inches further and further towards your pubic bone. tears prick at his eyes, and as he blinks them away, a few fall down his cheeks.
he's never looked more beautiful.
he pulls himself off after a rather enthusiastic suck at the tip, panting and puffy-lipped. it must be something important if it pulled him away from such bliss.
"use me." he presses the shaft to his open mouth and kisses along the side of it. "please?"
his eyes are expectant, hopeful that you'll fuck his throat just the way he likes. you both know how good he'll be. he can take it.
When Copia assures you that his brother will take care of you during his absence, this wasn't really what you were expecting...
A much-requested follow-up to A Lesson In Mating. You don't necessarily have to read that first, but it will explain the dynamic between the characters and just what sort of creature Perpetua is.
18+ Explicit (2,469 words) Copia x fem!afab!reader, Creature!Perpetua x fem!afab!reader
[Established Relationship, Married Couple, Smut, Masturbation, Sex Toy/Dildo, Monsterfucking, P in V Sex, Knotting, Poorly Negotiated Throuple]
Read on AO3
.
"What a shame. He seemed to really like her," you lamented over your steaming coffee cup, sitting across from your husband at the kitchen table, the usual looming shadow of his twin noticeably missing. He was too busy brooding somewhere to join you for breakfast for once.
"Si, yes." He took a tentative sip of his own drink, grimacing when he found it still too hot, getting up to run it under the faucet enough to make it drinkable. "Things did appear to be going very well."
"And if the scratches and bruises she'd send him home with are any indication...He seemed to have finally found someone who matched his freak...And then some."
"Mmm, quite compatible indeed."
You placed your mug down, too troubled to properly enjoy it anyway. "So, what happened?"
He was avoiding your eyes now, which was never a good sign. "From what I understand all was bliss until he...eh...gave her worms."
"Oh, Cardi, not again!" You slapped your hand against the surface of the table, sending scones rolling in all directions. "Did you forget to give him his monthly pill?"
"It may have...slipped my mind." He looked at you sheepishly. You were used to him being forgetful, but not about something so important. "My apologies, amore, but you know how hectic this month has been."
You took a deep breath and tried to address him calmly. "We've talked about this. If we can't keep him from rooting in the trash with the Ghouls we have to be a lot more diligent with his medication." And just in case he didn't understand how serious you were, "Either that or he becomes an outside Papa."
He scowled hard at that. The idea of being separated from the little guy ever again was something he'd never even consider.
"You are right as usual, cara. I promise it will not happen again." Time to change the subject. "Perhaps it is for the best that he is single again, eh? Now you will have his undivided attention and he will be able to take care of you while I am gone."
"Oh, shoot, I completely forgot you leave this week. I guess time's gotten away from me too." You pouted pitifully at the thought of being separated from him, especially for boring Ministry business. "How long do they have you jetting around this time?"
"Just over a month..." You crossed your arms and jutted your bottom lip out even further. "I know, amore, I know. I do not like it any more than you do. But I am supposed to overseeing or delegating or some such thing at these satellite locations. I do not understand it either. Mom-er-Sister assures me that my presence is crucial, but I suspect they only need someone wearing a suit in attendance."
His deflated appearance broke your heart and you stood to circle the table and wrap your arms around his slumped shoulders. "My poor Papa."
Right on cue a faint whiff of your perfume and the feeling of your breasts pressed against his back was all it took to get his engines revving. "Mmmm, mia diavola..."
"Uh uh uh...No hanky panky." You pulled away when he craned his neck to kiss you and swatted away his grabby hands. "You're going to be late for work again."
.
The night was unusually hot, even for the dead of summer, and the ancient air conditioning system in the Ministry was woefully outmatched to combat it. What a time to be ovulating like your lady parts were holding a going-out-of-business sale, thrashing in the sheets and saturating them with your sweat, thoughts of how Copia would surely be making love to you, making you cum over and over again if he was there making it impossible to find any peace. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself, rustling through your bedside drawer in the dark.
In the weeks since Copia had left you'd managed your needs discreetly, but that evening you were too hot, too needy to bother with anything resembling shyness. Besides, your previous coaching sessions with Perpetua had left you with very few illusions about boundaries or privacy when it came to carnal activities.
You wrapped your fingers around the first dildo you could find and spread your legs open wide, pushing it into your needy cunt and covering your mouth with your other hand to stifle your moan. You pumped it slow and deep a few times, eyes pinched shut as you imagined your husband's familiar girth stretching your tight hole, working you open with expert strokes, hitting all the right spots until you came apart and screamed his name like a banshee in the night.
Except it wasn't happening. How you could possibly be this painfully horny and still not be able to get yourself there was beyond you and you were losing patience.
You pulled the toy from your aching sex with a slight slurp and tossed it aside, huffing in frustration. Perpetua's head popped up in concern and you sat up, head in hands. "It's okay, Pet. I'm just frustrated. I'm just...really missing him tonight."
Even with your husband's spot next to you empty, he'd been respectfully sleeping at your feet as he always did, but now he crawled towards you, hovering over you with hot breath and flashing red eyes. Before you could properly wrap your mind around what was happening he was between your legs, the hefty weight of his erect cock landing hard against your already hypersensitive clit. "Pet!...W-What are you doing?"
He answered with a slow roll of his hips, letting his punishing length slide through your slick folds, jagged ridges raking across your swollen nub every time, panting more and more heavily until the bulbous tip caught at your entrance and you clutched at the sinewy muscles of his forearms. "Pet...Pet, I can't..."
He leaned down, nuzzling prickly whiskers along the column of your neck and whining quietly, using his long forked tongue to lap up the tears that had started rolling down your cheek. Pulling back again, he waited, and though you didn't say any more, something unspoken shifted between you, and your small nod was the consent he needed.
He slid into you all at once, in one slow thrust, and you moaned loud, voice breaking from the mixture of pain and relief. His movement stilled and his blinking, almond eyes darted back and forth across your own, watching you intently as your body adjusted to the intense stretch. Once he felt you relax he pulled out and slammed into you again several times, a little harder, a little deeper, and each time he bottomed out inside you your whole body shuddered. Fuck, you needed this.
He fell into a perfect tempo easily, having become so in tune with your body by now, and after one perfectly aimed stroke you reached around to dig your fingers into the hard muscle of his ass, wordlessly begging him to let you take what you needed from him. He did so obediently, letting you circle your hips, grinding against him and clenching rhythmically around him. When he felt your breathing stutter, your sounds grow desperate, he somehow gave you even more, swelling and stretching and filling you beyond what you thought you could take, his knot inflating inside your walls without warning. With a hoarse wail you dug your heels into the back of his thick thighs and clamped down on his pulsing cock, your climax making your body go rigid, and he rocked you through wave after relentless wave of euphoria until you were limp and breathless against the soaked sheets.
The sounds you made were pained as you came down, riddled with guilt that he didn't understand and lingering need that you couldn't deny...and he wasn't done with you yet. Digging sharp claws into the plush flesh of your hips, he pushed up onto his knees, leaving you suspended from where you stayed connected. Even though you were nowhere near recovered and were locked in place by the swollen bulb at the base of his cock, he rutted into you hard and fast like he was trying to break you apart, somehow pounding deeper with every stroke and forcing weak cries from you in rapid fire.
You'd never seen that look in his eyes, never seen him truly look like such a...monster. And a low growl was the last thing you heard before he shifted his talons to wrap around your wrists and pulled your arms taut over your head, fucking you into the mattress as his seed erupted inside you. Your own orgasm made you spasm and twitch under his dense weight and it seemed to last forever until you were both still.
He whined quietly as he eased himself carefully from your fluttering walls and you reached up to scratch behind his ears. But when he pulled back to look at you there were fresh tears wetting your flushed cheeks, and the tender look in his glowing eyes only made you cry harder.
He didn't wait for you to speak. What could you say? Lying down next to you he unfurled his wings and wrapped them around you, ignoring the oppressive summer heat to hold you tight against his chest, purring softly in an attempt to soothe you as you drifted into a troubled sleep.
.
Your fingers nervously fidgeted with the cord of the ancient landline in your office. You'd been trying to distract yourself with paperwork all morning, but nothing seemed to ease the guilty knot sitting in your gut. The conversation you'd been dreading needed to happen sooner rather than later.
It only took one ring before he answered, clearly having been waiting to hear from you. "Amore! I was wondering when I could expect and update from you-"
"Copia...We need to talk." Your voice was shaky. You never could hide your emotions from him.
"Okie dokie." He tried to ignore your anxious tone and keep his own chipper. "What is on your mind, mia tesoro?"
The dam broke and you started sobbing, exactly what you'd promised yourself you wouldn't let happen. "Last night...I was missing you so much...And I was so weak..." Hiccups interrupted your scattered confession. "It all happened so fast and I know you'll never forgive me...I'll never forgive myself-"
"Amore, amore," he chuckled, cutting off your teary rambling. "I assume you are referring to Perpetua, eh?"
Sorrow turned to confusion and your crying stalled. "You...You knew?"
He was fully laughing now. "What did you think I meant by him taking care of you?"
You sniffed a few times, wiping your eyes with your sleeve and taking a deep breath. "Well...Not that."
"You and Perpetua...You are the most important people in my life...My entire world. And I want to make sure that you are both well cared for in my absence."
"Oh Cardi. You told him to do that?" You could only imagine how that conversation had gone.
"Si, of course." You could just imagine the dismissive wave of his hand, as if the entire situation was the most normal thing in the world. "It is silly to use one of the pitiful silicone things in your bedside drawer when he is already sharing you bed, no?"
You could tell how tickled he was by the whole thing and your pitiful reaction, and that only annoyed your further. "You could have at least given me a heads-up about it, love. I felt like an absolute monster."
"Now where would the fun have been with that? Need I remind you of that 'birthday surprise' you arranged for me with the ghouls last year?..."
"Oh yeah," you giggled. "I thought they'd take a lot more convincing than they did..."
"Si, they were very enthusiastic. And I had trouble sitting for a week," he grumbled. "So I really did owe you one, amore."
"Alright, you have me there." You snuck a glimpse at the time. You still have a lot of work left to do before you could call it a day, especially with how your mind had been elsewhere for hours. "Sorry, love, but I really should be going. I'll call you tonight, okay?"
"I will be waiting with baited breath. Ciao, cara mia."
.
A light rain drizzled against the windowpanes, thick clouds drowning out the moonlight that should have been illuminating your bedroom. But inside you were snuggled and warm, sweaty bodies glowing in flickering candlelight, entwined and tingling in post-coital cuddles. "Mmm, I've missed this...Papa.
"As have I, mi amore." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head where it rose and fell with his chest as he was still catching his breath. "No one with such a stunning creature waiting at home should be expected to be away from her for so long."
"Oh, stop it." You gave him a pinching squeeze to the soft flesh of his waist and he squirmed. "Cardi...Can I ask you something?"
"Certo, amore. What can I do you for?"
"Just out of curiosity...What is it exactly that you instructed Perpetua to do while you were away?"
A mischievous smile curled his makeup-smeared lips. "I merely told him to make sure you went to sleep satisfied every night...By whatever means necessary."
You considered this for a moment before sitting up and glaring at him sharply. "You didn't give him any more parameters than that?" The possibilities of how the instructions could have been taken were...shocking, to say the least. "You mean to tell me I could have woken up to a...a...a bed full of Ghouls or something?"
"I knew it would not get to that point. You are more than capable of pleasuring yourself without assistance." He grabbed both of your angry fists, pulling you back down to press against his chest "But I also know sometimes that is simply not enough for my insatiable piccola principessa."
"That's true, I guess." You played absentmindedly with the rapidly greying hair on his sternum. "But I think maybe we should have a more specific chat with your brother about what you meant by 'satisfied'-"
Just then a piercing howl echoed in the distance, followed by the unmistakable feminine cry of ecstasy, both of them echoing through the abbey. "Speaking of satisfied...," you giggled.
"Sounds like mio fratello's date is going quite well," Copia sighed happily, pulling you in tighter. "It would appear that love is in the air tonight, eh?"
"Mmm hmm..." You stretched your arm out long, draping it across his broad shoulders and setting your face into the crook of your husband's neck. "Looks like we'll be having more alone time after all."
For the "hold me closer" prompts: "I didn't take you to be the 'big spoon' kind of guy" with Copia!
(Copia reads pretty definitively as "little spoon" to me, so him as big spoon should be interesting to explore!)
see, i feel like i think differently of him... here's a lil somethin somethin:
Papa Emeritus the Fourth’s robes were smooth beneath your fingertips.
You gingerly removed the stole from his shoulders, folded it, and draped it on a nearby chair. He stayed still, his shoulders sloped, his breath deep and slow.
This was its own ritual. Black Mass had just ended, a late-night edition. You prepared the clothing, ensuring everything was ready for the next mass. With that came undressing Papa after each one.
You started a job that once made you blush, but now the routine and his quirks were familiar.
He was quiet today.
“Ready, Papa?”
A nod. No words.
You unzipped the back of his black robe, the orange and gold detail catching in the soft light of the vestry. The fabric was lush, soft in your hands as you pulled it from him.
You expected him to step out in his undershirt and trousers and dismiss you as usual. Instead, he lingered, watching as you hung the robe.
“Something you need, Papa?”
“Eh, actually — yes. Yes, I had something to ask of you.” He shuffled his feet, fiddling with his hands. Copia was looking at you now, tiredness in his eyes. “It is… you can say no, of course.”
Papa was obviously nervous, which made your own chest bloom with a strange kind of anxiety. He always seemed to be a ball of nerves,
“A cuddle. Would you… would you have a cuddle with me?” He nearly cringed at his own words, turning his head away from you. “It doesn’t— we don’t have to—“
Your mind raced as he stammered. This was not a request to deny. Papa was asking, and you couldn’t say no.
That’s how you ended up beneath his crushed blue velvet duvet, waiting for him. He hadn’t expected you to say yes, so delight lit his face. He quickly took your hand, leading you to his quarters.
You shakily slipped off your habit, setting it aside so you wore only a camisole and underwear. He unbuttoned and slid off his slacks, leaving himself in tight black boxers. You’d seen him scantily clad before, but now, knowing you were about to share a bed, your skin buzzed with anticipation.
To your surprise, any earlier awkwardness seemed to have disappeared when Papa left the vestry. His movements were now smooth as he walked around the bed, a small smile resting on his lips as he prepared to join you.
“I’ve needed this.”
The bed dipped as he dropped his knee, crawling in beside you. His skin, already flushed, felt warm against yours. A breath caught in your throat when his arm wound around your middle, tugging you close.
How good it felt to be held by him. His frame was strong, yet comfortable. His hand drifted up your arm, fingers circling your wrist. You sighed deeply, your body shuddering with sudden comfort.
“Oh. I didn’t take you to be the ‘big spoon’ kind of guy.” Mentally, you facepalmed at how casual you sounded.
Papa chuckled into your neck. “There’s a lot that’s unknown about me, tesoro.” His words held surprising weight. You spent so much time with him, yet do you really know him? It was your duty to serve—to dress and undress him for each mass.
Is he different behind closed doors?
He was already proving it.
You settled into him as his fingers laced with yours. “I’ve needed this. Some downtime with another.” His breath ghosted the sensitive skin behind your ear. “It’s a lonely job. If you’ve ever wondered.”
Silence stretched.
You were comfortable but overwhelmed, eyes darting for something smart to say. All you managed was: “I will do this whenever you ask, Papa.”
Happy Frater Friday! This has been sitting in my drafts and slowly being worked on for weeks in between other things and then it took over my life for a few days until it was done. Frater deserves some dick.
Thank you to @avocado-writing for helping me work out some ideas and @cenotaphghuleh for proofreading <3
Explicit. 18+ MDNI. Frater x Reader. Reader terms used: cock, no pronouns. Frater has post-accident erectile dysfunction. Mutual masturbation. Dirty talk. Established relationship with Frater having a dom/bottom vibe/role. ~2.6k words.
He is far from fully recovered. Even rolling over in bed to kiss you made him wince but fighting him off was futile and likely just to cause him further injury. He endures the twinge in his back as it twists but it seems to be better tonight and Frater takes full advantage. His lips linger and chase yours even as you try to get him comfortable on his side and carefully wrap your arms around him.
"I miss you," he whispers against your cheek, fragile enough to remind you to resist but hard enough for you to consider giving in.
"I'm right here. You're not ready yet," you sigh as his hand encourages your thighs to part. "You'll hurt yourself."
"My hands are fine. Please." His nose meets yours and his shaking breath makes you dizzy as you inhale it.
"Doctor said," you manage as his fingertips stroke lightly over your length. "No getting worked up. Need to rest."
"Too late. And what about you, hm? You deserve to be taken care of too."
It's hard to argue or offer any more excuses while in his grasp. His hand is less agile and more unsteady but, having missed his touch for this long, it's as effective as ever. You whimper as his palm brushes over your tip and you catch the smug glint in his eye. He moans as you begin to roll into his palm, relief that your body still responds to him making him shiver.
You hiss as his grip tightens and he relishes the way you twitch in his grasp. He falters as you reach down between your bodies and graze a knuckle over his cock. It's all you can do in this position but it's still almost too much for him. His gasp morphs into a sob and his eyes water but he nods, pleading for you to continue.
"You've got some more sensation then?"
His laugh breaks the tension for a moment. "Y-yes. Although, I— well, I don't think it can… definitely not, eh, fully operational. Unfortunately."
"I know, it's okay." His look of disappointment breaks your heart. "But, this feels good? You want me to keep going?"
"Please."
Despite the uncomfortable position, you endeavour to fulfil his request. It would feel like cruel teasing were it not borne out of necessity, but just the lightest touch on his skin has him crazed with need and reciprocating as enthusiastically as he can with his own fingers wrapped around you. He has been starved of you for so long he will gladly devour any scraps you provide and, with each passing second, you realise his body is not the only one suffering from neglect.
The urge to thrust into his fist becomes harder to ignore and soon it is Frater offering praise and encouragement which only spurs you on. You whine his name, riding an intense wave towards release but, just as it feels inevitable, he stops.
He grimaces as his body spasms. He rolls on to his back and clutches the cramp in his arm, cursing his frailty with the last of the air in his lungs. You try to comfort him, hold him through it, but he flinches away from you. He slams his fist down on the mattress as he squirms, trying to breathe through the pain in his spine.
You've learned that there are no words to comfort him until it passes, and so you try your best to feel okay with the silence. Once he squeezes your hand, it is safe to move closer. You curl into his side and push loose strands of hair from his eyes, trying to hide any hint of pity in your expression.
Before he can search for it, you lean over and kiss him. Your lips assuage his need to ask for forgiveness and allows him to focus on conveying what the rest of him cannot - a deep, yearning desire for you that may never be quenched and a gratitude for your patience that could never be put into words.
Appearing to have learned his lesson, his hands make no effort to pull your weight on to him as you move to hover over him. He accepts, for now, that your mouth on his is all he can handle. And, as he takes more of your eager tongue, his body and its failures fade away. It chips away at it until the taste of you is the only thing left.
That is until he feels you starting to sag on top of him and beginning to roll up against him of its own accord. His hand slides over the curve of your ass and, unable to resist, he curls his fingers into it hard. You head snaps back and you thrust forward, remembering a little too late to hold your own weight which allows him to really get a firm hold on you. Just as you look down at him, he circles his own hips against the erection now prodding into him.
Panting just as hard as each other, you take a beat to re-stabilise. Nuzzling into his stubble and trying to ground yourself, the heat between you lulls you into a dangerously seductive haze. You admire your handiwork; his swollen lips and flushed neck inviting you in, tempting you to leave new marks where most of the bruising has healed. You compromise with a nibble of his earlobe, earning a airy sigh and a jolt of his hips followed by a playful smack to your thigh.
The responsible thing to do would be to untangle yourselves, to roll off him and soothe him to sleep. You promise you will after one last kiss but, sensing your impending plans, Frater's hand moves between your legs.
"Stop," you say, entirely unconvincingly. But, for some reason, he complies.
You exhale directly into his mouth, your faces so close that your eyelashes almost mesh together and you feel the curl of a wicked grin before you see it.
"Touch yourself." His tone is stronger now. Commanding. "If you won't let me… touch yourself."
He withdraws as you move your weight to your knees and steady yourself with a hand on his pillow. He lifts your other wrist to his mouth without taking his eyes off you and spits into your palm. His eyebrows raise as you freeze, taken by surprise by his brazenness and change in demeanour, and his eyes imply something between amusement and frustration. His breathing only becomes more uneven as you start to obey, your arm fitting snugly between you both as you hover over him, staying nose to nose.
He nods encouragingly as he feels your hand starting to move in slow, stuttering strokes and his lips part in a perfect mirror of your own as you find a rhythm. By the time you dare to experiment with shallow thrusts into your fist, his moans begin to follow yours too. You think he may be mocking you, but it soon becomes clear, as his own hips begin to jerk, he's choosing to indulge in the fantasy.
"So gentle," he remarks. "After all this time, you can give me more than that."
After a few teasing strokes over your tip, you spread his saliva over your length and give a much more forceful thrust over him, nudging into his stomach which makes him groan. It breaks into a satisfied laugh as you give into his control, caring less with each jerk of your body about treating him delicately.
"That's it," he coos. "Show me what I have to look forward to."
Excitement ripples through you. His sudden assertiveness overpowers your concern and, when his face lights up as you make a show of winding and snapping your hips, you find yourself completely in the fantasy too. You pump yourself slowly between each thrust, acutely aware that your own sensitivity could lead to another disappointment, not helped by Copia's enthusiastic moans in time with your movements as if he can feel you inside him.
You can't help but brush against his cock, making his breath hitch with each glancing touch even as he tries to retain his sneer. It's shaken as you lean down to his mouth, stopping just short of kissing him and licking the inside of his upper lip instead, but after a long groan, he composes himself.
His hands come to rest on your back, caressing your skin and scratching his nails as you find a more forceful rhythm. They dig into you harder each time you snap forwards and his praise becomes more emphatic, involuntary noises evolving into desperate praise.
"Yessss, you feel so good. More, harder." You speed up, fucking into your fist. "You know I take it so well."
His mouth hangs open while you whine, biting your lip to stifle it.
"Yes you do, always so good," you manage though your voice cracks. "Taking all of me. So greedy for it."
"You want me like this?" He flashes you a devilish smile. "Or you want my face in the mattress? Or how we used to, in my office? Bend me over the desk and give me what I need?"
He doesn't stop for breath, not letting you answer, as every thought and need tumbles out of him. He lets his eyes close briefly, tilting his head back as he begs you to fill him, to show him how much you've missed the feeling of being inside him. He wants you harder, faster, deeper and any way he can have you, so much he is practically sobbing.
His eyes snap open as he feels you grip his length. You move slowly up from the base and then over his tip, and his thighs shake. You repeat the motion, still bucking your hips now in time with your fingers teasing his sticky slit. On your next thrust, you feel it twitch in your hand and Copia curses under his breath, looking down at his half hard cock in slight disbelief.
He can only babble and whimper, the relief at being even half hard overwhelming him. As if needing to check for himself, he replaces your hand with his own and lets out a shaky, earnest sigh as he tests out the new sensation.
"Keep going," he says meekly, just as the roll of your hips starts to slow. "Don't—fuck, don't stop."
You resume without hesitation, pumping yourself while bucking above him, but leaving more space for him to experimentally touch himself. You see the moment his eyes change, readily and wholly falling into his imagination.
"Love taking your cock," he says gruffly, struggling to stay coherent as he works himself in his palm. "Need it so bad."
"I know," you pant. "So tight. But you're so good at letting me stretch you open. So full of me, aren't you?"
His soft strokes with a single finger and light tugging soon stop, growing more confident and needy with each word. Despite still not being completely erect, he sounds like he is getting close and his pace gets faster and faster until the only sounds he can make are sputtering syllables. But, you realise even through your own impending climax, he is trying to say something to you.
"Sit. Sit up," he manages after a couple of attempts.
Slightly confused, you obey. He truly is a sight to behold. Flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, jerking himself now with purpose yet still a little more carefully that he usually would.
"You're close, I can tell," he says, "You're going to cum for me. Just from the thought of fucking me."
You thumb over your tip as you nod.
"Well then I want to see. Make such a pretty mess for me."
The change of what he wants surprises you but, it's not that he doesn't know what he wants. He wants all of it. He wants to be in charge but wants you to be in control. He wants to feel you but he wants to watch. He's been starved and now, with the knowledge he isn't as broken as he thought, he needs to gorge himself on you.
"You're a pretty mess yourself," you grin. "Also, just from the thought of me fucking you."
"Touché. And, I'm not sure, but—ah! Fuck, I think I might—fucking hell!"
He doesn't finish the thoughts, either because he is trying to focus or he thinks saying it out loud may be tempting fate. But he doesn't have to explain. You are more than well acquainted with his body to know that this may be the first orgasm he has had in months. A record dry spell by, well, months. The longest since you've known him at least.
He speaks in chants, of your name and of praise, just as much of himself as you. But, when he looks to you, legs wide and on display for him and caressing your chest and neck, that balance shifts.
"So perfect like this," he gasps. "Such a vision. Such a show just for me. Don't hold back, amore, don't be so gentle. I know that's not how you like it."
Your hand obeys him without you having to engage your brain at all. You buck up into your fist's firm grip and moan up at the ceiling, each pump threatening to take you over the edge.
"Keep going. Show me what I do to you. Fucking perfect."
His praise and your hand has you struggling to pose for him, shuddering and stuttering as you feel your climax building. But when you notice him doing the same, it's almost impossible to focus on anything else. His own eyes widening and watering, and his hand pumping faster, trembling around his cock. His attention is completely on himself as pleasure rips the air from his lungs, relearning how to feel it again.
"Now! Cum for me, now," he rasps as his hips jolt upward. His eyes roll back with his head, the muscles in his neck taut as it strains, and he moans gutturally with his mouth agape with a look of shock and ecstasy. He relaxes and turns his attention back to you just as you follow his command, smirking as you call his name and licking his lip as your release coats your fingers and splashes up into your stomach hair.
As you catch your breath, his arms reach out for you. You clamber over him and as soon as you within reach, he pulls you in and groans at the sensation of your seed sticking you together. You kiss him until neither of you can breathe.
"Are you okay?" Your hand cups his chin as you ask.
"Okay? I feel… incredible. I— fuck, I needed that. Glad to know some of it still works. And an orgasm with no, um, spillage. I could get used to that."
You can't help but laugh. A grown man who can't talk about these things directly, even now. It is, if nothing else, kind of adorable. But then again, the way he talks about his body recently has changed. It had to.
"I was thinking at least you would be easier to clean up, but then…" You gesture vaguely downward.
"I could not help myself, I know. You are very good at that too."
"You'll be able to it yourself soon. You'll need to if, when, you're fully recovered."
He smiles softly, ignoring your slip of the tongue. "Oh no, I think I will always need your help with that. I am clumsy and helpless."
"Sure. Let me go grab a towel."
He stops you by squeezing his arms around you. "Not yet."
What I look like checking a specific X reader tag for the fourth time today, only to realize I’ve truly read everything…
This problem is more regular than you might think… and this being a problem in itself might also be an issue, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about 
Please think about warm and comfy copia cuddles... And then he makes the worst joke you've heard in your life 😌
His arms are tightly wrapped around you, your bodies so close that you can feel his heart beating against yours. It’s been a cool day but his warmth has radiated into every one of your cells, melting away any worries or insecurities that usually linger. Copia is breathing kisses to your forehead, his lips soft like the wings of a butterfly. In the background, his record player is providing a static sound, the music long run out but neither of you willing to get up and turn the vinyl.
You move your hand up and down his chest, feeling the roughness of the faded Star Wars print on his shirt. He sighs whistfuly, pushing his leg between yours to get even closer. You shift as well, moving further on top of him, tangled up and struggling on the narrow bed until you finally feel more of him. Right as you swing your leg over his you hear a thud but you don’t care to investigate it.
“Amore…” Copia asks, already snickering. “What did the blanket say as it fell off the bed?”
