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ken-dom · 1 year ago

Text

Touch

Julian Thompson x afab!reader

2k words

Summary: Julian's mother gives you two things: anxiety and a good idea.

Author's notes: Give me a pathetic and/or sopping wet man with issues and I have this burning, insatiable need to make him cum!

Warnings/content: nsfw, fingering, hand job, mentions of masturbation, mentions of Julian's mother, mommy issues all over the place, premature ejaculation, this is kind of an alternative ending to the scene where Mai pretends to be Julians girlfriend so it's probably worth mentioning that reader is Julian's escort I guess?

Julian was silent. His mother, a force to be reckoned with, had been vile. He hadn’t warned you beforehand that her tongue could be so utterly venomous, and you’d be inclined to think it was an act designed to scare you off if it hadn’t been for the way she talked about him so casually, and his reaction — or lack of, as she put him down and insulted him over and over again.

He walked a stride ahead of you, avoiding your touch and your eyes and any possibility of conversation, his shoulders hunched and step quick, breathing fast and a little ragged.

You stayed close behind, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. You only knew he loved his mother more than anything or anyone and if you mentioned her right now he might explode.

And meeting her certainly explained a lot.

As you approached his apartment, a plan formed in your mind that you hoped could not only open him up to you, but teach him that he has worth outside of trying to please his disgusting mother.

As you stepped into the room, bathed in red, he immediately dropped down onto the chair in the corner, hands resting on his knees. He still didn’t look at you, but you knew what it meant; he needed you.

You perched on the bed before him and dipped your head, trying to capture his gaze. When you didn’t move, he looked up at you and then down to his hands, lifting and turning them, considering his flesh illuminated in crimson.

He held them out toward you then, eyes meeting yours again.

You knew what he expected. He was waiting for you to either tie his wrists down to the arms of the chair so he couldn’t touch you, or guide them to your core so you could get off on his touch while he just watched.

But tonight you did neither.

You reached forward, placing your hands in his, and simply held them.

He began to tremble.

‘Julian?’

His eyebrow twitched at the sound of his name on your lips. He still didn’t speak.

‘Come with me?’

His breath hitched.

You let go of his hands and slid back on the bed, out of reach but beckoning him to join you.

‘Come on,’ you encouraged softly.

Julian stood and stepped toward the foot of the bed as you opened your arms out to him. More than anything he wanted to collapse into them. To just be held.

He lifted a knee onto the edge of the mattress, keeping his gaze hot on yours as he laid down beside you, stiff as a board.

‘Here,’ you cooed, turning on your side to face him and encouraging him to do the same, pulling one of his hands toward you. ‘You can touch me.’

His eyes widened and he froze, snapping his gaze to his hand, hovering midair in the small space between your body and his.

‘It’s ok,’ you soothed, reminding him again, ‘you can touch, it’s alright.’

Julian swallowed hard, hesitating for a split second before shoving his hand between your thighs and slipping your underwear to one side with his fingers before plunging one inside you.

You gasped, and in turn, he moaned.

‘Fuck- yes!’ you hissed, and his chest heaved, heavy breaths filling the inch between you.

His heart hammered in his chest. You were wet. For him.

He pumped his finger steadily, unwittingly hitting that spot inside that made your core clench every time he dragged his finger out and pushed back in.

It was different when he was doing it himself. You could tell he was afraid, and that he wanted more, so you rocked your hips into his palm. A quick learner, he got the hint, fucking you faster and you gasped.

‘J-Julian, yes- so good- so good- mmh!-’

You allowed yourself to touch him then. You’d held off, not wanting to blur the line between making it clear that he was doing this to you, and the way you would usually guide him, rutting against his palm as he watched.

‘Don’t stop,’ you whined as your fingertips drove into his broad shoulders, ‘please- please don’t stop-’

You’d never spoken so many words during your encounters, and whilst it was in aid of praising him, it was also entirely real, and he could tell. This wasn’t a show you were putting on for him, or a service you were providing. You actually wanted him. He was making you feel good.

Julian bit his lip, eyebrows worrying into a frown. His cock was aching inside his trousers, and he’d never wanted to fuck you so badly in all the time he’d known you. He’d cum in his underwear untouched before at the sight of your pleasure, but never when he was the one providing it. He needed to hold off but it was becoming harder by the second.

‘You’re so fucking good,’ you keened, and he felt a thick pearl of precum pump from his tip, cock throbbing and hungry for attention, and he moaned again.

You realised then that you’d never heard him moan at all before tonight, but in showing him some basic encouragement, without even touching him, you’d made him moan twice in the space of two minutes.

‘Please, Julian, may I touch you?’ you breathed, fighting to keep your breath even as he slid his finger out of you completely and carefully massaged your throbbing clit, the way he’d memorised from when you’d guided him. ‘May I… kiss you?’

He nodded slowly, bewildered that you’d asked this of him, and you pushed forward, pressing your lips to his and brushing your tongue along his bottom lip to beg for entry. He granted it with another moan, and when your tongues slid together he eagerly thrust his finger back inside your walls, fucking into you with renewed vigour.

He was close, and if he didn’t make you cum soon he’d spill before you had the chance to touch him.

Your hands flew to his belt, hurriedly unfastening the buckle around his pistoning wrist, and reaching inside to stroke your palm along his deliciously thick cock.

You were struggling to focus on wrapping your fingers around his length with the way he was grinding his palm against your clit and mercilessly fingerfucking you, but you managed it. You gave a few firm pumps of his cock before your legs shook and your back arched and he brought you tumbling over the edge, your fist working faster on him as your climax ripped through you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

And that’s all it took.

His release spilled, hot and thick, over your hand, a low grunt and a drawn out whine and it was all over. He trembled as you stroked him through the last of his release, breath hot against your skin as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting and trembling.

You smiled, thrilled that you’d finally actually seen him cum for you. He denied himself pleasure every time you’d been together, even the times when his fists balled and his arms strained to be free from the restraints you tied around them, but not tonight. He let himself feel it, let himself enjoy it.

In honesty, you’d hoped to fuck him, but you could wait. There would be time. Besides, the thought that he came so quickly for you made your core clench again.

As his breathing evened, he flopped weakly onto his back, the hand between your thighs disappearing with him, as he whimpered through the aftershocks of his pleasure, feeling his cock, wet and twitching, soften inside his boxers.

He flinched when you snuggled into his side, entirely expecting you to get up and leave now you’d got what you wanted from him.

You’d always been reluctant to leave, he’d noticed, and assumed it was because there was something you wanted that he couldn’t provide. But, it had been what he requested of your arrangement; you give yourself pleasure by any means necessary, don’t let him cum, then leave. This had been incredibly different. Still, your warmth startled him, and he wasn’t sure what that conflict bubbling up inside was, but he was very much leaning toward liking it. So he settled down.

‘That was so hot, Julian… Do you know how hard you made me cum with those big, strong hands?’

He shook his head.

You wanted to stroke his cheek and tell him he deserved to enjoy pleasure instead of denying himself it, but you didn’t think that would go down well, especially when you considered how his mother spoke to him, so you settled for a simple, ‘You did so good for me, baby.’

‘Why?’ His voice sounded weak, like he was on the brink of tears.

‘Because you’re so good with your hands, and you came so hard for me. And… because I wanted you so badly and I finally got to see you cum for me.’

Julian’s head was spinning. Your arm was comfortably tight over his chest, fingertips tracing soothing patterns into his shoulder where your nails had left aching little bruises. He’d never heard praise like this. You were being kind. Why were you being kind? Did he deserve this, or did you pity him? Had his mother put you up to it as part of some elaborate lesson he had to learn?

He closed his eyes, trying to think clearly. He’d felt you clenching tight around his finger as you came, he’d heard the way you cried his name at the height of your climax. You’d brought him off willingly.

No, it was real. It had to be. There was no pity here.

His lips were still tingling with the force of your kiss, your slick was drying onto his fingers and his seed was cooling against his lower stomach while you were warm at his side. And all this, with the knowledge you really did want him was a new type of comfort he never knew he needed.

He thought of his mother. What would she say if she knew you touched him this way? And then he thought of how he’d never felt anything close to this level of safety or comfort from her. Rage bubbled up in his belly, hot and uncomfortable, and despite him liking whatever this was, something inside him snapped like a rubber band and he was about to tell you to get out, until you interrupted his thoughts.

‘Julian, I know it’s not our usual arrangement, but… I’d like to stay with you, if you’d let me.’

‘Why?’

There it was again. Still incredulous, but this time, a little more heated.

‘I want to hold you. This feels nice.’

The conflict inside him came crashing to the forefront of his mind, the clarity of your words overpowering that fire in his gut that told him his mother wasn’t able to comfort him the way he wanted her to, and that it was somehow your fault because you could, even after she had spat venom at your for an hour straight and told you his brother had the bigger cock.

The thing is, you were right. This did feel nice. He couldn’t deny it, and he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to feel safe and wanted and loved. He doubted you could ever actually love him; who could? Even his own mother had found it difficult as she so often reminded him.

But he couldn’t deny the butterflies fighting for dominance above the flames in his stomach, or the way his heart skipped a beat when you pulled his head close to your chest and caressed his hair and didn’t ask for anything in return other than to stay like this. Like he wanted to.

‘Rest, Julian. It’s ok. You did so good.’

A ghost of a smile pulled briefly at one side of his mouth. ‘Please… stay.’