Jules' STUFF 🔞

He is far from fully recovered. Even rolling over in bed to kiss you made him wince but fighting him off was futile and likely just to cause him further injury. He endures the twinge in his back as it twists but it seems to be better tonight and Frater takes full advantage. His lips linger and chase yours even as you try to get him comfortable on his side and carefully wrap your arms around him.

"I miss you," he whispers against your cheek, fragile enough to remind you to resist but hard enough for you to consider giving in. "I'm right here. You're not ready yet," you sigh as his hand encourages your thighs to part. "You'll hurt yourself."

"My hands are fine. Please." His nose meets yours and his shaking breath makes you dizzy as you inhale it.

"Doctor said," you manage as his fingertips stroke lightly over your length. "No getting worked up. Need to rest." "Too late. And what about you, hm? You deserve to be taken care of too." It's hard to argue or offer any more excuses while in his grasp. His hand is less agile and more unsteady but, having missed his touch for this long, it's as effective as ever. You whimper as his palm brushes over your tip and you catch the smug glint in his eye. He moans as you begin to roll into his palm, relief that your body still responds to him making him shiver. You hiss as his grip tightens and he relishes the way you twitch in his grasp. He falters as you reach down between your bodies and graze a knuckle over his cock. It's all you can do in this position but it's still almost too much for him. His gasp morphs into a sob and his eyes water but he nods, pleading for you to continue. "You've got some more sensation then?" His laugh breaks the tension for a moment. "Y-yes. Although, I— well, I don't think it can… definitely not, eh, fully operational. Unfortunately." "I know, it's okay." His look of disappointment breaks your heart. "But, this feels good? You want me to keep going?" "Please." Despite the uncomfortable position, you endeavour to fulfil his request. It would feel like cruel teasing were it not borne out of necessity, but just the lightest touch on his skin has him crazed with need and reciprocating as enthusiastically as he can with his own fingers wrapped around you. He has been starved of you for so long he will gladly devour any scraps you provide and, with each passing second, you realise his body is not the only one suffering from neglect. The urge to thrust into his fist becomes harder to ignore and soon it is Frater offering praise and encouragement which only spurs you on. You whine his name, riding an intense wave towards release but, just as it feels inevitable, he stops. He grimaces as his body spasms. He rolls on to his back and clutches the cramp in his arm, cursing his frailty with the last of the air in his lungs. You try to comfort him, hold him through it, but he flinches away from you. He slams his fist down on the mattress as he squirms, trying to breathe through the pain in his spine. You've learned that there are no words to comfort him until it passes, and so you try your best to feel okay with the silence. Once he squeezes your hand, it is safe to move closer. You curl into his side and push loose strands of hair from his eyes, trying to hide any hint of pity in your expression.

Before he can search for it, you lean over and kiss him. Your lips assuage his need to ask for forgiveness and allows him to focus on conveying what the rest of him cannot - a deep, yearning desire for you that may never be quenched and a gratitude for your patience that could never be put into words. Appearing to have learned his lesson, his hands make no effort to pull your weight on to him as you move to hover over him. He accepts, for now, that your mouth on his is all he can handle. And, as he takes more of your eager tongue, his body and its failures fade away. It chips away at it until the taste of you is the only thing left.

That is until he feels you starting to sag on top of him and beginning to roll up against him of its own accord. His hand slides over the curve of your ass and, unable to resist, he curls his fingers into it hard. You head snaps back and you thrust forward, remembering a little too late to hold your own weight which allows him to really get a firm hold on you. Just as you look down at him, he circles his own hips against the erection now prodding into him.

Panting just as hard as each other, you take a beat to re-stabilise. Nuzzling into his stubble and trying to ground yourself, the heat between you lulls you into a dangerously seductive haze. You admire your handiwork; his swollen lips and flushed neck inviting you in, tempting you to leave new marks where most of the bruising has healed. You compromise with a nibble of his earlobe, earning a airy sigh and a jolt of his hips followed by a playful smack to your thigh.

The responsible thing to do would be to untangle yourselves, to roll off him and soothe him to sleep. You promise you will after one last kiss but, sensing your impending plans, Frater's hand moves between your legs.

"Stop," you say, entirely unconvincingly. But, for some reason, he complies.

You exhale directly into his mouth, your faces so close that your eyelashes almost mesh together and you feel the curl of a wicked grin before you see it.

"Touch yourself." His tone is stronger now. Commanding. "If you won't let me… touch yourself."

He withdraws as you move your weight to your knees and steady yourself with a hand on his pillow. He lifts your other wrist to his mouth without taking his eyes off you and spits into your palm. His eyebrows raise as you freeze, taken by surprise by his brazenness and change in demeanour, and his eyes imply something between amusement and frustration. His breathing only becomes more uneven as you start to obey, your arm fitting snugly between you both as you hover over him, staying nose to nose. He nods encouragingly as he feels your hand starting to move in slow, stuttering strokes and his lips part in a perfect mirror of your own as you find a rhythm. By the time you dare to experiment with shallow thrusts into your fist, his moans begin to follow yours too. You think he may be mocking you, but it soon becomes clear, as his own hips begin to jerk, he's choosing to indulge in the fantasy. "So gentle," he remarks. "After all this time, you can give me more than that." After a few teasing strokes over your tip, you spread his saliva over your length and give a much more forceful thrust over him, nudging into his stomach which makes him groan. It breaks into a satisfied laugh as you give into his control, caring less with each jerk of your body about treating him delicately. "That's it," he coos. "Show me what I have to look forward to." Excitement ripples through you. His sudden assertiveness overpowers your concern and, when his face lights up as you make a show of winding and snapping your hips, you find yourself completely in the fantasy too. You pump yourself slowly between each thrust, acutely aware that your own sensitivity could lead to another disappointment, not helped by Copia's enthusiastic moans in time with your movements as if he can feel you inside him. You can't help but brush against his cock, making his breath hitch with each glancing touch even as he tries to retain his sneer. It's shaken as you lean down to his mouth, stopping just short of kissing him and licking the inside of his upper lip instead, but after a long groan, he composes himself. His hands come to rest on your back, caressing your skin and scratching his nails as you find a more forceful rhythm. They dig into you harder each time you snap forwards and his praise becomes more emphatic, involuntary noises evolving into desperate praise. "Yessss, you feel so good. More, harder." You speed up, fucking into your fist. "You know I take it so well." His mouth hangs open while you whine, biting your lip to stifle it. "Yes you do, always so good," you manage though your voice cracks. "Taking all of me. So greedy for it." "You want me like this?" He flashes you a devilish smile. "Or you want my face in the mattress? Or how we used to, in my office? Bend me over the desk and give me what I need?" He doesn't stop for breath, not letting you answer, as every thought and need tumbles out of him. He lets his eyes close briefly, tilting his head back as he begs you to fill him, to show him how much you've missed the feeling of being inside him. He wants you harder, faster, deeper and any way he can have you, so much he is practically sobbing.

His eyes snap open as he feels you grip his length. You move slowly up from the base and then over his tip, and his thighs shake. You repeat the motion, still bucking your hips now in time with your fingers teasing his sticky slit. On your next thrust, you feel it twitch in your hand and Copia curses under his breath, looking down at his half hard cock in slight disbelief. He can only babble and whimper, the relief at being even half hard overwhelming him. As if needing to check for himself, he replaces your hand with his own and lets out a shaky, earnest sigh as he tests out the new sensation. "Keep going," he says meekly, just as the roll of your hips starts to slow. "Don't—fuck, don't stop." You resume without hesitation, pumping yourself while bucking above him, but leaving more space for him to experimentally touch himself. You see the moment his eyes change, readily and wholly falling into his imagination. "Love taking your cock," he says gruffly, struggling to stay coherent as he works himself in his palm. "Need it so bad." "I know," you pant. "So tight. But you're so good at letting me stretch you open. So full of me, aren't you?" His soft strokes with a single finger and light tugging soon stop, growing more confident and needy with each word. Despite still not being completely erect, he sounds like he is getting close and his pace gets faster and faster until the only sounds he can make are sputtering syllables. But, you realise even through your own impending climax, he is trying to say something to you.

"Sit. Sit up," he manages after a couple of attempts. Slightly confused, you obey. He truly is a sight to behold. Flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, jerking himself now with purpose yet still a little more carefully that he usually would.

"You're close, I can tell," he says, "You're going to cum for me. Just from the thought of fucking me."

You thumb over your tip as you nod.

"Well then I want to see. Make such a pretty mess for me."

The change of what he wants surprises you but, it's not that he doesn't know what he wants. He wants all of it. He wants to be in charge but wants you to be in control. He wants to feel you but he wants to watch. He's been starved and now, with the knowledge he isn't as broken as he thought, he needs to gorge himself on you.

"You're a pretty mess yourself," you grin. "Also, just from the thought of me fucking you."

"Touché. And, I'm not sure, but—ah! Fuck, I think I might—fucking hell!"

He doesn't finish the thoughts, either because he is trying to focus or he thinks saying it out loud may be tempting fate. But he doesn't have to explain. You are more than well acquainted with his body to know that this may be the first orgasm he has had in months. A record dry spell by, well, months. The longest since you've known him at least.

He speaks in chants, of your name and of praise, just as much of himself as you. But, when he looks to you, legs wide and on display for him and caressing your chest and neck, that balance shifts.

"So perfect like this," he gasps. "Such a vision. Such a show just for me. Don't hold back, amore, don't be so gentle. I know that's not how you like it."

Your hand obeys him without you having to engage your brain at all. You buck up into your fist's firm grip and moan up at the ceiling, each pump threatening to take you over the edge.

"Keep going. Show me what I do to you. Fucking perfect."

His praise and your hand has you struggling to pose for him, shuddering and stuttering as you feel your climax building. But when you notice him doing the same, it's almost impossible to focus on anything else. His own eyes widening and watering, and his hand pumping faster, trembling around his cock. His attention is completely on himself as pleasure rips the air from his lungs, relearning how to feel it again.

"Now! Cum for me, now," he rasps as his hips jolt upward. His eyes roll back with his head, the muscles in his neck taut as it strains, and he moans gutturally with his mouth agape with a look of shock and ecstasy. He relaxes and turns his attention back to you just as you follow his command, smirking as you call his name and licking his lip as your release coats your fingers and splashes up into your stomach hair.

As you catch your breath, his arms reach out for you. You clamber over him and as soon as you within reach, he pulls you in and groans at the sensation of your seed sticking you together. You kiss him until neither of you can breathe.

"Are you okay?" Your hand cups his chin as you ask.

"Okay? I feel… incredible. I— fuck, I needed that. Glad to know some of it still works. And an orgasm with no, um, spillage. I could get used to that."

You can't help but laugh. A grown man who can't talk about these things directly, even now. It is, if nothing else, kind of adorable. But then again, the way he talks about his body recently has changed. It had to.

"I was thinking at least you would be easier to clean up, but then…" You gesture vaguely downward.

"I could not help myself, I know. You are very good at that too."

"You'll be able to it yourself soon. You'll need to if, when, you're fully recovered."

He smiles softly, ignoring your slip of the tongue. "Oh no, I think I will always need your help with that. I am clumsy and helpless."

"Sure. Let me go grab a towel."

He stops you by squeezing his arms around you. "Not yet."

Taglist: @gh0ul-dinner @copiasslut @burichu @unholyguleh @kosem-sultan167 @zealoushound @anomalousghost @mmonstranceclock @sleepy-ghuleh <3