#pap21

Look at what I just found in storage! ♡♡♡♡ (Don't mind my ugly ass print recliner cover. It is the most comfortable chair in the world, never said it had to be pretty too.)

NSFW

A scene from Chapter 21 of PAP, I may be oversharing. Setting the scene: Solo and Duo were attacked, and are recovering in the infirmary. Solo is far off than he appears, Duo is exactly as bad as he appears. Solo plays into Duo's sympathy, but it winds up causing more issues than if he had left it all alone.

Oh, also I think this is the first WIP I've posted with Solo speaking. In the story I've written him with an accent. I've gone back and forth whether or not I want to have that accent be featured, because some people may find it difficult to read. It's best to be read phonetically. I guess this is still up in the air. Opinions would be appreciated if anyone wants to throw them my way XD

As a side note.... Solo is left handed, which I personally think makes this scenario hilarious. When it's published, I do wonder how many people will pick up on it though!

Also, cliff hanger alert. This is the end of Chapter 21, and there are no further words after the last one. Anyone who reads it will hate me if they enjoy the story, but it had to end here. Chapter 22 starts a time jump, but refocuses on the events so the reader can understand what happened. XD

Per usual. This is unedited. Raw garbage. Enjoy! XD

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“How bad is it?” I asked, the memories of people’s words in my darkness flooding back.

He shrugged one shoulder before flashing me a wicked grin. “Ima be aight.” I rolled my eyes, about to argue how he had failed to answer my question, but he spoke, abruptly stopping my train of thought. “I'm horny as fuck.”

My jaw dropped and his grin widened, his eyes lighting with mischief. “Ya wanna help wit dat?”

“Now is probably not the best time with our injuries.” I allowed voice of reason to speak through my mouth, even as visions of us being intimate flooded my mind and hardened my dick.

“Please babe?” He said with the most adorable pout. “My arm broken. I can't even jerk off.” He slightly lifted the offending arm, bringing the sling to my attention.

I swallowed and licked my suddenly dry lips, which only brought a triumphant smile to his own.

“Ya can suck my cock if ya worried 'bout hurtin' me.” He offered, only after my hesitation, with a feral grin that had caused a shiver to slide up my spine.

I looked his body up and down, allowing my brain to battle with itself about what a horrible idea it was, but how badly I wanted to. To ease his pain, ease his erection, which was now very visible under the blanket that covered him. To give him happiness in the moment. To be a good boyfriend. I fought myself to not bite my lip worse than I had in months, as my brain supplied me with the only thing that would guarantee my compliance to his request. If I told him no, he would cheat on me again. The memory shot a pain to my heart, but a decision to my brain.

I released his hand to pull the blanket off his chest and down past his feet. The fabric draped on the floor and I clumsily climbed the bottom of the bed. When my fingers pulled his sweatpants down, he released a contented sigh.

I worked him as fast as I could, skipping any foreplay and teasing. I swallowed him whole in one fell swoop and quickly plunged my mouth up and down his dick.

“Ah fuck.” He moaned loudly, the sound catching me off guard as he had never been loud in bed before.

His left hand, unhindered by a sling, made its way to my head, at first gently following my motions, but slowly, as his moans increased in frequency and volume, he began putting more pressure on my head. His hand guiding my speed, deepness and ferocity.

My dick was painfully hard, but I couldn't bring myself to touch it. My lungs burned like they were on fire, and the pain it caused only made the idea of jerking myself off seem one thousand times worse than dealing with the throbbing erection.

“Fuck.” Solo whined, shifting his hips slightly. “Duo.” His head pushed back, his mouth open with heavy pants. His fingers tangled into my hair, grasping and pulling upwards. “Babe.” He warned desperately, but it hadn't been the first time I swallowed his seed, and it wasn't the last either.

He came in my mouth, the saltiness burned down my throat. When I dropped his softening member from my mouth he grunted, the pained sound instantly brought my attention to his face. His brow was furrowed, his eyes tightly squeezed shut, and a deep setted frown scattered his lips.

I crawled over his body hesitantly, cupping his face as I straddled his thigh. “What's wrong?” I asked, trying to be gentle but finding myself frantic with turmoil.

He groaned, pushing me back with his left hand before cupping his abdomen with a hiss.

“What's happening?” I begged, hovering over his hand with my own as they shook with fear.

“I think it got ripped open.” He said through gritted teeth.

I frowned, my breath suddenly coming out loudly in sharp and painful intakes.

“Le’me see.” I said through my own pain, gently touching his fingers. It was as if that touch had blossomed a flow of red from beneath his hand. I watched in horror as it slowly spread around his palm, pulling the fabric to suction against his skin. “Fuck.” I said with fear, not recognizing my own voice. “What do I do?” I shot my gaze to his face, scrunched in pain, pleading silently for an answer.

He groaned again, frowning deeply. “Get somethin’.” He said, but I couldn't be sure what he was talking about. I let a whine escape my lips, feeling my body shake with fear and the unknowing of what to do. “Somethin’ sterile.” He offered, his breath coming out in a hitched escape as the pain throbbed through him.

Tears fell from my eyes. “Solo, please.” I begged with a broken voice. “Tell me what to get you. I don't understand.”

“Towel.” He ground out through gritted teeth.

I jumped off the bed quickly, misjudging the strength of my legs and crashing onto the floor. It was my luck. It was something I would do. Something that would only cause him more pain. It was my fault he was in the situation he had been already, and as my hand grabbed his pants, trying to stop myself from falling, I only made things worse by pulling him down with me.

I sobbed. Uncontrollably. I begged him to forgive me as I felt the blood pour from his wound onto my clothing. It was warm, thick, suffocating against my skin, and sticky.

He had cried out in pain from the impact, but I barely registered the noise over my sobs. As if the scenario had occurred in slow motion, my tears had come before he had even hit the floor. My brain had processed the situation before it had even finished happening.

He was breathing heavily above me, his head tucked into my collar bone, our bodies parallel with one another.

“Solo….” He remained quiet, and a calmness fell over me. The tears still fell of their own volition, but I could breath, the searing pain in my ribs and lungs bringing my senses back to me. “I need to help you.”

His whine in response broke my heart, a shattering sound that found me on the verge of losing myself again.

“I need you to get off me.” I said, my voice calm and steady, even though the core of my being felt on the verge of exploding.

I heard and felt his shakey breath against me before he rolled over with a sigh.

I got up instantly on shaking legs, using the bed to hold myself up. I didn't dare look to him, or my own shirt, petrified I would lose this sudden cool that had overcame me. Instead I moved as quickly as possible to the nurse’s station. I rifled through cabinets, finding gauze but no towels. It took me no more than one second to decide it would have to do, before I turned and returned to him.

His chest was heaving quickly, almost violently, blood pooling beneath him. “Fuck.” Escaped my lips in a rasp as that calmness began to flee my being. I fell to my knees, not bothering to focus on the pain they endured when they crashed into the hard linoleum.

I lifted his shirt, the fabric pulling at the wound. It was deep and gushed blood in time with his heart beat. I could see the strands of skin, and the remains of stitches where the wound had been reopened by my ministrations. A sob escaped my lips.

His head lolled to the side and another sob, this one greater and more pathetic than the last, left my throat. His breathing was shallow, and I wasn't sure what to do at this point. Fear took hold of my entire body. This was it. He was going to die. I couldn't bear this.

“Help!” I screamed, the noise a blood curdling screech. “Help!” I continued in vain, my tears blinding the vision of Solo’s lifeless form in front of me.

4,685 words and Chapter 21 of PAP is completed (also, PAP was officially over 100k words as of Chapter 20!)

I'm having a really good day. Got an amazing present from my employees today as a manager appreciation, and I love them all dearly for this. I got some writing done, finished a chapter of PAP, and even wrote a summary for my Sheith fic, which will not be written (or maybe will be because I swear this muse is incorrigible) until PAP is finished.

With that being said, PAP21 did not travel as far in the storyline as I had intended.... soooooo.... I'm thinking maybe more like 27 chapters. XD It's like every time I write a chapter I keep making the story longer. I think I'll be happy if it's a maximum of 30 chapters, and even happier if it's below 30.

So for some odd reason, these pain meds woke me right up, and woke my creativity up as well. So.... it's currently 10:30pm. A little early to be sleeping for me, and I am not going to work until 1pm tomorrow so staying up late shouldn't affect my injuries... maybe? So after spending literally the entire day re-watching VLD season 6 and writing a 5.6k thesis, I think it's time I get to work on PAP21 again. I mean. The energy is there. The writing flow is there. The muses are awake... so why am I on here, trying to find something to procrastinate with?