2spooky: The All-Saints Pyschiatric Hospital

[bluezone]

Four cases of beer, a bet, and a dare. That was how it all started.

The beer had been Tecate and it'd been bought by someone's older brother, since not a one of them was older than seventeen. The bet had been that the Heat wouldn't win against OKC, and in fact would lose by at least fifteen points. The dare had been at the discretion of the winner. Aomine had had way too many of the beers, had claimed that Miami would win, and had scoffed at the idea that any dare would be too tough for him to see through.

A day later, while still nursing the worst kind of hangover, he was cursing himself, his asshole friends, and the fucking failure of the Heat defense for his current situation.

All-Saints Psychiatric Hospital hadn't been a hospital since the 50s; supposedly it'd just been records storage before finally being shuttered for good sometime in the 1980s. Now, it was a derelict ghost sitting on the edge of new suburban sprawl, it's crumbling facade obscured by trees, an overpass, a hill, and distance. Once you got past the high fence and heavy, bolted gate, you might as well have been in another world, one overrun with grass, weeds, twisted shrubs, and patchy trees. There'd been a cobblestone drive, once, now a river of potholes and ugly, standing water, and there'd been a grand entryway with stone steps and metal handrails, all of it twisted and crumbling now, reduced to crumbling concrete and rebar.

Inside, it's a fucking tomb. It's cracked tile and peeling wallpaper with long streaks of black mold; it's graffiti and broken glass, and rotted doors hanging off rusted hinges; it's a single, abandoned hospital bed, it's padding slashed open, laying on its side near a set of doors that says OFFICES. It's utter silence, except for a faraway dripping and Aomine's own pounding heart.

He just has to go to the second landing. The stairs off the main atrium were secure and sound, he'd been told, and there was an observation deck up top that looked down on the dusty, cracked reception desks. All he had to do was walk up, take a few selfies, make a video shot down the long, dark hallway toward the first ward, and then get the fuck out.

His hand tight around the smartphone in his pocket, Aomine hustled toward the grand, wide stairs littered with leaves and garbage, and pretended that he wasn't fucking terrified.

At the very least, it was still daylight outside; it was 10 AM on a balmy Saturday in Spring.

Comments

[bluezone]

"But I'll--"

He had a reason why he kept trying to make himself heard. He mainly understood her about the water, but his quivering pride clung to the awareness that he was only just barely holding it in right now. If they did this, while they did this, he would...what if he...he knew already he wouldn't be able to keep his concentration or keep the muscles between his thighs clenched, and if so...

"--haa, ah, a-ah."

But then it was gone, it was leaving him, she chased the thought out of him with her whisper, which to him is lewd and comforting in the same breath, and with the too-light dance of fingers across his skin. He's only ever felt his own hand; plenty of times, sure, but before, in the room, that was the closest he'd ever come to feeling someone else. That had been with a sheet; this was skin to skin. His taut thighs jumped the moment he felt her, hot sparks racing across his nerves, and he gasps openly, staring in shock, first at the ceiling, and then down at her, his eyes and his lips wet.

She was beautiful. It always came back to that. Her lips seemed so red, her cheeks dusted with pink, her hair curling gold at her temples. When she opened her mouth, he groaned, the sound of it pitched and pained. When he felt her the first time, warm damp soft, he made a whimpered sound he'd never heard out of his mouth mouth.

"G...god, oh god - "

He felt interior muscles quiver. Panic leaped up, clutched tight around his heart, but her lips were going down, down and down, and all he can bring himself to do is arch and squirm, pulling at his wrists, panting wetly as he watches her.

Still beautiful. Still impossibly beautiful, and now so erotic that watching hit him as hard as all the rest, the touch and heat and the weight in his belly and, now, terribly, his own helplessness.

[psalmed]

Lia can hope he will settle after his. And she can say a thousand hail Marys and convince herself this was right for both of them. At the very least that he is blameless. Young enough to not know better and here she is dragging someone else down this path.

At least he seems to enjoy it. Of course he would. She looks up at his face and rests a hand on the outside of his thigh, stroking and comforting. The other slips between his legs. She strokes what parts of him she can't get into her mouth. Jerks his cock off with a gentle sort of care as she takes more and more into her mouth, not wanting to go too quickly and gag.

Of course he'll feel out of control. It's how he's going to find his way back to sanity. You can't keep clinging to a ledge; you have to jump off. Though she knows this treatment isn't the most orthodox way of proving that.

It's easy to do. Let him sink more and more into her mouth until her lips are nearly at the base of him. Swallow around him. Palm his balls and squeeze lightly, coaxing. Listen to the shift of blankets and restraints and the water. All for his betterment, all to give him pleasure.

But Lia would be a liar to say she wasn't enjoying herself as well. The sweet little noises he makes and how inexperienced he is. How he she will be in his memory. So she hums around him, guiding him, showing him how to move to get more or less stimulation.

[bluezone]

"Mm...mmm! Mm, pha...sh...it--"

He can't keep himself quiet. He couldn't keep himself quiet the first time, either, but that had been in the dead and not, and not during the busier workday. He knew they could be discovered; he knew she was in a bad situation somehow, from the bruises on her neck and the look in her eyes.

But he couldn't help himself. He tried, fuck did he try, but the groans and the gasps spilled out past his lips anyway, especially when she added her hands and got so close. She takes in so much of him that it's shocking, because he knows he's not a small dude, he's been in enough locker rooms to tell that much, and yet she manages anyway, and her palms are so warm around his sack that he hisses from the pleasure. He's sweating, dampness catching under his knees and on his palms, but he's loose, too, relaxing, tension sliding out as she plays him like an instrument.

It means, as well, that after a few moments there's a faint dripping, a pat pat pat of droplets on fabric, before he remembers, before the reminder sets his muscles to seizing back up again, desperate and embarrassed.

"Fh...fuck, sorry, I - "

He shakes his head, crimson, his eyes squeezed momentarily shut even though he wants so badly to keep watching her.

[psalmed]

She does pull off him when he panics. When his body goes taut and she looks up at him. Her lips are a little swollen, her fingers are still against his balls. Of course he would be embarrassed. Of course he has his pride and that alone convinces her that he's sane. That he can get out of this place with the right care.

"Let me take care of you, Daiki," She murmurs gently to him. As tenderly as if she were changing his bandages or helping him stand. She goes back to what she was doing, to fitting him into her mouth. Letting the head of his cock brush against the inside of her cheek before she guides him down again.

And she can help him out, at least a little. She presses a finger against that ring of muscle. So tense and tight with his effort to hold water inside him. Her head bobs up and down and that, too, makes noises. Wet slides and slurps, changing based on his reaction. Tongue prodding at his slit or dragging along the underside of his dick.

And if he loosens, if his muscles relax, she pushes a finger inside him. She's certainly done enough of those exams and maybe it will ease his tension.

[bluezone]

He shouldn't let her, he knew. Just giving in meant accepting her, which meant accepting that she was who she said she was and that this place was what she said it was. It meant acknowledging that he really did need her help, that he was sick after all, and that his house and his family and his life weren't real, after all. He'd be a patient. Her patient. He would stay here until he was better.

Aomine couldn't let that happen. He knew that. He knew.

But weakness crept up on him, pulling at his limbs and catching in his throat, and he gasped, and he whimpered, and he felt her finger rest on him at the same time that her lips slid over his cock. It felt in that moment like he couldn't do anything but rely on her; he couldn't move, could barely hold on, so what else was there? Who else was there?

"Fuuuck, fuck... Lia - "

It was the first time he'd said her name. The first time that she was a person, and not a ghost. He bit his lip and shuddered, shaken in some bitter, fundamental way, and relaxed little by little, bit by bit, letting her in, the passage eased by the water and the lubricant from earlier. Her finger, like her mouth and her tongue, was so warm, and the sensation of it was hideously intimate. He pushed his hips up as much as he could, following her lead, and even though it was so strange, and so awful, pleasure licked along his nerves, his cock thrumming with delight and left beads of precome on her tongue.

"Can I...I want to, come..."

[psalmed]

He says the word again and her eyes cut to him but she can hardly scold him with her mouth busy, doing something she's not supposed to be doing. And her name on his lips, even, sounds sweet. She likes it, likes he's calling her by her first name and not 'nurse' and not anything else.

It's a dangerous path. With him, at his age. With his nationality. With his stories about where he's from. But, God help her, Lia is enjoying this. The taste of him and the feel of him thick and heavy on her tongue. The way his muscles clench around him and how he rocks into her mouth. Even the sounds he's making and the way he's breaking and how nicely he's asking to...

She hasn't heard it put that way. Not really. She can grasp his meaning well enough, however. She has to pull off him to answer, leaving his erection wet and neglected but with her lips brushing against him, still. "You can. I will take care of you. I will see you out of here, I swear it."

Perhaps she should not be making promises like that. But he seems so needy in this moment, so helpless, that she would offer him the moon and stars.

All she can offer him, as it is, is her mouth and his orgasm. She presses her tongue flat, lets him slide against it. Into her mouth, into her throat to bump against the back as she swallows and sucks and drags her lips along his length. Her finger presses inside him, curls upward as she's been taught exactly not to do but knows how to do anyway, careful but certainly wanting to take that sad look from his eyes.

[bluezone]

"Gh, aah, aaaahh--!!"

It started with a groan, and then grew into a cry, and then grew into something that someone with their ear against the door would be able to hear. The air had been so cold, just pure torture against his skin, and he had stared at her, panting openly, quivering under her, desperate for answer. God, he hadn't known what the fuck he would do if she had suddenly said no, and though she had not said no so far, not to this, it added a different layer a fear. She had so much control, she could leave him any time, just leave him hanging, leave him like this with no one willing to help him.

But she didn't. She didn't. She said the same thing she has said over and over again.

"I will take care of you."

Then he was in her mouth again, in her throat, down so far that it shocked him nearly to silence. But his voice came back, rushed back out in that grown, and shit, shit shit shit, she was, her finger, he squirmed, confused, and then lurched, shocked, twisting. It...it tingled, it panged, his burdened stomach did a flop, and it was almost like she had flicked the tip of his dick with her finger, except it was inside. His balls clenched up, pressed up against the base of his dick; his eyelids slammed shut. His jaw locked and his moans beat against clenched teeth and closed lips while he unloaded right into her mouth, hot and thick, over and over again.

It's good, a fevered voice moaned in his head. It's so good--

[psalmed]

She wasn't surprised. Not after the first time. Relief and guilt flooded her and the warm heat of arousal, pooling in her belly and between her legs as she swallowed him down. Lia didn't choke, finished him off with wet pulls of her mouth and her finger moving inside him. Pressured strokes, massaging that place toward her like she could milk every bit from him.

There had to be the reminder that he was young and that was cruel. She had to stop before he got too sensitive and he had certainly been loud enough and no doubt he would love to actually finish what she'd come in here to do.

It was with a sigh that Lia let him go. She pulled off him, wiping her mouth almost daintily. Her hair was dark with a little sweat, her cheeks a brighter pink, but she seemed professional as she carefully pulled her finger out of him and moved to rinse her hands off nearby.

She couldn't resist, though, dropping a little kiss on Aomine's forehead. "Can you walk? I can take you..." She gestured. To the toilet. Of course that would involve holding his restraints and him not giving her any trouble.

[bluezone]

Fuck. Fuck.

He was coming down, but so slowly, so incredibly fucking slowly. The blood in his veins felt so thick, oozing through him and searing his insides from its heat. His balls ached; the tip of his dick felt spongy and soft. He was covered in sweat and yet was contrarily cooler, every muscle loose and shivering. He felt...strained. Wrung out. There were still little spasms going through his groin and coming had gone on longer than he was used to, or so his tired, fevered mind tried to tell him.

Maybe it had. It would have been because of her. When she moved away he made a small sound and let his head drop back, only to blink at her in exhausted surprise. Her offer, though, was one that he couldn't refuse.

"Y...yeah." He agreed, perhaps too quickly. In his mind, how it would all go was clear: she would let him loose and he could take care of it himself. "I can walk."

He wasn't so sure about that, but he wasn't about to say no.

[psalmed]

Lia watched him, making certain he wasn't about to have a seizure or be sick or anything else. He was still trembling but that was normal. She would have to clean him up, anyway.

Her fingers undid the restraints on his wrists and she rubbed feeling back into his fingers and soothed the reddened skin on his arm. "Very careful," She advised him. "Very slowly. Stand with me and do not let go of me."

Part of her expected him to simply bolt. Toward the bathroom, toward a window, she wasn't sure which he'd head for first. She had hoped they built up a rapport but perhaps not.

She heaved him up, deceptively strong for her size, created by her profession literally being hauling people around sometimes. She took baby steps with him, waiting for him to find out how to function. How long had he been reclined, anyway?

Of course he was warm against her. He smelled good, strangely so with how he needed a bath. Unconsciously she ran her tongue along her lower lip as she walked with him.

The bathroom was rather small, which was fortunate in this case with her attempt to let him go, but remain close enough he couldn't fall and crack his head open. "Are you feeling alright? Light-headed or dizzy?"

[bluezone]

It hadn't yet occurred to him to run. Aomine was in no shape to run; aside from how his knees shook, the moment he took off, he knew already that Bad Things would happen. He might still escape, the Bad Thing might even help facilitate his escape, but his battered, limping pride wouldn't let him do that. It was stupid, it was so fucking stupid, but he had to get the water out first. That was all that mattered, even though he shuddered to feel his wrists come free.

"I'm fine. I can make it. I'm fine."

He wasn't fine, but the mantra seemed to bolster his efforts. It got him across the room, to the bathroom, and into the tiny, bleak stall. He was able to move his arms from her shoulders to the walls, brace himself as he eyed the painfully Western toilet. He'd have to sit, but he'd been living in America long enough that it wasn't so--

But she was still there.

The look he gave her, out from under the mussed, sweat mess of his hair, was half-pained, half-embarrassed.

"Could you...go?"

[psalmed]

Lia looked, for a moment, surprised he was asking her to leave. She was so used to being present. Being a nurse, really. But if that was what he wanted...

She pet his hair back, out of his face. "I will wait just outside. If you feel like you might fall, call for me. There is no sense in you busting your skull apart for your own stubbornness. And it would cost me my job, probably." Nothing like a healthy dose of guilt to go with the instruction, Lia decided.

After a moment, however, she stepped outside and shut the door softly behind her. She stood guard outside, trying to tidy her own appearance but feeling uncomfortably warm. Pressing her thighs together beneath her skirts did little to help the sensation. She wondered how difficult it would be for him to maneuver, as tall as he was. She wondered if some of his delusions had a basis in reality.

It was only a few minutes before she let herself back in. To help him, yes, but also to have a bit of privacy. Time to catch her breath. Time to lift her skirt at least slightly, up to her thighs where there was bare skin above her stockings. She didn't really look at him. "Are you still managing?"

[bluezone]

It wasn't a fun few minutes.

She was right about everything, in the end. It was clear. Just water. The noise of it was humiliating in its loudness, all the wet and rushing, and the insides and backs of his thighs were wet before he was done. The water was warm by then, heated up by his body, and the sensation, the rush of fluid over the slicked ring of his anus--

When she came back inside, he was sweating a little once again, right in the middle of pulling a handful of toilet paper off the roll to wipe himself with. It was the first time he had had that kind autonomy in what felt like days and hours, and he was so engrossed by it and the tingling, prickling tenderness between his legs that she actually startled him. He jumped, just a little, and tensed up, but it was just her. Just Lia.

"I'm--"

Her face was still flushed.

"--okay."

He could see her garters again, the little metal clips shining as they caught the overhead light. Being as tall as he was, even while sitting, he was a little higher than her waist, but still, the view was...

Aomine felt a familiar, hot stone drop into his gut. It was no surprise. Despite everything he'd been through, he was still young, still in good shape.

[psalmed]

"Good." She turned to give him a bit of privacy at least. Of course that simply put her nose to the back of the door but it was actually cool. Somewhere to press her forehead for a moment as she silently prayed. To compose herself, because she still had a couple of patients to see...

It wasn't working, really. She swayed and flipped her skirt lightly, like the movement of air would help anything. Fingers unbuttoned the neckline of her shirt and she realized her heartbeat was fast and her breathing as well.

"Only...finish up. Then I will help you back to bed." She tried to make her tone seem normal, not breathless and heated. She could imagine what was wrong with her but she didn't want to entertain the impropriety of it. She had been helping Aomine, helping him keep his sanity. Of course with his age and sex he had every excuse for deviant behavior of his body. She did not.

"I do apologize. I swear I will take most excellent care of you." Just as soon as she could make herself presentable again. At least she turned around to offer him a smile.

[bluezone]

Don't.

He hadn't gotten to touch her the first time. He hadn't gotten to touch her this time, either.

Fucking don't. It's not fucking real. She's not real.

Time was still tangled in his head. To her, it was...days? Over a week or more? To him it was just crawling into evening outside. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours. It was all happening so close together and with so few breaks in-between.

You have to get out of here.

Maybe he really was going crazy. "Lia..."

He was taller than her. It was the first time he'd been able to stand around her and when he pressed up against her back, he covered all over her. It was easy to reach around and underneath her arms; it was easy to tentatively slide his hands over her breasts. He'd wanted to since the moment she first undressed in front of him, just like he had wanted to rest his face against her hair, lightly, just to see how it felt and how it smelled.

It was nice. She felt good. She was warm, and when he pressed in with his fingers slightly, right at the peaks of her breasts, she was so soft.

[psalmed]

"Are you ready to go back to bed?" Her tone was forcibly cheerful. Normal. At least until he was staggering over to her. The room was so small she really didn't have a chance. To leave or back away or to even lift a hand top stop him.

Not that she would have. In her heart, Lia knew she would have stood as still as she did when she didn't see him coming. He had appeared simply. A young man of fighting age left to them with no family and nearly no help. In a crisis, in a war...

Her breath caught as his arms slid around her. He really was huge. Tall and a little puppyish but in a way he would most definitely grow into. His hands were large as well and she wasn't so certain who had a fever any more with the way that felt.

It would be protocol to call out for help. More than that she should remove his hands and promise not to speak of it only if he never does that again. She did neither, simply freezing in place for a long few seconds before she relaxed. Before she, God help her, pressed back a little against him. She could feel his bare skin against her thighs and so close to her bare skin on her chest. "Daiki," She answered back. She couldn't find a firm tone or a commanding presences. "Daiki, you should go back to bed."

And she? She should hide in the bathroom until this passed and then flee. Lia could not find it in herself to do the right thing. Not for the first time.

[bluezone]

"I don't want to."

It was a phrase that should have been familiar to her by now. Even in the gaps that he didn't remember, when he supposedly continued to exist in this time and this place, he repeated it to everyone. I don't want to. No. No, you can't make me. I don't need to.

I don't want to.

What Aomine did want to do was take a deep, uneven breath and then grasp the fabric of her top in his hands. There were buttons, but he had no confidence he'd be able to deal with them. Rather than bother, he pulled until the hem of her tip was free of her skirt, and then slips his hands down underneath it. His fingers practically rushed up her skin, his heart kicking up to an incredible tempo the longer this went on without being stopped. Excitement was bubbling in him, hot as his fever had been, and when he found the cups of her bra, it was easy to work his fingers beneath them and feel the swell of her tits and then, just as quickly, the warm texture of her nipples.

"Shit," he whispered, deeply shaken, but it was too late now. He was acting, he was panting lightly against her hair, and even though he had no fucking clue what he was doing, what he had said before remained true.

"I'm not going."

What he was going to do instead was nuzzle against the back of her neck, looking for skin, and leaving a kiss there when he found it.

[psalmed]

"You are not well. You will feel better if you rest and drink flu-" Fluids She was about to say. The typical nurse's advice was what had been about to spill out of Lia's mouth. She had been saying that since he got here. Let him rest. Give him fluids. His mind will find its way back and everything will be as it should be

Things were not as they should be. Lia was still frozen, one hand locked on the back of the door and the other clenched in her skirt. Her mind was a whirlwind about how wrong this was and how much she wanted it and how she should set an example but how would his dick feel against more of her skin and why was she thinking that?

A little sound came from her throat as his hands slid underneath her bra. It was, with, not the first time she'd been cornered by a patient and groped. But it was the first time she'd liked it, wanted it to continue. Hadn't screamed with no threat of violence being levied against her. Instead of a hand wrapping around her throat to strangle her he was kissing her.

"You have to go," Lia told him, a little sadly. But there was the echo of it, of her words, and she wasn't certain why she was still talking. "You do not belong in this place." Perhaps she was starting to believe him.

But her hand lifted, reached behind her to stroke fingers through his hair and down the side of his face. It made more of her breast brush against his fingers. It made the ache in her all that much stronger and she pressed back more firmly against him. "Please, Daiki..." What was she asking for? She wasn't certain she knew as she shifted against him.

oops two years late

[bluezone]

For once, Aomine was beginning to believe that to some degree, she was right.

He was not well. He was free for the first time in hours - days, weeks - and even while naked and lost in the depths of this hellhole, he could move about. He wasn't restrained. He wasn't drugged. There were no orderlies hovering at the door, ready to catch him. He could break and run, finally, run out of this goddamn nightmare and somehow find the world that he belonged in, the world where this place was nothing but a dirty, broken-down ruin full of leaves and broken bottles.

But he had to be sick in some fashion because he didn't do that.

He pressed himself close against her back and tugged her hard so that her back was flush to his chest and felt desire flare and dance in the pit of his belly. "Lia."

Lia. The only constant in this fucked-upp universe. He this private space, he admitted what he thought every time he laid eyes on her: "You're so damn beautiful."

And god help him, he wanted her. He was hardening, the growing stiffness of his cock easily felt against her hip. He swallowed a groan and he echoes her words back at her. "Please." Please let him. Please listen. Please believe him. His hands massages her with a gentle desperation that made her nipples roll against his palms until they were hard and he kissed her ear, the crook where her neck met her shoulder, and his exhale was hot and needy.

"Please let me have you." This. Her. He was losing his mind.

[psalmed]

It was wrong. It was not what she would do. The standards, the regulations...all of them flooded back into Lia's mind.

But this place didn't always meet those standards. She believed in the cause; of course she did. She believed the mind could be healed. She often visited the 'quiet' wing of the asylum to see the soldiers who were slowly healing or the new mothers who only needed a bit of rest.

She wanted Daiki to get out of here. She needed him to be out of here for some burning reason beyond explanation. The world wavered around them just a moment. The paint disappeared from the walls, another wall disappeared all together, and then it was back to the clean, white, sterile environment. He might notice that, with his hands on her, she stayed stable through it all.

Her back arched and she tipped her head back onto his shoulder. She was slight, all things considered, even if she was taller than average. Her head tilted, rolled, and she soaked up the attention in a way she shouldn't. She loved the touches, the sweetness with which it was delivered, all of it.

Her fingers pulled her skirt up more, so that bare flesh of her thighs was against him. "Yes," She hissed, whispered, and kissed him again. "But we must be careful."

[bluezone]

He saw it. He thought he saw it. But he felt torn in half by the emotions that swelled up inside at the sight of the decayed remains of the hospital: relief and jubilation, and then a loss that makes his throat tight.

He can finally have her.

She said yes. "I'll be careful."

A hot and hurried whisper, near to her ear, before his mouth is on her neck again, his words meant to reassure the both of them. "I'll be careful."

What he is, at first, is clumsy. Now that he could move his hands where he wanted, he didn't know where to put them: they palmed her again at first, trying to devote the shape of her breasts to his memory, but the brush of bare thigh across his cock promised delights he'd been denied since the beginning. He choked on his next breath, then dropped his hands. His arms were long enough to let him, with just a small lean, slip his fingers under the front of her skirt.

He knew she wore white lace. Stockings. Garters. He felt out the fabric, the eager pads of his fingers coasting down over the front of her cunt to tuck into the warmth between her thighs. He rubbed, pressed, search, he knew she liked it, she enjoyed it when he gave attention to her clit--

"Here." Aomine found himself saying, a question and a statement at the same time. "You like it here, right?"

[psalmed]

Her mind went somewhere else. Somewhere far away, warm and happy. Away from this place and the treatments and the bruises across her pale throat and down her back. Golden hair, not dark, and someone who looked far more like her than Aomine did. Slighter in height, thinner of limb, and someone she had loved so desperately a lifetime ago.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve his gentleness or the care she had urged him to take. Not with what she had done.

But there was a certain excitement to him, to the clumsiness they were both experiencing. It was exciting, the first time. His hand slid down her body and she spread her legs just a bit. A smile was back on her face as he asked, as he hoped.

"Yes," She confirmed in a breathy whisper, moving against him; fingers and his thighs. The fabric of her uniform was already sticking to her skin.

[bluezone]

"Okay." The thrill of doing something right, even something so small, made his head spin. "Okay. I'll remember."

Why? For how long? What did he expect to happen when this was done and they both had to fall back into the roles this whole nightmare seemed to want to force them into? Questions such as those hung heavily in the back of his mind, but he pushed them away, purposefully forgot about them, and gently but purposefully massaged over her, feeling out where the cotton was thinner, warm, and he swallowed hard against a groan.

Soft. Hot. He'd never really been with a woman before her. Not like this, or in any way that mattered. The tips of his fingers shook slightly, though that didn't slow him nor discouraged him: he used his fingers to spread the fabric, and her, before pushing it aside so he could feel her properly. It was different than touching her with his lips and tongue; he'd been restrained then, helpless to do anything other than what she asked of him, but now he was able to chase the slickness down to where her body dipped inward. He was careful, almost reverent, stroking from her clit and all the way down before he dared put a finger to her.

He knew the ins and outs of it. He'd read things. Watched things.

Nothing compared.

[psalmed]

"I will keep you safe," She whispered. Not a sweet nothing, not at first, but the feeling behind it was dragged out of her chest like her heart itself. "I promise. I will keep you as safe as I can." It was all she could offer. All she could use to try to atone for this wicked thing she was doing.

But he wanted this. He needed this. It was respite, emotionally and physically, from the world out there. Surely it could not be all wrong.

Lia groaned as flesh met flesh. She was wet, hot, and dreadfully tight around his finger. He treated her carefully, like an idol, like he was a worshiper. "You may...you may progress. I fear we may not have much time." And she did not want to leave him wanting. He deserved far better than that.

[bluezone]

With the way the room flickered now and then, from new to old, reality to un-reality, she was right in more ways than one. Some part of him wanted to go slowly, to make it last, make it matter, but...

"Sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't sure why.

He brought his hands back up and grasped her hips with one and took his cock into the other. This was a staple of so many fantasies, having a woman like this, standing up, the both of them hurried and wanting, and yet he fumbled for a moment, trying to guide himself to her. He was too damn tall...

Desperation bred invention. He used his free hand to lift her leg and hold it up just enough for him to press his tip against her. He immediately sucked in a harsh breath. It was a world different from touching with his fingers; the heat made his head swim. But once he knew, once he was sure, he moved forward again, pressed her up against the closed door, and he knew from the faint pinching that he was maybe being too forceful. "Sorry, I'm almost...fuck..."

There. The right angle. He sank in and hissed helplessly against her neck.