Good wood - ‘Hotel Hubertus’ by noa* feels like a slightly trippy wooden wonderland. Nestled at the the foot of the Kronplatz in the Puster Valley of Valdaora (in the Dolomites) it’s a definitely worth a visit, even if only to jump in that pool (and maybe explore the wine cellar too).
“You sound so happy now. Like a totally different person,” my mom remarked over the phone. “You don’t call me crying and whining now. I haven’t heard from you at all this week. What’s up with that?”
“I don’t have stuff to complain about now,” I replied.
So yes, I’m only 2 weeks into my new job, but I’m loving it. I work with 2 other doctors who are funny, laid back, and have the same standards of care that I do. They encouraged me to decorate my office with streamers and toys and whatever I need to make myself a comfy work space.My support staff are so helpful in anticipating needs and my office manager is hysterical. They’ve all commented on how well my personality has fit in here. My staff pray together when the week is hard or when personalities are clashing, which I absolutely love. This is such a supportive environment for me. I’m cautious about my optimism because of my last job, but I feel totally comfortable here.
I don’t love the fact that I’m living in a little apartment under a person who vacuums at 1am, but I’m certainly happier here than I was living in my office in 2 rooms with only 1 window. I have 4 grocery stores, 3 gyms, 2 public walking tracks, and at least 10 restaurants within a 5 minute drive of my apartment.
I get Thursdays off, so I have a standing lunch date with my best buddy every week, and now I actually have time to do things like take my cat to the vet and get my washing machine fixed and go to the dentist! It sounds super minor, but after the past 9ish years of having no free time during the week to do general life stuff, I feel like I can finally take actual care of myself. I have time for massages and haircuts and even for lounging at the apartment pool and getting some Vitamin D. Shoot, I’ve read 5 books this month, which is more than what I read in the last year prior.
Guys, this is wellness. Wellness is not an ice cream party on hour 78 of your workweek. It’s not forgoing sleep to make tomorrow’s healthy lunch or to spend time with friends.
For me, wellness has been the result of an over 1-year in progress conscious effort to make the life I want. I’m being intentional about making friends and getting involved in my church so I can expand my social circle. I’m looking for events to go to and ways to enjoy my town, and I’m doing it.
I’ve been pretty absent from Tumblr over the last year because I hated my job and had few pleasant or funny things to say about it. I didn’t want to bring down the tone of this community we have and I didn’t want to discourage the premeds. But now I’m back and I’m doing the work I enjoy and I feel like a whole new person. I am so thankful for my online buddies @md-admissions, @cranquis, and @jspark3000 who have been great encouragers and commiserators with me in the past year. I hope I can be an encouragement to my little tumblies again.
Richard Pool was born in 1922 and passed away in 2015 at the age of 93.
Elaine Pool was born in 1924.
On the day of Columbine, at around 6:00 p.m., Pool neighbor Steve Ferguson noticed cars belonging to Pool’s relatives when he got home from work, but he didn’t go over to the Pool’s home that day. He called them two days after.
He said: ,,Elaine, so what’s going on? I noticed the cars over there the night of Columbine. Did something tragic happen to a grandson or granddaughter?’’
Elaine, Eric’s grandmother, said: ,,Yes, I had a grandson that was killed, that was killed in the Columbine shootings.’’
He expressed his condolences and extended his sympathy. Then he asked: ,,Which one was he?’’
Elaine broke down and said: ,,My gosh, he was the killer.’’
He then asked the name of the grandson.
,,Harris’’, his grandmother said.
,,His name is Harris.’’
The weekend after Columbine, Ferguson was doing chores outside his house. Richard Pool, Eric’s grandfather, came over with tears streaming down his cheeks. He was emotionally shot, he tried to explain a little bit what was going on.
Ferguson said: ,,You don’t have to explain.’’ Again, he extented his condolences and his feelings. ,,This has got to be tearing you apart.’’
Mr. Pool acknowledged that, and he just said it’s tough. He said it’s eatin him alive. He said he can’t sleep.
Mr. Pool said: ,,It will never be the same for us, ever.’’
Ferguson does not believe the Pools mentioned their grandson ever again.
Request: “I love your writing! If requests are still
open can you do a Draco smut? Like maybe he hears that she’s been hanging out
with Potter and gets extremely possessive and decides to claim her as his? It’s
up to you though as long as it’s Draco smut.”
Malfoy x Reader
lil (public) smut, jealous teasing playful draco!
the sake of this fic let’s just pretend Hogwarts has a swimming pool OKAY?
It took a
while to find Draco, his message so cryptic it was a borderline psychotic poem.
His mother had inappropriately named him; he better suited “Drama”, although
you didn’t think you would’ve fallen for him as hard if he boasted a name as
ridiculous as his flamboyant attitude. But nevertheless, you found his pale body
floating in the blue water of the school pool, relatively undisturbed as other
students found more fun in the shallows. The smirk that graced his lips
signalled his supernatural ability to sense whenever you were near, the fact
both intimidating and endearing.
“Meet me in my element, where you’ve
sentenced me to wrinkle in despair.” You repeated the note he’d left,
standing with your arms crossed at the edge of the pool.
chuckled, rolling off his back and swimming over to the side, where he propped
his arms up on the lip of concrete and gazed above to your impatient
expression. “It got your attention, didn’t it?” He purred. “And you were smart
enough to solve it. Well done, darling.”
coddle me Draco, a ten-year-old could have figured it out.” You retorted
through a teetering smile. “So what is this despair I’ve sentenced you to, hm?”
You questioned, taking a seat and dipping your legs in the warmed water.
It had all started as a blind date. Your friends set you up to meet some guy, “someone exotic” they promised. You hadn’t been on a real date in a good while, nothing more than one night hook ups. So against your better judgement, you’d gone along with it.
The date itself had gone surprisingly well. Initially you’d been a little shocked, seeing as from the waist down he was all tentacles. But he was a really nice guy, and the two of you hit it off well. As the date drew to a close, you invited him back to your place, teasing that you knew a way to sneak into your apartment complex’s pool when he seemed reluctant. He agreed finally, and the two of you made your way there.
You threw off your clothes and jumped in, while he slid into the water with a strange grace. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing up against his cool body. You could feel the soft flesh of his tentacles against your hips and legs. Each long appendage caressed and tugged, little suckers teasing over your skin. He broke away from the kiss, panting and gripping your shoulders.
“W-we should stop,” he panted.
“But it was just getting good,” you teased. You kissed at his lips again, feeling him flinch. He made a half hearted attempt to move away, but you kept your arms around him.
“I should go home…”
“You can stay at my place.”
“No, you don’t under-”
You cut him off with another firm kiss, pressing yourself close to him. It took a moment, but soon his arms were around you, holding you almost crushingly tight. Suddenly your back was to the wall, and his tentacles had hold of your legs. His eyes were alight with feral need as he maneuvered you.
“I’m sorry,” he panted.
You could sort of see beneath his tentacles now, and you gasped to realize there was something bulbous and rather large there, almost like a mammal’s balls but…much, MUCH bigger. It was almost translucent, and you could see…movement?
Before you could question it, he pushed you legs up and pulled you half under his mantle. You gasped to feel the tip of his probing cock, crying out in pleasure as it suddenly plunged deep into your hole. His tentacles moved you, working you like a life sized sex toy over his shaft.
“I shouldn’t have met you,” he panted. He hissed and jerked against you, and you could feel that sack against your body. It convulsed, skin around it tightening. “Ah…hah…Fuck I..” He jerked you faster, gripping your arms in both hands. “I’m..in season. I need to implant my young..”
Before he can explain, you felt his cock suddenly spreading at the base, forcing your hole wider with it. He sobbed in a mix of pleasure and pain, forcing you onto the swell over and over. Finally, he kept your bodies flush, grunting and panting intime with the tensing of the heavy sack. Wider and wider, his cock spread you open. You screamed, tried to pull your arms free and push against him, but his grip was iron. Another long grunt, and he let out a sob of relief just as you screamed in agony.
“That’s the head…rest should..be easier.”
“Head?! What the fuck are you-AH!”
He pushed against you, and you felt the ‘head’ working its way deeper into you. His cock swelled and spread, opening you to allow whatever it was to slide into you. You looked down to see your stomach stretching outward, pressing against his. You both cried out as another jerk of his hips pushed whatever it was all the way into you. He shuddered and rest his head against your shoulder.
“That’s..the first one..”
That barely had time to register before he hissed in pain and arched against you again. Once more your hold spread, crowning in reverse around his cock. It didn’t take as long, but the stretch was still just as incredible. With another “head” tying you together, you squirmed and writhed and sobbed, trying to free your limbs and push him away. He held fast.
“It’ll be over soon..” He sounded almost apologetic.
You shuddered and squirmed as the thing wriggled deeper, sliding to meet the first. Your belly now looked like a nearly full term pregnancy, visibly writhing and squirming. He thrust against you once, flooding your hole with seed or slick or whatever, something liquid and viscous. Your belly swelled further, and his grip finally relaxed.
So you slapped the fuck out of him.
“…I deserved that,” he said meekly.
“Damn right you did!” you gasped. Having so much inside you, pushing your organs around, it was hard to breathe, and you were suddenly aware of just how squished your bladder was. “What the hell was that?! Take it out!”
“I..can’t.” He ducked his head, looking at you with sad but earnest eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ll…I’ll do whatever I can. But they’ve implanted by now-”
“They?!” you spat.
You went silent, staring at him. He babbled a moment, something about a weird evolutionary branch of his species where they weren’t entirely one gender or the other, and often had to transfer their unborn offspring to gestate in a new host.
“They won’t hurt you,” he said. He tried to lay a comforting hand on your massive belly but you shoved it away. “…They’ll attach to you like a human baby would, and just draw nutrients off your system.”
“So you put a couple of parasites in me, GREAT! Nice first date you shit head.”
You tried to move away from him, but found your new girth ungainly and awkward. He caught you, and though you tried to push him back, he helped you out of the pool.
“I will take care of you, if you let me,” he said. “I’ll..hell I’ll pay your bills for the next few months, make sure you don’t need-”
“Months!? Just how long is this going to take!?”
“Usually…2 to 3, it depends..” Again, he seemed to shrink back a bit as he crawled out of the pool. “Please..there isn’t anything that can be done now. Even if we force them to detach, it would hurt you as much as them.” You could hardly believe what you were hearing.
“So I’m stuck now, that’s what you’re saying.” You feel yourself shaking. His young, his /babies/ were inside of you now. You could feel them shift and squirm, making you grunt and feel sick.
“I’m sorry…I told you we should have stopped..”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I know…” He offered his hands to help you up. “At least let me get you home.”
“I don’t want you to know where I fucking live,” you snarl. You get up and waddle to your clothes. Your back already hurts, your hole is throbbing and aching from the ridiculous stretch of TWO babies being shoved through it. You feel yourself gape open as you bend over to get your clothes. Your shirt refuses to stretch over your belly.
Strong hands grab you and whirl you around. He holds you tight, fixing you with a firm look.
“This situation sucks, I know,” he said. “But please…/please/ let me help you. Once it’s over, I’ll take them and leave and never bother you again. I know you hate me right now but…I want to make it right.”
You jerk out of his hold and spit another curse at him.
“Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.” You do your best to jerk your pants back on, then make your way out of the pool area.
You don’t know what you’ll do, but you’ll figure it out. And WITHOUT him.
Robert knows, strictly speaking, that the definition of insanity isn’t actually “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,” no matter how many times he see’s the quote misattributed to Albert Einstein on the internet. But as he rings the doorbell of the Christiansen household for the third time in a row, he wonders if the person who really said it wasn’t too far off the mark.
Joseph answers the door, that fucking awful ‘howdy neighbor’ smile plastered on his face, and God, Robert hates that smile. It retreats a little when Joseph see’s that it’s him.
“Oh! Rob, glad you could make it!” Joseph says, gesturing him in. “Wasn’t sure you were coming to be honest, since you didn’t respond to my message.”
Robert steps into the house, toeing off his boots in the entryway. “Don’t call me that.”
Robert glances around, nerves tugging at his gut. “Is Mary home?” The question burns like acid in his throat but he has to ask it. Needs to make sure. Just saying her name makes him want to walk back out the door and never come back.
He won’t though.
“No, she’s over at the shelter helping out for the day.” Joseph says, wandering into the kitchen. Robert follows. “Won’t be back until later.”
“What about the kids?”
“Soccer practice.“ He says, leaning back against the island. “Except for Crish. Just put him down for his afternoon nap.”
Robert grunts in response and glances around the kitchen. The room is warm and clean, smelling of brown sugar and the lingering burn of coffee. An assortment of spice filled mason jars litter the counter and the morning paper is open on the island, flipped to the daily crossword. There’s a plate of cookies bundled in saran wrap next to the sink with a pink post-it note on it that reads ‘For Bake Sale.’ Even from this distance, he can tell that the handwriting is Joseph’s. Robert briefly imagines waking up each morning and eating breakfast here and quickly chases the thought from his mind. Stop it.
“How’ve you been?” Joseph asks.
Robert snorts. “You didn’t invite me over here to ask me that.”
“No.” Joseph admits. “But I still want to know.”
Robert shrugs, struggling to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I’m great,” he lies. If Joseph can tell, he doesn’t call him on it.
“That’s good.” Joseph says. His voice is surprisingly soft. “You look good Rob.”
Robert’s face warms. “Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry.” Joseph says, looking not at all sorry. He steps in close, crowding Robert against the counter. “Thanks for bringing my jacket back by the way.”
“Well you told me to.” The jacket, which Robert is currently wearing, is nearly a dead ringer for his own, with a few minor differences (one of which was the price tag, he learned, after looking up the brand and nearly choking on his mid afternoon whiskey upon seeing the cost). When Joseph had slipped it in his mailbox with a note attached shortly after their last tryst, Robert briefly considered that it was actually his and Joseph had stolen it.
“And you’ve been wearing it around like I asked.” Joseph praises. “How’s it fit?”
“Smaller then mine but still comfortable.” Robert begrudgingly admits.
“Did anyone notice?”
Robert shakes his head.
“That’s a shame.” Joseph says, tugging on the lapels. “But I’m glad it’s been treating you well.”
Robert deliberately neglects to inform him just how well, remembering that after about an hour of internal debate he’d buried his face in it and come drowning in self loathing and the smell of Joseph’s cologne.
“Do you even wear this thing anymore?” Robert asks. Joseph smiles.
“Sometimes, when I take my bike out, which admittedly isn’t often. Otherwise it’s got a pretty permanent home in the closet on my boat.”
“Why give it to me?” Robert huffs, playing off the nervous jitter in his gut. “Seeing me in your clothes get you off or something?”
“Mmhmm.” Joseph bumps their noses together, mouths a breath apart. Heat pools in Robert’s stomach. “Actually, I got off every other day this week just thinking about it.”
Joseph kisses the side of his mouth and ruts against him. Slowly. Deliberately. Robert braces his hands against the counter and groans.
“You walked around for a week smelling like me.” Joseph says. “Wearing my property.” The implication of that statement isn’t lost on Robert. He wonders if to Joseph, the jacket looks more like a collar. “And nobody knew but the two of us.” Joseph runs his hands up Robert’s torso and smiles into his mouth. “Our secret.”
We have a lot worse secrets then that. Robert thinks to himself. His breath hitches as Joseph thumbs at his nipples through the fabric of his shirt.
“You probably got off on it too didn’t you.” Joseph accuses. “Did you come with your mouth on it? Are there bite marks on the leather?”
Robert moans lowly, head rolling back weakly as Joseph continues thrusting him into the marble. Joseph curls his fingers in Robert’s hair and tugs it sharply. “I bet you did. Should I check?”
Robert - already sweating and eager to cool off - is more then happy to oblige him, and starts to remove it.
“Uhuh.” Joseph says. “Not now. Leave it on.”
Robert pauses. “But-”
“On.” Joseph says, punctuating the word with a grind of his hips.
Robert flushes. “On,” He repeats. If Joseph is fine with it getting dirty, then that’s his problem.
Joseph smirks into the hollow of his neck, sinking his fingers into the leather and tugging him closer. “Good boy.”
Robert shudders, holding back a groan, and the movement isn’t lost on Joseph. He chuckles lowly, hands dipping below the hem of his jeans.
“Wow,” he teases. “You get off on that?” His fingers rub circles just below Robert’s hipbones, flirting with the waistband of his briefs. As if he didn’t already know the answer to that question.
“Workin’ on that sweetheart.” Joseph purrs. Robert swallows another groan, his head dizzy with the word sweetheart and the insistent press of Joseph’s mouth against his jaw. Robert thrusts back against him impatiently. “Easy, easy.” Joseph murmurs. “Let’s move this somewhere else.”
Joseph hooks his arms under Roberts calves, lifting him effortlessly. Robert forces the traitorous fuck that’s hot from his mind with some difficulty.
“Where are you takin’ me?”
Joseph hums against his lips. “You’ll see.” Robert wants to press him, but Joseph starts kissing him earnestly and he stops focusing on anything but the heat of Joseph’s mouth and the way he keeps nipping at Robert’s bottom lip. He doesn’t notice how far they’ve gone until he hears a door close and opens his eyes.
“Are we in….” Robert trails off as Joseph quickly removes a hand to fumble with a light switch. It’s mostly unnecessary; there’s light streaming in from the small windows on the other end of the room.
“The garage.” Joseph finishes, still licking into his mouth as he sets him down again. Robert sees Joseph’s bike, parked in the garage when it’s normally covered with a tarp in the shed, and puts two and two together.
“You are not fucking me on your motorcycle.”
“I’m fucking you on my motorcycle.” Joseph says.
Joseph pulls a face.
Joseph toys with the waistband of his jeans. “You’d look so good though.” He coo’s, tugging him close by his belt loops. Robert nearly chokes. “Bouncing on my cock, taking me so beautifully, dripping and pretty and wrecked in my jacket. On my bike.”
A reminder that I’m one of your possessions too? Robert thinks but doesn’t say. He whines in spite of himself. The thought of belonging to Joseph is…. more arousing then cares to admit.
“But if you don’t want that….” He trails off wickedly, hands leaving Robert’s waist. Robert panics.
“Fuck.” He swears, grabbing Joseph’s hands as they pull away. “Ok, ok.”
“You know what.” Robert snaps. He’s not playing this game today.
Joseph smiles slyly, tugging Robert’s hands to his lips. “I want to hear you say it,” He says against his knuckles.
Joseph bites his tattoo, hard, and arousal hits Robert like a wave. “Fuck fuck goddamn, shit.”
“Language.” Joseph says, mouthing along the side of his thumb. Robert keens when he licks at the pad.
He suppresses a shiver. Joseph’s voice is low and commanding and hot. So, unbelievably hot, and Robert’s weak.
“God I want you to fuck me on that bike.” He groans out.
Joseph smiles into his hand and gives it another quick bite. “Good.” He twines their fingers together and leads him back toward the motorcycle. He settles onto the seat, legs straddling it, and tugs Robert’s face down with him.
“Pants off.” Joseph slurs, kissing a line up his neck. Robert shucks them off with an embarrassing lack of grace, kicking off his socks in the process, and practically falls into his lap. “Good boy.” Joseph cups his ass and drags him closer, grinding him down on his crotch.
“Fuck.” He’s leaking through his briefs and Joseph hasn’t even touched him.
“Look at you.” Joseph says, thumbing the wet patch on his underwear. “So needy.”
Robert stifles a shiver and palms Joseph’s crotch, grinning smugly when his breath catches. “Speak for yourself.” He watches Joseph’s pupils blow out, consuming his stormy blue irises, and can’t help thinking I did this, as Joseph curls his hand around the back of his neck and pulls him into a messy kiss. I did this, he thinks, and it makes his chest ache.
Joseph breaks the kiss and pulls a small bottle out of his back pocket. He clicks it open. “Wanna help?”
Robert grimaces as Joseph pours an overly generous amount of lube into his hand.
“You always use too much of this shit.”
Joseph laughs, undoing his pants and pulling his cock out of his underwear. Robert can feel himself staring. “Later.” Joseph teases, as if reading his mind. Robert flushes hot, and Joseph kisses his jaw. “Go on.”
Robert curls his sticky fingers around Joseph’s dick, stroking roughly, twisting, and Joseph shivers, head falling forward against his chest.
“You’re so good at this.” He murmurs into his shirt. “So talented. God I love your hands.”
Robert’s cock floods with heat and this time he can’t bite back a whine. Joseph’s mouth curls into a grin. “Do you like when I tell you how good you are?”
Robert tightens his grip on Joseph’s cock in response.
Joseph chuckles but for once doesn’t press him. He wraps his hand hand over Robert’s and gently removes it. “Now you.” He says, reaching for the bottle again. Robert flushes.
Joseph laughs, nipping at his collarbone. “I know you like it rough but I’m not fucking you without prep.”
“You wouldn’t be.” He promises. Robert grabs his hand and brings it around to his ass, wordlessly guiding it beneath the elastic of his underwear. Joseph inhales sharply.
“You didn’t….” Joseph slowly presses a finger inside of him, surprisingly tentative. Robert jolts at the intrusion, letting his head fall on Joseph’s shoulder as he let’s out an unsteady breath.
“Goddamn.” Joseph swears.
Robert snickers. “Language.”
“You prepped yourself.” Joseph says, ignoring the taunt. He sounds awestruck.
“It speeds things up, provided my partner doesn’t decided to stop halfway through to admire my handiwork.”
“You didn’t know I was planning on having sex.” Joseph says. He curls his finger and Robert gasps through his dry laugh. “I just asked for my jacket back.”
“You always want sex.” Robert accuses.
Joseph, unable to deny that, chuckles and nips his earlobe. His voice is breathy, a low rumble in his ear. “Next time let me watch.”
Joseph withdrawals his finger, catching it purposefully on the rim, and Robert curses. Joseph smiles and kisses him chastely on the mouth.
Robert feels his ears go red.
Joseph reaches his hand towards his back pocket, then pauses. “Do you want to use a condom or….?”
“No.” Robert swallows. “No we’re both clean so. Not today.”
“Mmm.” Joseph hums. He presses a soft kiss to Robert’s mouth and begins gently massaging his thighs. Robert melts into it. Of all the cruel things Joseph does, kisses like this, he thinks, are undoubtably the worst.
“Ready? Joseph asks, pulling away. Robert nods, a little dazed. Together, they shimmy Robert’s underwear down far enough that it’s no longer obstructive, and Joseph wraps his hands around his waist. Carefully, he guides him down on his cock, fingers bruising on his hips, and Robert gasps as he’s stretched. Too slow.
“Come on.” Robert growls. Joseph stops abruptly, and Robert groans, partly in frustration and partly because Joseph is now holding Robert suspended in the air halfway down his dick and fuck just how strong is he? Robert tries to wiggle himself further down, but Joseph’s grip is iron. “Are you gonna fuck me or not, come on Christiansen.”
“Are you going to ask nicely?”
Robert snorts and bites at Joseph’s ear. “Are you tryin’ to get me to beg again?”
The way he says that makes Robert shudder more violently then he was expecting to. “Maybe.” He says. Joseph squeezes his hips tighter but still doesn’t move, and Robert relents.
“God fuck, yes OK I want it I want it please Christiansen just fuck me.”
Joseph drops him the rest of the way down without warning and Robert loses his breath.
Joseph’s pace is relentless. Robert isn’t doing more then being bounced up and down on his lap, weakly clutching at Joseph’s arms. The whole bike is shaking. He feels himself dripping lube and precum, and the leather jacket, which was warm before, is unbearable now. He’s drenched in sweat, making his shirt cling to him like a second skin. He’s objectively disgusting. Joseph, comparatively, looks untouched and it’s maddening. Fuck fuck fuck.
Robert moans into the crook of Joseph’s neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders and fingers digging into the fabric of that awful pink polo.
“Wish you could see yourself.” Joseph gasps, biting at his neck as he fucks him harder. “Fuck, you’re so pretty Robert.”
Robert whines lowly.
“So pretty and all mine.”
“Yours.” Robert echoes dizzily.
Joseph presses their foreheads together and breathes into his mouth. “Say it again.”
Robert aches. “Yours, yours, yours.”
Joseph presses messy kisses along his brow and thumbs at the head of his cock. “Do you wanna come sweetheart?”
Robert’s whole body heaves at the thought. “Yes.”
“Tell me again what you want.”
Robert bumps their foreheads together again. Joseph is trying his best to keep his composure but Robert can tell he’s close. “Wanna come.” Robert says, head swimming. And then, “Want you to come with me.”
Joseph groans into his mouth and the vibrations go right to Robert’s cock.
“Fuck you’re so good.” He teases the slit of his cock and Robert nearly chokes on his own spit.
“So dirty.” Joseph coo’s, tangling his fingers into his hair. “God I love your pretty mouth. Say my name again.”
Joseph tugs his head back so far Robert’s back bows. “Joseph.” His voice is raw.
Joseph pulls him back up, fingers still scraping at the base of his head, and bites at his bottom lip, other hand working his cock.
“Love you.” Joseph slurs into his mouth. The words are muffled by his tongue. “Love you love you love you. God I love you.”
Robert’s vision goes white and he amends his earlier statement. Of all the cruel things Joseph’s done, the worst by far is this.
He comes out of his orgasm dazed. His ears are ringing. The world is muffled and hazy; out of focus, like he’s been dunked under water. Joseph is shuddering beneath him.
Love you love you love you.
God I love you.
Robert slumps against him, breathing hard, head spinning. Joseph’s kissing him, cupping his face, thumbs rubbing slow circles across his cheekbones. “I got you.” He soothes. “I got you.” They stay like that for a while, Joseph inside him, lips pressed together until finally, Joseph pulls away. “You alright?” He asks. Robert nods.
“Yea, you?” His voice is so rough it sounds like he’s been gargling gravel.
“Arms are a little sore.” He admits. “But otherwise perfect.” He brushes his hands through Robert’s hair and smirks. “You’re a mess.”
Robert scowls. “Fuck off.”
Joseph kisses his temple. “It’s cute.” He teases. Joseph shifts him in his lap and Robert shivers a little, still sore and oversensitive. “You look well fucked.”
Robert laughs lowly. “Full of yourself aren’t you.”
Joseph winks, taking his hands and kissing his fingers. For a brief moment Robert imagines a glint of silver pressed against Joseph’s lips and it makes his heart skip. He suddenly feels nauseous.
“We have a couple more hours.” Joseph says. “If you want we could….”
“No.” Robert slips off his lap, and simultaneously his cock, and holds back a gasp. He teeters for a second, unsteady, and then pulls up his underwear. “No I should get going, Mat wanted my help down at the shop this afternoon. I’m already gonna be late.”
“Ah.” Joseph’s voice betrays his disappointment. Robert almost feels guilty that it makes him feel smug. Almost.
“Here.” Robert says, peeling off the jacket. “Didn’t wanna forget.”
Joseph finishes tucking himself back into his pants and accepts it, getting to his feet. “Sure you don’t wanna keep it? It’s not getting much use here.“
Robert zips up his jeans and adjusts his belt. “I’m sure.” Robert wants the jacket. Of course he wants the jacket. But much like it’s owner, it’s something he can’t have.
Joseph leads him back to the front door in silence. Robert’s mind is a broken movie reel of Joseph’s voice. Love you. God I love you. Mine Mine Mine. He doesn’t notice when they come to a stop.
“Robert.” Joseph says, snapping him out of his daze. Joseph takes his hand, gently stroking Robert’s tattoo. He shivers. “Last chance,” Joseph smiles wryly, “you can still blow me in the living room.”
Robert laughs humorlessly. “You wish.”
“Can’t blame me for trying.” Joseph says. He pulls Robert in close, kissing him tenderly on the mouth. “See you later Rob.” He says softly. Roberts stomach flutters.
He forgets to correct him.
The meeting with Mat is of course, a lie, and later that night, Robert fucks himself on his fingers, Joseph’s cum wet and sticky and cool inside him, and comes biting his ring finger until it bleeds.