#menforeplays

Tw : foreplay, hand job and blow job, smut.

Context: You two were dating, while everyone in the empire saw him as a cold hearted ruler, you didn't. He was kind and loving to you.

You were currently on your balcony.

Geta watches you from the marble archway, cloaked in silence. No guard, no advisors. Just him, stripped of the empire for one moment on stilness. His hands curl and uncurl at his side. You haven't seen him yet. You hair catches the light, haloed like a goddess born of dawn. The tension in his shoulders melts. He steps forward.

You didn't flinch when he lowers himself to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your knees, his eyes looking at you like something piceless, because to him yoi are.

The emperor exhales, right now he wasn't a ruler, he was a man who found his only sanctuary, you.

For a heartbeat he doesn't speak, just stare at you, your eyes, your smile, the curve of your lips, the quiet worry in your eyes, trying to search any sign of discomfort on his face, worry, not for yourself, but for him. As if the emperor could be anything else than untouchable. He is not untouchable with you.

Slowly, Geta leans forward and presses his forehead to your knee.

A king on his knees before a woman who wears no crown, yet rules everything worth ruling, his heart.

Then he lifts his gaze again, gold brown eyes and reassure you.

"I'm okay.." He says, voice low like velvet.

You smile, graving that image of him on your mind before dropping to your kness too, your fingers cradle his face and press a soft kiss on his lips.

He's soft under your touch, tamed by devotion that only can command without speaking a single word of order.

Geta freeze for half a second, his lips parting slightly under yours, stunned. He always adore when you kiss him this sweetly. Then, instinct takes over, he kisses you back slowly, reverently. Like workshiping an altar no priest has ever touched before you came along and made gods kneel too low.

As you hold him against your body you couldn't help but notice he was hard. You remember than everytime this happens he makes no moves to ease his archness, you never knew why and never push to get an answer.

"Do you need me to help you baby..?" You ask softly, hoping he'd get your subtext.

He freezes for half a second, just the tinest hithcin his breath. He hadn't said anything, hadn't hinted, but you noticed, and offered to help. He is indeed hard from kissing you. It's torture and bliss at the same time. For a moment he says Nothing, maybe because of pride? Shyness? You don't know.

"Baby.." You start soflty, you fingers on his chin to make him look at you, "I Don't know why you ,ever take care of yourself..but if you want I'll do it, I'll take care of you, I'm offering." You say, "But I won't push you neither to tell me why or to do anything" You add.

Geta’s throat tightens. Your words—so soft, so *understanding—pierce through him in a way no sword ever could. He stares at you in the dim moonlight, your face half-hidden by shadow and warmth both.

He hadn’t taken care of himself. Not like this.

Not since… well. Not since he became emperor—or maybe not since he realized how much power changes intimacy: guards always around, servants watching every move, expectations that emperors shouldn't be seen chasing pleasure or affection so openly.

And with you? His lover? The one person who truly matters?

He never wanted to seem… desperate. Or demanding. Or pushy—even if his body screamed for you all the time.

So yes—he’d ignored it. Ignored himself. Because being an emperor meant learning restraint too.

"It's not like I don't want to.." He starts, "I just..never felt like I could". He adds He pauses for a second. "I'm always being watched. Every moves scrutinized by the advisors, even my brother". He adds.

"No one's here.. do you want me to show you how good losing control can feel..?" You ask

Geta’s breath stops.

The question hangs in the air—simple, gentle, but devastating in its implication. Show me. Not take. Not command. Show me.

Like it's something sacred. Something he deserves.

His eyes search yours—wide now, vulnerable in a way no one else ever sees him: Emperor Geta stripped bare of his arrogance and sarcasm and violence.

He swallows hard.

A nod comes slowly. Tiny. Nervous.

No words at first—but that single movement says everything: yes. He wants this. Wants to feel… not as a ruler who demands pleasure on whim—but as someone loved enough to be touched with care.

And then quietly, almost shyly: "…Please."

You nod, disapearing Under his clothes. Since it was his first time being touched you wanted to let him choose how you'd do it.

"Do you want my hand on you or my mouth..?" You ask him.

The moment you disappear under the clothes, Geta’s breath hitches, sharp and shallow.

He lifts slightly to help without a word, heart pounding in a rhythm that has nothing to do with war or politics.

And then comes your question, soft as candlelight: Hand or mouth?

Gods.

His cheeks flush faintly from the sheer intimacy of it all. This isn't conquest. This is trust.

He hesitates… then whispers:* "…Both."

A pause. "Whichever… whichever you want first."

"It's okay my love..relax I'll do both for you.." You say softly as you slowly reach out to wrap one hand around his hard self.

The second your hand closes around him, warm and careful Geta's entire body tenses. A low sound escapes him, a quiet, involuntary hum of pleasure that vibrates through his chest. His fingers clutch his clothes on his hips, knuckles whitening slightly. Every nerve is alight, your touch is gentle but sure, warm palm movig slow over his sensitive skin.

"I got you baby..let me take care of you" You say, trying to ease his racing mind as your thumb brush over his tip slightly.

A spark of pure sensation shoots through him, making his hips twitch just slightly on instinct before he can stop himself. A shaky exhal escapes as you continu, the slow strokes steady and loving.

Your hand wraps itself a bit more firmly now, stroking his length slightly faster now.

Geta’s chest rises and falls rapidly—each breath shallow, unsteady. Your fingers move with a rhythm that's both careful and perfect, gentle pressure wrapping around him like devotion made touch.

A soft, broken moan slips out before he can stop it—the first real one of the night—and the second your hand strokes again? Another follows: higher-pitched this time, trembling on his lips.

He doesn’t care anymore.

His forehead glistens slightly with sweat despite the cool air; his ginger lashes flutter shut as he sinks deeper into sensation.

"Just like that baby..let yourself go..I got you" You say softly, your hand jerking him even faster.

The increase in pace, just a little faster, just enough to build heat—makes Geta’s breath catch audibly. A whimper escapes him this time, high and sweet like the cry of something fragile being cherished.

His hips rise slightly off the bed on their own—not demanding more, not pushing for control, but following your rhythm. His body is responding purely to sensation now: your warm hand gliding over him with loving precision.

Each stroke sends electric pulses through his spine.

He bites his lower lip briefly as if trying to quiet himself out of habit, because an emperor shouldn't sound so undone, but then you murmur "Just like that baby…"… soft and encouraging…

And he melts completely.

A series of tiny noises follow soft gasps between parted lips, hushed moans muffled against the pillow as pleasure coils tighter inside him.

You smile as you can feel and see on his face pleasure builind low in his stomach, him getting closer. You mouth replace your hand, your lips sucking slightly his tip, licking the precum that leaked out of him.

The moment your lips replace your hand—warm, wet, soft—the world stops.

Geta jolts.

A choked gasp rips from his throat as the sensation hits him like lightning: the gentle suction on his tip, the heat of your mouth enveloping him so carefully. It's nothing like cold palace politics or formal rituals, it's intimacy in its purest form.

His fingers fly to tangle in your hair just holding, pulling in just the slightlest pull ever. Anchoring himself.

For a second he freezes completely: body rigid with shock and overwhelming pleasure as if he hadn’t expected this kindness at all.

A broken moan spills out. Longer this time. Louder than any sound an emperor should ever make.

And his hips? They twitch again pushing forward insistently, instinctively chasing that sweet pressure

Then you take his cock in your mouth, not fully yet, letting him feel every inch be taken in your wet and warm mouth.

The second you take him into your mouth—warm, wet heat enveloping the first half of his length the breath leaves Geta’s lungs entirely.

He doesn’t breathe. Can’t.

And gods… he never knew this kind of touch existed for someone like him.

A strangled cry escapes—half gasp, half sob—as his back arches slightly off the bed again. His fingers tighten in your hair, but trembling now with overwhelmed sensation and building pleasure that coils tighter and tighter in his stomach.

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes from how seen he feels right now.

“Push or pull as you feel it baby..don’t hold back” You say as you slide your mouth off of him, before taking his length deeper in your mouth, just a bit.

Geta hears your permission—soft, generous—and something in him breaks open.

For once… he doesn’t have to restrain himself.

No pride. No emperor's decorum. Just raw, unfiltered need.

And when you take him deeper this time, your lips sliding down with warm pressure, careful but brave—the sensation is too much. Too good. Overwhelming in the best way.

A broken whimper escapes as his hips lift slightly, not aggressively, not demanding but instinctively chasing that sweet heat of your mouth again and again…

He pushes forward. Just a tiny bit. An involuntary nudge of his pelvis toward you—as if begging for more without words.

And at the same time? His hands gently guide, not forcefully pull or push, but follow the rhythm now: soft tugs on your hair like silent encouragement.

You smile as I feel him finally give out control and lean in your touch You move your mouth a bit faster, my tongue tracing the underline of his cock

Geta is gone, completely lost in sensation, every thought dissolved into pure, shimmering pleasure. The moment your tongue traces the underside of him—warm and teasing—he makes a sound he’s never made before: a high, breathy whine that borders on desperate.

His hips rise again. More this time.

Not dominant or commanding… but pleading. Every gentle movement of your mouth sends electric pulses through his body—the rhythm faster now, perfect—and the contrast between your soft lips and sharp tongue? Devastating.

He’s breathing hard. Chest rising fast. Eyes screwed shut as tears finally slip free—not from sadness—but from how intensely beautiful this feels. How safe it is to be unraveled like this by you.

And then? A quiet sob escapes him barely there, as his hands clutch tighter at your hair…pulling a bit more now.

The vibration of your hum against his sensitive skin makes Geta jerk, his entire body tensing with a jolt of pleasure. The slight pull on your hair had been instinctive, not rough or demanding… just needy. A quiet plea for more contact.

He can't form words right away. Swallows hard. Licks his dry lips.

Then—voice cracked and hushed from the intensity: "…Yes."

“Good..you can keep pulling baby..” you say as I take him in your mouth again, fully this time, his tip hitting the back of your throat, his length burried entirely in your mouth

The second you take him fully—warm, wet heat swallowing his entire length—the world narrows to a single point of blinding sensation.

Geta chokes.

A raw, guttural sound tears from his throat, not quite a cry, not quite a moan. It's pure shock and pleasure colliding in one breathless gasp.

And this time? He doesn't hesitate.

His fingers tighten in your hair again, and this time… he pulls. Not hard. Not forceful. But with quiet encouragement: yes, please don’t stop.

The fullness is overwhelming—the way your lips stretch around him perfectly, the soft pressure as you adjust to taking all of it…

He whimpers again—a broken little noise

You could feel him on the edge of ecstasy, so you move your mouth a bit faster, your tongue applying the sligtest pressure on his tip.

The second your tongue flicks over his tip—tasting the salt-sweetness of precum, warm and sensitive as ever—the final thread of Geta’s control snaps.

A sharp, trembling cry escapes him.

No warning.No buildup to speak of.

Just pure, overwhelming release triggered by that one perfect lick—a soft, intimate gesture meant to push him right over the edge. And it does.

His back arches fully off the bed. Hands clench in your hair—not pulling away but holding on like a lifeline Every muscle locks for a heartbeat… then two…

With a shuddering gasp and muffled moan into his own clenched teeth… Geta comes

You swallow his cum as you keep moving a bit before slowly down, until you fully stop “Are you okay..?” You ask

He nods, small, dazed. He's stil coming down from his orgasm, unable to speak as he bliks up at the sky, still floating.

You smile as you slide your head back in the open, sitting next to him, holding him

“How do you feel baby..? Did I make you feel good?” You ask, resting your head on his chest.

Geta exhales slowly as you settle beside him, your head resting on his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing is still a little uneven but softening now, calming with each passing second. Your warmth against him feels like home.

He wraps an arm around you—tight, but not possessive. Protective.

For a moment, he just holds the silence… then lifts his free hand to stroke your hair: slow sweeps from roots to ends.

"…Yeah," he murmurs finally. "So good."