🚨 Sex that sent me to the ER
A little fun ends in need of medical assistance.
Requested by williewildkat on AO3
I'm slowly recovering from my writer's block and it may be apparent that I haven't had much practice lately. This is basically some steamy action followed by accidentally hurt reader and very guilty Paul.
Written for the NSFT emoji challenge
NSFT /18+ GET LOST CHILDREN
tw: accidental injury, likely inacurate descriptions of a dislocated shoulder
“How exactly did this happen?” asked Sarah Gunning, her gaze rather scrutinising.
“Um,” you said awkwardly, absent-mindendly rubbing at your sore shoulder. Just a few minutes ago this same shoulder had been dislocated, and the good doctor slowly and carefully helped you pop it back into its socket. “I was taking a jog by the Uppards, a cat tripped me and I fell. The fuzzball had the audacity to even hiss at me.”
It was an absolute lie.
However, there was no way you could ever tell Sarah just what happened that made you turn up on her doorstep this day.
---
It went like it usually did. Father Paul and you were spending time in the rectory, with you exploring new writing ideas and him reading, sitting behind his desk. You were content to simply be in each other’s company, the peaceful and comfortable silence only disturbed by an occasional seagull's cry, or a quick gust of wind against the aged little house.
At one point it became slightly difficult to concentrate, however, as you felt eyes boring into you. You raised your head from your laptop to look at the tall priest, your gaze immediately caught by his smouldering dark eyes. They twinkled at you and Paul gave you a little smile before dropping his gaze back down to his book. You chuckled quietly and shook your head, returning to your work.
This happened a few more times, and before long, you began subtly giving the pastor a little show. Fingers of one hand played with your hair, twirling strands of it around your index. Then you’d scratch your knee a little, hand soon slowly moving up your thigh and pushing your skirt up a ever so slightly. Lastly, you’d arch a little, turning your head up and stretching your neck and shoulders, all the while closing your eyes and releasing quiet little relieved sounds.
Your face remained neutral, aloof even, as if all of your movements were just normal, absent-minded fidgeting. You felt Father Paul’s eyes on you the whole time, and they seemed to be leaving scorching hot marks in their wake. Teasing him like you did always brought this kind of intensity in him, and you loved seeing and feeling it.
Finally, you raised your head once more to look at your lover. His book sat open in front of him on the table, long forgotten, his chin resting on one of his hands, while the other one lay on the table, balled into a fist. The deep brown eyes were darkened with lust and red tinged Paul’s smooth cheeks.
You got up, an innocent smile on your face and very slowly made your way over to him, hips swaying subtly. “What’s wrong,” you purred, “not enjoying your book?” He didn’t reply, seemingly hypnotised by your every move. Finally you reached him and wasted no time climbing into his lap, your skirt riding higher on your thighs.. You wiggled your hips in order to get more comfortable, and delighted in the small shudder that ran through Father Paul.
Right away, you felt a quickly stiffening member underneath, and wiggled once more in order to further press it against your clothed dampening core. The priest sighed and two large hands landed on your hips, soon making them move in slow circular patterns. You rested your forehead against his and breathed against his parted lips: “Kiss me.”
And Father Paul did just that. He turned his head slightly, until he was able to capture your mouth in a soft kiss. It started chaste almost, a big contrast to the sinful movements of your hips and quiet pleasured sounds being let into the other’s mouth. Very soon though, Father Paul grew bolder, his tongue finding its way past your lips and into your mouth, tasting you like a man starved. Meanwhile, your fingers buried themselves into his dark hair, as they always did, pulling at the strands and massaging his scalp. The pastor gasped every time you tugged a little harder.
He was fully hard underneath you now, and you felt the shaft bumping into your rapidly swelling clitoris with every move, your wetness growing further and drenching your underwear. The circular movements turned into small thrusts, the soft sighs into grunts. Paul separated your mouths and put a gentle hand on your cheek, making you look into his eyes. “God… god, you’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice breathy and gruff. His thumb caressed your cheekbone. There was so much love and honesty in his eyes, your breath caught in your throat.
Once more, you leaned over to press a kiss against his lips, one, two, three. “Take me, Paul. Right here,” you pleaded, your heavy petting session making your heat quiver excitedly. Father Paul nodded, eyes slightly out of focus: “G-get up.”
You obeyed immediately, quitting your movements and bracing your hands on your lover’s shoulders, so that you could get back on your unsteady feet. He stood up as well and moved behind you, pressing your back against his chest, hips grinding against your own, erection dragging over the curves of your bum.
One of his hands travelled to your neck, moving your hair to the side so he could begin mouthing at the soft tender skin there. The other hand creeped over your hip and towards your front until it reached your thigh. Slowly the hand moved upwards and under your skirt, curious fingers sliding smoothly against your inner leg, closer and closer to where you wanted them the most. You released a shaky exhale, when two digits rubbed along your clothed nether lips, the fabric of your underwear drenched with your arousal now.
Father Paul grabbed your chin gently and turned your face to the side, right as his other hand slipped into your knickers, and he pressed a single finger against your swollen nub. Your mouth opened in a gasp and the priest immediately seized the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He started rubbing your sex in the earnest, rewarded by quiet little grunts and moans vibrating against his lips.
A finger pushed within you and Paul groaned at the wet heat fluttering against it, hungry for way more. His other hand found the hem of your blouse and began pawing at it, prompting you to raise your arms so he could pull the garment of your body. You sighed happily once the blouse was off and cool air hit your heated body. Your hands free, you placed one of them against his own, the one that was contently fingering you. The other hand travelled behind you and slipped between the tight fit of your bodies, immediately finding the hard clothed cock and rubbing it teasingly.
Father Paul, who was currently fondling your left nipple with his free hand, released a little moan and his mouth separated from your own. To your slight disappointment, the hand on your breasts disappeared, but you soon found out why. The hand blindly started pushing things on the desk out of the way, some books and papers even falling to the floor. Neither of you paid any mind to them.
The priest extracted himself from you and you instantly missed the warmth of his body and the feeling of his fingers on and in your core. A gentle hand pushed against the space between your shoulder blades and guided you to bend your body over the desk. You lowered your torso and shivered at the feeling of cold wood against your heated skin. A few minor adjustments later and your bum was pushed up, skirt bunching around your waist, legs parted, knickers ripped off and somewhere on the floor. Your hands gripped the edges of the desk in a vice grip.
Pressing your warm cheek against the wood, you watched Father Paul out of the corner of your eye. Two large lean hands touched your shoulders and slowly moved down, caressing your skin lovingly and moving down until they reached your arse cheeks. He got down onto his knees and spread you further, face inches from your dripping sex. His breath fluttered against your folds and you exhaled shakily.
The priest’s thumb came to pull one of your nether lips to the side and the next second his tongue was thrusting into your hungry opening, making you arch your back on the rectory desk. “P-Paul,” you whined, “Please, just… I need-” You felt him grin against you. “Okay,” he murmured, so quietly you nearly didn’t hear him over your wildly beating heart.
You heard some shuffling - a faint ‘ding’ of a belt buckle, a sound of a zipper being pulled down. You turned your head even more and saw your lover’s stiff cock in its full glory, deep red and glistening. Paul gripped its base and came forward. Your eyes closed on their own accord and a relieved moan fought its way out of your throat when you felt the first inch or two enter you. But then he stayed still.
“Paul!” you protested, barely noticing how desperate your voice sounded, “please, don’t tease me!” Father Paul bent over and you were immediately washed over with the comfort you felt every time you felt his body pressing into your own. He craned his head to connect your lips in a sweet kiss. Your eyes were closed and you wiggled, attempting to get his member further into you, but as you were trapped underneath Paul’s body weight, it was no use.
So concentrated on the kiss and the need to get finally filled, you didn’t notice the priest’s hands were moving your own behind your back, until suddenly the kiss stopped and Paul’s hips gave a hard thrust, burying his cock within you completely. The suddenes and intensity of it pushed the air out of your lungs and your entire body shuddered. Paul gripped your wrists firmly, there was no way you’d get out of his hold. Not that you minded.
Paul’s hips began snapping into yours, his movements hard and deep. Having had almost no time to adjust to Paul’s girth, the stretch burned sweetly, the slight pain mixing with pleasure soon turned you into an incoherent mess. You barely registered the scrape of teeth upon your shoulder and neck as Paul leaned over you once more, the hold on your wrists tightening ever so slightly. The coil in your stomach was already burning bright and tightening with every deep, toe-curling thrust. Your hips unconsciously moved to meet the priest’s own and your back arched every time he hit that hidden spot within you, nearly making your vision falter momentarily.
“I’m- I’m c-close,” sounded a shaky voice beside your ear, followed by a series of soft moans. You decided not to grace him with an answer. Not that you’d be even able to really answer that at the moment anyway. Your lover shifted and that hidden bundle of nerves inside you was now mercilessly pounded with each harsh snap of his hips. Your eyes rolled back and your moans turned into breathless little grunts. Two fingers then attacked your swollen throbbing clit and you were thrown over the edge, plummeting head first into the abyss of ground-shaking orgasm, your thighs trembling and bound hands trashing uselessly against Paul’s hold.
Your cheek dragged over the smooth wood of Paul’s desk and as his movements quickened and his moans grew in volume. As his rubbing of your poor lovebud hadn’t ceased, you felt your overstimulation grow and were soon thrown into yet another release, and this one was searing, scorching hot, very nearly painful. Your body screamed from the pleasure and pain, and hot tears rolled over your lashes as you writhed underneath the priest’s body. You were so overwhelmed by the sensations, the sounds, the smells, you didn’t even notice the pain in your shoulder as Paul had to pull on your wrists a little to keep your arms from trashing.
Finally, a broken ‘Oh, good God’ cut through the sounds of skin on skin and deep moans, and you felt hotness spread within you. Paul groaned into your skin and slowed his thrusting, and you were able to feel each spurt of his thick cum painting your walls white, some of it soon starting to drip out of your still clenching opening.
Soon you could only hear two sets of laboured breathing and wildly beating hearts. Your wrists were released and it only now occurred to you that he managed to hold you down entirely with just a single hand ever since the other one went to rub at your clit earlier. Still high from your endorphin explosions earlier, you almost didn't register that the pain in your shoulder began lightly throbbing and your right arm felt really weird when you tried to move it.
Still buried inside you, Paul rested his entire weight against you, making you almost purr in contentment. Tiredly you put your left hand up to run your fingers through his hair and pull him to you. The angle was a little off, but you desperately needed to kiss him. Father Paul had similar ideas and soon you drank off the other’s lips, exchanging soft words and tender smiles. Paul’s hands meanwhile moved over every inch of skin he could reach from his position, caressing your sides, your hips, your shoulders-
You hissed.
“What’s wrong?” asked Paul immediately, “Did I hurt you?” His voice was full of concern. He lifted himself up slightly and began observing you for any damage he might have caused. “No, no,” you murmured, hating to hear him worried, “I probably just pulled a muscle, or something.” Deafening silence was your only answer. “Paul? Ouch!” you swore quietly when the priest touched your right shoulder. “I don’t think this is a pulled muscle, Angel…” he sounded so incredibly apologetic and ashamed, but before you could ask what happened, you cringed as he pulled his soft shaft out of you, your combined releases following it and running down your thigh.
He helped you stand and you looked at your shoulder. There was a weird bump there, and you were quick to identify this bump as the edge of your collarbone. “We need to call Sarah,” he said quickly, already scrambling for his phone which was lying among the heap of things he moved to the side earlier. “Hey, hey, stop,” you grabbed the device before he could as much as unlock it. “Calm down love,” your hand touched his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes. His own warm dark orbs looked panicked and sad, even glistening wetly.
“I hurt you,” he said hoarsely, his knuckles going white around the phone. “It was an accident,” was your quiet placating reply. You took the mobile from his hand before he'd crush it in his hold, and put it back on the desk. You captured his mouth with yours softly, before moving your lips to his eyelids, kissing the unshed tears away, your healthy hand caressing his hot cheek. “It’s just a dislocated shoulder, Paul. It can happen.” He sighed unhappily and placed his forehead on your good shoulder.
“We need to ask Sarah to come look at it, though,” he murmured against your skin, making you chuckle slightly. “That’d be hard to explain love,” you said, fingers drawing soothing patterns into the crown of his hair, “we’re both a mess and reek of sex. The entire room is. I’ll clean myself up quickly and pay her a visit, okay?”
He assisted you in his little shower, helping you wash places you couldn’t reach now that your right hand was temporarily out of business. Paul also helped you dress in one of the sets of spare clothes you kept in the rectory. Once you deemed you looked presentable enough, you made to go to the island’s doctor’s house. Paul sat on the little sofa looking somewhere off in the distance, his eyes still sad. Releasing a ‘tsk’ sound you walked until you were right in front of him. “Paul,” you said, gently.
The priest looked at you and swallowed, instantly starting to fidget with the hem of his sleeve. You placed your left hand under his chin and made him raise his head. Your lips connected. Soon his mouth relaxed against yours and he released a soft sigh. “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up over this?” you spoke quietly. Your lover chuckled humorlessly: “I can’t promise you that.” You gave a pout. “Well, at least promise me you won’t beat yourself up too much? Really, it was an accident, it could happen to anyone. I’ve known a person who dislocated their shoulder by bumping into a door frame.” He looked down for a bit before his eyes met your own once more. Paul sighed again: “I-... I’ll try…”
—
All in all, it wasn’t all that terrible. Sarah fixed you up, gave you a neat sling and some prescription painkillers. You were standing in front of the rectory not even an hour after you originally left. You pushed the door open and was immediately hit with the amazing smell of onions and garlic sauteing on the stove. You were nearly salivating by the time you spotted Father Paul. He was opening a can of diced tomatoes. “I, um, I’m making spaghetti,” you could see his eyes travelling to your sling right away.
You chuckled and came closer. “The arm’s alright,” you started, “I’ll only have the sling for a week.” He nodded his head, but looked sad still. “Paul Hill," you spoke strictly, "if you don't stop beating yourself up, I'll beat you up myself, once my arm’s fully functional again, I swear it!" Finally, finally, he quietly giggled. You gave him a gentle headbutt, then connected your mouths in a long kiss. A loud hiss brought you back to reality.
"You're burning the garlic, love."
Thank you for reading. I hope it wasn't too bad. It's been two months since I published anything at all and there are two other wips sitting in my drive giving me the stink eye. As always, you can check this work and all of my other works over on AO3. If you decide to leave a review, I'll be very happy <3
