Levi

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

Copia looks up at you a bit pathetically from the couch, where he’s covered up by a blanket and halfway through the jug of water you’ve sat him down with. His heat is almost at its end - though you can feel the way you’ve fucked him through it sit as a pleasant ache between your legs - so you’re finally comfortable leaving him home alone. His toy has arrived so he can take matters into his own hands, as it were, if things flare up again.

“I’ll be okay, tesoro. I can’t keep you here just to look after me,” he hums. Truthfully both of you would enjoy that but you’ve been called into the office for a face-to-face meeting, and you can’t weasel out of it. You’d prefer to be sitting on Copia’s throbbing cock rather than an uncomfortable plastic chair… but oh well, you need only tough it out for a few hours, and then you can come back to your favourite person.

“Alright puppy, if you need me, call me, okay?”

He nods and takes your hand when you offer it, pressing a kiss of devotion to its back before you scratch affectionately beneath his chin.

“Okiedokie. I love you. Have a good day,” he hums, settling down into his cosy nook to continue watching the TV. 

You’re still worried when you head off to work, but the drive in is easy, and you’re quickly distracted from your ailing puppy when you walk in through the door. You realise you haven’t seen some of your collages in real life since you brought Copia home with you, so there’s a lot of pleasant smalltalk about puppyboys with coworkers who have their own. Everyone is so charmed to have one in their lives and their faces light up when they talk about who they have at home — your friend Ollie has three puppyboys in their care which sounds exhausting, but they chat about them animatedly, so you suppose the arrangement must be working — and once again you sit in a little bubble of happiness that you have Copia as yours. 

The meeting is dull, as you thought it would be, but it needed to be done. It’s at least productive and your input is greatly appreciated, earning some enthusiastic praise from your boss in return. You’re feeling pretty pleased by the time you leave and head back to your car… but your eyes go wide when you check your phone. 

I need you, sent two hours ago. 

Amore I’m aching, sent an hour ago.

My cock is so hard, please come home, sent thirty minutes ago. You slam your finger on the call button and bring your phone to your ear, heart in your mouth as it rings.

“Copia?” you ask, when you hear him pick up. Copia is panting on the other side of the line, a sound you know intimately well.

“Baby… it’s… when you left it got worse… I’m sorry…” he manages.

“Oh honey, don’t you apologise, okay? I’m on my way home puppy, I’ll take care of you. Make sure you drink some water for me.”

Copia howls pitifully but manages a little okay. You don’t rush home but you definitely stick to the upper end of the speed limit, worried about leaving your poor puppy for too long. You’re lucky that the traffic is light. You practically burst through the front door, only just remembering to lock it before you barrel into the bedroom to find Copia. 

He paints a pitiful sight: ass up in the air, hole spread open around a dildo he’s trying to fuck himself with. He can’t quite get the angle right and every time the head slides inside his puckered rim a look of ferocious disappointment dances over his face. He jerks his cock with his other hand, a small puddle of pre dripping onto the bedsheets beneath.

“Baby?” you prompt, and his ears raise a little as he hears you. He makes a whiny noise and it pierces your heart.

“It’s okay honey, I’m here,” you whisper comfortingly. You strip as you approach him, closing the gap so you can cover his naked body with yours. He sighs in pleasure at the contact, long and juddery.

“I’m sorry tesoro… I’ve made a mess… I just needed to be fucked…”

“You’ve got nothing to say sorry for, okay?” he whimpers in response to your softness. “Do you need me to fuck you, Copia? Fill my puppy up nice and full?”

The noise he makes sets you on fire. It’s agony to pull back in order to get your cock ready, but you force yourself to go slow and make sure you’re lubed up. You want him to love this, not make him ache even more. Carefully you pull the dildo out of his ass and listen to the little hiss he makes as it goes, before replacing its head with your own.

“Ready?”

“Yes please, yes yes yes, please amore mio, fuck me…”

You slide inside and he chokes on his sentence. You cover his body with yours again, grounding him into the moment, and begin to roll your hips in slow and snappy movements. You can feel his tail trying to wag from where it’s stuck between the two of you as he lets out a gentle howl.

“You okay?”

“Yes-ss,” he groans, ears flopping as he nods. You don’t let up your pace as you reach round and grab his cock, giving it a few firm strokes before you feel his knot begin to swell.

“Do you have your toy, baby?”

Copia unclenches his fist from the blanket and searches around in the crumpled bedding. Soon his fingers find purchase around his knotting toy and he brings it to his cock, letting you help him guide the throbbing tip into its silicone hold and slip inside.

“Oh, ohhhhh,” Copia manages, his dick held tight and ass full. You drop a constellation of kisses across his shoulders and neck, milking his length with one hand and scratching his head with the other. You can feel pressure building between your legs and soon you’re coming with a little snarl which would be more at home in your puppy’s throat. Copia follows soon after, shooting his load into the toy as his hole flutters in pleasure around your cock. His knot inflates as it finds a soft place to settle and he’s never looked so relieved. 

The two of you collapse into a mess of sweaty limbs on the bed. His tail thumps gently against your stomach and you feel him physically relax in your arms.

“How do you feel, baby?”

“Better now you’re here. Thank you,” he whispers, snuggling into you. His voice is so full of adoration. Damn meeting, pulling you away from your puppy. Next time you’ll just call a sick day. 

Dating Terzo for long enough meant that Omega was not a stranger to the idea of using quintessence in creative and perhaps inappropriate ways, and though the Papa would refute the second notion - the magic Satan gifts His creations with is meant to be harnessed for the cultivation of sin, he argues - it's undeniable that the present utilization of the ghoul's magic, particularly the unique ability to link objects and people, is certainly innovative, at the very least.

And even better: the idea had come from Omega himself; perhaps Terzo was rubbing off on him.

"You… want to try to link that to me?" Terzo points to the fleshlight the ghoul had sheepishly presented him with.

"If you're okay with it - I can't imagine it would be that different than linking someone to a voodoo doll, and I've done that dozens of times. You'd be able to sever the bond on your own at any time, of course, and I'd be able to hear your thoughts in case you needed to stop anyway. I-I know this is kind of out there, but-"

He shushes the quint with a finger over his lips. "Let's do it," he smirks.

"Really?"

"Si - you're right, it's definitely unorthodox, but since when has that ever stopped us? This actually sounds quite interesting, if I'm honest; I'd be able to feel anything you did to this?" He taps the plastic of the fleshlight, cocking his head.

"Theoretically, yes. Again, I've never done this before, so I can't promise it'll work, but I can certainly try."

"Try away, amore," he wraps his arms around the ghoul's neck, sighing against his neck as he feels the telltale warmth of quintessence easing its way through his body, coalescing in where Omega's free hand rests on his ass.

"Alright, we should be good to go," Omega confirms, pulling back enough to look the human in the eyes as he blinks the lingering quintesssence-violet tint from his sclera.

"…Did it work?"

"One way to find out," the ghoul chuckles, lifting the fleshlight into view of the human still wrapped around him.

"What do you- oh." Had he not been leaning against the quint, Terzo is sure he would have hit the floor from the sensation of a sudden intrusion against his hole. "Fuck, yes, it worked," Terzo breathes, glancing up at the ghoul's index finger against the fleshlight mirroring the pressure against his rim.

"I figured," he laughs. "How does it feel?"

"Weird - I know there is nothing there, but I can feel you, like you're- hah," he moans as Omega cruelly chooses that moment to push his finger just hard enough to breach the toy, the lack of resistance meaning Terzo feels none of the pain that would usually accompany such a sudden stretch, only the intoxicating fullness. "-doing that," he finishes.

"Interesting," he nods, tone as casual as if Terzo was simply telling him about his day. "Hey, weren't you telling me earlier that you had some work you needed to get done in your office today? I distinctly remember you mentioning you'd been putting off some paperwork for quite a while, yeah?"

"You bastard," Terzo grabs for the fleshlight, which Omega lifts just out of his reach. "Ah-ah-ah, it would be a shame for you to have this distracting you, so I think I'll hang onto it till you're done with your work for the day."

"So this was your scheme, eh? Was this whole idea just a ploy to make my paperwork even more miserable?"

"Remember that time you had the bright idea to try to give me a handjob during Black Mass? This," he gestures to the toy with a smirk, "is revenge. Enjoy your work, love."

—

As much of a sudden shock as the sensation has been, the anticipation of waiting for it to inevitably happen again, Terzo has discovered, is even more distracting.

The stack of papers at his desk lays entirely forgotten as he taps his pen rhythmically against the wood, glaring a hole into the wall in front of him. Despite the period of inactivity - what could have been ten minutes or four hours, as far as he's concerned - his erection hasn't flagged, and the tension of waiting for what he knows is coming has served to keep him fully distracted from the work he set out to do.

Not that he thinks Omega truly expects him to get anything done, and frankly, he doesn't expect it of himself either.

Just as his mind begins to drift to other topics, namely ways to make the ghoul pay for this stunt in the near future, the feeling of phantom fingers at his rim has him jerking up straight in his chair. He grits his teeth as the ghostly touch circles his rim, because of course Omega would tease him even now, before biting back a groan at the unmistakeable sensation of a digit pressing into him, unyielding and magically unhindered despite his lack of prep.

"Cazzo," he hisses, as the finger seems to find his prostate effortlessly, something he is sure is a product of the ghoul's own knowledge of his body, quite literally inside and out, rather than a feature of the magic. He can practically see the self-satisfied smirk on Omega's face as the digit rubs against that spot relentlessly.

The Papa bites the flesh of his arm to silence a moan, reaching his other hand below his desk to unzip his rapidly-constricting slacks, palming himself through his boxers for a moment before thinking better of it; if he comes now, the rest of his afternoon will be truly miserable as the quint continues his endeavors.

Sooner than he would have without the magical connection between them, Terzo feels Omega slip a second finger within him beside the first, wasting little time before scissoring him open. His hips rut forward of their own accord, cock dripping a bead of pre into his boxers as he bites down harder, heedless of the marks he's sure he's leaving on his arm. His lust-addled brain unhelpfully supplies him with the reminder that he doesn't need to be stretched - even Omega's considerable size wouldn't cause him any discomfort in their current situation. No, this isn't for his sake, this is simply Omega displaying a cruel streak Terzo has never seen from the gentle giant of a ghoul.

Somewhere, a masochistic part of himself hopes this is not the last he sees of it.

As suddenly as they'd entered, the digits draw back, and Terzo can't quite halt the quiet whine the emptiness seems to force from him. The empty feeling doesn't last long, though, as he feels the unmistakeable sensation of a familiar bluntness prodding at his hole, just barely pushing in before pulling away.

"Fuck, fuck," he hisses, fruitlessly trying to chase the sensation with his hips in a manner he knows would have Omega chiding him for his impatience, as if the ghoul hadn't been tormenting him for at least the better part of an hour by now. The head nudges his rim again, this time continuing forward until Terzo is panting against the desk, head resting on his arms as he just keeps going.

Somehow, without the visuals of how much is left to go, the cock he's taken probably on hundreds of occasions by now feels impossibly larger, and just as Terzo is sure he can't take anymore, it stops. Every minute movement that Terzo assumes originates from the ghoul shifting the toy in his hands seems to graze perfectly against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure straight up his spine that have him writhing in his chair.

But the ghoul's movements don't resume. Seconds seem to turn to minutes as Terzo tries in vain to clench around the phantom length, rocking in his chair to try to find some friction that just never comes. He can feel the puddle of precum staining his boxers with every mindless roll of his hips as his cock drools a steady stream into the fabric, turning discomfort to agony as he fights to catch his breath.

With nothing else to do, the fullness showing no signs of subsiding nor granting him the stimulation he chases, he picks up his pen in an effort to distract himself from his distraction.

As if on cue, barely halfway through an absently-read paragraph on the first page he'd grabbed, the phantom length draws back again, brutally slow in a way that only Omega would have the patience for, leaving him entirely empty once again.

"Nonono," he whines, silently begging the Olde One that the ghoul will have mercy on him.

His prayers are answered in the form of Omega slamming back into him, the force of his thrust sending him crumpling against the desk, pen and papers scattering across the surface as he barely fights off a screamed moan, absentmindedly thanking Satan for gifting him the forethought to lock his office's door on the way in; even disregarding his poorly-stifled gasps and whines, the conspicuous flush he's sure has bled through his face paint and the way he squeezes his thighs together would be unmistakeable in their own right to anyone with the misfortune of seeing him in his current predicament.

A predicament which Omega seems to remain intent on perpetuating as he sets an agonizingly slow pace, lazily drawing back before slamming into him with each thrust, just enough to keep him shaking with every movement but not quite enough to be satisfying.

Oh, fuck it.

Terzo reaches for his phone, fingers finding Omega's contact through muscle memory alone and pressing the 'call' button.

"Can I help you?" The ghoul picks up almost instantly, voice frustratingly unbothered, not bothering to halt his leisurely thrusting.

"Stop teasing me," Terzo grits out, "and get in here, now."

"Calling me to your office during work hours, are we? How scandalous," he teases, smirk audible through the phone.

"Just get over here before I-" he gasps, unimpededly moaning as a particularly cruel thrust directly to his prostate has him slumping against the desk.

"Before you what? Are you really in a position to be making demands? Your threats would hold a lot more force if you weren't on the verge of cumming alone in that fancy office of yours, Papa."

He groans, half a product of frustration and half the overwhelming onslaught of stimulation. "You are the worst," he hisses.

"Oh, I am, am I? In that case, I'm sure you'd prefer that I…" the sudden pausing of the accelerated pace Terzo had finally been gifted concludes his threat for him, the ghoul's length drawing back until only the head remained inside.

"Don't you fucking dare," he commands, though it comes out far closer to a whine than he'd ever admit.

"What, is this not what you wanted? You'll have to be more specific, I'm not a mind-reader." While the nature of the very magic he currently torments his boyfriend with renders this statement technically untrue, the Papa lacks the wherewithal to call him out on it, instead responding with a frustrated groan as his hips rut forward in a desperate search for friction that never comes.

"Just get your ass over here and fuck me."

"What do you mean? I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?" For emphasis, he eases forward just enough to tease the head of his cock over Terzo's prostate.

"Fucking- fuck- just get in here. Please," he adds, barely audibly.

"Pardon? Couldn't hear that last part," Omega teases, grinding against that spot cruelly just to hear the human whimper.

After a moment, the Papa's resolve crumbles and he begs, "Please come fuck me, Omega."

Over the phone, Omega chuckles. "As you wish, my love." The call ends and Terzo lets his head drop back onto his arms as the length quickly withdraws, leaving him once again with only the agonizing anticipation of whatever the ghoul had in store for him.

--

Your fingers play with locks of his hair while he lays his head in your lap, and, as the television drones in the background, you try to pinpoint the last time you were quite so happy. Years, certainly. You got so used to being on your own that you never bothered to entertain the idea of someone as sweet as Copia in your life but, now you have him? Oh, he is so perfect. You’d not change any of this for the world.

Your phone buzzes and you pick it up with one hand, unwilling to break contact with your puppyboy for even a second. Copia shifts so that he can look up at you.

“Who is it?”

“Marie. She wants to know if I can puppysit Tobias at the end of this month. How would you feel about that? Having him over for a couple of days?”

You wouldn’t do anything without his permission - after all, his comfort is your priority. You have had a couple more playdates, though, and they seem to be getting on pretty well. Copia is a calming influence on Tobias, but Tobias challenges Copia to be more energetic. It’s cute. You’re glad that they’re friends.

Copia considers this before nodding.

“SÌ, yes, I’d like that. We could play Mario.”

“You could play Mario!” you agree, reaching down to drop a kiss on his nose before firing a reply off to Marie. Your fingers still and he whines at the loss of the repetitive movement.

“Your hair’s getting pretty long, puppy. Do you want to go to the groomers? I could take you.”

Going to the groomers is not dissimilar to a spa day, except it involves haircuts and full mani-pedis too. It’s the height of pampering for a puppyboy, so when Copia looks a bit disappointed, you’re confused.

“Honey?”

“I don’t want to go to the groomers, tesoro. I want you to do it,” he practically begs, eyes all big and wet and pleading. You laugh, utterly enamoured.

“I’m not very good at cutting hair, Copia. I’m not a professional or anything, you might not enjoy the end result.”

He catches your hand and brings it to his lips so he can press a kiss into your palm. Love shoots through you like an arrow.

“I will like it because you are the one who does it. You make me happy.”

Ah, fuck, couldn’t you just melt? You’re the one in charge here, but he has you wrapped around his little finger, really.

“Okay, puppy, let’s have a grooming day at the weekend, then. I could give you a bath?”

“Oh… a bath…” he whispers in rapture. His tail wags in excitement, and the two of you return your attention to the television for the time being.

Saturday can’t come fast enough. Copia won’t stop nosing at the bathroom door as you fill the tub with sweet-scented suds, and you can hear the thump thump thump of his tail against his thighs as he watches. You stifle a giggle, getting your biggest, fluffiest towel ready for him.

“C’mon, Copia, let’s get started. Strip for me?”

He does so like it’s an order rather than a suggestion, practically diving into the bath and threatening to spray you with water. You laugh at his enthusiasm and set to work, giving him a good scrub over with a new sponge, unable to hold back your smile when he giggles from the tickling touch.

“You enjoying this, baby? Don’t be afraid to tell me what you need.”

“I don’t remember when I enjoyed a bath more. Can you, eh, do my hair now, please?” he hums, tail splashing you with a few bubbles. Eventually you shampoo his hair, giving him a deep scalp massage which has him moaning - but you make sure to switch to the special conditioner for his furry ears and tail. You’re so careful with the velvet-soft skin there and Copia leans into you like he’s being magnetically attracted to your touch.

“Sweet boy,” you whisper, and you’re sure he’s hard beneath the water. You finish rinsing him down and get him into his towel, drying him off just rough enough that he has to bite back a moan, leaving him pink and glowing. He changes into a fresh tracksuit as you bring in a chair to sit him down on, carefully combing his hair and getting to work with a pair of scissors.

You turn on the bathroom radio and let some classic rock play as you groom him. You go slow, trying to follow along with a guide on your phone about how to trim your puppyboy’s hair - though the general consensus is, ‘they’ll love it no matter what their bonded human does’ - and soon there is only the melodic sound of Copia’s humming and the snip of scissor blades.

“I am so happy since I came here,” he says, quietly, and you stop for a second.

“Me too, baby. My life is so much better with you in it.”

“I was always… I was scared I was never going to find anyone. I was going to stay at the shelter forever. And I could have lived with it, you know, but… but I was always hoping for more. I feel like a miracle brought you to me.”

You feel yourself tearing up. You put the scissors down so you can wrap your arms around him tightly.

“Oh, Copia. I feel the same way. You’re perfect.”

“You… you said I could ask for anything…?”

“Of course.”

“Can you ride me, amore mio? Please? I want you to cum on my cock, I want to make you feel good…”

“Now? Copia, your hair is halfway done, and I haven’t even shaved you yet…” you say with a chuckle, but he stares at you with such pleading in his eyes you feel your resolve crumble. “...Ah okay, we can finish after.”

His mouth is on yours as the two of you head to the bedroom. He lets you push him onto the mattress, pulling off the sweats he just put on so that you can see every aching inch he has to offer. Pearly drips of pre trickle down his cockhead, and he begins to reach for you as you head to your bedside drawer to get some lube.

“Hold on, honey, it’s been a little while since I did this. Be a good boy for me and sit,” you whisper, and his arms are back at his side in an instant. He watches you like you created the stars as you strip, squirting lube onto your fingers and opening yourself up: first one finger, then two, then three. When you feel like you’re ready - and like Copia will simply explode if he hangs on for any longer - you climb on top of him, planting one knee either side of him, carefully lining his twitching cock up with your entrance.

“Ready?”

“Yes, sÌ, sÌ, cazzo, I want to feel you…”

You carefully lower yourself and he barks out in pleasure. You laugh a little at how primal it is, but he shows magnificent self restraint as you slide down him until your hips are flush with his and his aching member is fully inside of you. His hands come to rest on your waist and he rolls his head back in utter joy.

“Oh… oh…”

“You okay?”

“You feel so much better than I dreamed you would…”

That’s very flattering, but you need to tease him at least a little. You walk your fingers down his hairy chest and pinch his nipple lightly.

“Oh, you dreamed about this, did you?”

“How could I not, amore mio? I am obsessed with you… I want to be around you every minute of the day… I… I love you,” he confesses, eyes so big and sincere. Your soul lights up like the sun.

“Copia, I love you too, you precious, good boy.”

“You do?” he seems just as cautiously hopeful as he did when you first agreed to take him home from the shelter.

“I do. You are my perfect puppyboy. I love you with every single part of me.”

You begin to ride him then, with long, grinding rolls of your hips so he can get as deep inside you as possible. All Copia can do is stare up at you and whimper, the power of speech abandoning him in favour of little noises of affection and joy. You’re sure neither of you are going to last long this first time, not when it’s so charged after your confession, and you guide one of his hands to where else you need to feel him.

“Stroke me, Copia, right here…”

He does and you orgasm hard, releasing all over him with a moan. He follows soon after, filling you up with warm spurts of cum, gasping in amazement at just how good it all feels.

You reach down to kiss him, soft and slow.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers, almost afraid to ask. You drop a kiss to his nose, his forehead, his cheek.

“I did, honey. I love you.”

“Okiedokie, good. So do I,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you. 

“We need to finish your haircut, baby…”

“Mmm, let me cuddle you a bit longer? Please?”

Silence is a rare commodity to Omega; even beyond his role as a ghoul, dating the third Papa means near-perpetual noise in every waking hour. Whether he's helping Terzo work through one of the songs on the set list he's less confident in, listening to him ramble and rant about whatever nonsense Sister had gotten on his case for, gossiping about what he'd caught his older brother doing during Black Mass, or simply just sharing a heartfelt conversation in the garden when the setting sun granted Terzo the chance to drop the mask and simply exist, it's quite uncommon that a quiet moment between them lasts long enough to be any more than a momentary lapse in conversation.

Omega can't blame him, of course - beneath the masking and the papal paints and the ceremony, the ghoul is well aware that to Terzo, his voice is one of the few defining features of him; not the former Cardinal, not Papa Emeritus III, not Nihil's bastard son, Terzo. Without his voice, without his constant stream of flirting and singing and joking to give audiences and acquaintances alike just enough of the real him to be satisfactory, Terzo fears the rest of his carefully-constructed facade may crumble under closer inspection.

Of course, the human's penchant for vocalizing doesn't exactly come with an off switch, so it's perhaps unsurprising that his endless noise follows the two of them into bed. Between the endless moaning and whining and begging and petulant commands, it's safe to say Omega knows no peace until the man is finally fucked out and sleeping soundly in his arms.

None of this is to say that Omega has any complaints whatsoever - in any context, he loves to hear Terzo's voice, be it screaming his name loudly enough to wake the whole Ministry or whispering a horrible sex joke into his ear mid-meeting, but the seemingly endless propensity of the man to break any silence does make moments of these all the more special, a rare treat to savor whenever the opportunity presents itself.

And savor this he does.

"Stay quiet," Omega commands.

Terzo's mouth flies shut, quintessence purple-tinted eyes squeezing closed as the ghoul's pace picks up, every thrust knocking the bed frame against the wall and the air from the human's lungs in harsh huffs through his nose. But sure enough, his mouth stays closed.

The idea had initially been Terzo's, unsurprisingly, proposed after a long day of whatever hell the Ministry had been putting him through. Omega had initially been hesitant - the level of trust displayed from his lover asking him to take control of his very mind, to force him out of his own head and let him be solely consumed by sensation, is not lost on the ghoul, and while they both knew Omega was more than capable of ensuring that none of Terzo's boundaries or consent was overstepped in the process, the prospect of literally mind-controlling the person he loves most in this world was a tough sell.

But Omega had never been good at denying Terzo anything he asked, and after much reassurance, he obliged. And seeing the man beneath him now, his body relaxed and devoid of the tension and stress that had weighed down his frame just hours earlier, visibly empty of all sensations except absolute ecstasy, and for once, totally silent but for the stuttered breaths in time with the ghoul's thrusts, Omega would be lying to say he regrets his decision.

"Fuck, you feel so good," the ghoul praises. "You like this? Like letting me into your head, feeling me wipe out all those pesky thoughts? Nod for me."

The human nods frantically, mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

"Yeah, it's nice, isn't it? Tell me how nice it feels."

"It's good, it's so good, love it so much," he whimpers.

Omega rewards him with a harsh thrust, adjusting his angle to perfectly target that sweet spot inside him. "I know you do, you needed this, didn't you? Just needed someone else to do the thinking for you for a while, let you focus on feeling. Tell me - what does it feel like?"

"'S like I'm floating," the man gasps. "Like I- hah- I'm empty and so full all at once," he answers dutifully, voice airy and unrestrained, as though the connection between his senses and his mouth skips his mind entirely.

"That's it, just let yourself feel it," Omega groans. "Drop a little deeper for me, okay?"

Immediately the Papa whimpers, eyes glazing over as the violet tint in his irises seems to darken even further, body going limp beneath him as the ghoul accompanies his command with a wave of quintessence to amplify the sensations already beginning to overwhelm the human.

"Shh, I've got you," he half-reassures, half-commands. "You look so pretty like this, y'know?" He asks, knowing his lover wasn't comprehending a word being said. "All relaxed and pliant, letting me give you what you need. I hate seeing you so stressed, my love - you work so hard, we all can tell, you take such good care of the Ministry and you deserve to be taken care of in return," the ghoul coos, running a hand through Terzo's sweat-soaked hair.

Omega could feel himself getting close, and judging by the involuntary shaking and twitching of Terzo's limbs that wrack his body with silent, overwhelmed sobs, the human's cock red and dripping a steady stream of precum where it bounces against his stomach with every thrust, he's not the only one. Adrift within the onslaught of sensations that seep through every crevice of his mind once reserved for self-doubt, insecurity, fear, all those things that his new role in the papacy had wrought, the man looks both positively wrecked and as at peace as Omega had seen him in ages.

He's almost tempted to draw this out, to keep Terzo awash in mindless pleasure until one of their bodies can no longer take it - he knows Terzo would have no qualms with this, not that it much mattered when every cell in his body had foregone his own instincts to respond solely to Omega's commands instead - but he knows that as much as Terzo needed this break from his own head space, he needs the restful sleep that follows even more.

"So good for me, amore," Omega groans, "come for me, let it out."

Terzo's eyes roll back into his head with a soundless scream as his cock kicks against his stomach before spilling entirely untouched, Omega following behind a few shallow thrusts later.

The ghoul catches his breath as they come down from their highs before slipping his spent length out of Terzo, biting back a groan at the sight of his spend leaking from the human's fucked out hole. Grabbing the tissue box on their nightstand, he perfunctorily wipes them down before collapsing beside his lover, taking the Papa's face in his hands.

"You with me, love? Can you look at me?"

The human's eyes blink open, violet meeting violet as the quint chuckles. "There you are. Come back to yourself, nice and slow."

The tension, though far less than before, returns to Terzo's limp body as the quintessence fades from his mind, eyes returning to their usual green and white. He blinks a few more times before smiling.

"Hello, tesoro," Terzo greets him.

"Hello," Omega laughs. "How are you feeling?"

"Mm, so much better," he sighs, curling closer to the ghoul. "Thank you for indulging me."

"Any time. Thank you for trusting me with this," he wraps his arms around the smaller.

"Any time - you know I trust you more than anything," he mumbles sleepily into his chest.

"I know, and I'm grateful for that every day."

"That makes two of us," he yawns. "Goodnight, cuore mio, I love you."

"I love you too."

As the comforting silence of sleep blankets them, Omega can't find it in himself to truly mind that these moments of quiet are as few and far between as they are.

--

You lock Copia in the living room for a little bit when the mailman arrives that morning. Seeing as he hasn’t been caged yet you don’t want to risk any further sudden snaps, and you’re able to get the package in with surprising ease. When you open the door with your hip you find him staring at the TV, grumpily, his favourite hobby of harassing the postal worker interrupted. His gaze is dragged to the box you hold.

“What have you got there?” he asks, trying not to seem interested as you open it up.

“It’s something for you, actually,” you say softly, heart rate spiking when you see the chastity device. His eyes go wide but his tail gives a single wag when you pull the item free.

“I… ah… oh,” he says. The impact is instantaneous and you can see his sweatpants tighten a little, which is good - this only works if you both consent to it. If you both enjoy it.

“What’s that?” he tries to play innocent but there is no hiding what you have. You incline your head to the side.

“Something to stop you being a naughty boy,” you hum, and he whines in a mix of torture and pleasure. “Present.”

The last part is an order from a human, not a request from his lover. Copia rolls onto his back, showing you his soft tummy and slightly twitching cock as he pulls up his shirt and down his slacks. It’s an easy manoeuvre to slip the cage onto his dick when it’s softened enough. You click it into place, lock it, and place the key on a chain around your neck. 

Copia whines as you scratch his hairy stomach in a gesture of affection. He yips - puppyboys really like belly rubs. 

“There we go, puppy. Can you be a good boy for me?” 

“Yes, I can be,” he agrees, cage twitching as his poor cock tries to get hard and fails.

“Do you like that only I can tell you when you can cum?”

Tears of overstimulation make his eyelashes wet, but he nods in submission. You smile. 

“Put yourself together, then. We’re going out.”

“We are?”

“We’re going to see Marie and Tobias again.”

He pouts but doesn’t growl, which suggests to you that the cage is already working its magic, and he comes willingly when the two of you head to the park. Marie was very gracious in agreeing to help you test out the effectiveness of your new device, and also agreed it would be good for Tobias to be around an older puppyboy to learn how to ground himself.

The two of them are waiting by the pond, where Tobias is attempting to chase the ducks good-naturedly. Marie glances up from her book and greets you with an embrace when she spots you.

“Hi, honey, I’m so glad you made it! And hello Copia, it’s good to see you again.”

“Hello Marie,” he greets with a polite nod. Tobias looks cautious as he approaches, but Copia extends a friendly hand towards him. “Tobias. I am sorry about how I, eh, treated you last time.”

He seems sincere. Tobias looks to Marie for confirmation and, when met with a nod, takes Copia’s hand in his.

“It’s okay. I get protective of Marie like you get protective of your human,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Copia flushes, perhaps embarrassed at Tobias’s frankness or his own earlier behaviour, but it seems that the hatchet had been buried. 

“Would you like to try and get ducks with me? They’re really fast so it’s pretty hard. I’ve only done it once ever but Marie made me let it go.”

“Ah, I am okay, thank you. I am past my duck harassing days. You go and have fun though,” Copia says kindly. Tobias runs off and Copia sits on the end of the bench and pulls out a book of sudokus instead, shaking his head in bewildered fondness. 

Copia keeps himself busy with his puzzles as you and Marie catch up properly. She seems to be doing really well with Tobias, he’s good company for her and they’ve clearly bonded quite quickly. Her active lifestyle is more suited to a younger puppyboy and you’re so glad she’s found a connection with someone so devoted to her - it’s very sweet to see the way Tobias will trot back up now and then to show everyone a new stick he’s found.

“Can I keep this?” he asks Marie, who rolls her eyes but smiles.

“Baby, you have lots of sticks at home. If you take this one, you gotta get rid of one of the others.”

He pouts but acquiesces. It’s cute to see how he is totally wrapped around her little finger. It’s not entirely dissimilar to you and Copia. 

On that note, your puppyboy is perfectly behaved all afternoon. He puts up with Tobias’s antics and eventually gives in and goes for a walk around the lake with him. It melts your heart to see Tobias talking to him so excitedly, bouncing around his newfound friend with such enthusiasm that his ears bob. 

“I told you caging works,” Marie says with a knowing grin. You chuckle.

“You were right. Thank you so much, Marie, you’re a lifesaver.”

She chuckles and bumps against you with her shoulder playfully.

“Puppyboys can be a lot of work, but aren’t they so worth it?” she sighs, dreamily. You look across the lake to see that Tobias has waded into the water to go after a moorhen. Copia is attempting to join in from the bank so he doesn’t get wet, their tails wagging enthusiastically. You go awwww out loud.

“They sure are.”

Copia is a bit worn out by the time you leave, but seems to be happy, too. 

“What did you think?” you ask him gently. He chuckles, cheeks rosy from exertion.

“Marie is kind… and Tobias is not so bad. Engergetic, but not so bad.”

“So the cage helped?” you drop your voice low. His face goes even redder.

“Sì. Yes. It eh, grounded me, I think. Thank you.” he looks like he might combust. It lights a fire between your legs.

“You were so well behaved, puppy. We’ll take it off when we get in and I’ll show you what good boys deserve.”

He moans. 

And you do. The second the front door closes behind you, Copia’s mouth is on yours. You kiss enthusiastically, his tongue hot and wet against yours. It takes a moment for you to push him off long enough to free the key, then guide him to the sofa and pull down his slacks.

“Good boy, lovely boy. So obedient for me,” you tell him, undoing the tiny lock and releasing his cock. You immediately start to stroke it and he fully hardens in your palm, head lolling back in pleasure.

“Oh… oh, amore mio, you are… this is…”

“Is it a lot, puppy?”

He nods. You can’t imagine how relieving this must be after an afternoon of being locked away. Your hand speeds up and you swipe your thumb across his ruddy skin, gently laughing at the way he whines when you play with his sensitive slit. Pre runs down his length and soaks his balls and boxers, and he grips the sofa to steady himself.

“What do you want, Copia? Your reward for being so good?”

“Please… m-mouth…” he manages, eyes pleading. So you do. You drop down and take his tip between your lips, tonguing around his head, and it doesn’t take much for him to lose control.

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

You keep going as a sign of consent. He cums in hot streams down your throat and you make a show of swallowing which has him whining in joy. You mouth at the softening tip and then reach up to kiss him, letting him enjoy the dregs of his orgasm on your tongue.

it’s a testament to how much he’s enjoying himself, then, that he hasn’t yet done so here. that he’s still lying on his back against the blankets, looking up at you with a broken, needy whimper as you sink your cock into the warmth of his slit. his arousal leaks from its edges, purple slick covering your dick and dripping down onto the sheets around him.

“feel good?” you ask, even as you know the answer. his walls flutter around your length, milking you for all you’re worth as your hands find purchase on his hips so that you can thrust even harder, even deeper. La Creatura keens in the back of his throat, clearly beyond words, and you’re not going to last much longer with him twisting beneath you like this, so pretty as he’s fucked out of his mind.

your beloved creature, your sweet boy. he makes a choked noise as you reach out with one hand to wrap it around his own cock, pumping a few times in rhythm with your hips. it sends him over the edge and he’s spurting that lavender cum that stripes over his stomach and paints a surreal picture in front of you.

he seizes down around you and the tightness of his slit is just enough. you cum with a shout, buried deep inside him, pumping him full of your seed. La Creatura continues to fuck up on your cock, ensuring that he squeezes every last drop out of you.

by the time you come down, you’re panting as though you’ve run a marathon and he’s purring deep and rumbly. you give it a few moments longer, letting your cock go soft inside him before you pull out of his slit. as you watch, your own cum oozes out of his walls, pearlescent in the faint light.

unable to help yourself, you reach down to spread him with your thumbs once more, watching the way his body twitches. La Creatura whines, shaking beneath you, and one of his clawed hands reaches out towards you.

you kiss the tips of his razor-sharp claws, so deadly to others but always gentle with you. when you’ve had your fill of watching the way his body drips with your seed, you collapse beside him and pull him into your arms. he’s large enough that it takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re cradling his head close to your chest, peppering his face with kisses.

“enjoy yourself?” you hum, and all you get in reply is a happy chirping noise.

-

It’s that he’s on his knees now. You look down at him, see his salt-and-pepper hair and the too-prominent lines of his forehead, grooved by too many cares, and you stroke your thumb over one of those lines a moment as though to soothe it. He’s changed out of his Frater Imperator clothes, into sweats, leaving you feeling overdressed in your own cassock, though somehow the collar came out and is now lying a few feet away on the floor.

His knees are going to be sore later, and you know that, and he knows that, but he doesn’t care. Not when he’s lifting up the edge of your cassock, handing it to you to grip. Not when your knuckles turn white as you keep the hem out of his way, as he peppers your thighs and belly with kisses, pausing now and again to lick your skin.

You’ve been apart six hours, not six months, or six years. But every time he finds you again, he’s there, kissing you, cuddling you, telling you how much he’s missed you.

But now he doesn’t tell you. Now he scrapes his teeth lightly over the skin of your thigh, making you gasp. Now he moves his hands to your hips, and you expect him to pull down your boxer-briefs, but he doesn’t.

Instead he stretches up, and licks over the cotton. It sticks to his tongue but he hardly notices as he nuzzles into the bulge with the urgency of a bee finding nectar. He parts the hole in front of the boxer-briefs, and moans when he takes the tip into his mouth.

This isn’t your strap-on, which is still in the bedroom you now share with him. This is your packer. Small and inobtrusive, just enough for that comforting weight and shape. Soft. Not big and proud and stiff and made for sex.

He doesn’t care. He sucks on the silicone and looks up, his mismatched eyes finding yours, all heat and need, not just sexual but something else, something primal, a need to be loved and wanted that he’s always searching for, and finds again and again in you.

His lips are curved around you, and you can see his lips parting around the shaft. And for a moment he presses the base of it into your body and you can feel it, all of it one fluid sensation, and you let out a shiver. His hand moves up to the seam of your underwear, finding another place for pressure, but you barely even notice, too focused on his other hand gripping your hip too hard, and his mouth, his fucking mouth.

That’s your cock. Not the one you keep to use with him, but your cock. The one you’ve worn all day, every day. The one that you’ve sweated on. The one that smells like you, tastes like you. Part of you. And Copia is sucking on it, his eyes closing now, absorbed in it. You can feel him breathing through his nose, hot on the sensitive hairs just above your waistband, and you let out a whine and buck against him, against his face and hand, grinding into him. And in response he just growls and moves in harder, like he can’t get enough of it.

When you come he holds your cock in his mouth until you’re done, and for a moment you swear you feel his tongue, and for a moment you think you hear him swallow, and you almost come again. You let out a long breath, and sag a little against the wall.

And when he pulls away your cock is left limp—as it was to start, but now it looks spent, slick with his spit—and he tucks it away again before leaning forward to rest his forehead against your belly. You look down at him, bowed shoulders, kneeling in a way that’s going to hurt him later, both hands now on your hips. You can smell your arousal hanging heady in the air, and the smell of incense and cologne and sweat from him, from both of you. His lips move against your skin for a moment, and you think for a strange moment he is praying, and you’re not sure if it’s to Satan or to yourself.

You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, and he looks up and gives you a little smile. And for a moment, you see it. He satisfied you, and you satisfied him—that need to be needed, that need to be loved. You don’t know what happened today that meant he needed it so badly, but you know he trusts you enough to give it to him. And in turn, he gives you the same. Full acceptance, full love, all for you and everything you are. Even the parts made of silicone, that he knows are still you.

“Hi,” he says. “So how was your day?”

And you can’t help but laugh at the question, now, so pedestrian after such a greeting.

“Good,” you answer. “How about you? How was your day?” There’s an unspoken question in there, of course. What happened? What’s wrong?

But he just smiles, and doesn’t answer the questions that weren’t spoken. “Good,” he says. He wipes his mouth on his wrist. “Yes. Good. Now, anyway.”

And he means it.

-

"That's it, Copia, such a good boy for me," Ignis moans as he cards his fingers into his mate's greying hair.

The grip the man has around Ignis' tail tightens ever so slightly at the praise, his whimper muffled around the scaly appendage wiggling around in his mouth. Copia allows his eyes to fall shut, dragging his tongue up across the length that fits in his mouth, massaging his tongue into the little crevices between each scale. The sensation causes Ignis' brows to knit together, a deep purr rumbling from within his chest as Copia experimentally drags his teeth across the length.

When he opens his eyes again, his heart nearly skips a beat at the sight of his husband. Ignis' mouth hangs open, chest heaving as he pants from Copia's touch, fur a sweaty, matted mess to his skin as he grips at the sheets in an attempt to stop his tail from moving around too wildly.

At the sight alone, Copia lets out a little moan around Ignis' tail, trailing one of his hands that gripped it to gently press above the spot just below the base of the ghoul's tail and above his hole. Ignis howls at the sensation, claws tearing at the sheets as he desperately kneads, cock leaking against his thigh as Copia begins massaging at the spot in time with the licks of his tongue.

"Fuck, honey, that feels really good," the ghoul manages with a weak voice, purr so loud that it almost drowns out the sound of hid voice.

"Amore?" Copia's voice sounds as he pulls his mouth from Ignis' tail, pulling a whine from the ghoul. "I'd like you to fuck me with this."