His Little "How High"
Hendrick Joliet Easterman x reader
wc: 1,493
You couldn’t get your fingers to stop trembling, staring down into the reflective lenses of the reagent who had not made it through the therapy. It wasn’t fear that had your hands unsteady as you reached for the drill, preparing to unbolt the night vision goggles from their temples. Not something so basic, it was confusion and outrage that stirred you. Unable to comprehend how the now hollow shell had refused to allow the therapy to fill them, to coax them into a transformation to something better. Someone worth knowing.
It was outrage because you now knew just how much was put into each reagent’s molding. You’d been there, in the trials, allowing them to carve away the cancerous pieces of you that led to an entropy of reaching the apex of evolution man was capable of. Ignoring the leak of gray tissue that dribbled from the hold made by your anger guided ministrations, you carried the goggled to the low basin with its sanitizing solution. Only the knowledge that the equipment could be passed on to another, hopefully worthier, reagent kept you from dropping them into the solution to vent some of your rage.
“A pity.’
The words echoed your own thoughts, though far more kind than they had any right to be. Behind you stood Dr. Easterman, staring down at the reagent who’d failed. You couldn’t help but agree with him, though you remained silent, wiping your fingers dry on the towel near the basin. Watched as his fingers lightly brushed the grimy hair away from the skin still damp from the hosing the body had taken. It hadn’t cleaned them well, there were still patches of blood that stubbornly clung to the skin as if seeking to sink through it and back into the body where it had once belonged.
He stood there, silent for so long, still in a way that didn’t seem natural, that you wondered if some of the Pusher’s toxin had managed to contaminate you from the reagent’s body. That you did not miss, though it was a useful tool. To hone the mind, force the body to intake oxygen to enrich the blood, which in turn fed the mind. Every torment in the trials was meant to better the reagent, fingers idly moving to the burns on your skin on your ribs, where one of the Prime Asset’s had stabbed you with an electric baton and cranked up the juice.
When he finally looked to you, the way his gaze warmed made your heart race. Scar tissue from a drill dodged at the last moment pulled as you smiled, unable to help yourself. It was an ugly thing, or so you’d thought at first. Until he’d carefully unhooked the mask you’d taken to wearing from your notched ear, and cupped your face to run his thumb along it. A badge of honor he’d called it, and you couldn’t help but agree.
“What a waste of potential...’
Your chest clenched at the disappointment in his tone, though it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be, considering not only had you made it through the trials you’d then stayed to help others. You believed in the therapy and helped reagents currently going through the process to rehabilitate between rounds. Helped them come to terms with their weaknesses and learn to use them as strengths if possible, or to compensate if they could not.
“If only we could find more like you.’ It took everything in you not to lean towards him as his hand lifted, to not clutch at his wrist as his fingers brushed your cheek. “I’ve never been more proud of a success from this facility.’
The press of his lips against your forehead felt like a benediction, a piercing light that eased the murmur of your heart from the drugs and strain of the therapy you’d always have. Filled you from fingertip to toes, eased the burning in your joints, and the rasp of your lungs. None of those minor inconveniences mattered, had no place in this moment as they were nothing more than distractions. He’d had a cigarette before coming into the room, the acrid smell of smoke made your nose itch, the sharp sour scent of nicotine on his fingers made your stomach churn.
But it would take more than an act of God Himself to pull you away, to make you break that contact prematurely. A pitiful, mewling creature in comparison to the man who tucked his fingers under your chin to hold you in place as he created distance enough to meet your eyes. It was only then that you realized your eyes had filled with tears, his visage wavering and hard to see. Your hand stilled midway to lifting, halted in your effort to wipe at them by a soft negative hum from the man in front of you.
Your heart stuttered when the tears finally worked their way free, feeling the way his lips pressed over them. The organ caught between the imperative to beat in order to sustain life, and wishing to still as if taking a snapshot of the moment and wanting as little interference as possible. Your lungs hurt, burning like the molotovs that had blinded you during trials when the pitcher had found you hiding. The ragged gasp was immediately followed by a chuckle, dry, soft, and you wanted to wrap yourself up in it.
“You had freedom at your fingertips and turned from the door,’ you watched as the tip of his tongue chased the moisture left behind by your tear from his lower lip. “You came back to me, hungry for knowledge, eager to lend a helping hand.’
The one good one you had for sure, the other stiff, the outside of the palm marred by thick scar tissue from the teeth of a prime asset’s saw. That one haunted you, the blood on your hand from trying to pull another reagent along behind you towards the end of the trial had almost been the end. Blood slick palm had slid along the casing and almost directly into the blade you’d struggled to keep away from your face. A soft tsking sound pulled you back from the memory, scarred hand twitching briefly.
Another kiss made your legs weak, right on the scarring on your cheek, going limp in shock as his arms wrapped around you. It was too much, it was everything, it felt safe. Safe, and warm, feeling him stroke your hair as his arm draped across your shoulderblades to hold you close. It didn’t happen often, your arms unable to move as you simply soaked it in, basked in this show of affection like flora eager for sun after a long winter.
“They thought I’d only be able to create puppets, stringed creatures that would move only as we told them.’ Even pressed close to him it was hard to hear, his voice low as if concerned anyone else could hear. “My little how high surpassed all of our expectations by miles.’
A close call, your not blacking out hearing those words, the ones that had become more and more elusive the longer you survived the trials. The more injuries you survived that tempered your will to make it through, the praise that soothed your tormented mind as you stumbled from the transport. It had been a hell, with only the memory of those words some days, despairing that you would never hear them again, but then you would and it had made every indignity worth it. Your arms lifted too late, his body pulling back from yours and taking all that warmth with him.
That chill settled near your bones, the aches and pains that you’d earned with your diligence coming back in full force. It was as if he’d blocked everything but himself from the world for a moment, a heady thing, addicting. His fingers skimmed your wrist, guiding you back to the table where the corpse of the reagent lay, before moving to lean against an empty gurney to watch. It should have made you nervous, knowing that he was watching so closely without the comfort of a visual distortion of the cameras or thick glass between you.
But somehow his being there soothed you, as if his hands still cradled your face, silently assuring you that you were doing splendidly. That the attentive way you’d watched the doctors who had worked on you, your fellow reagents, had paid off. He’d recognized your deft hand and sharp eye, had made use of your skills and was pleased to have been proven right not to push you further in the trials when you refused to abandon him. That he appreciated above all else you were sure of it. Everyone else left, everyone else turned away in search of something else. You knew better. The therapy was only the beginning, there was so much more in Sinyala to learn.
a/n: i do apologize this took so long so i wrote more than i plan to for requests. this was a really good prompt! i hope it did it justice xoxo platonic as pluto
Possessive MDNI 18+
Hendrick Joliet Easterman x reader
wc: 1,474
Maybe you should have warned him, but that was the point of a surprise inspection. To surprise everyone. And given the slack jawed, gape eyed way the technicians were looking at you as you walked the halls you’d nailed it. He’d tried at least four times to get your attention, politely. Sweet. But these were work hours, and you had things to do. You just didn’t have time for his jealous fit.
Which was one of the few rare mistakes that you made, he’d been a bit more… temperamental of late. Something to do with a reagent named… Actually he’d been very careful not to give you a name directly, but you knew it had to be something like Amber? Amy? It was the reason that you’d been sent to Sinyala, in hopes that even if you couldn’t get the information from your husband, one of the lower employees would let something spill.
“My dear.’
Oh it was the tone, fighting to keep your pleasant corporate face on, you held up a finger between you and the technician who’d been eagerly talking about their section of the switchboard. You meant to offer some tidbit to soothe him, but the look in his eyes said that was unlikely. Unfortunate.
“Is there something I can help you with, Dr. Easterman?’
“My office.’
You didn’t want to go, whatever he planned required privacy, so if you stayed in view of others there shouldn’t be an issue. Not if he wanted to keep that benevolent father illusion he’d been so carefully crafting. At first you’d thought that it was for the reagents, but it was for the rest of the staff below him too. It was a nice little psychological con that you appreciated, and why you’d accepted his proposal.
When he refused to relent you finally gave in, carefully setting down the folder you’d been reviewing and taking the lead. And why not? It wasn’t as if you were running, though your pulse was racing. You weren’t attempting to get somewhere private before he did something that you’d both need to explain to Human Resources.
See you could lie too.
“I give you everything.’ The words are snarled quietly as the door shuts with a soft click. “I take care of you.’
Not technically true, there’d been a very air tight prenup, and your salaries were- The thought derailed as his desk bumped against you, sliding up on to it as he kept encroaching on your personal space. Oh he was actually angry, sliding a bit further, your hands scrambling for places to brace against for another inch or so.
“And you try to embarrass me?’
When? The sensible skirt you wore dragged upwards as he clutched your ankles to pull you back. Leaning back as he pressed closer, you lightly set your hands on his chest. Maybe you should have told him you were coming, it would have been the polite thing between spouses, hinted at it. Except the longer he went on the more you realized that it wasn’t the visit.
“Henry… Are you angry because I look nice?’
A slap would probably have surprised him less than the fact that the entire point had so clearly gone over your head. Another tug pulled you off the desk, groin cradled against his as he rested his hands on your knees. You wiggled as they moved higher, nails scraping your hips as he hooked his fingers in the band of your underwear and pulled down.
“I’m angry because you’ve been preening and flaunting yourself like a hen trying to seduce the cock.’ He seethed, fingers hard against the back of your knees to yank you off the desk fully. “Because all day I’ve watched those creatures ogle you like the Rape of Persephone and you’ve been soaking in the attention.’
It hadn’t been that bad, stumbling as he turned you with a sharp yank to your elbow, unforgiving pressure between your shoulder blades forcing you to bend. Protesting came to mind, and was trespassed feeling his fingers skim along the line of you. The noise of disgust made you squirm, face warm as you debated trying to defend yourself.
“Look at this.’ You processed the sound of his belt only a moment before seeing his hand slam down on the desk an inch from your nose. “You’re absolutely sloppy from the adoration of the men and women who are probably even now daydreaming about the hint of lace they could see.’
Instead of the blunt cockhead you’d been expecting, his middle fingers slowly worked themselves inside of you. It wasn’t true, of course you liked the attention, but it was the prickling threat of a storm that had followed you throughout the day with his eyes on you. He was so hyper focused on his work that you sometimes wondered if he remembered you. Hips rocking in time with the thrust of his fingers, you tried to keep the noises he teased from you quiet.
REC flashed when you turned your head away from the slick wet fingers on the desk, eyes going wide even as his fingers thrust faster. When he pulled them free, feeling your body clench desperately seeking the almost frantic stimulation that had been heaped upon it, you opened your mouth to tell him. Somehow you’d managed to hit the record button, hand moving towards the buttons only to clench them into a fist as he slammed his hips forward.
The low noise he pulled from you sent the small line flicking violently to the right. Thighs pressing together, you tried to remember how to breathe. Each thrust of his hips jolted you against the desk, the line bouncing like a metronome as the slap of flesh against flesh registered. You came hard, whining as you writhed, feeling his breath hot against the back of your neck as he bullied his cock through the vice grip.
“I'm not upset that you've betrayed me.’ He panted, hips snapping sharply, his hand moving from the desk to grip the back of your neck. You clenched imagining what that grip would feel like if you were supine. “What makes me furious is that you've betrayed yourself. I'm trying to love you, and you throw it back in my face.’
Untrue, you did, you did love him. But there was a disconnect between your thoughts and the ability to transform them to vocal assurances. Reduced to whimpered I dos and please Henry’s. It wasn’t enough, the noises you’d tried to cage behind your teeth spilling out onto the desk like dark ink. A sharp smack startled you, quickly followed by another, and another, each one making you go rigid with the sharp spike of pain that mingled with the liquid heat that swirled low in your gut.
His fingers gripped the tender flesh, pressing the whorls of his fingerprints into your hip bone, slamming into you and stilling as he spilled. A frustrated cry escaped you, so close, squirming in an attempt to use the edge of the desk if you had to. But he pinned you down, feeling a few weak spurts against the back of your thighs before he let out a soft sigh.
“Don’t ever disappoint us again.’ A hint of ragged edge in his tone, tugging your skirt down over your ass before helping you stand.
You ached, the orgasm that had been hovering just at your fingertips, so much stronger than the first, slipped through your fingertips. Feeling his hands on your jaw, you winced realizing that one of them was still wet, licking your lower lip after he ran his thumb across it and tasting semen. He glared and did it again, and you kept you tongue in your mouth.
“We are stronger together. Me, here at Sinyala. You, running those rabid wolves in Murkoff in circles.’ He used his hands to force you to nod until you did it yourself. “Good, good.’
Stepping away from you, he pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket, moving it out of reach when you reached for it and tucking it into his slacks pocket. No? You could feel the mixture of your fluids on your thighs, a particularly ambitious drop racing for the inside of your knee. What did he mean no?
“I’ve arranged dinner here in my office.’ He continued conversationally, walking around the desk after picking up your underwear. “Unless you have other work you’ll need to do at say five thirty?’
It was noon, watching as the fabric was folded and tucked into the breast pocket, feeling vaguely stunned as he pressed stop then rewound the tape. A few moments later, a copy created and tucked into his desk drawer, he held the original out to you.
“In case you need a reminder who it is you belong to.’
Needy MDNI 18+
Hendrick Joliet Easterman x reader
wc: 1,405
“I am trying to be patient.’
So were you, watching as he got comfortable on the sofa. Of course you wanted to make sure the mental health in Sinylala stayed afloat. And god knew that shit absolutely rolled downhill, remembering the fancy footwork it had taken to recover after the Amelia incident. The strain had stretched so many thin you’d been close to pulling out your hair.
“But there’s only so much a father is meant to take before needing to change tactics don’t you think?’ It wasn’t untrue, though his children for the most part were some of the most broken human beings you’d ever seen. “Perhaps it is time for the stick instead of the carrot. Benevolence withheld in lieu of a harsher tone to motivate them.’
Harsher tone? Slowly sliding a stack of papers that needed reviewing towards you, you glanced in his direction but he was situated comfortably, arm draped over his eyes. Listening with a half ear to his complaints, you quickly cut the stack in half, redacting the necessary information. Only two pages left you realized that he’d gone quiet, lifting your head to see if he’d fallen asleep again.
He was watching you from the shadow created by his arm, and you felt a flicker of guilt. You had been listening, and if needed could provide what you’d thought were the important pieces to work on. But he didn’t look angry, there was a speculative look that made you want to put your cardigan on. There was a chill from the winter trials they’d run that had never really gone away, it wouldn’t be obvious if you did.
“Perhaps the issue is that I’ve been too distant.’ He sat up, legs swinging to the floor. “I thought a distant father figure offering the necessary support to guide them would be enough.’
The tone had shifted, belatedly lifting the black marker that you’d still had pressed to the page. Damn! Lifting the paper, even knowing what you’d find, you still swallowed back curses seeing the black on the bottom page as well. Capping the marker, you jumped as his fingers wrapped around and set it to the side.
“Distance breeds unfamiliarity, and aren’t we family at Murkoff?’
You weren’t sure when he’d moved, it hadn’t seemed like it had taken you that long to recognize your error and his taking the marker. Maybe you were just more tired than you thought. His light grip on your wrist lifted your hand, setting it against his cheek.
“I sometimes forget that I’m not just the shadow of comfort for my children.’ The scrape of scruff made you shiver. “That I’m flesh and bone and need. Do you ever feel like that? That you’re little more than a scattering of letters to form words on the memo?’
When you started to shake your head he leaned down, fingers tightening around your wrist. It didn’t hurt yet, just uncomfortable. A light tug didn’t free you, but he did loosen his grip, fingertips running down your forearm with a touch so light you felt like you were imagining it.
“I know you understand what I’m talking about.’ He nuzzled against the hand you’d not moved, and now it was too late to yank it back. “The distance we create between ourselves and the task, the echoing loneliness that comes from being apart.’
Testing the waters, you started to lower your arm, his hand cupping your elbow slid back up along the underside of your forearm. His hand captured your wrist again and you tried not to let the dismay show on your face, you needed some of that distance he was talking about. It was getting harder to breathe, feeling his thumb stroke across your pulse.
“The lack of stimulation is detrimental, it burrows its greedy fingers into the foundation and leaves it unstable.’ Uh huh? Okay? “A desperate need for intimacy, even just brief eye contact, or the brushing of hands while passing in the hallway.’
Well it wasn’t his hand the side of yours was brushing, startling as you tried to pull away only to find yourself trapped. Staring up at him he didn’t seem to have noticed your reaction at all, hips shifting, your pinkie twitching as you strained to pull loose. The sound of his zipper lowering made you freeze, eyes widening briefly before slowly lowering.
“A simple touch can be so steadying.’ Practically crooning the words, you couldn’t look away as he angled your fingers to dip into the opening of his slacks. “It reminds us that we aren’t wandering blind and dumb, there are others. Connected.’
Fingertips skimming across silken soft skin, you felt it flex, trailing back up towards the glans and feeling the slick bead of precum. The soft sigh that he let out sent shivers along your skin, hooking your first two fingers behind it and rubbing under the glans using your thumb. You weren’t sure if the hushed, needy noise was you or him.
A very loud voice in your head was reminding you that this was absolutely against regulation, but feeling the way his cock firmed in your hand, the way his hips rocked into your touch as you dragged your thumb back and forth made it easy to ignore. It was just to alleviate the ache of your wrist at the awkward angle that had you pulling his cock out as the muscle flexed.
Hearing papers on your desk crinkle as he tucked his leg up onto it, you wrapped your hand around and squeezed downwards drawing a groan out of him that touched things deep inside you. Shifting on your chair, you started slow, just enough movement to slide the skin over the hard muscle beneath.
“Exactly, I knew you’d get the point.’ His fingers wrapped over yours, squeezing briefly before moving to your wrist and guiding you to move a little faster. “Humans are little more than animals themselves when left too long with their own thoughts. With no one else to offer a h-helping hand.’
You felt his cock twitch, gaze flicking from the weeping tip to his face, taking in the flush across his cheeks and the hazy look in his eyes. It was possible he was just that pent up to be close, pooling saliva on your tongue before leaning forward and letting it drip off the tip of your extended tongue. Dry had to be uncomfortable, smearing the spit as lubrication slowly before tightening your grip again and speeding up.
It was clear he wanted to say something, his mouth opening, but he couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought to give you. His eyes finally lifted from your mouth, slowly as if it were blasphemous to do so. A sharp twist around the head of his cock drew a choked whine, so you did it again, his hips jerking on the desk. When you slow he begged, softly, almost too low for you to hear, fingertips skimming across the back of your hand.
And it would be cruel to ignore that, your own hips rocking in your seat in short juts trying to appease the ache. It wasn’t enough, not even close, but you couldn’t quite get yourself to cross that line. Today. You couldn’t do it today, grinding your thumb along the underside of his cock on each upstroke.
Too engrossed in your ministrations, you were surprised to see a cloth covering your hand, his cock flexing in your grasp as he let out a stuttered moan. The fabric darkened, and your hand kept stroking even when his leg jerked on the desk, a barely restrained kick that stroked your ego. His hand gripped the back of the chair, panting harshly against your temple while you had worked until he began to soften.
If you took the handkerchief from his groin with a brief tweak of cockhead, it was definitely an accident. Not a small punishment for what had happened. What shouldn’t have happened, unable to suppress the warmth that radiated from where his lips pressed briefly at the end of your eyebrow. That was something you could unpack later, watching him tuck his cock back into his slacks and refasten them as you wiped your hand with the drier parts of the handkerchief.
“Thank you for your time, as always. Your dedication to the well being of our Sinyala employees is truly unmatched.’
He tasted like dark chocolate that had been rolled in sugar. Bitter, sweet, rough. Kiss scalding as he pressed you against the wall, his left hand sliding up your side. A shiver ran through you hearing the wood above your head creak when you clutched at his shoulders. When you’d been recruited it had been a surprise, even more so when they’d shoved you towards the doorway to find him leaning in close to the mirror with that damned grinder.
“Thought you said you liked playing with fire?’
The murmured tease made you grin, would have pulled back to assure him that you did indeed want to. That the shiver hadn’t been anxiety, or concern, but anticipation hearing the grate of stone on stone as his other hand tried to grip the wall. Grip anything but you, knowing that he most likely would break something if he did. As if his left hadn’t already left its mark dark and throbbing on your hip when you’d hooked your leg around his thigh.
As if his tail hadn’t left your slacks ruined as the tip dragged back and forth along the seam with an attention to detail that had your breathing light and shallow, head spinning from lack of air. His hips rutted against yours when you nipped his lower lip, and then bit down making him curse. You weren’t made of obsidian, brittle and easy to break. His thumb skimmed along your ribs, just under the breast, your body arching into the touch hoping he’d move higher.
When you bit down again, a small squeak of surprise escaped you as his fingers caught your jaw and squeezed. Gaze falling to his mouth as his tongue skimmed over the blood that welled from the small injury. A low whine when his tail fell away, aching, hips still rocking desperately chasing the pleasure that had been just this side of enough. You’d finally felt that familiar ache blooming into something more, something that coiled so tightly it almost hurt.
“You bit me?’ Hard to tell if he was amused or outraged, tonguing the blood again. “Didn’t realize you were feral.’
Considering it had been months of him blithely tormenting you the guilt that you should have felt was minimal. He hadn’t even really realized what he was doing until Abe told him, you were almost eighty percent certain. And then the casual handsy actions had felt heavy with intent. Sure he had to wrap an around you to yank you from beneath falling rubble, but why did his thumb have to dip beneath your waistband seeking skin to scrape against before releasing you.
When he blocked the bullet that had meant to burrow through your soft tissue why had he given you a once over under thick dark lashes like that. You were obviously fine, the bullet had been sent ricocheting into a wall. And that was nothing compared to his helping you with the dishes you brought in for him and his cats. He was always in the way, fingers skimming along your back as you had to squeeze past him. That room had been rearranged just to create narrow pathways forcing proximity.
“Didn’t realize you were housebroken.’ You shot back, the words panted as you struggled to breathe around the frustration of being denied.
It wasn’t the greatest of comebacks, but it did what you wanted, eagerly squirming to try and assist him in removing your suit jacket. He could have set a cattle prod directly on your clit and gotten a less visceral reaction from your body than how it felt feeling his right hand settle over your fabric covered forearms. Body slack with surprise, eyes wide as your mind stumbled from thought to thought, each more shameless, and probably fatal, than the last as to what else he could do with those stone fingers.
Hot fingers skimmed along the outside of your thigh, hooking behind the knee to guide your leg around his waist as he lifted you with his grip around your arms. The slow measured movements felt like a threat, a promise that you were eager for him to follow through on. His hand guided, you followed. The anticipation like falling glass, whispering against your skin, cutting it in other places that you only noticed later. God you hoped you were going to feel this later.
His thigh settled between yours, pressing upwards and you took the hint and rocked your hips. They moved with sharp jerks as he tugged the belt of your slacks undone, the clasp fastener yanked free. He watched you squirm as you toed off your shoes, an eyebrow raising as you used your toes to tug your slacks down over your hips once he’d moved his thigh out of the way. Bless procrastination and laundry day being tomorrow, his eyes widening realizing you were bare.
“You’re gonna be a real problem…’
The belt buckle clattered on the ground, the sound of the zipper loud despite the pounding in your ears. You may have spent a little too long imagining what it looked like when sprawled on your bed, playing will I won’t I with your orgasm before inevitably tumbling over the edge. Whatever deity decided that it liked you gave you better than you’d hoped, legs already wrapping around him to pull him closer. The shameless roll of your hips, dragging yourself along the length of him.
A twinge in your wrists was a distant concern when his hips bucked into yours, forcing half his length inside you before being stalled. Short, hard thrusts of his hips sank inch by inch inside of you, your head hitting the wall behind you. It was hard to breathe, each inhale seemed to press him deeper, writhing as your body clenched.
“You’re doin’ great baby, just breathe I’ll take care of you.’ Breath hot on your neck, he nipped the skin as if testing your response before pulling out and slowly sliding back in. “God… you’re tighter than the government’s wallet.’
That startled a laugh out of you, short lived, his cock felt like a branding iron searing every vein into your walls as he continued to bully his way inside you. Flickers of desire ignited your nerves, feeling warmth low in your belly as his cock leaked precum. You could feel it as his thrusts smeared it along your walls, tucking your knees against his ribs to be able to give yourself some leverage to meet each thrust.
Your teeth caught the side of your tongue at a particularly sharp thrust, feeling him finally bottom out, balls slapping against your ass sharply dragging a yip from you that made him grin. His sideburns rasped against your neck, your fingers curling into fists feeling his thrusts gliding easier with each rock of his hips. Fingertips digging into your hip, you felt the moment he shifted gears, as if your cunt unclenching were a permission he’d been seeking.
“Just hold on tight.’
To what? Your hands still pinned overhead, your legs shaking and unwilling to listen to your demand they grip his sides. The bigger mistake was hooking your ankles at his lower back, spreading yourself that little bit wider. But the low groan you received in return, all five points of his fingers imprinting themselves, was reward enough. But the ruthless thrust that kept dragging across the bundle of nerves inside you was better, yanking at your hands trying to get one loose. If you could just get a hand loose you could finally come.
“Say please.’
Done, easy, the word spilling past your lips before he’d even said it. The sharp bite of blood rushing properly through tissue made you squirm, eagerly forcing your hand between you, finger finding your clit with a soft keen as he sped up. That was it, that was good, you were so close it made you want to scream.
And you did when he released your other hand after pulling back, thrusting upwards as you came down, feeling him trust into you hard enough you knew things had to shift out of the way. Spine bowing, body instinctively attempting to ease the dull pain, he pulled you back down slamming into you as heat flooded into you.
It was like going into shock, the pleasure leaving a haze of dark at the edges of your vision as you came, breath caught in your lungs. He ground up into you as each scalding spurt forced itself into your womb, feeling the way thick globules leaked out past his cock to the floor. As if in counterpoint to the fuzzy line between pleasure and pain, he nuzzled the crook of your neck murmuring praises you couldn’t understand even if you wanted to.
Sagging against him, he tucked his right forearm under you as he stepped back from the wall to carry you to the bed.
“Let me know when you’re ready for round two, baby. I’m all good to go.’
non canon event for my fic on Ao3 Here Comes the Bride.
reader is mentally unwell.
a/n i do not want to talk about how many different times i typed this up omfg... thanks for liking it here i 'preciate that muchly xx
“Don’t touch me!’
You jerked back, not from fear, but confusion. The scream had echoed through the recreational building, an unholy thing filled with terror. Had it been anyone else you’d have been able to ignore it, to wave it off as just part of the ambiance. But it had only taken a moment for it to filter through that you knew the voice, which had sent you running blindly in what you hoped was the right direction.
Doubt your ability to find the love of your life? Never again, your navigation had been flawless. But outside of his hair slightly mussed, and that he was breathing too hard, he didn’t seem hurt. Pacing a hole in the floor, but not injured, and you’d only reached out to touch him because he hadn’t acknowledged you saying his name three times. Gaze shifting to the mannekins laying strewn about the floor, you began to straighten them, unsure how to rescue the fabric.
It hurt that he kept the distance between you, moving as you did, his gaze a heavy thing you felt like the heel of a hand pressing against your chest. Outside a bit of blood on the dresses you didn’t see a body, and it wasn’t like he was afraid of vermin. Far too strapping for that sort of foolishness he’d assured you when you’d apologized for jumping when a mouse had scuttled over your foot. So what had happened?
“Where were you?’
Well that was easy, making sure that the records hadn’t gotten stuck again. Eddie worked hard on those displays, and the music was important, each one had a specific mood that needed catering to. He didn’t seem to like that answer, and you hesitated in righting a mannekin to watch him. There was a tightness to his face, your chin resting on the neck as you tried to puzzle it out. But he definitely didn’t like that either, crossing his arms over his chest as if daring you to say something.
By the time you realized you’d been quiet too long, his lips had pressed together, biceps stretching the shirt as his hands curled into fists. You didn’t move as he stalked towards you, reaching out for your chin which you offered out of habit. It did hurt a little, but that was okay, he was upset, something had upset your beloved Eddie.
“Where. Were. Y-’
“Did you have a nightmare?’
Though your voice was low, he reacted as if you’d shouted at him, briefly looking panicked before the expression was quickly hidden away. But you could see the shadow of it in his eyes, though it got a bit harder when your own blurred from the punishing grip. If he needed you to cry for him you could do that, hands settling on his forearm gently to silently tell him it was okay. Or would be, taking a step closer, your toes brushing the tops of his shoes.
“Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.’
Not that you actually had days anymore, but you could feel the tremor in his forearm now. Whatever had happened had shaken him badly, so much so he didn’t just not want to talk about it, he was willfully ignoring it had happened at all. Well then it was time for a restart, gently pulling at his wrist until he lowered it. Good, good, slowly guiding him into the starting position he’d shown you, you smiled up at him as his hand settled on your waist.
A proper gentleman your Eddie, giving his lifted hand a squeeze and feeling the hand at your waist slowly shift to your lower back. Even better, you hadn’t like that distance you could still feel though his every inhale pressed you back slightly. Humming as he slowly waltzed you to your room, you refused to let go to crawl into bed. A brief flash of irritation was better than the hollow look that you kept catching in his eyes when he forgot he was supposed to be hiding
“Let go of me.’ He finally managed, giving his hand a tug despite the fact it hadn’t worked the last few times.
“I'll never let you go.’
Leaning backwards, you felt like you were practically horizontal by the time he followed you the rest of the way into the room. Another brief battle of wills as you awkwardly crawled into bed and kept hold of his hand, but you managed. When he realized leaving was not going to be an option he sighed, motioning at his clothing clearly unwilling to climb into bed fully dressed. Tough. Stubbornly keeping hold, he eventually tugged the bow tie loose and tossed it aside before sitting on the bed with one knee crooked to stare at you.
It was a small victory, but you were greedy, tugging until he shifted, moving to rest his head on your stomach. That could not be comfortable, looking at the way the rest of his body hung over the side of the metal frame. Baby steps then, fingertips tracing the line between scalp and hair as he faced away from you. Not ideal, but he was letting you touch him, more now actually that you were thinking about it. Humming softly, you lightly scratched his scalp with each note, playing with the melody even as you tried to puzzle out what had happened.
“That’s nice.’
Oh a compliment? Much better, growing brazen as you threaded your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging at it in a silent offer to please get further on the bed even if it meant squishing you. Your pleasure that he did was not quantifiable, feeling him resettle with his head over your heart and a hand smoothing from waist to hip and back again. It would be nice if he also decided to tell you what had happened, what memory had made him scream like that. But that might be a bit far a reach even for you.
Happily sinking into the coziness of his using you like a very willing teddy bear, you missed what he said and kicked yourself. It wasn’t as if you had the option to ask him to repeat himself. It had probably been hard enough admitting it the first time, straining your brain to try and force yourself to remember.
“I would never hurt our children that way, you must know that.’
“I do.’
Like what? Had his father beat him? What an ass. … Or had he-
“Good, good, I’ll make sure they’re safe. … Even from you.’ That… was a threat, so why did it give you butterflies in your stomach and make you want to kiss the top of his head? “My children will be safe.’
“Yes they will.’
A little disheartening that he’d put so much emphasis on the word my, but you could work on that problem later, trailing your fingers along his upper back as he pulled your body closer and seemed to believe it was possible to force his face through your sternum in order to see your heart properly. He already had it, but if he’d prefer stitching his name into it that was just fine.
for @welcomtothevoid cuz they're sick. ... again xD
Saying that everything sucked was a bit much, but not too far from the truth. Hunched down and miserable, all you could think about was food. Which barring certain exceptions you couldn’t have. Which lead to the most obvious decision, one you were regretting now, of just not eating.
A meow outside your door surprised you, side eyeing before crunching down further, tucking the blankets higher. No. You already knew what was outside the door, and if you opened the door you were going to get it. Another meow followed by a soft scrape, and a much louder one. The third meow was far too deep to have come from a cat.
“Look, you can either open the door, or I can.’
Threats, was it? A part of you was almost stubborn enough not to give in, just to see if he actually would bust down your door just because you wouldn’t answer it. Except you knew he would. Most likely work himself up into a fit thinking something bad had happened to you, begrudgingly hauling yourself off the couch to open the door.
“This does not help the healing process.’
“Yes but cats do, so I brought a couple with me.’
There were more than a couple, a veritable sea of fur swirling around your ankles to enter the apartment as you stared at him. He had the grace to look shame faced only for a moment before thrusting a kitten at you who looked sleepier than you did. Tucking it under your chin, feeling the little body purr, you carefully nuzzled at it as you made your way back to the couch.
“Careful, once she latches on you can’t get rid of her.’
That was just fine, she was a little angel, half glaring at the demon currently poking around your house. The cats were fine, most of them finding a spot with sun or some sort of electronic to drape themselves on top of. Over all that was the sound of his telling you about the last mission, or the one a few months ago, you weren’t really sure. Your stomach growling cut him off, though you would have sworn he couldn’t possibly have heard.
“That you?’
That was a lot of suspicion, and accusation. You were the one sick, he couldn’t do that when you were sick, scowling at him over the kitten that had decided scarf was the best way to lay. And you couldn’t argue, the rumble actually felt really nice, pointedly not making eye contact.
“Yeah, that was you. What do you have to eat here, anyways?’ There was a quiet oops, and what was definitely a cupboard door that broke, resolving to just not deal with it right now. “You know you gotta eat, right? Papa always said soup is best but I bet you’re tired of soup. What about a, uh, I don’t know a cheesy roll up kind of thing?’
“A what?’
“You know you slap a slice of cheese on a tortilla and then you roll it u-’
At your look the words petered off, ducking back into the fridge to try and find something else.
“Y’know what? I got it.’
A sleepy protest made you stop, settling back into the couch as he smugly grinned. There were celestial laws against moving with a sleepy kitten, listening with a half ear to his cooking efforts. But that was definitely later you’s problem, shifting the kitten slightly and rewarded with a purr as it lightly headbutted your chin.
Hellboy x Reader Commission Completed
commissions available via DM here or on my Ko-Fi
wc: 3k~
price: $22
comm request: awkward already in love hellboyxreader fluff ending with either asking the other on a first date with a dash of exasperated Abe.
posted with patron's permission
Some days felt like they were just going to be lucky, something you felt in your chest like the flutter of wings trapped inside your rib cage. This had started out as one of those days, you’d woken up and things just felt good, right. So somebody needed to explain what had gone so horribly wrong. The crate that had brought Abe’s new books had come in, great, wonderful. But as you’d begun to unpack them you realized that he’d already read most of them.
In the defense of the guys who had done the locating, Abe read a lot, and the books that he hadn’t were old. And costly. Which he’d taken with his usual grace, though you could see the disappointment he tried to hid from you. It was in the way his gills sat lower, his head turned ever so slight from you to avoid eye contact. For such an alien face, it was remarkably easy to read once you got used to it. It helped that he hadn’t been quite able to hide the disappointment in his voice either.
Then there was the incident with the medical supplies, which weren’t technically under your list of duties. Your duty was… Well, it was library companion. Normally Mr. Broom kept Abe company, but there was something happening in the world that he was trying to prepare for, and it left him distracted. If it was anything like the creepy crawly thing that had invaded your home months ago you hoped he got it sorted soon. That brief touch with the paranormal had dropped you into the deep end of the pool so fast you were still trying to catch your breath.
Getting to know your knight in tattered trench coat hadn’t helped the easy breathing thing. It had been a bit jarring at first, mostly because he seemed to expect people to hate him and acted accordingly. But then you’d received the invitation from Mr. Broom for an interview you didn’t remember applying for.
The tall red man who’d been so sarcastic, puffing on a cigar as you’d stared wide eyed in horror after watching him obliterate a… thing, was watching you talk with the kind man who was telling you to call him Broom, just Broom. Well you couldn’t do that, and it seemed to both please and amuse him, taking you to the large wall of water to introduce you to the reason for your assignment. A few awkward moments was all it took to become fast friends, most of them on your part. Who held out their hand to shake to someone sequestered behind glass?
You did, but he hadn’t taken it personal, instead laying a hand against the glass and lightly tapping it, and you did the same in return. Your smile had been genuine, and his delight the same. Occasionally, Big Red, Hellboy, would come to the library with beers to chat with him. Not while you were there, he seemed to be avoiding you, but the smell of his cigars lingered in the air with something else, empty beer cans on the antique desk half crushed.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but mystery makes it curious. An absolute bastardization of the quote, and not even something you’d come up with. That had been your new friend who was on probation Abe. He’d been very amused by your feigned outrage, when you’d looked up from the dirty desk. Apparently you’d look slightly put out about not getting to be involved in the hangout. What made it worse was that you couldn’t even pretend that you hadn’t been trying to either land an invite, or still be there when he came around.
He was funny, you’d heard him talking with a few of the agents as he made his way to the truck. And he had a ton of cats, all of which were healthy and cute, so obviously he could not be a bad guy. Animals in general had really good instincts, and you trusted that more than anything else. So maybe you started hanging around late at night, because you couldn’t sleep. And maybe you found reasons to go talk with inventory as they were restocking the truck hoping that he might come around.
Considering the cramped quarters kept, it shouldn’t be that hard to run into him, but it was almost like he knew that you were headed that way. A radar if you will, and it was a little… frustrating. Which you did not complain about to Abe, but he knew. And worse he knew that you knew that he- Ugh. After a while you just gave up trying and stuck to the task at hand, which was being there to help Abe read, occasionally crack open the egg jar for him.
Flipping through the books, you managed to find one that you knew he hadn’t read, turning to hold it up triumphantly only to run face first into someone. The smell of cigar smoke and something spicy tickling your nose let you know who it was before you’d properly processed. Yet another thing, stumbling back and almost falling over your own feet, catching a brief glimpse of wide eyes before he caught and tugged too hard slamming you right back into his chest.
“Shit.’
Nose aching, you stepped back more carefully only to come to an abrupt stop as he was still holding your arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that going anywhere was not an option. Given the way he was staring over your shoulder you couldn’t be sure that he’d even noticed he was still holding on. Verified when he yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned, but you knew he was fire proof, and you were not that hot.
“I didn’t mea- I just-’ You heard his teeth click as he shut his mouth abruptly, forcibly stopping himself from speaking before looking a little too… “I thought you heard me come in.’
A minute head shake, wanting to put the new book on the podium for Abe, but also not wanting to be rude. Especially because you’d finally managed to catch him. Well, technically he’d caught you, tucking the book behind you as you managed to offer a smile. The one you got in return made your heart trip, breaking eye contact because it was just a bit too much all at once. Who allowed demons to have dimples? That wasn’t fair.
“I was uh…’ He shifted back, and you were proud of yourself for not closing that distance again, because you’d wanted to. “I told Abe that I’d be by in case he wanted to play poker instead of reading those boring books of his.’
When you only nodded, he cleared his throat, shoulders rolling before looking over at Abe. Who was just watching, which was not odd, but the way his hand was flattened to the glass was. A little invasive considering his capabilities, feeling your entire body warm at the thought of what he was picking up on, but still very odd. He usually attempted to ask things instead of just gathering the information he sought, though there were slip ups. This was blatant.
“Not that it’s all that fun when he can sense when I’m trying to bluff.’
“I do attempt not to do so.’ Abe defended himself, blinking as his gills fluttered in irritation. “You broadcast loudly, we’ve spoken ab-’
“Yeah, yeah.’ Watching his arms cross, you grinned as he leaned down, briefly lifting his hand to hide his lips. “He thinks it’s not cheating but it definitely still is.’
“I do not cheat!’
You did try not to laugh, really you did. Abe was your friend. But the outrage was clear even through the warbly note of his voice coming through water and glass. Humor shifted to confusion hearing some of the books fall from the shelf, and seeing the very carefully blank expression. Before you could ask a question there was a sharp pain on your ankle, then calf before you could even look down. When you did you were greeted by a very determined kitten clawing its way up your leg, your attempts to pick it up stymied by its claws embedding themselves.
“Hey, that wasn’t the plan.’ Plan? “You’re early.’
A thunk against glass shifted your attention to Abe, whose eyes were closed before pushing off the glass and further into the reservoir. The kitten yowled at you as you tugged again, holding the book out to Hellboy in order to be able to use both hands. Last thing you wanted was to hurt it, managing to untangle it to cuddle close to your chest. Except it wasn’t happy there, squirming in an attempt to get loose, little paws digging in as it tried to pry itself loose.
“I knew I should have asked Chili instead of you.’ Hellboy muttered, attempting to capture the cat currently trying to shove what felt like its entire head into your ear canal.
“Who’s Chili?’ You winced as claws scraped your ear, and the loud yowl of protest as it attempted to maintain its precariously claimed perch. Wait was he asking you to dinner?
“She’s his sister, but she was asleep and he was climbing all over things.’ Not dinner, briefly disappointed before realizing he’d named a cat Chili. If her brother’s name wasn’t Frito, or Cheese, you were going to be very disappointed. “Queso was supposed to be worn out by now and curled up looking cute.’
Perfect.
“I don’t think Queso knows how to be tired.’ You pointed out as the kitten twisted and kicked in his hold, gnawing on his thumb with all the ferocity he could muster.
“Yeah well, Con is missing. I’ll find her I’m sure, but I’d have felt bad waking Chili.’ He hissed at a particularly harsh bite from the kitten. “Though I wish I had, stop biting me you little-’
Chili. Con. Queso. It was so stupid… lifting your hand to cough in order to hide your smile. He had to be joking, that couldn’t be real, except he was holding the kitten, scruffed and glaring into the now docile bundle of fur’s face.
“So… When was he supposed to pop up?’
His mouth opened to answer, then snapped expression shifting as the glare he’d been leveling at the cat edged in panic. … What was the kitten early for? What was the kitten supposed to have been doing? You had a ton of questions, and given the way he was now discussing what punishment fit the crime with the kitten you were not going to be getting an answer. Before you could try to ask again Abe appeared in the door, still adjusting the breathing collar.
“Everything okay?’
“I feel as if I should be asking that.’
Blink. Now what did that mean? But he was moving towards a book shelf and tugging at a book insistently. Instead of coming off the shelf, the whole set swung off the shelf showing a compartment inside. You had not been informed that was there, moving to get a better look inside, you were disappointed when it closed with a click before you could. Was this their secret stash from Mr. Broom?
Did that mean you were obligated to tell him, eyeing the deck of cards and small bag you assumed held poker chips. The scrape of chair legs, and the feel of something lightly bumping into the back of your knees, almost made you fall. A brief glimpse of Hellboy’s tail explained it even as you plopped down with a surprised grunt. That was really nice of him, smiling to yourself as you scooted closer to the research table that was emptier than it had been a moment ago.
In the paper and books place were several cans of beer and a jar of Abe’s eggs. A soft crinkling noise preceded several rolled bags of chips, clearly brought from his room. As well as a kitten set with a snort of amusement.
“Found Con.’
“Hi Con.’ You cooed, bending down to rest your chin on the table, watching the kitten squint eyed inspect its surroundings before waddling to head butt your nose. “Still tired?’
The wet nose kisses made you laugh, feeling her work her way under your chin before making an attempt to crawl inside your shirt. Apparently Con was still sleepy, and after being evicted from Hellboy’s coat pocket was looking for a new place to sleep. When you looked up to remark on it, your eyes met the demon who was staring intently before his head snapped aside to ask Abe if he was dealing first.
You forgot you were supposed to be stopping a kitten from crawling down your shirt until that cold nose skimmed the skin far lower than it should be. The yelp you let out earned you a snort from Hellboy, that he pretended hadn’t happened, caging Queso in his stone hand as he cracked open a beer with the other. The sound of it sliding over the table top made you smile, still attempting to excavate the kitten, before your mind placed the sound to action.
Two hands full of kitten who was surprisingly squirmy for being so “tired” meant by the time your mind translated the sound you could only look up and watch as it slid towards you, to you, past you, to fall off the table with a crack of aluminum against hardwood. Frozen, you looked back to Hellboy whose mouth was slack, before standing in a rush to try and clean the mess. Which released the kitten who fell down the front of you under the shirt, claws frantically seeking purchase.
Catching it low, teeth grit as claws clung to the minimal purchase their claws had found in fabric and skin, you tried to soothe the small bundle under your shirt. Tongue lightly clicking as you tried to think of how to clean up the beer once Abe had delicately plucked the can from the floor, you watched something black sail past your face. Foot dragging it towards the mess, you worked Con loose while mopping with the familiar looking fabric.
“Here.’
Shifting Con to one hand, Queso was shoved into the other, both pinned to your stomach as you stepped back to make room for the body gently shoving you aside. Then took a couple more as you stared at the broad expanse of Hellboy’s back as he squatted down to chase a trickle you’d missed. Head lifting slowly to look at Abe you could see his exasperation, pushing the jar aside to grab a beer. Which said more than any words or tone could have managed.
You shouldn’t stare, really it was just rude, but it was hard to look away as the muscle shifted. And then there was the twitch at his lower back as his tail moved, which was a whole different interesting. Tucking the kittens on either side of your neck, you stepped back again as he stood, shirt balled and cupped in his hand looking for somewhere to put it. So much effort went into not making a sound when he finally sighed and dropped it into a trash can, turning your face to hide it in Con’s fur.
Wordlessly Abe slid him his beer as he sat, and you held out Con who was by far the more well behaved of the two. Your stomach itching like crazy notwithstanding, you would also have panicked if you’d gone from secured to free fall. At the very least all the excitement had worn Queso out who now lay draped across your thigh, belly up and paws reaching for no one knew what. Occasionally reaching down to lightly massage his belly until he rolled over to deny you access with the cutest grumble you’d ever heard.
“You should clean those wounds to avoid infection.’ Abe said after taking the pot again, Hellboy taking his half finished beer with a nod.
“I have a kit in my room,’ before you could point out there was one here in the library, Abe flicked the tip of your fingers with his own. “I didn’t realize they’d be so rowdy, the least I can do is help patch you up.’
Sending a quizzical look towards Abe who was already cleaning off the table, he jerked his head in Hellboy’s direction and you trotted to catch up to him. It was later than you’d realized, the hallway emptier than you’d ever seen it. A bit eerie, kissing the top of Queso’s head as he fidgeted to quiet him, entering his room before you’d realized that you had.
His hand caught your elbow to stop you from knocking over a pile of- Well you weren’t actually sure what that was, having gotten immediately distracted by the sheer amount of fur that had come towards you in a meowing tide. You’d heard he liked cats, not that he was obsessed, watching as he tossed his coat towards the bed before rummaging on a surface to find the kit. Did the government grants not cover maids?
“I didn’t plan on you getting all scratched up like that.’ Flipping the kit open, not that you’d seen where he’d magically located it, he motioned to your shirt. “Up, please.’
“Wait, what do you mean “plan”? And why was Queso early?’
He was quiet so long you thought he wasn’t going to answer, using a disinfectant wipe to clean the scratches. But as he was smearing the ointment he sighed, head turning briefly to scowl at the siblings all curled up on his jacket.
“Queso was supposed to nap in the library, and then later you were supposed to find him because he was being a brat. Which as you can see he excels at.’ You nodded, though he was very obviously not looking up at you. “And then you were gonna bring him back, and we’d talk, and you’d think he was so cute you wouldn’t think about how I look.’
“I like the way you look.’
“Then I was gonna ask you ou-’ His face lifted to look at you so quickly your neck twinged in sympathy. “What’s that?’
“Okay.’
“No, wait the other thing.’ Standing now, an uncertain smile on his lips, he tugged your shirt down over the bandaged scratches. “Doesn’t matter. You wanna go on a date with me?’
“I, uh, yeah.’ The proximity along with that shy smile just fucked you up. “Where were you thinking?’
“.... I didn’t think I’d get this far actually, gimme a minute.’ The laugh that startled out of you broadened the smile into a grin. “To be fair my plan fell apart like right away.’
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How Do You Want Me? MDNI 18+
Jonathan "Scarecrow" Crane x Edward "The Riddler" Nygma
wc: 1,632
so i was minding my business and found an awesome art blog (@creature-lala). great, fantastic. fkin love scriddler. they posted this and i was IMMEDIATELY struck. no surprise, love him so much. but then they followed up with this and now we're here because i'm but a simple eldritch abomination.
Dear Diary,
I had that homosexual dream again.
Jonathan’s fingers pause over the keys, not wanting to continue. Continuing meant having to accurately record the dream in question. One that he was still attempting to locate the triggers that had caused it. Tips tapping the keys though not hard enough to press, he finally sat back, arms crossing over his stomach. Glaring at the words on the page before his head turned to break line of sight.
As if that saved him from the hazy recollection of the dream, inhaling sharply with irritation as he realized that he’d been skimming his lower lip with his index and middle finger. No. No, he was not going to be doing that, there was no reason to replicate physical stimulation of an event that hadn’t even taken place. Gaze flicking towards the paper and its bland yet somehow abrasive entry, Jonathan’s head fell back with a grunt of frustration.
What the hell was he doing having an erotic dream about Edward Nygma of all people? Gripping his elbows, he stared up at the ceiling, though it wasn’t the cracked plaster he was seeing. It was the common mix of red and green, plenty of people had the genetic markers for the pigment of hair and eye that he had. Though, were he so pressed, he might be forced to admit the green did seem to be sharper, and the darker auburn at the roots lent a hint of…
A sharp shake of his head, looking down his nose towards the type writer, the six words that felt like they’d somehow grown on the page. His breath had been warm against his throat, practically scathing as the tip of his nose had skimmed over the skin. It must have been the anticipation, Jonathan decided, forcing his head back down. Not that he’d been briefly entertaining the memory of how it had felt with it back, as Edward’s hand had…
He was turning forty-six in a few months, this was just not acceptable. Scratching where an errant curl of his hair had tickled the skin beneath his ear, he told himself for the nineteenth time he was going to cut it. Didn’t like things tickling his skin, it was distracting, which he could not afford. Though he had to admit that the idea of Edward’s gloves passing just shy of touching his skin wouldn’t be the worst thing. Tried to push away the flash of not memory, the dream Edward that had cupped his neck to hold him in place as he leaned in close.
Had he not so firmly distanced himself from religion he’d be tempted to pray for assistance in exorcising this particularly persistent demon. Reaching out with one hand, Jonathan hit the space bar, watching the position indicator shift. Again, the mechanism jerking slightly. It had surprised him how much he hadn’t minded the submissive position, or the smirk that had lilted Edward’s lips as he’d attempted to close that distance.
In the dream, he would never allow-
There wasn’t a chance he’d even-
Covering his face as he slumped against the unforgiving wooden frame, Jonathan let the lies peter out incomplete. Had been lying when he’d gotten out of bed to shower after viciously yanking the sheets from his bed. When he’d shoved the worn pajama pants off his slim hips and left them in a pile by his bed.
I know you’ve wondered.
Apparently, obviously, massaging his temples as the low purr of Edward’s voice filled his head. Dream Edward! Not the actual one, who set his teeth on edge and brought a prickling need for violence to his limbs. Which… he was now being forced to reinspect and admit was a knee jerk reaction. To force the other away because he wanted him closer.
For fuck’s sake!
Let me, just the once then never again.
Maybe that would fix it? Just needed to get it out of his system properly. If anything it would be gratifying to prove his unfortunately active imagination had assumed a skillset that Edward simply did not possess. Hips shifting, Jonathan tried to find a cozy position on his lower back, unconsciously having slid down as though trying to avoid being seen. By who? He lived alone, he worked alone, he was just fine alone.
I didn’t know you could sound like that.
Well he had forgotten himself, internal voice waspish as he tried to not hear a voice that was projected in his own mind. He could still feel the way the glove had slid along his thigh, guiding his leg up, see the gleam of Edward’s eyes beneath his lashes as he-
Opening one eye, Jonathan’s hand shifted to expose it, glaring down at his lap. The betrayals just kept coming, expression shifting to distaste remembering the feel of semen tacky against his lower belly, how the fabric had stuck. It hadn’t been that bad when it had been caught in a warm mouth as fingers had- Had-
Hand sliding back, a low groan in his throat, he tried to think of a way to make it stop. Dear Diary, I had a homoerotic dream and woke up rutting against my blanket like a horny teenager. Jesus…
I’ll go slow, let me know if it hurts. I can stop if it hurts.
He didn’t want to unpack all of that. It could stay right where it was supposed to be, in some dark and dusty corner of his mind. Lips pressing together as he slowly unzipped his slacks. Arousal was a perfectly normal human state, plenty of people had to deal with it. The fact he hadn’t in oh… about twenty years or so was apparently irrelevant.
Just get it over with, he could do that. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to beg Rosie a favor, it was fine. He was going to be fine, it was a one- Well, four time thing. If he just acknowledged it while he was awake, his subconscious would let it go. That’s what the problem was, he was feeding the need for the dream by ignoring it. Just make it quick, get it over with. Move. On.
And yet he still hesitated, fingers tracing the opening, dipping in to drag along the underside of his cock before pulling away. Or would it just make it worse? Would he just be thinking about it asleep and awake? That had to be worse. He knew the overthinking was an attempt to stall, because he wasn’t unsure at all that it might make it worse. Jonathan was damn certain it absolutely would.
He felt ridiculous working his tongue against his cheek before slicking his hand, mostly because he still hadn’t removed the other from his eyes. As if by not seeing it, he could attempt to deny it had happened at all. Can’t remember what you didn’t see. Except he remembered in vivid detail the pretty pink of Edward’s tongue skimming across his own lower lip as his finger had done the same. The way his Adam’s apple had bobbed when he swallowed hard as Jonathan had caught it in his teeth and held it.
The edge of the chair’s seat dug into his tailbone, and he sighed as he forced himself to sit more comfortably. A squeeze of his hand was enough to dispel the sensation, attention refocused. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he couldn’t recall the actual act itself. Was that good or bad? Well it wasn’t great, squeezing his way upwards, dragging his thumb across his glans as he felt his cheeks flush.
Surely he hadn’t had a wet dream that hadn’t even- That was somehow even more offensive than it happening at all, working his hand in the familiar pattern he’d been using for years. Just get rid of it, get back to work. Easy, simple. Except now he was thinking about Edward’s lips, wrapped just around the tip, his thumb pressing the head of his cock against his forefinger with a stifled sound. The dull ache of his teeth against his knuckle made him open his eyes.
Didn’t remember uncovering his eyes, hand slowly sliding from just under the glans to midway down then back up. If Edward ever did that he wasn’t sure he’d last long, feeling his cheeks flush, hating that they did. Frustration? Shame? He wasn’t sure, so he forced himself to ignore it, breath hitching as he got closer. He just knew that Edward would force him to watch, would absolutely delight in making him fall apart and then-
“Just like that… A little more.’ He wouldn’t mind Edward getting on top, the man was thorough, almost anally so. The amused snort cut off abruptly as he felt the orgasm rushing closer, hand clenched as his hips shifted. “Eddie, please…’
“Please what?’
The low amused croon did it, and he hated that he liked the idea of Edward making a mess of him and being tickled pink by it. Rutting against his palm until he was finished, Jonathan panted, staring down at the smeared fluid that was beginning to trickle down his wrist. Should have thought to grab that kerchief, he-
Wait.
Gaze lifting to stare at the typewriter, Jonathan reminded himself that breathing was a necessity, taking in slow breaths to steady his pulse. The click of familiar shoes were coming closer, and he honestly could not move. Half hoping that he was going to wake up any moment now, and knowing for a fact that he would not. Saw Edward’s profile coming into view as he bowed to bring himself down to Jonathan’s height, watched the lashes shift as he very obviously looked down and smiled.
“I am all ears, Dr. Crane…’
a/n title taken from the song played on repeat while writing Desire by Meg Myers
