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youwouldntlietopapa · 6 months ago

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First Impressions - Chapter 5

Rating: 18+

Features: Secondo x OC (Ophelia)

Tags: making out, oral sex, sex, pillow talk, definitely no falling in love at all

(Also available on AO3)

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Most of the afternoon heat had given way to the evening breeze leaving the garden comfortably cool. The long shadows cast by the trees and the way the moonlight and the faint glow of the streetlights, the lingering lights from the Abbey windows, washed out the colour of the flowers made it seem like a different place entirely. It was quiet and peaceful. Far enough away from the noise of the city to hear very little of the endless hum of human activity. Late enough that they were the only ones walking the tidy paths winding through all of Papa Primo’s hard work. There were, without doubt, ghouls out wandering the grounds. Though they tended to slip off into the woods or out to the pond rather than risking Papa’s wrath if they damaged anything within the garden itself.

Their footsteps crunched softly over the well worn path. Ophelia’s hand rested on his arm, savouring the warmth radiating off him and through his suit jacket. Secondo consciously shortened his strides, it was a casual stroll, not a race across the grounds.

“I see you out here for lunch.” He kept his voice low, as if breaking the silence might spoil everything. “You don’t care to take your meals with the others?”

She chuckled softly. He had seen, she knew. The same way she’d seen him watching. “I spend all day inside, surrounded by siblings. It’s nice to be able to come outside and get some fresh air. To read my book and to listen to the birds. Papa Primo works so hard to make this place come to life, it would be a shame to not take advantage of it.” Ophelia looked up at him, sly smile on her lips. ”Not that I would reject an offer of company, were someone interested.”

Secondo frowned. Not angry, just realising how obvious he’d been. “... I don’t like to interrupt.”

She nodded thoughtfully, not backing down. “Then consider this an open invitation to join me as you please.”

He opened his mouth to argue and closed it again. What was there to say? A hollow denial of something she’d already seen?

“I will keep this in mind. Grazie.”

“I don’t see you in the dining hall much either.”

There was that hint of teasing again, and again he couldn’t even muster a mild annoyance. As much as the bitter, jaded part of him wanted to. Just some small annoyance to plant the seed that would grow into a wall of thorns around feelings he had ignored so long, he didn’t even know where to begin dealing with them. Something he could turn into anger because it felt so much stronger than admitting it was fear. But it wasn’t there. For the first time in as long as he cared to remember. It simply wasn’t there.

“I prefer my office.” He looked down at her with a smirk. “I get more done this way, fewer people to interrupt.”

“And, it helps maintain that air of mystery.”

He raised a brow. “You think I am so mysterious?”

“You don’t?” She mirrored his expression.

“I am not so complicated as people think.” He turned off the path, crossing over to the tree and the bench where he’d seen her take her lunch. “But I hear the rumours.”

“So do I.” Ophelia admitted without hesitation.

Secondo took a seat and she settled next to him. Closer than she’d dared before. Her arm still tucked through his. Not that he made any move to pull away. It would be rude, he reminded himself. To pull away like that. The night is cool and she is likely only seeking warmth. He held onto her for her sake. Of course. He wasn’t a monster, was he?

Aren’t you?

“I hope I don’t disappoint.” He said, something a bit tired in his tone.

“No.” She answered gently, looking up at him. His features were softened in the low light until it was hard to see any hint of Papa at all. “Not a bit. If I thought you were the man from the rumours, I don’t know that I would have come. And I would have been disappointed if they were right. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think that they have any idea who you really are and that seems like a terrible shame. They’re missing out.”

For a long moment, he stared back at her wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier if she’d just hit him. A slap felt like it would have been easier to take. This hurt more, in a way he wasn’t prepared for. This hurt more, and he wanted her to do it again . Somewhere, deep down, a part of him screamed to be seen. Really seen. For once. For real. Without having to beg. Fighting against every urge, every instinct to push the need and the want away. So desperate to be heard above the ever present chorus of hateful, angry, bitter, insecure, terrified bullshit raging in his head.

“Forse sto solo nascondendo il mostro.” It came out more a whisper than he’d meant, but his voice failed him.

She matched his volume, staring at him until he was half certain she could see directly into his soul. “È davvero questo che vuoi farmi credere?”

“No.” No, please. Please. Not that. Not again.

Her palm was warm against his cheek, chasing away the chill. Secondo leaned into the touch before he caught himself. Before her lips met his and his hands found her hips to pull her closer. Before he lost himself in the taste of her and the blind, half mad need for more.

Before he’d even processed that she’d reached for him first.

For every bit he gave, she matched him. Without hesitation. Pressing herself up against him eagerly, unreservedly. Heart pounding against his own. The soft skin of her neck was like silk under his hand, running his thumb along her jaw and cradling the back of her head. Her breath hitched when he kissed her throat, moaning when he ran his tongue over her pulse point.

“Secondo…”

It was barely a whisper in the dark but it hit him with a force he hadn’t braced for. Secondo, not Papa. It was always Papa with the siblings. Always the title and never him. It put a distance between them. Kept things simple and clear cut. And when they’d leave, it didn’t hurt. Because Papa didn’t need to have a heart that got hurt and Secondo wasn’t really a part of it. Papa was the part he could shed like an ill-fitting suit and put away. Secondo still remained, unscathed.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway. The razor sharp voice of his fears cut deep.

But she’d asked. She’d asked and he’d told her.

Not Papa. Secondo.

“Ophelia.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

He had more to say. Something smooth, he was sure. Something practised and sexy. But her nails scratched over his scalp setting fire to every nerve and making his cock throb until it ached. When he opened his mouth to speak, what came out instead was possibly the least dignified noise he’d ever made. Secondo dropped his head onto her shoulder, half to hide the way he cringed at himself and half to claw back enough self control to retain even a little dignity.

“Non mi hai detto che sei una strega.” He huffed when he was sure he could trust himself to speak again.

She chuckled, echoing his words back at him. “You’re not so complicated.”

Her nails ran, feather-light, over the back of his head again. He managed to keep more composure, but the breath he let out only barely covered the moan hiding just beneath it. Caught between begging her not to stop and taking control over the situation back roughly. How had he gotten so completely off track so fast? He knew this dance. He knew it inside and out. Yet there he was, on the verge of pleading for more. Straining against his trousers. Desperate to hear even a few words of praise.

You are either a blessing from the Old One, he thought. Or a curse. I can’t tell which.

Secondo’s mouth found her neck again, counting it a victory when she melted into his touch. “C'è un posto privato nella serra.”

“Mi piacerebbe vederlo.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He barely needed to be told once. His hand found hers and he was off in the direction of the greenhouse as fast as he dared with her hurrying to keep up. Too focused on getting there to care much about what Primo would have to say in the morning. He could apologise then. It would be worth losing half the day to helping with tedious chores as repayment.

His keys seemed absurdly loud in the quiet garden. Rushing to find the right one in the dark. Ophelia pressed up against his back while he quickly flicked through every key on the ring. His concentration, not aided in the slightest by her wandering hands. Nearly taking the door off its hinges when he finally got it unlocked and pushed his way inside.

The light filtered through the frosted glass panels, just barely keeping the dark at bay. He blinked hard to adjust and abandoning the effort just as quickly. It didn’t matter. He knew the way. Primo was a creature of routine and habit. His things were always kept neatly and organised. Secondo knew the path to the hidden space his brother had created well enough to find it blindfolded. Tucked behind a wall of greenery, Primo’s tiny oasis of a sitting room and the daybed he kept for… company.

He turned and scooped Ophelia up, claiming her mouth again as her legs hugged his waist. Every moan and whimper driving him on. Walking through the greenery and past the work benches without a glance. Only setting her down once they were tucked away, next to the bed. Surrounded by the humid warmth that hadn’t been lost to the night yet and the smell of a hundred types of exotic flowers. Shaking off his suit jacket while she loosened his tie and worked at his buttons.

Ophelia paused at his waist, looking up at him. Fingers resting on his belt. “May I?”

Staring down at her hungrily, Secondo expected the rush - the familiar feeling of control and power. What came instead was need and more need. For her hands on him. To hear her coming undone. To taste every inch of her. “Si.”

She made quick work of his belt and trousers. Fingers teasing his length, stroking slowly, teasingly. Her eyes stayed locked on his, soft and submissive. But the fire still burned white hot. He could lie to himself about a lot of things, but no lie would ever make him believe that the submission wasn’t a choice, a gift, and one she would snatch away if it was taken for granted. The corner of his mouth turned up and he gave a silent prayer of thanks for this night. His hand cupped her jaw and he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Her hot breath on his hand and the way she opened her mouth obediently made his cock twitch in anticipation. Her lips closed around his thumb and when her tongue swirled around it, when she sucked at it softly, his breath came out a husky growl. He barely noticed her reaching behind her back or the soft sound of the zipper.

Her dress dropping silently to the floor and pooling around her feet, however, did get his attention.

His hands and his mouth were on her all at once. Following her back onto the bed like a man possessed. Every gasp and moan and whimper from her driving him on. His chest rumbled and there was a dark triumph when his fingers slipped between her legs and found her soaked through the silk of her underwear. His thumb teasing her though the fabric. Ophelia gasped and let out a shuddering breath, her hands catching his face, pulling him into a fierce kiss. The submissive performance breaking for a moment of pure, unrestrained desire that Secondo was certain could sustain him until the end of his days.

“Sei così bagnata.” He stared back at her when she finally relaxed down onto the mattress again. His pale eye glowing in the dark like the full moon on a clear night. “Mi lascerai assaggiare?”

“Si. Ti prego. ” She answered breathily, her hips rolling against his touch, trying to get even a little more. “ Ti prego, Secondo …”

It was harder to pull back than he would ever admit. And hearing her beg… What had he told himself? One night? To get it out of his system? To go back to normal? But that sound would live in his memory if he had a thousand more years.

Still, Secondo pulled himself away, taking her underwear with him - dropped with her dress on the floor. One hand caught her ankle, kissing and biting softly at her thigh. He sank down and ran his fingers through her sweet folds, teasing her entrance, his thumb circling her clit again. Drunk on the sounds she made. Trying to remind himself that there was no rush. But he was parched . So hard it ached, begging for release. All of his restraint shattered like glass. Burying his face like he was set on drowning. The roll of her hips riding his nose as he lapped at her entrance, pressing his tongue as deeply as he could.

“Secondo…” Ophelia gasped and moaned, her back arching off the bed. Gripping the bedding, trying and failing to control her breathing. Fluttering around his tongue as he pushed her toward the edge.

Every ounce of willpower was focused on not rutting against the bed like some mindless animal. He had to have enough self-control for that. Satanas, it wasn’t easy when his name was dripping off her lips in the midst of every shameless sound he dragged out of her though. The closer she got to the edge, the more he pushed her on. Feeling her losing her rhythm and her breath.

“I can’t… Ti prego… Sec-” Her words were cut off as she came. A strangled cry that the thin walls of the greenhouse had no hope of containing. Bucking against his grip and his face while he greedily drank up every drop she gave him. Not letting her settle until he was finished and she whimpered, shaking and trying to catch her breath.

He quickly wiped his face and, running a warm hand over her stomach, climbed back up onto the bed. “Sei deliziosa, Ophelia.”

Ophelia reached for him, her knees already hugging his sides. “Per favore... ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te.” Her voice was soft. Her hands wandering over every bit of skin she could reach. When she looked up at him, there was something sincere in her gaze. “Sei perfetto... perfetto .”

Say it again. Please… say it again. Every fibre of his being screamed for more. Even when he clenched his jaw to keep the thought from escaping. There was no possible way to live down the shame of it if he were to fall into whining and begging. Two words of praise couldn’t be all it took to break him.

But, sweet Asmodeus, he needed it like air.

Secondo leaned down, biting teasingly at her shoulder. Hiding his expression again and painfully aware that it seemed to be forming a pattern. “How do I say no when you ask so sweetly, ah?”

Her fingers ran over all of his need and want, leaking pre until it dripped heavily on to her stomach. He huffed out a breath, grabbing her hip tight. Her breath next to his ear, keeping her voice low. “ Chiavami, Secondo… Chiavami forte. Ti prego.”

He was, if nothing else, good at following directions.

Lining himself up, he pushed in deep. Slowly, letting her adjust, revelling in her sharp breath and the quiet whine at the stretch. He drew his hips back slow before thrusting in hard, answered by a soft cry. Secondo grinned wolfishly and did it again. And again. Picking up a faster pace, faster and harder, pounding against her until her eyes rolled back in her head and her words failed her. Until there was nothing but her perfect wet heat, her body against his, and he never wanted it to end. The way she moved with him and gripped him tight. Her nails were on his scalp again and her legs hooked behind his hips, pulling him closer, harder, deeper.

He would have happily suffocated between her thighs and he would just as happily let her fuck him to death. Milk him for every last drop until his heart gave out.

Ophelia’s breathing, her movements, the sounds she made gave away how close to the edge she was. And he had no intention of pulling back. Intent on driving her over that cliff. Chasing the need to hear her break the silence of the garden again. Chasing his own need. His hand buried in her hair, pulling it free from what remained holding it up, like silk through his fingers. Gripping it harder and tugging her head back. His mouth was on her neck again, teeth on her skin and her pulse beating wildly under his tongue. Leaving his mark on the unblemished landscape of her body.

His voice growling next to her ear. “Sborra per me...”

Once, twice more his hips met hers and Ophelia’s breath caught in her throat like she’d been waiting for the command. Gripping him fiercely, back arching off the bed. Her cry split the night and it echoed right down to Secondo’s soul. His own rhythm faltering and breaking. Biting down on his own cry, he grunted through clenched teeth. His cock kicked hard inside her and he drove himself deep, spilling his seed.

Stars lighting up behind his eyes, he gasped for breath. Hissing, overstimulated, when he pulled himself free and flopped onto his side next to her. Both of them lying there quietly, only the sound of their breathing keeping the silence at bay. And then she did something he was sure no one had ever done before. Ophelia rolled onto her side to face him, shifting closer, and paused. Looking him in the eye before moving another inch.

“May I?”

Secondo hesitated a moment, trying to process what she was asking, and nodded.

She closed the distance and curled herself up against his chest, softly kissing his neck. Her touch was gentle and careful, fingers ghosting over his skin, delicately teasing his chest hair. It was… comforting in a way he couldn’t ever remember anything being. Not in a moment like that at least. The hard edge of the end to the night he expected to feel looming seemed absent there, with her seeking to be closer, to be affectionate. Without the pressing need to get out of bed, to find discarded clothes, and to be gone. She stayed close, not held there by a demand, but because she wanted it.

For the first time in a very long time, Secondo found he didn’t know what in the hell he was supposed to do.

Run, his anxiety screamed.

It’s only tonight and then she’s gone. The angry, bitter voice at the back of his mind joined in. One night. To get it out of your system. She’ll never stay.

They never stay. The chorus gained steam. Never.

Take what you need and go, before it hurts.

Ophelia’s lips met his, drawing him back out of his thoughts so quickly, he felt dizzy. Running his fingers through her hair again, rubbing the spot where his grip held tight, trying to give himself a moment to catch up with reality.

“Sei una creatura singolare, Ophelia.” He kept his voice low, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She chuckled, staring back at him with an easy smile. “Stavo proprio pensando la stessa cosa di te.” Her nose bumped against his and she stole another kiss. “I’m glad you didn’t wear your paints tonight.”

Secondo’s brow leapt up. That was a very rare sentiment indeed. “Oh?”

Her smile remained unchanged. “It was you I wanted.”

Secondo, not Papa. His heart ached again. Another blow he wasn’t prepared for. This woman, he was increasingly sure, would be the death of him.

“Am I not Papa also?” He asked, without any offence in his voice, but genuine curiosity.

“Si. Ma la vera domanda è - sei davvero tu? ”

That was the question, wasn’t it? The one he’d asked a thousand times and still didn’t have a clear answer. It had all been so muddled for so long. Long before Papa. He was something else before he got to be himself, and the one people wanted, the one people expected was the part he was told to play. Until he started to wonder if Secondo even existed anymore. And, if he did, was there anyone who actually wanted him?

It was too much, right in that moment. The weight of it bearing down on him. He did the only thing he could. Secondo cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her. Deep and slow. Leaning into her warmth and focusing on her to the exclusion of everything else.

“I think Seestor maybe does not fear you enough.” He said with a smirk. “ Willful and stubborn, she says. But no. No, this is not enough. You are made of hell’s own fire.”

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“Forse sto solo nascondendo il mostro.” = Maybe I’m only hiding the monster.

“È davvero questo che vuoi farmi credere?” = Is that really what you want me to believe?

“Non mi hai detto che sei una strega.” = You didn’t tell me you’re a witch.

“C'è un posto privato nella serra.” = There is a private place in the greenhouse.

“Mi piacerebbe vederlo.” = I would like to see that.

“Sei così bagnata.” = You are so wet for me.

“Mi lascerai assaggiare?” = Will you let me taste you?

“Si. Ti prego.” = Yes. I beg you.

“Sei deliziosa, Ophelia.” = You are delicious, Ophelia.

“Per favore... ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te.” = Please… I want you. I need you.

“Sei perfetto... perfetto.” = You’re perfect… perfect.

“Chiavami, Secondo… Chiavami forte. Ti prego.” = Fuck me, Secondo… Fuck me hard. I beg you.

“Sborra per me...” = Cum for me…

“Sei una creatura singolare, Ophelia.” = You are a singular creature, Ophelia.

“Stavo proprio pensando la stessa cosa di te.” = I was just thinking the same thing about you.

“Si. Ma la vera domanda è - sei davvero tu?” = Yes. But the real question is - is he really you?

#ghost fanfic #secondo x oc #papa ii x oc #secondo x ophelia #MDNI

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