oh your king just loves making you come, loves you feeling pleasure, so when he asks you to come again it's just because he wants you to feel good again
he could keep you in bed all day like this. no work for you, no stress. you wake up to his mouth between your legs, and once he realises you're awake he kisses all the way back up to say good morning too you. and then his mouth is back on you, his fingers, his cock, whatever you want, as long as you know all you have to do is nothing. just lay back and take everything he wants to give you, because he wants to give you everything. and if you don't think you can come again for a little while, he can slow down, just rub his fingers over your hole in soothing motions without penetrating. or cup his warm hand between your legs, not moving it, but if you want to grind against it you can. he can switch to edging you if you really want, but he'd much rather just let you come, he wants you to come so badly, won't you come again for him?
Jameson was late, again, but this time it wasn’t his fault... not quite. You just can’t get this brand of hat anymore, pursuing it was the only option, he told himself as he kept a firm grip on it. In those elongated moments, the rhythm of the raindrops splashing and his feet hitting the ground seemed to be the only sounds in the city. He fished his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and tried to hold it still enough to read. Giving up, he dropped it back into his pocket next to a scrap of paper. He would have to apologise to his client for his tardiness.
Tardy described Jameson Jackson very well. Never the first one anywhere and often delayed on understanding jokes, though many times the first to tell them. His fashion was late and so were his mannerisms, but in a city such as this it was easily waved away. He was grateful for that.
He slowed as he reached again into his pocket. Drawing out the scrap of paper, he squinted at the barely legible scrawl. Next to the dumpster - Carthage Street. Carthage Street was close, or it had been the last time he was here. Following his foggy memory, he arrived with a suspicious lack of difficulty. With a name like Carthage, Jameson expected it to smell burning and salt, instead the stench of old garbage and urine met his nostrils. Towering blocks of sardine-can flats lined the street; a cat hissed in the darkness, startling him.
Against his better judgment, Jameson made his way down the passage; thin, artificial city light crawled around corners, trying to peek at the dingy scene. A bundle of scraps against the wall moved as he approached, both parties hesitant. Jameson’s footsteps echoed as he came closer until the figure sat up to face him. Their skin was so translucent it looked grey as it reflected the strangled streetlights, everything about the thin man was pale, aside from his hair. Thick and dark, slick with grease and possibly infested with something Jameson didn’t want to think about. A dull, barely cognisant recognition showed on his face.
“You... came?” Eyes, misty with early cataracts, shone with diluted hope.
Jameson forced his hands into slow but brief answers, “I’m late. Sorry.”
“Safe now?”
Jameson hesitated, “Yes.”
The figure shifted, standing on unsteady legs, grasping for Jameson’s gloved hands, which he gave. As he stood the pale form upright, a violent thumping came from the dumpster. Freeing his hands, he turned to the young man with scars on his face,
“What was that sound?”
“Bad man? Dinner?” Hungry eyes moved towards the sound.
Jameson decided not to ask what he meant. The young man swiped his striped sleeve over his mouth, wiping away a string of saliva. Glancing over the pile of scrap the man had been unearthed from, he seemed to have no personal effects. Odd, Jameson mused, distinctly odd. Finding no more reason to stay in an alleyway that reeked sweetly of rotting things, he gestured to his companion.
“Time to go.”
“W....wait,” the soft slur of speech spilled from trembling lips, “who’ll look after my rats?”
“I don’t know... but they will be fine.” he added as the milky eyes grew concerned.
“Where we goin’?”
“A better place.” Jameson really hoped he was right as he took his companion’s elbow and led him through the streets. The man’s slight stoop and shuffling gait made for slow going, so unbearably comparable to the movement of the earth’s crust that Jameson considered asking the man if he wished to be carried.
Instead he focused on getting a good look at his companion; his messy hair had a purple tint to it, hands with dirt-clogged nails played constantly with his ruined sleeves. Eyes dark with bruise-like circles around them were starting to close in tiredness.
“Have you been on the streets long?”
“Always.”
Jameson’s eyes narrowed in thought, but he said nothing, only stroked the strange man’s arm. The stench of decay had followed the man, clinging to his skin like ticks.
Wall after wall of dirty, graffiti-covered city block passed the pair, until Jameson began to recognise the neon signs and sharp corners as being close to his client’s meeting place, he checked his watch and drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. His companion turned at the sound.
“Nearly there.” Jameson soothed.
“You stay with me?”
Again Jameson hesitated,“No.”
The man’s eyes glistened wetly and, without a word, wrapped himself in a hug around Jameson’s midsection. Jameson tensed at the sudden, unexpected contact, but put a hand on his charge’s back.
“Come visit!” A muffled, teary voice pleaded.
He brought his arms into the grayscale man’s sightline.
“I will do my best.”
Jameson never made promises that weren’t contracts, signed by both parties, but he really did intend to keep this one.
Turning the last corner, someone in a long-sleeved shirt and beret was waiting for them, in the unlit street Jameson couldn’t see their face. Standing with his charge at the alley’s mouth, he waited for his heart to slow before moving his hands in speech.
“I apologise for my lateness.”
“Worry not, my friend, you are here now.” A thick, jovial french accent answered him. “And you have brought the young man. Good, good.”
Jameson nodded the stooping man forward, in his periphery, he noticed a door to his left swing into the house. The pale figure sniffed the air, unsure. His tentative, scuffing footsteps marked his ungainly movements. Jameson gazed at both figures, his client and his charge.
“Take care of him, please.” He signed, partly at his client, partly to the universe.
A smile twinkled in anonymity’s eclipse. “Of course we shall.”
As the shadow-toned beret wearer drew the pale man into the dark, towards the open doorway, Jameson noticed many pairs of glittering eyes staring out. He wondered how many washes it would take to get the smell out of his gloves as he made his departure.
The clouds overhead glowed an eerie hue of orange and brown, yellow lights and walls of dark brick passed him as he walked. Was it the light pollution or the peculiarities that happen around him sepia-toning the world? He wasn’t entirely certain.
Time breaks around Jameson. He isn’t sure why. Threads of ideas try to pull themselves together but they tangle when he tries to interfere. Minutes and hours slip away like fleeting laughter. Weeks. Months. Years. He loses track of everything and everyone, but nothing seems to change. An anomaly is he, Jameson decides. Never fitting in but never being overtly questioned, like a spare vigilante in a comic. Hero or villain; he wondered where that arc would take him, if he chose such a career trajectory.
A woman with a scarf around her face met him on a corner, a piece of paper in her hands. Fixing his monocle in his eye and smoothing his moustache, Jameson sighed and read the contents. Nodding and signing it, he disappeared down a dead end alley and didn’t come out.
......
Schneep / Jackie / Marvin / Chase / Anti (?)
......
PART 2 BABEY... I’m not as happy with this one, but I can’t figure out what I’m not happy with -_-
I honestly don’t know what this is, I guess it’s because JJ seems so disconnected from all the other egos, he seems like a perfect go-between between canon and non-canon. Also I wanted to write the zombie boi and time anomalies. Sue me!
More ego one shots coming soon, any constructive feedback you could give would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.
Tagging everyone from last time plus a couple more who expressed interest :3 (if you don’t want to be tagged or if you do, shoot me a message)
something about being ruined. not just fucked or teased or even used, but ruined. someone making you unable to think, unable to speak, just moaning and twitching and leaving you unable to ever be satisfied for anyone else, anything else, always needing them, craving them, every hour of the day, being unable to control your arousal anymore, how wet you get, how hard you get, how flushed you become, all because they’ve ruined you.
taking care of astarion after cazador's death
no smut, just comfort /// gender-neutral reader/tav
after cazador's deminse, after the spawn leave, once it's just you and your companions again, astarion doesn't speak. it's as if he's in a daze. you're torn between giving him space and leaving him on his own, and wondering if he really needs to not be alone right now.
he's still covered in blood, you'd given him a shirt he pulled on over his head, the grime on his skin soaked through and left it sticking to his skin, it was over his face, in his hair. he didn't make any move to wipe any of it away.
the trek out of the castle, out of the dark, seemed so long. you wondered how he was still standing, how he was dragging his legs. you stay by his side, but did not touch him, you make no move to grab his hand, to sooth him. you hoped walking at his side, matching his pace, conveyed enough. you were here. and you weren't going to touch him until he said it was alright.
you only had one plan you cared about when you finally reached the inn. the others talked amongst themselves, one by one their eyes lingering on astarion, apologising, telling him he did the right thing, that they were proud of him. you watched them start to retreat up to their rooms as you spoke with innkeeper.
once done with your conversation, key in hand, astarion still stood at the foot of the stairs.
"were you waiting for me?" you asked. he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes drifted down, he paused. "i want to take you somewhere. and i know you're tired, i promise it's to help you rest."
he nodded, still mute, you reached out to take his hand, stopped yourself, and instead beckon him to follow you.
you wound through the inn, existing out into a small garden, and entering the building on the other side, guiding astarion through the main door and down the corridors until you found the door that fits the key the innkeeper gave you.
inside was a small, private bath, sunken into the ground like a hot spring. it's nothing that fancy, but it's quiet, and fits it's purpose. you press the key into his hand, carefully.
"i can leave, if you'd like. and you can take all the time you need... or, if you'd rather, i can stay and help you wash. and that's all we'll be doing. i'd be touching you, but it wouldn't be sexual. and if you're not comfortable with that, it's okay," you twisted your head to try and catch his gaze. "would you like me to stay or go? i won't be offended or upset, the choice is yours, and if you'd rather i go i'll be waiting for you upstairs."
he still didn't speak, you wondered if his screams and cries earlier have made his voice hoarse, or if he just can't bring himself too. your hand hovered by his cheek, not touching, but trying to guide his head to turn towards yours, and when he finally does there's wetness in his eyes, the blood high on his cheekbones becoming smudged.
"would you like me to stay?"
his teeth sank into his lip, if they drew blood you'd be unable to tell. he nodded his head.
"would you like to undress yourself, or do you want me to help?"
you saw him shudder, and he stepped back and as he started to remove his clothes you did the same with yours. you wade into the bath, sinking down and sigh as the water washes over your tired muscles.
you turned, and reached out a hand towards him. he took it.
he's silent as you reached into the small basket at the side of the bath, lathering soap in your hands and getting to work, starting with his hands, kneading around his nails, up his arms, his torso, his face.
he's silent as you nudged him to move, knelt up behind him, asked him to tilt his head back, poured water over his head, felt him start to relax as he closed his eyes, running your hands through his hair, feeling as though it's the most intimate action you've ever done with him, despite the multiple nights of passion.
he's still silent when you exited the baths, annoyed that you can't just roll under clean sheets but have to redress yourselves, as you hesitated to follow him into your room, ready to bunk with one of the others, but he took your hand, and then you're both silent as you undress again, crawl under the sheets, letting him reach for you this time, now that he's ready, taking him in your arms, cradling his head to your chest, fingers playing with his hair.
you don't imagine the soft "thank you" that fell from his lips as you both drifted off to sleep.
[18+, minors dni]
Pairing: Olrox/Trans Man Reader
Words: 2,154
Rating: Explicit
Read on Ao3
Tags: Trans Male Character | Established Relationship | Comfort | Gender Dysphoria | Corsetry | Anal Penetration | Oral | Fingering | Praise Kink | Strap-Ons | Dom Bottom Olrox
Summary: You saw a corset in a shop window one night and paused. Olrox had asked if you were interested by it. Hovering over your shoulder, he asked if you'd like him to buy it for you. But you shook your head, said no, worried that wearing it would make you look like...
So Olrox buys a corset for himself to prove how good a man looks in one.
Notes: Well I saw someone cosplaying Olrox in a corset and Olrox had already been on my brain for days and now this is here. It was just going to be a couple hundred word drabble but then I just kept writing. Yes I couldn't think of a title.
You saw a corset in a shop window one night and paused. Olrox had asked if you were interested by it. Hovering over your shoulder, he asked if you'd like him to buy it for you. But you shook your head, said no, worried that wearing it would make you look like...
You knew it was a silly thought for a couple of reasons. Firstly, that you were being a hypocrite. That clothing had no gender and that you wouldn't think another man looked like a girl for wearing a corset or a skirt or dress. And secondly, that Olrox did not judge you for things like this.
The corset had been forgotten about after that, or so you'd thought.
Later that week you're returning your book to your night stand, but when you enter the room you freeze.
Olrox is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands coming forwards from behind his back to rest in his lap. He's wearing nothing but his white shirt, unbuttoned and tucked down into a deep purple corset.
The book slips from between your fingers and falls to the floor.
If Olrox reacts, you don't see. Your eyes are glued to his body, his shirt revealing some of his chest before being swallowed up, the way the corset hugged his waist, pulled it in and cinched it.
“I thought it could make you feel more assured that you can look like a man in a corset if I wore one. I hope you don’t mind” Olrox's voice drifts into your ears, you barely take in the words but you can hear his smirk.
Your mouth is dry. You don't know how to respond, well, not with words anyway. The silence stretches on, you can't look him in the eye, but you can't look away from him.
It takes him saying your name to bring your mind back up. He can't be sounding concerned, can he? He can get upset about things despite what others think, but him being insecure in himself is not usual. It can't be that. Perhaps he's concerned that he's finally broken you.
“Olrox,” You breathe out, your voice sounds wrecked.
You finally meet his gaze.
He tilts his head to the side, pops up a shoulder, hair spills in front of his right eye.
“What do you think?” He asks, knowing full well what a fucking vision he looks like.
Words still fail you. How can you possible put into words how gorgeous he looks? And how many times had he already been told that in his lifetime? And the way he was sitting there, smugly amused by your reaction to him.
You aren't really thinking yet when you abandon your book on the floor. You're in front of him in an instant, leaning forwards, nose brushing against his, lips almost touching. You tilt your head ever so slightly, letting him think you're about to kiss him, let him lean up towards you, before pulling away
He huffs as you pull at him, not satisfied until he's standing. Your hands hook under his arms, around to his shoulder blades until they're being dragged down over his back as you sink your body down. Your mouth kisses at the exposed skin on his chest, and doesn't stop once it hits rich brocade.
You mouth over the hooks, tongue dragging against the seams, laying kisses over the corset until your thighs touch your calves and you're kneeling before him.
“What do I think?” Your murmur, lips pressing against the bottom hem of the corset, so close to his cock.
Olrox stares down at you in shock. You’re normally not this bold. He’s usually the one who has to instigate anything sexual, not because you don’t want too but because you get shy. And that's fine, he's more than happy to do the seducing, to chase you, and you blushing and squirming is a bonus. Of course he's wanted your confidence to grow, wondered what it would be like to see you bloom. Who knew all it would take to bring out your confidence would be a garment.
“Do you need me to show you?”
Olrox blinks down at you, the unexpected thrill of you being so forward making him forget what he had just said. “What?”
You chuckle against his skin and he shivers. "Can I show you how much I like it?"
Something warm catches in his chest as you nuzzle against his cock, the gesture is soft, comforting for you. His hand drifts down to your hair, threads his fingers between the strands.
"Yes."
It's all the permission you need. Any embarrassment you would usually have about taking any little bit of control is gone, replaced by a need to please him, to make him feel good, to make him feel as beautiful as he is, to engrave how beautiful you find him into his bones.
The way Olrox looks up at you when you push him down onto the bed makes your heart flutter. He's allowing you to do this, to push him back, trusting you to have this bit of control without abusing it. He doesn't get into subspaces like you, and you'd never ask him to submit to you, he's had enough of people trying to get him to submit. You're barely dominating him here, he's still got all the control, but he's letting you call the shots on where you touch him, letting you explore and worship him.
And fuck how you crave to worship him.
Your hands slide up and down the fabric and boning that covers his waist as you place your head between his legs. Running your tongue along the side, kissing the tip, taking it all into your mouth. He sighs when you do.
"Always so soft and warm for me, my love," He coos as you will your mouth to take him a little deeper.
As lovely as his cock is in your mouth, it's not what you really want. You've only done this a handful of times and it's always been from Olrox asking for it. This is the first time you've had the need, the want, all on your own for this.
"I want to fuck you," Your rasp out, pulling yourself off Olrox's cock.
His cock twitches against your cheek.
"Really?" He looks down at you in wonder and you nod eagerly.
His voice always sounds so calm and unaffected when he talks during sex. You realise you'd like to try and change that.
He reaches for the oil in the night stand and hands it to you. You kiss his hand as you take it.
"Thank you," Perhaps it's silly to say, especially as your now slicked finger circles his hole.
"For what?"
"Trusting me to have you like this."
You see his walls come down. The furrow of his brow, smirk falling into genuine smile.
"Well, you're going to take good care of me aren't you, sweet boy?"
A whine leaves your mouth. Yes, yes you are, you want too so badly, it's what he deserves, he deserves to be taken care off, especially when he takes such good care of you.
"My good patient boy. You're going to get me nice and-ah stretched out for your cock?" He rocks his hips as you slide a finger inside him. "Just like that. If I'd known all I needed to do to get you rushing to fold me in half I'd have- fuck, another finger, love- I'd have bought one of these a long time ago. This is what gets you riled up huh?"
"You get me riled up," You complain as three of your fingers thrust into him. "This is just... Fuck, Olrox you're beautiful."
He preens under you. Hips thrusting back against your fingers, his body rolling but slightly restricted by the corset. You wish you could have seen him put it on, or fuck-
"Next time, let me help you put it on?"
"Next time?" His eyes twinkle as he smiles.
"Oh you have to wear this again. And you want too, you enjoy seeing me frustrated," You wipe your fingers off on your thigh.
"And it is so easy to get you frustrated." Olrox hums, pleased with himself.
He watches as you get yourself ready for him. Harness sliding over your thighs, slicking your cock up with oil as it clicks into place.
"You going to fuck me with that now?" He spreads his legs against the crimson sheets. "That's a good boy, come here. You're going to give me what I need, aren't you?"
You crawl between his legs, panting and flushed even though he hasn't touched you. Your hands stroke over his thighs before finding purchase on that waist again, you could get addicted to holding him there.
"Yes," Olrox hisses out and throws his head back as you push your cock inside of him, bottoming out in one long, slow thrust.
You swear you can feel him around you. He'd be tight as you haven't done this in a while. Sensitive walls clenching around you as your thrust. And you do thrust, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. He can be so soft when he's inside of you, but when you're inside of him he doesn't like being treated like he's breakable. When you're inside of him he tells you-
"Harder, love. You wanted to show me how much you like me in this? Yes? Then harder, show me-" He chokes on his own moans, babbling around your cock, toes curling. "Like that, yes, good boy-"
Olrox's hands reach for you, pull you in so he can kiss you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, demandingly, and as you moan back into his mouth he hooks a leg around you and flips you both over.
"You really like this, darling?" He runs a hand down over his stomach, taunting you, as he rises up and down, fucking himself on your cock.
"Yes, yes, Olrox, fuck," You dig your heels into the bed, your hands scramble at his hips, trying to get leverage to fuck up into him. "Please."
He hushes you, leans over to kiss you again as he rolls his hips against you.
"You can come if you can, love. If you can grind up into me so that this cock presses against you, rubs against you, or I can slide a hand down there myself after I come..." He trails off, you know there's about to be a catch. "If..."
Whining you paw at him, fingers greedily grabbing his ass, feeling where he's stretched out around you.
"Ah, close, my love. And you can be close too, if you tell me what you think."
"You- fuck, you know, Olrox, you're gorgeous-"
"And a man?"
"A-? Yes of course, you," Oh. "Yes, you still look like a man, Olrox, please-"
He leans down, kissing your neck, fangs grazing you. "Will you let me buy you one?"
Your head is spinning. "What?"
"If I come around your cock and then rub my fingers against you until you come, will you let me buy you a corset?"
His voice tickles your ear, but then he pulls back, bouncing harder on your cock now. You know he's close.
"I can help you put it on. You'd be so good for me, standing in front of the mirror as I lace you up, and then I can show you how handsome you are in it, play with your little hole, kiss you all over, fuck you-ah open, just like you're doing to me. Don't you want that, love?"
You do, of course you do, but it's hard to get anything out of your mouth other than moans as the curved back of the cock presses against your body, the groove catching on slick cock that's trapped behind it.
"Please, Olrox, please, please, I want, ah, I want you too, want you to show me I'm your good boy, I'm your good boy Olrox please-"
His thighs squeeze around yours. When he throws his head back, his hair fans around him, earrings jingling. He grinds down against your cock despite being oversensitive, riding out his orgasm, his come pooling on your chest.
You think he should be the one boneless, not sliding off your cock with ease. Before you can complain, his hand is where he promised it would be, already rubbing at your wet cock while the other tugs down the harness. He pushes it away, nails scratch against your thigh drawing your gaze down to his. All it takes it one swipe of his tongue against your cock and you're coming.
He strokes your hair as you come down, tells you how much he loves you, how well you fucked him, and of course, how pretty you're going to look for him after he stops back by that shop.
eddie thinks he's possessive of volt, that he's too clingy, too needy. but volt's the possessive one. glaring daggers at anyone who pushes eddie, touches him, they feel the static in the air cracking, volt's eyes glowing, staring at them. and he's raking his nails over eddie's body, biting, leaving marks, so everyone else can see and know he's the one who left them there, eddie will cover them up but volt will run a finger under his shirt's collar and tug it down. volt fucking eddie hard, pounding him into the mattress, and eddie is a mess, tears running down, drooling and hiccuping around moaning, trying to cover his face, insecure of how he looks when volt is taking him apart, that he's not allowed to have this, but volt will tell him 'you're mine' and that he's beautiful and that he's all for volt to see and touch, static shocks with every thrust, volt's balls slapping against eddie's arse, the sounds of eddie's cunt has him embarrassed but volt loves it, he loves eddie, he wants his walls broken down and messy and loud, letting volt ruin him, 'let go eddie, let me see you love. let me be the only one who sees you, making a mess of yourself on my cock, such a slut for it, but only for me'. only for him.
[dni minors, dni blogs that have no 18+ age listed in their bio]
body worshipping astarion /// gender-neutral reader/tav
telling him that his pleasure gives you pleasure, that you enjoy making him feel good, that he doesn't ever have to do anything in return. and that's hard for him to believe, of course. but you can prove it.
you can have him laid back on the bed, stripped bare, as you kiss across his face, making him laugh if you kiss him on the tip of his nose,
"it is rather cute of you darling that you want to spoil me, but"
no buts. you tell him this is what he deserves. he deserves to be spoiled, to be held and treated as though he's something precious. because he is.
you're careful as you kiss down his neck, not knowing if the bite scar on his neck is too painful of a reminder, so you avoid it, sliding down his chest, thumbs pushing against his nipples, taking one in your mouth as he sighs, hardening against you,
"as nice as this is, there are rather more sensitive areas you could be attending too,"
you swat him gently on the thigh and tell him to be patient, though you know he isn't. that you're not trying to tease him, you're savouring him,
he'll get what he wants though, as you slink down and ask him to spread his legs, and when he slowly does you struggle to read his face, is he apprehensive? surely he can't be nervous...?
you kiss his inner thighs, daring to nibble, and when he gasps and moans you bite harder, leaving marks as you edge closer to his cock, already starting to leak, begging for attention, sliding you fingers down until they circle around the base, you look up at him as you take his cock into your mouth.
he's loud as you slide yourself up and down, he always is. he knows his voice is attractive, he knows it spurs you on, his noises, his praise,
"yes, darling, that's it, fuck, such a talented little mouth, so good for me,"
but this isn't about you, it's about him, and you want him rendered speechless, unable to use any honeyed words as he falls apart, and you'll be here holding onto him, making sure he doesn't fall too far, making sure he's put back together in the end.
he almost yelps, embarrassed at the undignified sound, as you slide your hands under his arse and pull him up, clawing at his skin, letting his cock hit the back of your throat, breathing through your nose as you gag, trying to look up at him, daring for him to see how much you'd do for him,
you pull your mouth off his cock to watch him squirm, his hips twitch, your blow cool air onto him and he whines, he whines and he seems embarrassed of it and he's beautiful,
you tell him that, and he knows, but there isn't the usual witty and vain retort, he whines again, panting, you tilt your head and smile and ask him if he wants to cum,
"of course i want to-"
he cuts himself of as you frown and start to pull your hands away. he knows what you want him to say.
"alright, i..." he catches his breath. "please."
please what?
he wants to scowl, but he wants your touch more, "please, i want to come, please."
he's back to moaning the second your mouth slides back down on his cock, whining again when you pull off, only to replace your mouth with your hand, sliding up and down his slick cock, as your mouth moves to his balls, fingers slipping against his arse, brushing between them accidentally, you think you aught to move them but the sound he makes, oh the sounds he makes,
barely thinking, just driven by the urge to have him come undone, you slip your hand under his leg and pull it up over your shoulder, gripping his thigh, mouth back on his cock as your other hand brushes against his hole again and you watch him shiver and claw at the bedding and you're emboldened and you rub your finger against his hole, never pressing inside, in time with how your head bobs up and down,
his words are gone now, he moans and gasps and you want him to let himself go, to thrust his hips up into your mouth, to relax into the bed, slide one of his hands onto your head if that's his urge, this is for him,
he tries to speak, "love, i-" and then he throws his head back, one of his hands flying to his face, you can't imagine him wanting to hide himself or his voice but then again has he ever let himself he this exposed before during sex?
you swallow around him as he comes, mouth still on him as he's oversensitive and twitching until you hear him sob,
and then you're letting his leg down gently off your shoulder, pulling yourself up to look at him, cupping his cheeks in your hands, him nodding to say he's alright, and then you're back to planting kisses over his face, telling him that he's safe, that he's beautiful, that you're honoured he trusts you with himself, stroking his hair as he comes down, falling onto your side and him clinging to you, his head against your chest as you kiss along his hair line,
"thank you," he breathes
of course
"you... well. i clearly underestimated you, again. i... i'm not sure i've ever come like that before. but before you sex was never much about my own pleasure. but that was... nice."
he coughs, composes himself,
"and well, if you ever wanted to do it again, or let me return the favour, though yes before you interrupt i understand you are trying to teach me that i don't have to repay you for anything with sex, but then i would also remind that i genuinely like having sex with you, having you at my mercy, moaning for me..."
you huff,
"yes. right. that is to say, i could be persuaded to let you have your wicked way with me again. it wasn't... unpleasant. i might have feared it could be, that being at someone else's mercy could bring about... memories or feelings. but it didn't. because it's with you. you make me feel... safe. i want to cherish that."
you kiss him again. and again. until you tell him you're not supposed to be waking yourselves up, and he pouts, but relents,
you'll clean yourselves up in a moment, for now, you enjoy him allowing himself to rest in your arms
