[There's still an ugly curl of shame when his dick twitches. It's small, but it's there when he settles his palm over Eddie's head, petting down his hair. He murmurs: ] Yeah, that's it. Good boy. [and it doesn't leave. He doesn't think it'll ever leave; thinks that the wrongness of this, of wanting Eddie Munson, of wanting Billy Hargrove, will never truly go. Maybe it shouldn't.
But he can ignore it. He can ignore it because Eddie needs him. ] Tell me what you think you need, baby.
[Jim thinks he might need something sharp. Might need something that stings, something that he can soothe after. ]
I already told you. ( he says it, brows creased and a little frustrated. his brain's still stuck on the way 'good boy' is bouncing around like it'll wipe out the feeling of filth and panic crawling underneath his skin. he turns his face into jim's thigh, takes a deep breath in before he's looking back up at the older man. the thing is, if he thinks about it, what he needs is complicated. it's this thing in eddie's chest he can't voice, can't explain. )
I think-- ( he's usually so good at saying things, at letting them spill out of him without much thought. this is harder. ) Need you to be rough. Need it to hurt before it feels good. I haven't been good. I don't know if I--- If I wanna get off.
( he stumbles over that one even though he's whispered filth about railing jim's cunt into his ear, pressings the older man's face into his own bed and wishing he had more hair to pull. this feels fucking different. ) Whatever you want.
[He doesn't press on I haven't been good quite yet. He thinks he might not until Eddie's pliant, fucked out stupid. He says: ] I don't feel like using you today, baby. Not like that, anyway.
[But - he can work with this. He strokes Eddie's hair real gentle, pretends to mull it over, like he hasn't got an idea half-formed already. Eventually, he says:] Okay. Get up here, on my lap. Back to me.
[He coaxes him up by the hair, if he has to. Waits till Eddie's got his ass pressed back onto him, until he's close enough for Jim to move the length of his hair aside and press a kiss to Eddie's shoulder. He hands hold firm onto his hips. ] You see the pillow and blanket? You're gonna bend down and get comfortable on them, okay? Keep you ass up here for him, I'll keep hold.
( there’s a tinge of suspicion in eddie’s eyes, narrowed slightly like part of him doesn’t get it. ) How then?
( but jim’s already talking by then, guiding him with a firm grip in his hair because eddie’s not sure what he wants and the usual showmanship slips when he can’t see a step ahead. he’s in his lap first, facing the fire with legs spread over wide thighs. it’s vulnerable like this and eddie shudders when he feels jim’s lips brush against his shoulders, close to the scar from billy’s teeth. ) Huh…
( he’s still lost as he does it, trusts hopper will give him what he needs and wants as he settles not quite upside down with his forearm on the pillow. he’s gotten enough upper body strength from working in the greenhouse and the cabin to hold himself up, has more defined muscles underneath the scarred skin of his chest and back too. he lowers down anyway, arms crossed as he holds the pillow to his chest before he looks over his shoulder and up at jim for approval. )
[That's a gorgeous sight. There's so much of Eddie that Jim rarely focuses on; like this, though? He can see most of it. The scars; the pale expanse of his back, the way his newly formed muscles bunch and swell. Distractedly, he traces over a scar on Eddie's side; keeps him in place with arm securely wrapped around him, but eventually slides forward, guides Eddie to hook his ankles at Jim's back.
When he's sure he's not going to slip off onto his face, he massages both ass cheeks with his palms. Murmurs: ] There we go, good boy.
[The first smack is light. It's a tease of sensation. It's mostly to see the flesh of Eddie's ass ripple. He busies himself after by spreading Eddie's cheeks and spitting down, directly onto his hole. busies himself after that with reaching for the oil, with dragging his thumb over the spit, pressing down against the rim, never penetrating. ] You'll tell me if you need me to stop. That's not a request. Say you understand, Eddie.
( the touch to his scar makes him shudder; that particular spot a weird mix of pain and something sweeter. he's getting his wires crossed everywhere, doesn't think whatever he's asked for and jim's going to give him will help. then again, it's only fair. eddie likes to watch when someone moans under the strike of his hand.
he hooks his ankles when he's moved, crosses them and groans a little. he wants to quip that he's not athletic enough for this but really he's being held up by strong thighs and that 'good boy' distracts him enough.
the first smack makes him gasps; it's too light but it's the sensation of spit he focuses on, that's what has him flushing red and squirming a little; not much, he can't get leverage to really push back against jim's thumb until he gets back on his forearms. swallowing, he nods his head even as he misbehaves. ) I understand, Daddy. I'll use my safe-word.
Good boy. [Sweet boy, even trying to push back. The thumb disappears to give Eddie another firmer smack. The crack is louder, leaves the skin a little redder. He drives down with another to the other cheek, grips it tight after as he pulls it aside, tipping oil down onto Eddie's crack.
The flesh bounces back when Jim lets go to slick his fingers up real good. He's fascinated by it, pulls the other aside with his dryer hand and watches the way the flesh bunches, the way Eddie shudders under him when he teases his hole with his middle finger, tip pressing in slow, slow, slow down to the first knuckle. Under Eddie, his own dick fattens, and probably, if he pressed Eddie down, pulled him further back, they'd be lined up nice. It's a thought for later, though.
For now, he pushes down to the second knuckle and let's Eddie's cheek bounce back again. He brings his other palm down with a crack; starts fucking slow, lazy, while he cracks back down on the other cheek. ]
( he should expect that one but doesn't, yelps because that smack actually stings. it's nothing like that time in the boarding house, not as rough, but the gentleness of it all makes his skin feel like it's on fire all the same.
maybe it's that eddie's not in control that does it; he's tried to be in control of his whole life, of everything for the last few years that it feels so foreign to go back to letting things happen; to feeling out of control. but the thing is, the terrifying thing is, that he trusts jim. he feels vulnerable but not terrified of being out of control, not now. maybe that'll change but not yet. that's why he's here, that's why he's not scrambling away.
the intrusion makes his thigh shake but it's not enough, is too gentle. ) Ji-- Daddy. More.
( he regrets that a moment later when jim brings his hand down again against his skin. he groans, drops his head into the nest beneath him and it's not long before he's panting and biting down on the blanket to keep the sounds that want to break out of his throat quiet. the finger inside of him is too slow, the cracks of the hand surprisingly quick. he's hard embarrassingly fast, cock jerking in the air beneath him and slapping against his own stomach; it's not enough. ) Daddy. Touch me.
( he wants to reach for his own dick, wants to stroke it hard and fast. he bites down into his own forearm instead; he wants to be good. )
I am touching you baby. [The slow, leisurely fuck of his finger; the infrequent crack against the meat of Eddie's ass. He fucks him like they've got all the time in the world, like he always does. He fucks him just like that for a long while, adds a second finger the same he cracks down a little meaner.
The next spank he means to sting; he balances it with a quicker fuck of his fingers, drives them in hard, fast; matches it with a slap to each cheek twice. He wets his own lips, says, voice sickeningly sweet: ] Is this what you meant, baby? Is daddy touching you right?
( it sounds obscene, feels it too. eddie's eyes start to burn before jim adds the second finger, before his hand comes down harder. his ass is red already, each slap makes him jump and his thighs clench. this time there's no friction beneath him, he's not lost in pleasure coming from his dick.
when jim speaks, that sweet and syrupy question, eddie's got the blanket in his mouth and looks over his shoulder at daddy with tears in his eyes. he shakes his head. no, it's not right. it's not what he wants. )
[While his palm soothes over an abused cheek; while his fingers curl inside of him, fucking in with purpose, rather than mindless abandon. He fucks slower again, drags each thrust as long as he can. ]
( eddie whines, shakes his head with that blanket still in his mouth. it falls when jim makes him gasp, changes course. he opens his mouth when the onslaught to his cheeks stop only to keen as jim hooks his fingers and presses down into him, sends pleasure up his spine like fireworks lighting up every nerve. ) Fuck-- Daddy.
( he drops his forehead back down to the pillow, takes a ragged breath. he feels raw already but it's frustration that curls low in his gut along side with pleasure as the fingers stretching him open slow down again. ) I want-- Touch my dick. Change my mind-- I wanna cum.
No. [It's a real simple answer. He doesn't stop fucking him. He drags his fingers in and out, then stuffs them in as deep as they'll go. Says, lighter:] You'll come on my fingers or not at all, baby.
[He's not unsympathetic to Eddie. He's not cruel. ] I know you can. You just need to learn a little patience, that's all.
[Everything in good time. He fucks a little faster, though; drives in deep, fingers curled. ]
( the whine that leaves him at that 'no' is a little wild, a little devastated. eddie shakes his head again, claws at the blanket beneath him. ) Daddy, no. I can't.
I can't. ( he's always had to get his dick touched, even if he's leaking like a bitch in heat on to the blanket beneath him. ) I've never--
( it's too much, too much but not enough at the same time. except, except his cock twitches and he feels like the pressure's building anyway, like his balls are growing heavier, like it won't take much at all. )
[Eddie's so fucking gorgeous; whines musical, writhing real, real pretty. He lets some of his pride slip out between, telepathic warmth, delight, care. He keeps the pace; fucks fast, deep, hard. Teases a third finger, just to see if Eddie will fuck back, if he'll take it.
He spits down again, even though he doesn't really need to. He just likes the look of it as it slips down his fingers onto Eddie's skin. ] Come on, baby. Come for me. You can do it.
Touch me-- Daddy, please. Touch me, touch me. Daddy. ( he babbles, begs and then whines again when that pride comes though.
that's addictive, that gets him to shut up and bite back down on the pillow like he can take the frustration out on it instead of the feeling of so close, so far bubbling within him. he wants to hold on to that pride, that utter delight. he feels desperate for that as much as that third finger.
he rocks back into it, desperate and easy now. he's crying again, ass red but it's because he wants to be good for jim, for daddy. he's so fucking desperate to be good. it's that thought that has him focusing on letting go, on just focusing on that sweet stretch and press of fingers into his prostate. daddy's right, he's dying to.
and when he comes it's messy, on his chest, his skin, on the floor with a warble of 'daddy' on his lips and a shout he tries to muffle away. )
Yeah, that's it - good fucking boy, [he's not quite sure when his voice became so ragged; not sure when his grip on Eddie's hip became a grip to make it easier to piston his fingers in, two, then three, just at the last second Eddie shoots off. He slows down to a gentle thrust, keeps his fingers plugged all the way in to the second knuckle.
He holds Eddie like that, drags the other hand to soothe over his lower back, coos real soft and starts to fuck again real slow. ]
Knew you could do it, baby. Look at you - you make a mess, baby?
[He keeps fucking him slow, light, real sweetly. Keeps his fingers curled, keeps them moving.]
( eddie's head feel fuzzy by the time jim asks him anything, like he's about to float away somewhere unknown and a part of him fights against it even as the gentle thrust of three thick fingers into his hole push him toward it, as ji-- daddy's voice eases him forward.
he hiccups as he's fucked again, stretched and full. ) Sorry. For the mess, I'm sorry.
( he flexes his thigh sand tries to fuck back into daddy's hand, onto thick fingers that he wants to keep inside of him even as they press relentlessly inside; he moans, he thinks. maybe he's making the sort of sounds he likes to hear falling from jem's lips, from anyone giving themselves over to him like this. it's addictive, it's also too much too soon. he's crying still, feels something coiling in his chest and he wants more of it, wants more of it but it feels like too much. ) 's too much. I'm gonna come again. Daddy-- stop. I can't.
You can make as much of a mess as you need, baby. You can come again, you can.
[He isn't actually sure if Eddie can; the slow dig of his fingers, fucking deep, hard. He twists his arm a little, gets an easier angle and then moves his other hand hand, massages along a mottle thigh, thumbs lightly rubbing against the flesh, the bumps of the scar tissue.
Perhaps cruelly, he teases in with a third finger, bullies a little at Eddie's hole with the tip of it, doesn't push too far beyond a tease. He hums low, wets his lips. ] Come on baby, you can do it.
I can't-- I-- ( his breath hitches, he whimpers-- or thinks he does. the sounds leaving him don't quite sound like they're coming from his throat anymore. they're somewhere else or maybe he's somewhere else, floating away from his body for a bit.
it feels impossible but his dick's jumping again, his balls drawing up. like he's almost there, like he can. daddy's asking. no. daddy thinks he can so suddenly, something snaps, and he wants to. needs to. ) Daddy, please. Please.
( there's a slur to his voice now, between the roughness. maybe it's lost to that, to the tears down his face and the mess he's making while spread open, wrung out and not quite used. the stretch is so good, so much but it's all pleasure how. the unrelenting fucking, the calloused touched to his thighs that would have had him gasping anyway but is what makes him cry out again like a cheap hooker trying to sell it.
except he's not faking it when his vision blurs, when he's shaking in daddy's lap and clenching around his fingers as cum dribbles from his cock; a pathetic drip, less of a mess to clean but embarrassing on a level he doesn't quite grasp. it hurts, it hurts so good that he's moaning for it even as he turns to hide his face in the blankets like daddy can't see all of him, like the blotchy flush to his chest is new. )
[Eddie comes like a girl, the second time. He comes the way Sandy Lawson came on his fingers laid out in the back of his car. Shakes and gasps through it, thighs quivering, full-bodied, real. Eddie comes prettier, and Jim keeps fucking him through it, drives his fingers in a little faster, meaner, tries to wring a third orgasm out of him. ]
One more, baby? [He pushes the third finger in too; twists and fucks in fast, fast, fast, keeps Eddie right on the edge, doesn't let him come down. ] You think you can?
(one more feels impossible, one more feels like his dick's going to fall off and he's going to pass out. there's no way it's happening but-- but Daddy's asking.
he's already on the edge of it, held there by the thigh fingers stretching him wider yet. it doesn't sting any more and over-stimulated as he is, he doesn't try to scramble away from the unrelenting assault. he shakes his head against the mess of a blanket, whines. he can't, he can't, but-- ) Can try-- I can.
( for Daddy.
except it just hurts, except he's just trembling as the crescendo keeps building, as his hips twitch forward against thin air. he's not hard anymore but it feels like he's going to come, hurts more than before. he lets out a frustrated whine, like it'll help. it doesnt; a sob that follow. )
[He could do this for hours, he thinks. Fuck Eddie open, have him shaking, sobbing, wring him out until he's boneless. The sob earns him pity, though; the sob reminds Jim that he's rock hard himself, that he's been hard the entire fucking time. ] It's okay baby, it's not enough. I know. You need something more.
[Gently, slowly, he pulls his fingers out; massages both hands over Eddie's as, his thighs, murmurs real low: ] Eddie - I need you to focus. Can you do that?
[He wets his lips. ] Knock on the floor if you can do that for me.
( as much as he's wanted for Daddy to stop, needed to breathe, eddie's chasing the fingers before they're fully gone. he feels empty without them, cold. wonders, maybe, if he should ask for them back later or if Daddy's cock will keep him stuffed full for the night.
the touch on his thighs and ass is soothing, reminds him that his cheeks ache from the spanking. ) Mmmhmm.
( the instructions are hard to follow, mostly because he's still trying to breathe right and shaking. so the knock is soft but he can, he can focus for Daddy even if he can't cum again. )
You think you can take daddy's cock? [It's a deliberate word choice, but Jim has to check. Needs the confirmation, because this is a rarity between them, now, isn't it? It's a sacred thing, having Eddie pliant, having him fucked out, near-mindless.
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But he can ignore it. He can ignore it because Eddie needs him. ] Tell me what you think you need, baby.
[Jim thinks he might need something sharp. Might need something that stings, something that he can soothe after. ]
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I think-- ( he's usually so good at saying things, at letting them spill out of him without much thought. this is harder. ) Need you to be rough. Need it to hurt before it feels good. I haven't been good. I don't know if I--- If I wanna get off.
( he stumbles over that one even though he's whispered filth about railing jim's cunt into his ear, pressings the older man's face into his own bed and wishing he had more hair to pull. this feels fucking different. ) Whatever you want.
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[But - he can work with this. He strokes Eddie's hair real gentle, pretends to mull it over, like he hasn't got an idea half-formed already. Eventually, he says:] Okay. Get up here, on my lap. Back to me.
[He coaxes him up by the hair, if he has to. Waits till Eddie's got his ass pressed back onto him, until he's close enough for Jim to move the length of his hair aside and press a kiss to Eddie's shoulder. He hands hold firm onto his hips. ] You see the pillow and blanket? You're gonna bend down and get comfortable on them, okay? Keep you ass up here for him, I'll keep hold.
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( but jim’s already talking by then, guiding him with a firm grip in his hair because eddie’s not sure what he wants and the usual showmanship slips when he can’t see a step ahead. he’s in his lap first, facing the fire with legs spread over wide thighs. it’s vulnerable like this and eddie shudders when he feels jim’s lips brush against his shoulders, close to the scar from billy’s teeth. ) Huh…
( he’s still lost as he does it, trusts hopper will give him what he needs and wants as he settles not quite upside down with his forearm on the pillow. he’s gotten enough upper body strength from working in the greenhouse and the cabin to hold himself up, has more defined muscles underneath the scarred skin of his chest and back too. he lowers down anyway, arms crossed as he holds the pillow to his chest before he looks over his shoulder and up at jim for approval. )
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When he's sure he's not going to slip off onto his face, he massages both ass cheeks with his palms. Murmurs: ] There we go, good boy.
[The first smack is light. It's a tease of sensation. It's mostly to see the flesh of Eddie's ass ripple. He busies himself after by spreading Eddie's cheeks and spitting down, directly onto his hole. busies himself after that with reaching for the oil, with dragging his thumb over the spit, pressing down against the rim, never penetrating. ] You'll tell me if you need me to stop. That's not a request. Say you understand, Eddie.
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he hooks his ankles when he's moved, crosses them and groans a little. he wants to quip that he's not athletic enough for this but really he's being held up by strong thighs and that 'good boy' distracts him enough.
the first smack makes him gasps; it's too light but it's the sensation of spit he focuses on, that's what has him flushing red and squirming a little; not much, he can't get leverage to really push back against jim's thumb until he gets back on his forearms. swallowing, he nods his head even as he misbehaves. ) I understand, Daddy. I'll use my safe-word.
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The flesh bounces back when Jim lets go to slick his fingers up real good. He's fascinated by it, pulls the other aside with his dryer hand and watches the way the flesh bunches, the way Eddie shudders under him when he teases his hole with his middle finger, tip pressing in slow, slow, slow down to the first knuckle. Under Eddie, his own dick fattens, and probably, if he pressed Eddie down, pulled him further back, they'd be lined up nice. It's a thought for later, though.
For now, he pushes down to the second knuckle and let's Eddie's cheek bounce back again. He brings his other palm down with a crack; starts fucking slow, lazy, while he cracks back down on the other cheek. ]
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maybe it's that eddie's not in control that does it; he's tried to be in control of his whole life, of everything for the last few years that it feels so foreign to go back to letting things happen; to feeling out of control. but the thing is, the terrifying thing is, that he trusts jim. he feels vulnerable but not terrified of being out of control, not now. maybe that'll change but not yet. that's why he's here, that's why he's not scrambling away.
the intrusion makes his thigh shake but it's not enough, is too gentle. ) Ji-- Daddy. More.
( he regrets that a moment later when jim brings his hand down again against his skin. he groans, drops his head into the nest beneath him and it's not long before he's panting and biting down on the blanket to keep the sounds that want to break out of his throat quiet. the finger inside of him is too slow, the cracks of the hand surprisingly quick. he's hard embarrassingly fast, cock jerking in the air beneath him and slapping against his own stomach; it's not enough. ) Daddy. Touch me.
( he wants to reach for his own dick, wants to stroke it hard and fast. he bites down into his own forearm instead; he wants to be good. )
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The next spank he means to sting; he balances it with a quicker fuck of his fingers, drives them in hard, fast; matches it with a slap to each cheek twice. He wets his own lips, says, voice sickeningly sweet: ] Is this what you meant, baby? Is daddy touching you right?
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when jim speaks, that sweet and syrupy question, eddie's got the blanket in his mouth and looks over his shoulder at daddy with tears in his eyes. he shakes his head. no, it's not right. it's not what he wants. )
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[While his palm soothes over an abused cheek; while his fingers curl inside of him, fucking in with purpose, rather than mindless abandon. He fucks slower again, drags each thrust as long as he can. ]
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( he drops his forehead back down to the pillow, takes a ragged breath. he feels raw already but it's frustration that curls low in his gut along side with pleasure as the fingers stretching him open slow down again. ) I want-- Touch my dick. Change my mind-- I wanna cum.
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[He's not unsympathetic to Eddie. He's not cruel. ] I know you can. You just need to learn a little patience, that's all.
[Everything in good time. He fucks a little faster, though; drives in deep, fingers curled. ]
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I can't. ( he's always had to get his dick touched, even if he's leaking like a bitch in heat on to the blanket beneath him. ) I've never--
( it's too much, too much but not enough at the same time. except, except his cock twitches and he feels like the pressure's building anyway, like his balls are growing heavier, like it won't take much at all. )
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[Eddie's so fucking gorgeous; whines musical, writhing real, real pretty. He lets some of his pride slip out between, telepathic warmth, delight, care. He keeps the pace; fucks fast, deep, hard. Teases a third finger, just to see if Eddie will fuck back, if he'll take it.
He spits down again, even though he doesn't really need to. He just likes the look of it as it slips down his fingers onto Eddie's skin. ] Come on, baby. Come for me. You can do it.
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that's addictive, that gets him to shut up and bite back down on the pillow like he can take the frustration out on it instead of the feeling of so close, so far bubbling within him. he wants to hold on to that pride, that utter delight. he feels desperate for that as much as that third finger.
he rocks back into it, desperate and easy now. he's crying again, ass red but it's because he wants to be good for jim, for daddy. he's so fucking desperate to be good. it's that thought that has him focusing on letting go, on just focusing on that sweet stretch and press of fingers into his prostate. daddy's right, he's dying to.
and when he comes it's messy, on his chest, his skin, on the floor with a warble of 'daddy' on his lips and a shout he tries to muffle away. )
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He holds Eddie like that, drags the other hand to soothe over his lower back, coos real soft and starts to fuck again real slow. ]
Knew you could do it, baby. Look at you - you make a mess, baby?
[He keeps fucking him slow, light, real sweetly. Keeps his fingers curled, keeps them moving.]
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he hiccups as he's fucked again, stretched and full. ) Sorry. For the mess, I'm sorry.
( he flexes his thigh sand tries to fuck back into daddy's hand, onto thick fingers that he wants to keep inside of him even as they press relentlessly inside; he moans, he thinks. maybe he's making the sort of sounds he likes to hear falling from jem's lips, from anyone giving themselves over to him like this. it's addictive, it's also too much too soon. he's crying still, feels something coiling in his chest and he wants more of it, wants more of it but it feels like too much. ) 's too much. I'm gonna come again. Daddy-- stop. I can't.
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[He isn't actually sure if Eddie can; the slow dig of his fingers, fucking deep, hard. He twists his arm a little, gets an easier angle and then moves his other hand hand, massages along a mottle thigh, thumbs lightly rubbing against the flesh, the bumps of the scar tissue.
Perhaps cruelly, he teases in with a third finger, bullies a little at Eddie's hole with the tip of it, doesn't push too far beyond a tease. He hums low, wets his lips. ] Come on baby, you can do it.
cw: bad takes on sex workers
it feels impossible but his dick's jumping again, his balls drawing up. like he's almost there, like he can. daddy's asking. no. daddy thinks he can so suddenly, something snaps, and he wants to. needs to. ) Daddy, please. Please.
( there's a slur to his voice now, between the roughness. maybe it's lost to that, to the tears down his face and the mess he's making while spread open, wrung out and not quite used. the stretch is so good, so much but it's all pleasure how. the unrelenting fucking, the calloused touched to his thighs that would have had him gasping anyway but is what makes him cry out again like a cheap hooker trying to sell it.
except he's not faking it when his vision blurs, when he's shaking in daddy's lap and clenching around his fingers as cum dribbles from his cock; a pathetic drip, less of a mess to clean but embarrassing on a level he doesn't quite grasp. it hurts, it hurts so good that he's moaning for it even as he turns to hide his face in the blankets like daddy can't see all of him, like the blotchy flush to his chest is new. )
cw: some internal feminisation thoughts
One more, baby? [He pushes the third finger in too; twists and fucks in fast, fast, fast, keeps Eddie right on the edge, doesn't let him come down. ] You think you can?
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he's already on the edge of it, held there by the thigh fingers stretching him wider yet. it doesn't sting any more and over-stimulated as he is, he doesn't try to scramble away from the unrelenting assault. he shakes his head against the mess of a blanket, whines. he can't, he can't, but-- ) Can try-- I can.
( for Daddy.
except it just hurts, except he's just trembling as the crescendo keeps building, as his hips twitch forward against thin air. he's not hard anymore but it feels like he's going to come, hurts more than before. he lets out a frustrated whine, like it'll help. it doesnt; a sob that follow. )
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[Gently, slowly, he pulls his fingers out; massages both hands over Eddie's as, his thighs, murmurs real low: ] Eddie - I need you to focus. Can you do that?
[He wets his lips. ] Knock on the floor if you can do that for me.
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the touch on his thighs and ass is soothing, reminds him that his cheeks ache from the spanking. ) Mmmhmm.
( the instructions are hard to follow, mostly because he's still trying to breathe right and shaking. so the knock is soft but he can, he can focus for Daddy even if he can't cum again. )
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He amends, softer: ] Do you want it, Eddie?
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