Sleepy -> Pure Ethan Fluff Here

Sleepy -> pure Ethan fluff here

Ethan’s best friend likes him more than she’ll admit, and he has a habit of sleeping on her.

Tara caught you the first time it happened.

You were at Ethan and Chad’s dorm, studying for your Econ exam with Tara, when you’d found yourself curled up against Ethan, head in his lap, dozing away from boredom.

“Look how cute.” Tara whispered to Chad, pointing her pen at the two of you. Ethan’s head had fallen back to rest against the wall, his eyes closed as the two of you slept.

The next time was at the Halloween party. This time it was Ethan, exhausted from the alcohol and the noise, that had sat next to you on the couch beside Anika and Mindy. And when his head had moved to lay against your shoulder, his breaths slowing as he found comfort in your presence, you’d had to shush Mindy so she wouldn’t wake him up with her loud gossiping.

Most recently, you’d been found by Chad, curled up together under the covers in Ethan’s bed, his arm slung over your waist as your head burrowed in the space between his neck and shoulder.

No one in your friend group understood why the two of you weren’t together. It made no sense—you were always attached at the hip and, whenever you hung out, you always inevitably seemed to be napping with one another. For Ethan, it was because he was constantly stressed, and with you he could relax, breathing in the scent of your perfume and running tentative hands over your soft skin. For you, it was…

Well, you weren’t entirely sure.

So when you began receiving messages from your friend’s shared group-chat you gave a wary glance to Ethan where he laid curled up in a ball beside you, his head in your lap.

Core Four

Chad: Alright Y/N, spill the tea. What’s going on w you and E?

Chad: That rhymed

Chad: lol

Y/N: nothings going on why?

Tara: surrrre

Tara: *image*

Tara: looks like a whole lot of ‘nothing’

Y/N: stopppp when did you take that??

Chad: what the HELLL 🔥🔥🔥

Y/N: Tara delete that pls

Tara: no I’m making it my lock screen 😏

Chad: I thought I was your lock screen

Mindy: As long as his Ghostface ass stays away from me I don’t care who he naps with. Next subject.

Chad: don’t be boring

Y/N: *left groupchat*

Tara: noooo

You sighed, turning off your phone and chucking it to the end of the bed before running your nails absentmindedly through Ethan’s curls. Truth was, you did like your friend. You just didn’t know how to tell him.

“Y/N.” Ethan grumbled, lifting his head a fraction as he blinked sleepily. “What’s going…on?”

“Hey, Sleepy.” You smiled down at him, then squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you under the covers next to him, his head moving to rest on your stomach. “E, what the—”

“Just go to sleep, please.” He grumbled, voice drowsy. “Need your…” he trailed off and your face flushed, but you made yourself comfortable, resting a hand against his head as you relaxed, your eyes slowly closing.

-

“Come on.” Tara was urging, watching as you did your makeup and ignored her. “Just get together all ready I’m sick of this.”

“He’s my friend, Tare.” You argued, raising a brow at her in the vanity mirror. “It’s not like that.”

“Really?” She asked, flouncing over. “Because I heard that Chad says he likes you.”

“Chad likes me?” You asked, confused, and Tara rolled her eyes.

“No dumbass. Ethan likes you.”

You blinked at her for a moment before shaking your head.

“I call bullshit.”

“What kind of friends nap together all the time?” She pushed, approaching to crouch on the floor beside you, crossing her arms and resting them on your legs. “I mean—come on. Come on. The boy can’t keep his hands off you.”

“That’s bull—” your phone rang and you both jumped. You reached out but Tara grabbed it first and you yelped, diving for the brunette as she giggled and ran, answering the call.

“Hey Sleepy.” She cooed, reading off Ethan’s contact name. She shot you a wink as your face burned. “What’s—” she paused. Then she looked at you, a curious expression on her face. “Yeah, yeah. She’s here, hold on.” Tara passed you the phone and you snatched it away, heartbeat quickening as you answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/N.” Ethan’s voice met your ear and you tensed. He sounded…sad? Distressed? “Can you come over? Please?”

“Why what happened?” You asked, already standing up. Screw it, you’d take your makeup wipes with you and remove your half-finished look. Tara was watching you, looking a bit worried, as she handed you your purse.

“I don’t know I just…can you just come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, E.” You said, listening to the phone click as you looked to Tara. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing he—he kind of sounded like…like he was crying or something. All he said was ‘Tara, give me Y/N please.’” She paused. “Is he okay, or—?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry for leaving. Dunkin in the morning?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

So you left, going to Ethan’s dorm as fast as you could. You knew Chad was out with Mindy and Anika, and assumed that that’s why Ethan had called. But why did he sound so…upset?

You used your spare key that Ethan had made you to enter, knocking first, then pushed inside. When you got to Ethan’s room you saw him sitting with his head in his hands, but he soon looked up at you. His expression was pained and you felt a stab of anxiety run through you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, setting your stuff down as you moved to him, sitting down beside your friend.

“I um..” he trailed off, looking at you then away. “this is embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” You said, reaching out to rub his back. “Tell me what happened.” Baby. You’d almost called him baby at the end of that sentence. You were insanely glad that you hadn’t.

“I have night terrors.” He said after a weighted pause, his eyes shifting to yours. “I cant sleep sometimes. When I’m alone I—I just…I just toss and turn. Everything freaks me out I don’t like to be alone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Night terrors? About what?”

“Well,” his face turned a shade of pink and he looked away. “well I was trying to go to bed and then I saw you and—” he paused, breath hitching, and you felt your chest tighten. “It’s fine. You’re here now, right? You’re fine.” He seemed to be trying to convince himself, his eyes darting across your face like he wasn’t sure this was real, and something in you cracked.

“Is that why you’re always so tired with me?” You asked, frowning. “Because you cant sleep alone?”

“No.” He said, and you stared at him in confusion, but he cut you off before you could speak. “I sleep with you because I feel…safe with you.” He seemed embarrassed again and glanced down at his hands. “I don’t feel comfortable with anyone else. Not like—not like you..” he sighed and blinked up at the ceiling, seeming to fight back a wince. “Im totally weirding you out right now, aren’t I.”

You watched him for a moment, contemplative, before you kicked off your shoes. He could only stare as you moved to the opposite side of his bed and shoved your shorts off, left in a huge t-shirt curtesy of Ethan himself.

“It’s not weird.” You said, slipping under the covers, and smacked the mattress next to you. He still stared, and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, E. Get in the bed.”

A hesitant laugh left him as he did so, climbing in beside you. It was muscle memory, at this point: your head on his chest, his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You felt his soft breaths on your hair as you settled, adjusting into the familiarity of his body as you rested.

“You know I care about you, right?” Ethan asked into the darkness, his thumb brushing soft strokes against your waist. “Like..more than anyone.”

You smiled against him.

“Are you saying you have a crush on me, Sleepy?” You teased, and he startled you by instantly saying, “Yeah”.

You sat up a bit, looking at him, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks had gone red. You brushed his hair away from his forehead and ran your fingers across his cheek, your head tilting.

“Then do something about it.” You whispered, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, before he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to yours.

-

Core Four

Chad: Y/N?

Chad: Y/N I know you’re getting these messages. I added you back to the groupchat a week ago.

Y/N: what do you want

Chad: my BOY over here says he’s going to his GIRLFRIENDS HOUSE TO WATCH A MOVIE

Chad: WHICH?? GIRLFRIEND???

Tara: WHAT

Mindy: Ew.

Y/N: he has a girlfriend?

Chad: …

Chad: it’s not you??? he just left the house like an hour ago

Y/N: why would you think it’s me??

Chad: BECAUSE

Tara: nooo my fave ship

Mindy: Thank God.

Y/N: *image*

Y/N: idk what movie he was planning on watching because this man is out like a fuckin light

Tara: AHHHHHHHHHHHJOANASKNKSN

Chad: WHAT THE HEEEEEELLLLLL🔥🔥🔥🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Mindy: I hate you all.

NO, SOAP CAT KEVIN!! 💔💔

I could never physically describe how much I love this story, I beg of you please read it 🥹🤭

prologue

You’ve never been inside the famous club, The 141.

i. it's a new day, it's a new life

This isn’t where you expected to end up—stuck in some rundown motel with nothing but the clothes on your back.

ii. a collection of strangers (a series of secrets)

You can only describe them the same way you can the rest of the club’s workers—stunning.

iii. no proof except my silver tongue

You’ve never been to this side of town at night.

iv. the night was young (and so were we)

Surveying the competition turns out to be code for going on a club crawl and getting obscenely drunk.

v. she works hard for the money (so you better treat her right)

You don’t know what to expect from shopping with Valeria.

vi. would you give the devil this dance

You can’t let yourself be haunted by your past forever, and, unsure as you are, you know one thing to be true: You’ve never felt safer than you do around him.

vii. wise men say, only fools rush in

In the following weeks, you learn one very important thing: John Price is a relentless flirt.

viii. but i can't help failing in love with you

You don’t know how you feel as you kiss him. It’s a combination of emotions you haven’t felt in so long: relief, desire, comfort, joy. They all swirl together into the one emotion you’ve been chasing since your wedding. Safe.

ix. the rumor burned straight through the town (and as it grew, so did her vow)

Kyle doesn’t think much of you the day you first walk into the club.

x. everybody thought the truth had been caught (her reputation began to drown)

You haven’t looked at your wedding photo in years.

xi. screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing

Everything you’ve experienced in the past four months pales in comparison to how your heart shatters at this moment.

xii. it won't cost you much (just a single drop of blood)

Who knew rock bottom looked like standing before a wall of mirrors in a bespoke wedding gown?

xiii. little girl gone

You’re shocked into consciousness, startling awake in a pile of plush blankets and cloud-soft pillows.

xiv. nothing makes me weak now (you better run for your life)

The news of Price’s arrest—of your alleged murder—sends you into a state of shock.

xv. oh i know what that evil done (redemption ain't coming around no more)

To the fanfiction readers, the late night scrollers, the ones who are trying to escape, to find a moment of peace, to find comfort or a safe place to land.

You're safe here. You are safe, you are loved and you are important. The world needs you and my dear sweet one, I promise you it will get better. Maybe not today or tomorrow but it will get better. People love you and are here for you.

You are valid, you are enough. I promise you that you are enough.

So take a deep breath and relax a little for me. I hope you find the fan art or the fanfiction you need. I hope you find comfort and safety here. I hope you know you're favorite character is waiting for you, they adore you and are so excited to see you.

You can do this sweet one. Life is tough but so are you. Your comfort character believes in you and so do I, the random girl on Tumblr who knows it gets better, because it did for her.

❤️💛True Believer 💛❤️

lumberjack!price who lets you stay in his cabin after he finds you on the side of the road in your broken down car. insists that you come stay at his house for the remainder of the day into the morning since it's getting dark out and the weather forecast is saying it might snow - last thing he wants is for you to be stranded without a place to stay while the car sits in a repair shop. and doesn't want a 'pretty thing' like yourself staying alone in a motel.

lumberjack!price who tows your car to the local mechanic he knows before the two of you head back to his cabin for the night. tells the local mechanic, simon, who you find out is one of his friends, that he'll cover the cost of whatever is wrong with it and to try to make it a priority. and despite your protests, he tells you not to worry about it and that simon owes him anyway so the cost won't be too bad. what you don't know is that he texted simon later that night to take as long as possible fixing up your car.

lumberjack!price who doesn't alarm you at all despite being a complete stranger. he's hospitable, kind and attentive to you when you both arrive back at his home. the wood and pine smell comforting, reminding you of christmas candle scent when you enter. shows you to the guest room and grabs you a change of clothes, but apologizes for the only option being large sweatpants or plaid pajama pants and an worn tshirt of his. 'pretty much a bachelor pad if you can't tell,' he jokes and you tell him it's no problem at all. offers to make dinner while you make yourself comfortable and have a chance to wash up. has the fireplace going when you reemerge from a shower with wet hair dripping, parts of his worn tshirt clinging to your chest from the damp fabric. swears under his breath slightly at the sight of you, but you don't question it as he covers it up quickly by pretending he burnt himself sightly while cooking.

lumberjack!price who chuckled when you begged to clean up after dinner as it was the least you could do after all his help today. and this time, the sight of him after his own shower causing you to fumble some of the utensils in the sink, soap suds your excuse for the slippery silverware that clanks against the glass plates. his large frame mostly covered in body hair while his own pajama pants hang slightly low, a darkened area of hair creating an obviously happy trail. his belly slightly protruding, but firm nonetheless. or at least that is what you think if you were to touch it. nervous 'no, no. it's okay.' leaving your lips as you subside his worry that him being shirtless is making you uncomfortable, explaining it's just a habit since it's normally just him around.

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , bathing , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.