#Jud Fry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weenis-beenis · 2 years ago

Text

Not-So Lonely Room

Werewolf!Jud Fry x F!Reader

Chapter 5

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Ao3 link

Word Count: 6441

18+ Minors DNI

Tags (for the whole fic): Werewolf AU, Fix-it, Fix-HIM, Laurey and Curly and Eller slander here, Suicidal Thoughts, Discussion of suicide, Abuse Involving Food, Restriction of Food, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, Some Canon Dialogue, Slightly Altered for Ease of Reading, Blood and Injury, Bathing/Washing, Intimacy, Scent Kink, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex

Note: Special thanks to @molina-fix for beta-ing this fic

You were alone with him.

Of course you had been for the last two hours now, but this was different.

Jud stood with you in your bedroom, the door closed behind you, nude, impatient, and entirely alone.

You brought him to your bed, growing jittery in your movements, and had him sit. You gave him one quick, nervous peck on the mouth before lighting the lamp on your nightstand and running over to your dresser to riffle through your drawers. You returned with one of your many first aid kits, laying out all the gauze and dressings you needed on the blanket beside him. You had several kits scattered throughout your small home, the largest of which was in your cupboards in the kitchen. You could have easily taken care of him at your dining table like you did most everyone else who came to you, but you wanted him here. You craved the intimacy of your bedroom.

Settling between his spread thighs, you went to work delicately trailing your fingers around the now clean wound on his side, checking for any signs of infection or areas you may have missed while washing him, and sighed when you found none. Jud’s hands found your waist again, his fingers idly dancing up your sides as you quickly and carefully bandaged him up. It came to you easily, the practiced motions of cutting and applying gauze to the wound, sticking it with adhesive tape. You added extra adhesive, more than you may have normally, body thrumming with energy as you thought of what was likely to come once you finished. You needed that bandage to stick.

“There,” you whispered, setting the dressings on your nightstand before allowing your fingertips to brush against his hot skin again.

His head fell to your chest, hands shaking at your sides. “Thank ya,” he muttered.

You rested a hand on his shoulder and brought the other up to play with the hairs on the nape of his neck. “Yer welcome.”

Strong hands fisted the soft fabric of your dress, pulled you close so he could nuzzle your chest. He groaned low and contented as he rubbed his face against your clothed breasts, moving higher and higher until his mouth found the first hint of your exposed collar bone, where he licked a stripe along your bare skin. You whined, the need mounting between your legs and roiling low in your stomach near unbearable as he mouthed at you, trailing kisses up to your neck, tongue lathing across the sensitive skin of your throat as he lifted you onto his lap like it was nothing, all the while moaning loud and low at your taste.

Your hands wandered his torso, exploring his strong and soft chest and stomach. You were eager, curious with your touch. You found his body pleasant. His strength was obvious but he wasn’t all sharp edges and hard planes. He was warm and comfortable and inviting, with an abundance of textures for your exploring fingers to familiarize themselves with. And he ate up all your attentions too, leaning into your touch, using a hand to drag you further into his lap, into his being, his lips continuing their trek up to your jaw. You shivered, felt the heat of his cock through the bunched up layers of your skirts. The hand not preoccupied with palming your hip came to the front of your dress, fiddling with, but not undoing, the buttons.

He captured your mouth in his, kissing you deep and slow, swallowing your breathy moans when his hips jerked against yours. He parted from you just barely, a mere hair’s breadth away, and muttered, “Yer all wet,” against your lips. You flushed, lost in a heady daze. He tugged on the front of your dress, damp from where his wet skin had pressed against it before.

You swallowed, wiggled your hips against his, the whisper of friction only worsening your arousal rather than sating it. “Y-yeah, seems I am.” The hand at your hip moved to ruck up your skirts, leaving your bloomers as the last barrier between your sex and his. You gasped. “Should- should take this off now, shouldn’ I?”

He answered with a hum, popping open the buttons of your dress. His other hand came to cup your clothed breast, massaging it as he kissed and licked and sucked every inch of fresh skin he exposed while working your top open.

Breathless and desperate, you fisted your skirts and ground against him, while he lapped heavily at your skin. You whined at the feeling. He was everywhere, pressed close, wrapped all around you, and it still wasn’t enough. He huffed and groaned into your chest, rutting against you with aggression and urgency. He was overwhelming, drawing whimpers and gasps from you with his needy touch, in the way he grabbed and clung to you almost fearfully.

Once finished with your buttons, he impatiently pushed the fabric from your shoulders and took a breast in hand. A nervous giggle bubbled in your throat as he pawed at you, especially once you saw the way his teeth were bared. He hardly seemed to notice, his other hand pulling at your skirts idly, anxiously.

“Jud,” you cooed, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger. He growled, dragging the rough pad of his thumb across your nipple. “Jud!”

He halted all movement, fear flashing in his eyes as he looked up at you. Hisfingers trembled on your skin and the fabric that pooled around it. Gently, reassuringly, you skimmed your fingers down his cheek, tilted your head, and offered a small grin. He looked dazed, lost, torn. His hands struggled to stay idle. Your chest squeezed, almost painfully so, and you began to wonder just how long it had been since someone had shown him a shred of kindness, of decency. How long since he had been touched, simply felt another person?

Too damn long.

Folks avoided him like the plague when they could, and had for a long time now. Jud hadn’t felt proper human touch in months, much less had someone to hold in his arms, had arms to be held in… Never had anyone opened themselves up so eagerly to his curious hands, to his desperate touch like this. And it scared him.

His desires and fears warred within him, grappled and entangled in a volatile mess that not only threatened to ruin the evening but also the life he held in his hands if he couldn’t keep the monster from rearing its ugly head. He clutched you tight, grit his teeth and gripped your dress tight enough to tear, trying to ground himself in your presence enough to clear his head. There was a hissing in his ear, the fearful animal instinct to take you like the beast he was, to take what he could get as quickly as he could before you realized you hated him just like everyone else did. Like he deserved.

But then your soft fingers were on his cheek, caressing his skin, running over his ridges and scars without fear, and he wanted to worship your hands, wanted to worship you, wanted to feel every part of you he could, lick every fucking inch of your skin, taste and touch and breath in all of you. He wanted to absorb your kindness into himself, feel it on his tongue, touch and love and thank you in all the ways he didn’t know how to say… And yet he knew just how easily he could scare you away no matter what desire he let lead him. He couldn’t let that happen. No, no, no he couldn’t let that happen. He needed you to stay. He needed you to let him stay. His grip tightened.

“Jud.” Your voice pulled him from those circling, cacophonous thoughts. “Look at me.” He hesitated, and only after a great, trembling pause did he crack open his eyes, looking up into the ones shining down on him tenderly. Lightning flashed through the window at his back, illuminating you in a brilliant white for the briefest of moments. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Jud.” You thumbed his cheek and he melted into it, eyes fluttering shut.

“Thank you.” His mumbling was near inaudible as he nestled further into your palm. You were so warm, so kind, so loving. And God did he want to grope and paw at you, to rut into you like an animal. He fisted your dress again, wanted to tear it to shreds, wanted to feel your bare flesh against his.

“Hey, hey,” your voice called out to him again, “My dress.”

Jud winced when he looked to his hands, loosened his too-tight grip on the soft fabric. It was a nice dress. You looked good in it too. And he ruined it, all creased and wet and dirty. A real nice dress, and he had soiled it. Probably the best you had too.

“Shit,” he mumbled in his bleary haze, sneaking a hand under your skirts and smoothing it over your thigh, “Went an’ got all dolled up fer t’night and ain’t even had nobody to go with ya. Shoulda gone with ya. Stupid.”

A soft laugh tore him from his grumblings. “Don’ worry ‘bout it-” Truth be told he hadn’t quite realized he’d been voicing his thoughts- “Slim took me for a spin a few times… must admit I was hopin’ I’d get the chance to be spun ‘round by you once or twice.”

He sat bolt upright, holding you just that much tighter. There was a sharpness to his eyes that had moments ago been foggy and wet. “Slim?” His eyes narrowed. “Ain’t that the feller what bought yer basket?”

“Yeah…” Your voice was little more than a whisper, an uncomfortable stab of shame in your chest, though you didn’t know what for. For talking to him when you had thought he was well meaning? For letting him dance you around? For those few moments you had considered giving up on Jud for a taste of normalcy?

He bared his teeth, flashed those sharp canines, his fingers twitching to dig into the meat of your thigh and breast. To remind you whose lap you were sat on. A pang of something deeply familiar shot through his chest and he grit his teeth, bowing his head from you. If you and Slim were…

“Y’all friends, then? Cause I ain’t here ta-”

You laughed at that, sharp and scoffing. It speared him through the chest. He winced, that pang squeezing his heart once again, harder and tighter this time, before you guided him by the chin to look back at you, where you smiled down at him brightly, your eyes just a little sad.

“I don’ care none ‘bout him, Jud. He jist danced with me ta be polite, is all.” Your voice was barely a whisper, soft and tired sounding. You almost told him why you didn’t care for Slim, the way he tried to keep you from him, but you didn’t. “Jist have ta see him one las’ time tomorrow,” you mumbled thoughtlessly.

It was as though Jud were somewhere else entirely, staring straight through you. “Yer seein’ ‘im tomorrow?” His fingers curled tighter.

You kept your touch as soft and soothing as you could manage, the hairs raising on the back of your neck as his frustration built. “Have to, he bought ma basket fair an’ square. Cain’t not go with ‘im.”

His grip became uncomfortably tight, gaze fixed on your sternum and eyes dark, lacking in that warmth you had become so fond of. “Kill ‘im,” he muttered, “I’ll kill ‘im.” His fingers dug in tight enough to bruise.

You shifted nervously, or tried to, in his iron grip, and he only fixed you more firmly in place. “Now Jud,” You tried to keep your voice even, but you were starting to feel much like you had in those moments before he turned, suddenly and forcefully reminded of the strength he possessed. “I promise it ain’t a date, alright?”

He stared straight ahead.

“Hey.” You tilted his chin such that he’d have to look at you again, touch light but certain. “I don’ care ‘bout Slim. It ain’t gonna be a date, an’ I’ll make that perfectly clear, alright now?”

His eyes finally met yours when you traced a finger over the curve of his bottom lip. You felt it tremble under your touch, caught the wet gleam in his eyes, the stutter in his breath.

“Let’s put it this way,” you whispered, “Who’s here in my bed right now: Slim, or you?”

Mercifully, that seemed to quell him. His grip loosened, and you breathed a sigh of relief before giving him a gentle smile and stroking the long scars running along his cheeks. There were many injuries you knew how to care for, but there was no healing that pain. “I like ya, and I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Hesitantly, he leaned forward, waiting for you to change your mind and run from him like everyone else. But you didn’t, and he captured your lips in a delicate kiss. You returned it with the sort of gentleness you wished the world had shown him.

Large, rough hands caressed you softly, apologetically. You felt it in the way he handled you so carefully. Sorry for the aggression and impatience, distrust and fear. You kissed him harder, let him know that you wanted him just as bad. All was forgiven.

The fingers of one hand curled in his nearly dry hair, so thick and soft, and the other found purchase on his broad shoulder. You pulled yourself closer. Smothering him wasn’t your goal, but you craved the feel of his skin, to indulge in those dreams, those fantasies, that had plagued you since the day you met him.

The two of you could hardly stand to part from one another, panting between the hot slide of lips, losing yourselves in the lightheaded intoxication of sharing each other’s breaths. He slowly began to pick up where he had left off, mouth growing ravenous as one hand inched its way toward the apex of your thighs and the other tweaked your nipple between thick fingers.

Your hips rocked against his, deeply, desperately, pulling moans from your throats, but it wasn’t enough with your underwear in the way. You needed the feel of him sliding between your soaked folds, but all you got in that moment was the chaffing grind of his hot length through damp fabric.

He grunted, mouth slipping to your cheek as you rocked against him again, searching for relief to the molten desire rolling through you. He kissed and mouthed his way down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. The wet heat of his lips and tongue on your skin only worsened your plight. You ground down on his lap again, clenching around nothing as he made his way to your chest.

His lips found your nipple, wrapped around the bud and dragged his tongue over it to hear you gasp, keening and arching into him. The lapping of his tongue grew sloppier with every pass while he groaned and jerked his hips, crept his fingers higher up your thigh as his mouth grew desperate.

You whined as his already rather indelicate touch grew even more so, soaked in the low sounds he made against you. Your fingers appreciatively combed through his hair, and your eyes fluttered shut while he slicked your stiff and aching nipple with his spit. Right when he moved to your other breast, lathing just as messily and passionately at it as the other, you brought your fingers, already occupied with his hair, to scratch behind his ear much like you had on the ride to your home.

“Fuck!”

You jumped at the outburst, but before you could even retract your hand, his fingers closed tight around your wrist and brought it back to where it had been. Nerves frayed from an evening of various anxieties, you hesitantly scratched at the same spot. Understanding washed over you and eased your tension when you heard the faint whine at the back of his throat before he leaned further into your hand.

Curiosity, ever your motivator, spurred you to scratch harder, the way you might when petting a dog, and you were rewarded with a deep wanton moan, his hips jumping to meet yours. He groaned and moaned and whined for you, heat rising to your face as you drank in the shameless sounds he made.

For a moment you simply watched him, head lolled back and eyes squeezed shut, panting and growling and bucking up into you desperately. It was delicious, seeing him lost in pleasure at your hand.

He shifted suddenly, strong arms hoisting you up by your ass as he fell backward onto the mattress, bringing you down with him. You collapsed on his chest in a mess of giggles.

Then you were on your back, rolled over and completely caged in underneath his large frame. You blinked up at him, an excited shiver running down your spine. His eyes were so pretty in the orange lamp light flickering on your nightstand, so deep and warm. And for once there wasn’t anything gloomy swimming in them, no pain or fear staring back at you. His pupils were blown wide, lips softly parted, red scars bared to you. Open, honest, and needy.

You took his face in your hands again and pulled him down for another kiss, thumbs stroking his cheeks, over scratchy stubble and rough skin and crests of angry scar tissue. You loved the feel of him, worn and coarse and in need of care. You wanted to care for him.

Reluctantly, he slipped from your grasp, allowed himself the luxury of one more quick peck before easily picking you up and tossing you to the head of the bed. Another rush of giggles left you as your head landed amongst the pillows and he surrounded you once more, burying his face in your neck to take a deep breath through his nose. A small whine escaped as he exhaled, swiftly covered by a groan as he did it once again. Large, eager hands pushed at your dress, jammed the fabric past your hips. You helped, shoving at your skirts and drawers until you could kick them off the bed, laying yourself just as bare for him as he was for you.

Jud sat back and traced his hungry, curious gaze over you, his impatient desires seemingly placed on hold for a moment while he grazed a calloused finger over your soft skin. For so long, all he had were those pictures tacked to his walls, he had nearly forgotten what the tender skin of another felt like on his fingertips…

Your breath stuttered as his touch ghosted over the curve of your breast, and pulled his thoughts from the path they were wandering down.

He nuzzled your neck again, nosing your throat, taking deep, deep breaths, panting wetly on your collarbone. He simply couldn’t get enough of you. “Ya smell real nice,” he murmured before licking a stripe up to your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered while he lapped at your skin, your fingers skimming up the vast expanse of his back, carefully skirting the bandages at his side, delicately tracing every scar you could reach, until they came to tangle in his dark hair.

You breathed him in as he abused your neck with his licking and sucking and nipping, humming at the smell of cinnamon and cloves lingering on him. “So do you,” you whispered, quietly thanking yourself for picking a perfumed soap.

The way his movements stuttered at your praise didn’t go unnoticed, and you smiled, smoothing a hand down to his shoulder. He groaned and moaned unintelligibly, his low timbre rumbling through his chest and into yours. Those big, thick hands groped and grabbed at your sides, breasts, thighs, everywhere he could, all while your curious fingers took a slow course down his chest and stomach. Where you were delicate and savoring, he was hot and coarse, even in his attempts to keep himself reined in. He was as tender as he could manage, trying with all his might to be as gentle as you deserved.

Nails combed through the thick trail of hairs leading down from his belly button until your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. You swallowed, the weight of him in your hand both arousing and intimidating. He grunted, grazed his teeth over your collarbone. Cautiously, you stroked him as his lips slowly trailed down your body, his hands following suit. You shivered as they wandered down your waist, your hips, your thighs, his mouth pausing in its trek to focus on your chest.

Groaning at your languid touch, he took a nipple between his teeth, worrying the already raw bud, taking in your whines and the way you squeezed his cock in time with his gentle bites. His tongue soothed over it in brief apology before turning and giving the other the exact same treatment, chuckling at your pathetic mewl.

Thumbs traced the line where your thighs met your hips, your muscles shuddering and jumping as his fingers crept toward your sex. He pulled off your chest with a wet pop, sitting back on his heels, and hissing through his teeth as he slipped from your grasp. Dark eyes caught your own as pushed a thumb between your dewy folds, both of you moaning as he collected some of your wetness on his finger and dragged it up to your clit.

“Hell,” he groaned, repeating the motion one more time, just to watch you shiver, before leaning down to press a kiss to your sternum.

His hungry mouth took to its course once more, thick fingers toying with your dripping cunt while you gasped and whined, craving more from his meandering touch. He wasn’t so patient this time, eager lips and tongue and teeth working down your stomach swiftly and sloppily until he hovered over your wet heat. You whined when he removed his fingers and clamped his now slick hand down on your thigh.

A hot puff of air whispered over your clit, sent a shiver rolling down your spine, anticipation thrumming under your skin for him to just do it, to just put his mouth where you needed it. Instead, he took a deep breath through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat.

“Jud!” You snapped your legs shut around his head, turning to hide your flushed face in the pillows.

His deep laugh coaxed you back to looking at him, his face smushed between your thighs. “Cain’t help it.” He said with a smile, flashing those canines once again, and shoved his nose in your cunt.

You squeaked pathetically, mortified, hot from head to toe, and yet still a little flattered by the attention, however odd it may have been. And despite yourself, even as the desire to bury your face back in the pillows and pull away from his shamelessness grew, you found yourself indulging. You ground against his nose, addictive sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine as the strong ridge rubbed your clit. You did it again, and again, and again, rolling your hips into him as he took in your scent, your cheeks burning with shame. Jud, on the other hand, was unapologetic in his pleasures, moving in rhythm with you, moaning and groaning and digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

Once he seemed satisfied, those lovely eyes of his found yours, he smiled, and licked a long wet stripe between your folds, from eager hole to throbbing clit. You gasped and jerked and arched, breath stolen by his brazenness, and spread your legs wide, spread until they burned so he could fit between them, opening yourself wholly for whatever delights that tongue held for you. And he took to eating you as though you had just presented him the most devine meal in creation, throwing your legs over his shoulders and burying himself in the slick heat of your cunt. His curious tongue lapped at you eagerly, messily, exploring every dip and curve of your sex with urgency.

A quick flick of that ambitious tongue had you mewling, and so he took to lapping at the bundle of nerves, hoping to draw more pretty sounds from you. His reward was well earned, you jerked and panted as he rolled his tongue over the bud fervently, tension coiling low in your belly. Thick hands locked your legs around his head, strong arms holding your squirming body in place. His hair was soft between your fingers as you fisted his dark locks, torn between the desire to pry him from you or to grind his handsome face into your cunt as the stimulation became almost too much.

He granted you little reprieve, broad and sloppy strokes of his tongue wandering to your entrance, sometimes teasing in, before finding its way back to your swollen clit. His eager mouth had you hurtling towards your peak, shaking and writhing as well as you could in his firm hold, pussy dripping, and not from arousal alone. It was like he was a starved man, the way he drooled over you, wetting your already sopping cunt, your aching thighs. Your fingers curled tighter against his scalp, broken praises and cries of his name tumbling past your kiss-swollen lips. The inexpert but passionate curl of his tongue, the grip of his calloused hands, the rasp of his short-cropped beard on your delicate skin: all so deliciously overwhelming as he lapped at you, salivating and moaning as though he were enjoying himself as much, if not more than you were. And the sounds he made between your thighs were obscene, sucking and slurping undercut with constant rumbling moans that left your ears burning and further tightened that coil within you.

Stoked by desperation and curiosity, you peeled your eyes open to risk a glance downward, at his massive head slotted between your legs, crooked nose smashed against your mound, mouth working your aching cunt for all it was for, your arousal painting his face, his cheeks, his beard, shining on his nose in the flickering lamplight. He ground his hips into the sheets, searching for relief as he ate you with reckless abandon. Watching his lips and tongue suck and lick at you tirelessly, relentlessly, focused entirely on savoring your taste and wringing pleasure from you, finally snapped that taut coil.

You gasped and shouted his name, bucking and flexing and squirming in his hold as your orgasm burned white hot through your body. He rode you through the waves of pleasure, diligently licking and sucking up all the wetness that spilled from you until it all turned to uncomfortable overstimulation.

“Jud,” you whined, trying to wriggle free from his iron grip.

He kept at it like he hadn’t heard you.

“Jud!” You tugged at his hair when uncomfortable became painful.

With great reluctance, he let you pull him off, making a sound that you could’ve sworn was a whimper.

Breathless, you collapsed against the mattress, allowing your heavy eyelids to close while you caught your shaky breath. Warm and soothing hands, rough as they may have been, softly traced up your sides, drawing a long, low hum from you. Then his mouth was on your cheek, still wet, smearing your release over your skin as he kissed you. He whispered your name, the sound strained as he began pawing at you.

When you cracked open your eyes again, his were staring right back. Thick hands snaked beneath you, splayed out on your back, pulling you all the closer, until your chests were flush. You felt him pressing into your thigh, hot and hard. He called your name again, restless fingers flexing and digging into your shoulder blades. You offered a tender smile, cupped his face in your hands, and drew him down for another kiss.

He matched your softness with ferocity, grunting and shoving his tongue past your lips. You tasted yourself on him, whining as he massaged his tongue against your own. He clung to you, groping and devouring ravenously. He shifted you in his enveloping grasp, smearing precome across your inner thigh. You whimpered

“Let me-” he grunted, ‘I need…”

You wrapped still shaky legs around his hips, the heat of his cock now pressed to your still sensitive pussy ignited that needy flame within you once more. “Then have me,” you gasped.

With a stuttering thrust, his length slid between your soaked folds. “Fuck…” He repeated the motion, thoroughly drenching his cock in the mess he had made of your cunt. He did it again and again, cursing and grunting, making you whimper as his fat cockhead incessantly tapped at your abused clit, sometimes catching the rim of your entrance.

You whined his name, hips jerking away as he fucked your tender folds. You ached, both from overstimulation and the need for him to fill you. He finally conceded with a groan, lining himself up with your neglected hole and slowly pushing in. You took the tip with great ease, so wet and eager, but with every inch he stretched you further and further, spreading you open for him.

He nosed your cheek, stealing quick pecks between your mewls and sighs, his low moans rumbling through you both as he bottomed out. You guided him by the chin to look at you, making to kiss him once more, but paused to study his face. Another bolt of lightning cracked outside, flashing bright in the room, showing off all his rough features to your affectionate gaze. A smile tugged at your lips. Jud. Jud. Big, scary, mean Jud. The most dangerous man in town, in your bed, warm against your skin, holding you tenderly.

You traced a finger down the curve of his strong, crooked nose. You liked it. You liked a lot of things about him.

“I like you, Jud,” you whispered, combing through his beard. Another flash of lightning lit up his handsome face. “Yer a good man.”

He swallowed, gaze dropping from your eyes to your throat. He let out a soft, “Oh.”

Your hands trailed down to wrap around his back, shifting your hips so you held him closer. “I mean it.” You caught the wet gleam of his eye in the dim light of the lamp.

Strong arms cradled you impossibly close, the both of you wound in a tight, sweaty tangle. “I like you too,” he mumbled, covering his soft words with a kiss.

You smiled against his lips, heart fluttering in your chest, hips rolling against his encouragingly, trying to distract from the giddiness his admission left you with, and sighed at the barest stimulation it provided. Slowly, he moved in kind, savoring the feel of your tight heat as he pulled out. You groaned, even whined a little as the heavy drag of his cock left you feeling empty. He stopped at the tip, unwilling to completely part with your welcoming warmth. He took a moment, sucking in a deep breath and flexing his jaw, before easing his way back in.

“God, fuck.” Jud buried himself in your neck once again, restless mouth working your soft flesh as he started a languid pace with you. You arched into him, craving the press of his skin against your own, moving your hips in tandem with his. Soothingly, you caressed his broad and sturdy back, splaying hands over heated flesh and smoothing fingers over scars that were becoming more and more familiar to your touch. They were deep and angry, never to truly heal as his body split itself apart over and over again. You squeezed your eyes tight and pressed your cheek to his, gave in to the sensations of him, the smell and the sound and the feel of him all around you, inside you, loving you sweetly despite what you had been warned about, despite what you may have assumed about him yourself.

It was sacred, what you shared in that moment, free from the perceptions and judgments of others, under the cover of a stormy night, confined to the privacy of your bedroom. Your movements were easy, unrushed as you soaked in one another. He panted huffing breaths against your skin, murmured your name between gentle kisses. You heard a few thank you-s slip their way in amongst the fog of steady, slow building pleasure, but you knew better than to respond, to speak word of it, content to lock the knowledge away in your heart, only to be visited again in private moments when you needed the comfort.

You cooed sweet praises in his ear as he filled you so wholly, so completely and deliciously. Every inch, every ridge and vein rubbed against you perfectly, left you breathless in the wake of warm rolling pleasure. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought you had been made for each other. It was stupid to be thinking so romantically, feeling so passionately about a man you truthfully knew very little about, you knew that, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you were lost in the intimacy of the moment, of soft, tender caresses on calloused skin, unloved skin, that hadn’t been so clean in years.

That slow creep towards bliss became rapid once Jud let himself go. A hand came to grip your waist and his pace grew quicker, thrusts hard and sloppy as he chased his own end. Rain beat against the roof, the sides of the house, thunder rolled and lightning crashed, all drowned out by moans and groans and the frantic slapping of skin on skin. His other hand cradled the back of your head. He nuzzled his cheek into your throat, holding onto you as though you’d vanish from his grasp if he didn’t. You matched his intensity, hips rising to meet his, fingers digging into the meat of his back and tangling in his hair.

I love you. The words hung on the tips of both your tongues, and yet you couldn’t say it, because it wasn’t true, was it? You hardly knew a damn thing about each other, and everything you had learned could’ve been lies, meant only to coax one another into bed. But you had a hard time believing such a notion. You had seen a part of him you were never meant to see, and still you took him into your home. He let himself be vulnerable to you, laid himself bare, allowed you to care for him. You had offered him the same. The night had been a whirlwind of emotion, the culmination of mounting desperation and loneliness on both your ends. No, you didn’t love each other, were certainly not in love, but there was love shared in that house, in that room. There was tenderness and affection and forgiveness and the human connection you both had so desperately craved.

I love you. Neither of you spoke it aloud, but breathed life into the words with the snapping of hips and featherlight kisses and panting breaths and wandering hands and broken moans.

You cried out for him as the arousal pooling in your abdomen neared its tipping point. You felt his peak nearing too, his pace fast and stuttering, breathing ragged. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, rambling as he desperately slammed into you.

Your name was a psalm on his lips, holy and healing. You had saved him, that much he knew for certain. He was scared to think of what might’ve happened, what he might've done, if you hadn’t brought him back to your home, so he didn’t. He focused on you. On the way you moaned his name, the way you clung to him, fingers dug into his skin, your deliciously heady scent. He craved everything you had to offer, your being flooded his senses.

He came with a grunt, burying himself deep inside you as he could one last time, the heat flooding and filling your stretched cunt enough to push you over the edge with him. You clenched around him, gasping and shuddering as he pulled that second orgasm from you, less intense than the first, but warm and filling, cascading through to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Sweaty chests heaved against each other, the both of you greedily panting for air. The scratch of his chest hair against your sensitive nipples had you squirming beneath him, the fluttering of your walls around his spent cock left him groaning.

After finally catching your breath, you managed to peel your eyes open enough to see Jud staring down at you, worry etched in his features.

“What’s wrong?” You brought up a tired hand to cup his jaw, thumbing his cheek.

He closed his eyes, leaning into your faint touch. “I-” You thought you saw a tear catch on his lashes. “I jist…”

“I know.”

You brought him down for one more kiss, trying your damnedest to pour every ounce of feeling you had for him into it. You weren’t going anywhere.

Once you felt his breath evening out, you dotted playful kisses all over his face, over his cheeks and jaw, his forehead, his eyelids, ending with the tip of his nose.

You smiled at him, big and genuine. “Stay with me.”

He gave a quick nod, the both of you groaning as he pulled himself from you and collapsed at your side, leaving a sticky mess between your legs, smeared over your thighs. You tried to ignore it, clenching around nothing when his spend dripped from your used cunt. He curled his long body up against yours, taking your hand in his. You squeezed it back, eyelids drooping.

“C’mere,” you mumbled, sleep trying to settle in the back of your mind. You drew him into your arms, threaded your fingers through his soft hair as he rested on your chest. Your steady massaging slowed, and slowed, and then stopped with the even rising and falling of your chest.

Jud stayed awake for a moment longer, listening to the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat, the steady pounding of rain outside. Quietly, he reached a long arm over to the nightstand and snuffed out the lamp flame before curling up even closer to you, nestled in your soft, warm arms. Sleep came to him much easier that night in a not-so lonely room.

#jud fry #jud fry x reader #Alfred Molina #blood tw #food tw #weenis writes

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