𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂🪐

The afternoon sun dimmed by the winter time filtered through the blinds, casting stripes of cool, golden light across the floor, and you were halfway through the fog of fatigue that always seemed to settle over you like a heavy blanket, no matter how much you slept. Boredom only made it worse, but when your aunt suddenly ran tests on a silicone doll, it seemed like today would be a bit more interesting than usual.

You watched her sit in the examination room next door, scribbling something into a notebook while the doll laid on the recliner to rest.

She had told you about a young man named Lars, who's girlfriend was a doll he believed to be a real girl because of a delusion. If you ever met him, you were supposed to play along. No problem, you had encountered weirder things in the hospitals and doctors offices that might as well be your second home by now.

So when the door opened and a timid, soft voice kissed your ears, you instinctively sat up straighter.

"I just couldn't wait any longer. I wanted to see how she was doing" you heard him speak, guessing that this was the young man you heard so much about. You couldn't see him yet from where he was sitting, but you saw your aunt Dagmar turn to the door "Well, after the treatment, she has to rest. It doesn't work without the resting." she explained to him gently.

Before he could turn to leave with his head held low, Dagmar stopped him "Lars, keep me company" she said and gestured to the adjacent room. The silence stretched until a man appeared in your aunts office, unsure if he was even supposed to be in this space.

He awkwardly fiddled with his fingers before removing his gloves and stuffing them into the pockets of his thick jacket, which he put up on a clothing hanger alongside his navy blue hat. Only then did you truly see his face. He was cute with his rounded face and his cheeks like red apples from the cold, his mouth pulled into a tight line beneath his mustache.

It didn’t seem like he had noticed you sitting in the other corner, too caught up in blinking harshly and wrestling with his hands. He had very...big hands.

Your aunt went to lean against her desk, fishing out a PB&J sandwhich you had made her this morning, biting into it while asking Lars a few questions, her voice taking on that probing but soft tone she used when she was trying to dig deeper than the surface without the patient noticing. It seemed to be working on Lars, you noted as you watched over the top of your book, keeping quiet in your dark corner.

After a few mundane questions that took Lars a few moments to asnwer, you brought your attention back to the medical journal, listening with only one ear.

"So tell me about Karin. I don't know her very well." Dagmar said, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she took her next bite. You had no idea who Karin was, but she seemed to be a close relative for Lars, one which he described as wonderful.

"But she...I'm worried about her." he finally pressed out after mulling over it for a bit, not knowing if he was even allowed to voice his concerns like this. Dagmar looked up, waiting for him to continue.

He shook his head a little "I think she has a little problem. It's just...and I think it's cause she's insecure- but she's just always trying to hug everybody." he explained with a shocked expression. It was adorable, honestly. And relatable, in a way. You also weren't in the mood to be hugged in certain situations, by certain people.

"You know, some people don't like that. Some people don't like to be hugged." he stated firmly, and it sounded like he had his fair share of bad experiences through involuntary hugging. "But she doesn't realize that, she takes it personally and thinks...you know, it hurts her feelings. I don't know what to do about that. Do you?" he sighed as he was finally done rambling, looking to Dagmar for help, as if she could will Karin to stop this with her mind alone.

Your aunt shrugged softly "But it's such a comfort sometimes just to have somebody's arms around you. Don't you think?" she muttered between chewing on her bread. Lars instantly went to shake his head, his eyes growing wide "No" as if the possibility of a hug feeling nice was the most perverse thing he had ever heard.

Dagmar waved her hand dismissively "Come on, it feels good"

Lars couldn’t stop shaking his head as if this whole thing was absurd "It does not feel good, it hurts." when he said that, you perked up, watching him more closely. Some kind of touch aversion perhaps? Or was it smiliar to your own illness...?

"Excuse me for a moment, Lars. I'll be right back" Dagmar said, put some keys into her pocket and exited her office. There was probably already an idea brewing in her head on how to help Lars, she just had to gather the right equipment for tests.

Lars seemed to deflate as she left, feeling even more out of place in this room.

You closed your book a little louder than intended and Lars practically jumped up, finally noticing that you were in the room, too. He looked horrified, to say the least.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you" you apologized kindly, shifting forward in the armchair until your feet touched the ground. Lars looked at you like you were a creature out of this world "How...how long have you been there?" he asked in almost a whisper, wrestling with his hands, his head turning to the door every few seconds as if Dagmar would come to save him.

You smiled softly at that "Haven't left this seat all morning" you yawned, finally standing up to stretch your legs out. You were wearing shorts that ended above your knees, not because it was so warm in Dagmars office, but for practical reasons. Lars eyes followed you as you walked over to a bag on Dagmars desk, pulling out a disinfectant spray and a white box containing a pen.

"So, when you say touch hurts...is it like a bruise? Burning, maybe needle pricks?" you turned back to him, leaning against the desk and pulling up the hem of your right pant leg, just a few inches, enough to bare the meat of your upper thigh. Lars' gaze dropped immediately, his cheeks flushing a deep, painful looking pink in embarrassement, like he was forbidden to see this much skin.

It took him a moment to answer you, carefully watching you spray your thigh with the disinfectant, waving your hand to make it dry quicker. "Like a burn" he nodded, eyes trying to stay glued to the floor, but eventually giving in to watch what you were doing. "Like when you go outside and you feet freeze and then you come back in and they thaw out? It's like that. It's almost exactly like that."

You nodded slowly, letting his description settle into your understanding as you twisted off the cap of the pen, throwing it into the bin near you. “That's awful. I know how that feels like. My feet like to burn like this when they are nice and warm and I'm ready for bed so I can't sleep" you giggled, joking about it as if this didn't bring you to tears late at night when all you wanted was to fall asleep. "And when my skin goes numb, I can't feel warmth or coldness. It just stings when I touch it" you muttered, holding the pen near the light and squinting at it to make sure the liquid in the little vile inside was clear and not cloudy or any other weird colour, before positioning the pen on your thigh.

Your words clearly sat deep in Lars' chest, and his brows furrowed in thought. "What are you doing?" he asked then, unsure if it was even appropriate to ask that.

You looked up at him "Oh, uhm, that's my medication. I'm chronically ill, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis when I was 17. I gotta take this monthly"

Click

That was the only sound as you pushed the pen firmly against your side, the needle puncturing your skin, your medication being disposed into your thigh. You didn’t flinch. You held his eyes the entire time, smiling gently at his sad expression, as if to tell him he didn't have to feel bad about it. "I hate needles, but I think the alternative is worse" you shrugged.

Click

The second click told you that the dose had been delivered, and you withdrew the pen, a tiny bead of blood welling up on your thigh. You wiped it away with a cotton pad and disposed the empty pen in the bin.

Lars made a small, choked sound and his hand twitched on his knee as if he wanted to comfort you, but didn't know how. Not that he would have mustered up the courage for it anyway.

“It’s okay” you whispered, and you saw the tears gathering in his eyes. "I've been doing this since I'm 18. I'm used to it, honestly". All you got was a tight smile and a harsh blink from him, nodding to you. Right, you got used to the pain to not make anyone uncomfortable around you, even if it meant you had to be uncomfortable yourself. That's what he had done over the years, too.

You didn't know that this moment would turn your life around, in a positive way, a beautiful friendship blooming between you. You understood each other without uttering a single word. It started with you understanding his pain because you lived with your own, and with him seeing that understanding in your eyes and believing it.

☆

Weeks turned into months, and you found reasons to be at the clinic when Dagmar told you Lars had an appointment, even though you really didn't have to be there.

But Bianca was always there, of course she was, she was the one getting treated after all, sitting patient and beautiful in her wheelchair, and Lars would wheel her into the examination room with such tenderness, such care, that it made your chest ache. He was very devoted to Bianca, which was beautiful, but sometimes you wished he'd look at you that way. Though you noticed his eyes found you across the waiting room more frequently, and you even started to meet at his place, then yours.

More and more, he lingered after Bianca’s treatment was done, finding excuses to stay and to talk to you, even with Dagmar probing him with questions of her own in the meantime.

On your bad days, when the fatigue pressed down on you like a physical weight and your legs felt like they were made of concrete, Lars would come over to your apartment and just be. He would sit on your couch, hands folded in his lap, and talk to you in that soft, halting voice about the weather, about the baby that was on the way for his brother, about the wood he chopped and that you should watch him once you felt better, he was pretty good at it.

He never demanded anything from you on those days, not that he was demanding by nature anyway. He never asked you to get up, to do anything, to be anything other than what you were in that moment. He brought you tea and set it on the coffee table within your reach, and he stayed until the sun went down. And when he couldn't because of work, he left Bianca with you to keep you company.

And on your good days, you respected his prefered distance as well, though you were prone to test his boundaries from time time with gentle and patient persistence. Just like he was gentle and patient with you. You'd brush your fingers against his when you handed him something, your shoulders barely pressed to his on the couch while you watched a movie. Each time you watched him tense, watched him breathe through it, to eventually watching him stay with you touching him instead of pulling away.

You wouldn't forget the first time he actually held your hand on his own accord without you asking or making him do it.

Dagmar had called you in to get your blood drawn, and while you had done this a million times already, it still made you squeamish. You sat upright in your chair, grimacing as the tourniquet was pulled tight around your biceps, feeling your heartbeat down the veins of your arm. You looked away when Dagmar tapped and pushed at your veins to find a good one, nearly flinching as she sprayed the cool infectant onto your skin.

And Lars, who had accompanied you because you had asked him to, reached out and took your hand in his.

His palm was warm and sweaty, his grip uncertain. His fingers trembled against yours. But he held on, and he squeezed when the needle went in. You were so shocked he actually held your hand that you barely felt the prick, only looking over at Lars so you didn't have to see the needle stuck in your arm nor the vials in Dagmars hands filling up with your blood. Instead you could admire his beautiful blue eyes, even though he couldn't bear to look at you more than five seconds at a time.

When it was over he didn’t let go immediately. He held your hand for an extra ten seconds, his eyes fixed on the floor, as if ashamed he had done this without asking first. It had been a long time since someone held your hand or comforted you while getting your blood drawn. You were mostly just ridiculed by most nurses or doctors, telling you that you were an adult and there were way worse things than this and you shouldn’t act so childish- just a few seconds before you passed out in their chair because they wouldn't listen to your fears.

“Thank you” you said truthfully, sighing in relief as Dagmar loosened the tourniquet around your arm, and Lars helped to press a cotton swap where you had been pricked with the needle, while your aunt searched for a band aid.

“It didn’t burn” he whispered then, the excitement evident in his expression as he gave you one of his cute smiles that you loved. You mimicked it. “Your hand, it didn’t burn” he muttered it as if he couldn't quite believe it. Only Biancas touch had been fine for him until now, but yours was strangely pleasent as well.

From then on, touch became more frequent. A hand on his arm. Your head resting on his shoulder. Your fingers laced through his as you walked through the park, slow and careful because your legs got tired and his world had been turned upside down by a woman who wasn’t quite real and a woman who was.

Dagmar told you, during one of your own check ups, that Lars had spoken to her privately. That he had said that he didn’t feel uncomfortable when he touched you. That he wanted to touch you. That he was afraid of the wanting, afraid of how much he craved it.

“He’s in love with you" your aunt said, and you had to look away to hide the tears pricking at your eyes, especially when she looked at you with that knowing smile.

You shook your head "He has Bianca. He could never cheat on Bianca or leave her behind like that, and I-" you started to ramble, but Dagmar put a warm hand to your shoulder "I think he's starting to not need Bianca anymore, because he has you. You just need to give him another gentle push"

You didn't know if you could believe her, but god did you want to.

☆

Not long after, you had to attend Biancas funeral. You sat with Lars through the whole thing, holding his hand, gently shushing his cries. You tried your best to comfort him without overwhelming him with too much touch at once.

The weeks blurred together after that, and the small, quiet town seemed even quieter than usual.

No one spoke to Lars about Bianca, only looked at him with pity in their faces, though he didn't feel sorry for himself. He didn't want to, he just wanted everyone to treat him like a normal person. Like there wasn't anything special about him just because his girlfriend died. He didn't even know if he could call her that now- it was like he had been awoken from a dream now, his brain still foggy, though you knew Bianca would always hold a special place in his heart, and you loved that for him.

Still, you didn't want to leave him alone just yet, so you asked him to stay over at your place for a few days- or as long as he liked.

You woke up when Lars had already wen't to work. It felt weirdly domestic, like you were a wife waiting for her husband to return from work to love on him. You smiled to yourself at that, shaking your head.

You didn't know what this was between you and Lars, you hadn't put a name to it other than friendship, but asking the townsfolk they'd scream in your faces that you were anything but just friends. You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your mind. He had just lost his girlfriend recently, he couldn't possibly jump into the next relationship right away. Lars wasn't like that.

As long as your energy let you, you tackled the mess in your apartment after letting clothes and dishes pile up through attacks of fatigue and depression, cleaning everything as best as you could.

It wasn't perfect, but at least you had done something productive today, which automatically made you feel better. You hummed proudly in your kitchen, stirring the hearty tomato sauce after adding the seared and juicy meatballs you had prepared before. You graded fresh parmesan into the rich sauce and broke some basil leaves over the pot.

As the pasta boiled and the garlic bread roasted in the oven, you already went to set the dinner table for Lars' return. Wow, okay, yeah this does look...a bit too romantic, maybe. But you wouldn't back out now.

You passed your calendar as you went to the fridge to retrieve some chilled wine, your eyes falling onto todays date, which was circled red. Oh, right. Your medication.

As you got the bottle of wine out, you searched the fridge for your medication pen and to your shook- you found none. Shit! You thought you still had one left! You went to look at the clock, realising that the only pharmacy in town had already closed down thirty minutes ago.

You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Now you could only hope your aunt was still in her office and still had some pens for you in the supply closet, though you really hadn't planned to go out today at all. With a heavy sigh, you changed your pyjama pants for actual pants and were just about to throw your jacket over your shoulders and get the car keys hanging near the door, when there sounded a knock.

Lars stood on your doorstep in his cute, thick jacket, baby blue blanket and warm hat that framed his rounded face so adorably, snowflakes melting on his mustache.

"Oh, hi Lars! You're here early..." you muttered, brushing a strand of hair over your ear "I made spaghetti with meatballs, you can already eat if you want. I gotta ask my aunt if she has my medication ready-" you said and already went to brush past him, but he held a white plastic bag into your face.

He blinked harshly before he spoke "I have your medication" he stated simply, waiting for you to take the bag from him. When it took too long, he practically shoved it into your hands. As you peeked inside, there were three boxes, three months worth of your medication.

He swung his hands by his sides, rocking a little back and forth on his heel. "How did you know?" you breathed, an unbelieving smile stretching across your lips. "You said you had to take it today a few days ago, and I saw it in your calendar" he explained, looking down to his feet "I saw you ran out this morning, so I asked Dagmar if she could give me some for you so you wouldn't have to go out today"

You stood there in your doorway, the bag cradled in your arms, and you looked at this man- this shy, awkward and beautiful man who had been so terrified of growning closer to you at the start, now remembering your schedule and getting your medication so you didn't have to leave the house when you already felt tired. You felt something crack open inside you.

“Lars” you breathed, and your voice came out thick and wet, and you couldn't hide your smile.

He was fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes darting everywhere except your face. "Thank you so much, that means more than you know" you confess, and wrap your hands around his gloved ones to pull him into the warmth of your apartment.

You set the bag down on the entry table, fishing out one long package “Will you help me inject it?” you asked softly, not knowing why you did it. You hadn't even thought of an excuse as to why you couldn't do it yourself, but maybe you also didn't want to excuse it. You just wanted him to do it.

His eyes flew open and he shook his head as he took his knitted hat off “I, no, I can't...I’ve never, what if I do it wrong? I don't want to hurt you" he muttered while hanging his thick jacket away, which only did so much to make him appear less cuddly, the remaining layers of his button up and sweater making him look so warm and home-y.

“You won’t” you assured him, taking the pen out of it's case “I’ll talk you through it. I trust you, Lars.”

It took him three minutes of mulling over it to agree. Ever since knowing you, he learned a lot more about the chronic disease that you had. His boss even caught him at work browsing through internet forums to understand the illness better instead of asnwering emails. He was aware how cruel it could be and he didn't want to cause you any more harm. But he also didn't want you to get even sicker.

You led him into your living room, sat down on the couch with him, and pulled off your pants all the way. He reacted the same way all these months ago seeing your thigh the first time after you met. How adorable.

You prepped your leg with the disinfectant and gave him the pen, pushing your knee between his legs. It felt like the startest thing to do accecable wise, but Lars blushed at the contact. But you didn't let him dwell on it.

“Just twist it open" you instructed, twisting your own hands in front of you to show him how it was done. He did so quickly, looking up at you for the next step. "Very good! Now we gotta check the medication. Is it cloudy?" you asked then and he squinted at the small window in the pen, shaking his head no. "Are there clumps inside?" another headshake. "Is it blue, green, yellow or another fun colour?" okay, now you were messing with him, he could tell by your teasing smile. He couldn't help but mimick you, but still shaking his head.

"That's great! If that was ever the case, we gotta throw that pen right out" you explained, and his expression locked in as he nodded firmly, as if he had saved this information under very, VERY important in his brain.

You giggled "Okay, then it's time for the real fun. Just put the pen against my thigh"

When his hand hovered over your leg, unsure, you wrapped your fingers around his trembling ones and guided him where he needed to be. You could feel his shaking through the pen pressed gently against your skin. "Very good. Now you just press it in harder to inject it" you explained with a little shrug, your hand staying on his wirst to comfort him.

God, his hand was shaking so hard you thought he might drop it entirely. He leaned closer to carefully eye what he was doing. "Uhm...ready?" he asked, looking up to you with those large, round and earnest eyes. You just nodded, wishing to replay this moment in your head all over again. He was just so pretty.

He inhaled deeply before following your instructions, pressing the pen harder to your thigh, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Click

You felt the familiar sting, the deep ache of the needle penetrating muscle as the pressure burned uncomfortably down your leg. You didn't flinch or make a sound other than praising Lars for being so gentle with you. And when the next click sounded, you breathed out the pain you had ignored, prevented him from pulling away too quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he apologized quickly as he noticed the discomfort you had hidden during the injection, his hand covering the small, bleeding spot on your thigh with his hand as if he had caused a large wound. To stop his ramblinv, you reached forward and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was gentle and soft, your lips barely brushing his. He made a startled noise against your mouth, his hands frozen in midair, the used pen dangling from his fingers.

“You did so good” you whispered against his lips. “It barely hurt, really. You were so careful, Lars. Thank you so much for helping me"

When you pulled back, you first saw Lars being a blushy mess and averting your eyes. Then your gaze trailed lover and you saw the unmistakable and obvious tent in his trousers, just barely brushing your exposed knee. When he was sure you saw it, his eyes watered and he covered his face with his hands, whimpering softly. Your praise clearly had a very strong effect on him.

You gently pried his hands away from his cheeks “Do you want me to help you?” you whispered, and the question hung in the air between you, delicate and fragile and charged with possibility. You waited, not wanting Lars to think you were just playing with him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to embarass him like this. But deep down he knew you would never do that. That's what he loved about you.

Yeah, he loved you.

He nodded then, a small and jerky motion wgile blinking rapidly and harshly. You took his hand and led him to your bedroom.

You guided him down onto the edge of your bed, your hands moving slow and deliberate, never rushing or pushing his limits without asking. You unbuckled his belt with the same careful attention he had  shown you moments ago and drew his pants down his hips with a reverence that made him shiver.

After a lot of coaxing and praising, he even shrugged off his sweater to be left in a thin but long armed shirt as the heat became too much, and he allowed you to push down his briefs.

His cock sprang free, hard and flushed and fucking big, and Lars couldn’t look at you. His eyes were fixed somewhere on the ceiling, his hands fisted in the sheets, his breath coming in shallow and ragged bursts. You on the other hand just couldn't look away. He was...bigger than average and obviously not aware of it in the slightest. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you already knew you'd feel him all the way in your throat if you even got that far today.

“Look at me,” you said softly, and when his gaze finally dropped to yours, you leaned over his weeping cock and spat on it, and the gesture almost killed him. You then wrapped your hand around his length, slick with his precum and spit. He gasped, his body bowing off the bed. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you watched the way his pupils dilated into round pools of black, his mouth falling open.

You stroked him slowly, your thumb circling his head, your grip firm but gentle. You didn't want to overwhelm him, but that was easier said than done. The glide over his dick was easy, and each pass of your hand drew a soft, broken sound from his throat. “You’re so good for me” you murmured, watching his fucked out expression, even though you had barely done anything to him yet “You're so beautiful like this, Lars. God, you're always so pretty. I've dreamed of this" you sighed, your other hand coming up to ghost over his flushed cheek.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to do” he confessed, his voice cracking in a hiccup. You cooed softly at him, corkscrewing your hand every time you reached his tip. He cried out, the air punched from his lungs. “You don’t have to do anything” you assured, your hand rubbing up and down his tensed thigh “Just let me take care of you.”

It didn’t take long for him to burst, not with the way you were stroking him relentlessly. He was so pent up, so starved for touch and connection that he couldn't hold back and you must have been uch a pro at what you were doing because it felt so damn good. So good that he couldn't even feel selfconcious about his severe lack of experience next to yours, though you just liked reading spicy romance books and you used that fact to your advantage.

His hips started thrusting into your fist, his breath coming in desperate little pants, and you watched his face contort with pleasure that almost looked painful. "I'm-! I think I'm...mhmm!”

“Cum for me” you whispered, and he did so instantly with a broken cry that sounded like your name. Hot stripes of cum painted his belly where his shirt had ridden up from his thrashing, and you stroked him through it, genty bringing him back down to earth with murmured praise.

He laid there, his chest heaving and staring up at you with an expression of dazed wonder. With newly found courage, he sat up to push you down against the bed, though it was anything but forceful and demanding.

“I want to...c-can I...taste you?” he asked timidly, the shyness was still there, but layered over it was something new. Something hungry you had just awoken “Please. I want to make you feel good too.” he whispered, his eyes clenching shut in fear of rejection.

You nodded quickly and eagerly, settling down against the pillows with gidiness rising up in you chest.

He slipped down your body and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, then another, moving higher inch by agonizing inch. When he reached the spot where he had injected the medication, he paused. It was very small, just a red dot with light bruising forming around it, but his chest squeezed anyway. He pressed his lips to the tiny puncture wound, kissing it like an apology.

“I’m sorry you have to do this” he muttered against your skin, his mustache scratchy. “I’m sorry you’re sick. I wish you didn’t have to hurt all the time”

You smiled down at him, brushing your hand through his thick hair “You make it better,” you whispered, and you meant it with your whole heart. He took his time then. Not only because he was insecure about his technique, but also because you deserved to be taken care of throughouly.

Lars kissed your thighs until you were squirming, until you were gripping his hair and pleading, and when he finally pushed your panties down and connected his mouth to your pussy, you cried out.

He licked you like he was worshiping an altar in the local church, slow and deep and deliberate, listening to every sound you made. He hoped your lustful moans meant he was doing good, as he had no idea what the hell he was doing, but his eagerness made up for it.

He found your clit with an instinct that surprised you both, and he circled it with his tongue until your legs were shaking around his shoulders and you were arching off the bed and gasping his name. You tasted even better than he could have ever imagined, and your hands pulling his hair made him mewl pathetically into your pussy, slurping you up.

When you came, he drank it down like a man dying of thirst, and when he finally came up for air, his chin and mustache were slick and his eyes were bright like he had found his new favourite activity, his smile the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Was that okay?” he asked, and you laughed, tugged him up by the collar, kissing him with the taste of yourself on his lips. “More than okay” you smiled breathlessly.

Soon you had worked up your way into his lap, his cock standing proudly between your stomachs. You cursed under your breath as you saw just how much he'd fill you, guiding him to your entrance with trembling fingers. Luckily, Lars' hands were just as big, and a comforting weight on your hips.

He yelled into your neck as his swollen head slipped between your velvet like lips and you gasped at the stretch.

You circled your hips to take him deeper, one inch at a time, groaning through it "God Lars, you're so big!" you sighed, clinging to his broad shoulders. "Is that...a bad thing? Am I h-hurting you?" he whined, the unfamiliar tightness around him making his head spin.

You shook your head violently "No, no, fuck no, this is so good. You feel so good" you moaned, the air being punched out of your lungs when you bottomed out in his lap and the bumped into your cervix.

You both panted, clinging to each other with furrowed brows as you got used to the sensations. Lars forced his eyes to look at you, tears already gathering at the corners. “You’re so beautiful” he whispered in absolute awe “You’re so good to me" he almost sobbed, like he didn't deserve all this tenderness. You shushed him gently with a kiss, before you lifted yourself up before falling back down, rocking back and forth on his cock in a slow rhythm.

Lars buried his face in your neck, and you quickly felt your shoulder growing wet “You feel so good” he slurred against you, high and needy. You wrapped your hand around his neck to keep him there, kissing his ear to soothe him. 'F-faster, please"

You granted his wish, bouncing faster ans harder in his lap, to which you felt him throb heavily in your core, your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. He was hitting all the right spots, just his strong thumb was missing on your clit. Your hand found his and you guided him to the swollen nub, and he instantly knew what to do. He rubbed your clit in thight circles with the last bit of function he had left in his brain and you moaned right in his ear, making him shudder.

You began to tighten around me, which was what undid him in the end and you felt him swell inside you, the heat building. “I’m going to...cum!" he gasped, barely pressing out the word cum “I can’t hold it-”

You hugged yourself tightly to him, rocking yourself into the motions of his thumb “Cum with me, baby. Cum inside me” you gasped, your orgasm approaching fast “Fill me up, Lars. I want to be so full of you"

He came with your name on his lips, a broken, desperate sound that was equal parts pleasure and relief. His hips surged up to fill you deep, grinding against you as he spilled himself into you as your cunt fluttered around him. You held him through it, stroked his back, kissed his damp temple and whispered how good he was, how perfect he did for you, how much you loved him.

After you cleaned up, he laid curled against your side, his head resting on your chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. He was quiet for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I’ve never had this” he admitted “I’ve never had someone touch me and have it feel good. I’ve never wanted to be touched...until you. You're...you're not going to leave me, are you?"

His question sounded so small, so sad, your heart gave a tight squeeze in your chest.You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, burying your nose in his hair, breathing in the scent of him. “I'm not going to leave" you promised “I’m yours, Lars. For as long as you want me.”

He tilted his head up, his eyes meeting yours, and there was something raw and open in his gaze. Something that looked a lot like hope.

“For always” he whispered.

“I want you for always.”

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much @ken-dom for inspiring me to write for Lars! Please check out their work, it's amazing!

I really hope you guys liked it, even though the situation is very specific. Maybe some of you can relate, and if not- maybe you learned a bit more about multiple sclerosis and one possibility to treat it (yes i have to use such a pen every month!)