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ken-dom · 6 months

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.’

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ken-dom · 5 months

Text

Short Stories: Driver

Driver x Julian Thompson - 500 words

Driver x Luke Glanton - 620 words

Driver x Lars Lindstrom - 900 words

Summary: Three universes, three ships, three times Driver got to cum

Warnings/content: nsfw, masturbation, dry humping, cumming untouched, hammer play, use of restraints, glove kink, making out

Driver x Julian Thompson

Julian shuddered at the cool metal of the hammer’s claw against his cheek. In equal measures, he wanted the man stood before him to smash his restrained hands to smithereens or to fuck him. But Driver would never hurt him. Not really. And he knew he didn’t deserve the second option. This scenario was a good way to meet in the middle.

He watched closely as Driver perched on the edge of the bed, midriff showing just above his jeans where his jacket had ridden up. Julian swallowed hard at that, and he almost choked when Driver took the hammer and dragged it slowly, deliberately, over the growing bulge in his own jeans.

Driver didn’t moan at the friction, but Julian saw his breath hitch in his chest as it dragged over his clothed cock.

His free hand, still gloved, popped open the fastening of his trousers and slid teasingly slowly beneath the waistband of his underwear. His head dropped back and Julian’s jaw clenched, his own trousers suddenly far too tight. Julian wanted to see Driver’s cock, but he wouldn’t ask.

And he didn’t need to; Driver shifted his underwear down and pulled his cock out, thick and long and dripping with precum, trickling down over his gloves, turning the tan a darker brown where it pooled.

Julian’s hips bucked involuntarily and he silently chastised himself for it, training his focus on the way Driver’s hand was moving so gracefully over his length, stroking softly, and trying not to imagine how those hands might feel on him.

He wanted that. God, right now he wanted it more than anything. And Driver looked so good bathed in the red neon, his hair becoming tousled as he chased his pleasure, his intense gaze on Julian becoming heated.

Driver’s head fell forward, the hammer he had been holding tightly banging heavily to the floor with a dull thud as he gripped desperately onto the bed sheets instead.

Julian watched in awe as Driver spilled completely, thick creamy seed bright against the dark leather of his glove, and dripping down onto his jeans. Julian wondered whether the stain would still be there next time. Driver didn’t seem to mind the blood stain on the bottom of his jacket, after all.

With a relieved exhale, Driver stood, hastily tucking himself back into his jeans with a hiss as the cloth of his underwear grazed his softening, sensitive cock. He smoothed his clean glove through his mussed hair, wiping the other on the corner of the bedsheets before collecting his hammer from the floor and flexing his fingers around it.

Julian was flushed hot, not that Driver would be able to tell in this light, and feeling desperate. He managed to restrain himself from making any sound, despite the overwhelming urge to beg.

Driver tilted his head, gazing at Julian for a moment, silent and unreadable as ever, then turned and left, Julian still tied to the chair, aching and leaking into his underwear.

————————————————————————

Driver x Luke Glanton

Luke’s hands were as big as Drivers, that was clear to see. But while Driver had strong mechanic’s hands, Lukes, what with regularly squeezing around his motorcycle handlebars, were stronger.

They wrapped around Driver’s wrists with ease, pinning both his arms up above his head against the side of the trailer.

Driver was desperately breathless from the bruising kiss they’d just shared, cock straining in his jeans, and Luke noticed, smirking as he eyed him.

‘Sensitive, aren’t you,’ Luke drawled, leaning back in for a slightly more gentle kiss that made Driver’s head spin.

Luke thought he heard a whine, but it was so quiet he couldn’t be sure. Still, it stirred deep within his core, the familiar heat of arousal pulling at his cock, too.

With one last glance up and down Driver’s strong but skinny frame, he dove forward, licking a warm stripe up Driver’s neck and grinding against his stunt companion with a measured and deliberate roll of his hips, rutting faster as bliss spread through him.

Driver was losing control, squirming against the cool metal, weak in Luke’s grasp and driving him crazy with arousal.

Luke moaned, loud and unrestrained, their clothed cocks throbbing at the friction.

‘Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants- fuck,’ Luke muttered against Driver’s cheek, dipping back down to nip at his throat.

Those words sent a thrill through Driver’s body. He hadn’t actually done anything other than melt like putty in Luke’s warm hands, allow himself to be pressed against a trailer and writhe pathetically while Luke humped him.

Dizzy at the thought, his head dropped into the crook of the petty blonde’s neck and with a loud, shaky gasp, he came hard, filling his underwear with a release so forceful it shook his entire body, rocking the trailer with them.

‘Oh, that’s it baby, cum for me,’ Luke panted huskily, feeling his own climax fast approaching.

Driver dropped weakly against the trailer as his orgasm subsided, and Luke released the grip on his wrists, snaking both his arms around his lithe waist to keep him pressed close.

Driver’s fingers bruised against Luke’s thighs, his twitching, softening cock sensitive against the rough fabric still sliding rapidly against it.

‘Mmh,’ Luke moaned, his eyes on Driver’s handsome, fucked out face, ‘oh, fuck, yes-’

And as promised, he came in his pants, a rough growl vibrating through Driver’s core, causing a whimper to escape his parted lips.

Luke gradually slowed to a stop before kissing Driver again with the softest, most languid kiss he’d ever received.

‘Hey, I didn’t hurt you did I?’ Luke worried as he pulled away, stepping back and allowing Driver to gasp for some much needed air.

He didn’t answer, he just watched as Luke picked up each of his wrists in those big, strong, tattooed, hands and tenderly massaged where he’d gripped them hard before.

Driver felt a tear threatening his eyes and clenched his jaw, just about managing to keep it inside as Luke reached around to his lovers back pocket, pulling out the leather gloves he’d seen him stash there on the walk back here, and carefully slipping each one onto his hands for him, cupping his cheek with a warm palm when he was done. Driver leant into the touch so easily, Luke chuckled.

‘Don’t be a stranger, alright?’ Luke smiled, winking and after another look up and down, disappeared into his trailer.

Driver caught his breath and gathered himself. He knew he would be back again for sure. And not just to practise motorcycle stunts.

No, next time, he wanted to get inside that trailer. To wrap his hands around Luke, maybe… around that stupid Heartthrob tattoo decorating his throat. The one he couldn't stop thinking about.

————————————————————————

Driver x Lars Lindstrom

Driver leaned back against the porch, one knee bent as he propped his foot against the slightly flaky white cladding behind him.

Lars had wanted to light a fire for the evening, ever the romantic, and Driver felt an instant thrill run through him at the thought of watching him prepare it.

When Lars watched Driver work on a car at the garage after hours, he had this mesmerised, glazed over look in his eyes, and it was always so easy for Driver to make him sing afterwards, loud whimpers and gasping moans echoing the empty garage as his oil coated hands worked Lars over just how he liked it.

Tonight, the roles were reversed.

Lars was strong, stronger than even he realised. But Driver had noticed. Lars didn’t appear particularly athletic, but his grip was strong and his arms were powerful. So it was simple: the promise of watching Lars chop wood was just too good to pass up on.

Lars’s first brawny swing of the wood cutter had Driver heaving out a shaky exhale, his fingers clenching into tight fists as his eyes trained on Lars’s every movement.

The sharp edge of the blade splitting the wood in two made his breath catch in his throat. There was a split second that Driver imagined Lars using it for more violent purposes, and his cock stirred at that, too.

Lars continued with ease; he’d done this a thousand times, and it didn’t seem out of the ordinary to him at. His wood chopping tool didn’t seem exciting in the least either. But then, how many cars had Driver worked on without thinking a thing of it, until Lars came along and changed his perspective for good.

Another log severed so seamlessly, and Driver felt his arousal building, almost chewing his toothpick in two. His cock was strained against the zipper of his jeans and he flexed his fingers again, needing to relieve the ache but as enticing as the thought of getting off to this delicious view was, now wasn’t the right time. He needed to see Lars build the fire for him, see his ease and confidence in the mundane task laced with amorous intentions. For him. All of this was for him.

He bit his lips together and looked away, suppressing a moan.

When he lifted his head, Lars had collected the logs under one arm, waving innocently at Driver with the other.

‘I’m done!’ he called.

Driver plucked the toothpick from between his teeth and tossed it to the ground, following as casually as he could muster back to Lars’s garage, his cock throbbing each time he took a step, the coarse fabric of his jeans rubbing up against it through his underwear.

Once inside, he made a beeline for the bed and perched on the edge, shaking off his jacket and folding it over his lap to disguise his arousal.

Lars got to work with the tiny log burner in the corner, but everything turned hazy for Driver. The fire seemed to have roared into life in the blink of an eye, images of Lars’s delicate fingers caressing the logs as he placed them almost lovingly on the grate flashing between each pump of precum from his cock.

‘Ah, much better,’ Lars muttered to himself as he admired his work and warmed his hands in front of the flames. He sat beside Driver and smiled nervously before resting his head against the leaner man’s shoulder.

Driver tried to force his breath even, but it wasn’t easy. Why did Lars have to be so soft? Always so kind and tender? It was dizzying at times like this.

Lars’s cheeks began to glow red soon enough, and he sat up to pull off his sweater, two layers of thermal underclothes still clinging to him, that, along with his newly messed up hair, made Driver’s heart leap.

Lars sensed the desire radiating from Driver and tentatively leaned in, pressing his lips carefully to his lovers, both of them leaning back until Driver was laid beneath Lars, their tongues sliding together slowly and sensually.

The heat of the fire and the weight of Lars and the way he’d displayed his strength so easily as though it was nothing, the way he’d wanted a romantic evening and would be happy with just kissing and cuddling and falling asleep together made Driver’s heart race.

He let out a hungry little mewl, muffled in Lars’s mouth, and Lars shifted above him, his thigh pressed deliciously against Driver’s cock, and that’s all it took.

Driver’s back arched off the bed, chest pressing up against Lars’s as he emptied his pent up arousal, cock throbbing through his release, aching for touch but satisfied enough with a drawn out climax that made his toes curl in his boots.

He hoped Lars wouldn’t notice. He was the one who made Lars weak at the knees, and it felt so alien yet so safe. He was sure Lars wouldn’t mind – he might even like it. But he didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere Lars had put effort into cultivating, so he kept it to himself.

Lars knew immediately, of course, having learned Driver’s body fast and eagerly. He felt a stir between his own thighs, but this wasn’t about him, so he curled up beside his sated Driver, resting against his chest, wrapping a comforting arm around his middle and drawing lazy patterns into his exposed midriff as they drifted off to sleep.

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