No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”
Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”
Day 12! Part of Lo's time with their whumper Allan. After day 9. CW: nonbinary whumpee, immortal whumpee, possesive/intimate whumper, implied past noncon, noncon touching, restraints.
The soft breathing of the man beside them kept a steady pace as Lo lie in the bed, tangled beneath the sheets and discarded clothing of their nightgown and Allan’s robe. They could still feel his hands all over their body- his mouth along their neck, their collarbones- trailing downwards-
In a normal situation, it could’ve been nice- everything that Allan did. The way they treated Lo-
Except that Lo didn’t want it.
They didn’t want the way that their body responded to his touches, the way their hips moved to meet his- it- it was a betrayal.
But Marlowe knew they couldn’t resist- they couldn’t push away, couldn’t tell him “no”- or who knows how Allan would take it then.
So now Marlowe lay wide awake- the phantom touches and kisses littering every inch of their naked body- desperate to wash it all away and leave- but the chain around their ankle kept them locked tightly in their place.
Marlowe’s eyes drooped, desperate for a sleep that wouldn’t come, as the man rolled over across the bed, pulling his arms around Lo.
Lo let themselves be pulled in close, their back pressed against his chest, feeling the man’s skin flush against them. One arm wrapped around their chest and shoulders, the other gripping them low across the stomach.
Allan hummed out a sigh, nuzzling his face into Lo’s neck as he began to stir from his sleep. The hand on Lo’s stomach dipped lower, teasing against their sensitive skin between their thighs- creeping further to play with them as he hummed into their ear.
Lo let their eyes close, feeling the breath escape their mouth as the touches began to escalate. They flinched as Allan chuckled, pinching at their nipple with their other free hand and he began to bite and suck at their neck.
Lo bit their lip to keep a sob from escaping as Allan rolled them over onto their stomach, his fingers carding into their hair as he straddled their hips, pressing his chest down across their body.
Their hands instinctively reached up to clutch the pillow at their head, burying their face in it as a release to hide their emotions.
Marlowe resigned themselves to the fact that they wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon.
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