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cobwebbedcat · 23 days

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Nothing That a Little Gatorade and Expired Aspirin Can't Fix

MINORS DNI

warnings: soft dom top amab gender neutral reader, sub bottom trans male sick! Vincent Sinclair, emetophilia, piss, dirty talking, Vincent is mute, just a hint of odontophilia

Terms used for vincent: cunt, pussy, clit, dick, t-dick

There are not many things that will get you out of your bed and home past midnight, but two texts coming from Bo have you wiping sleep from your eyes and pulling on whatever clothes are closest to you.

After reading Vincent threw up. Then: Asking for you. Bring meds, you text back a quick omw! Before rushing to the 24/7 CVS and making the drive to the Sinclair’s house, which is of course, obnoxiously far away from Ambrose, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

When you enter the Sinclair house, forgoing knocking or announcing yourself considering they’re expecting you, you find Bo in the kitchen halfway through a cigarette and staring at a bottle of Aspirin.

“Expired two years ago,” he grumbles, still staring at the bottle, refusing to look at you.

“That’s fine, brought some stuff,” Bo finally looks up when you raise the two bags full of things for Vincent for him to see. It doesn’t show much on his face, but even in the dim light you can see the tension release from his shoulders.

“Good. Better go see him then,” he huffs, tossing the bottle of expired Aspirin in the trash. You take that as your cue to leave, and hustle down to Vincent’s room.

He’s curled up in a fetal position on his bed, trying to make himself as small as possible. You gently place your bags at his bedside, and sit on the edge of the bed, running your fingers through his long hair to let him know you’re here.

Vincent lets out a soft whine and reaches out to hold onto you, looking up at you from behind his mask.

“Bo said you threw up,” you say softly. Vincent cringes, then nods. “Think you could sit up for me? I brought some stuff for you,” he uncurls himself, and with your help, he props himself up against a mountain of pillows.

“Should probably take off your mask,” you hum, wondering how and why he’s even wearing it right now. Vincent huffs, but when you give him a stern look, he crumbles, and takes it off.

With his face revealed to you, you can see how flushed he is. Gently, you place the back of your hand against his forehead. He nearly flinches away from you, but once your skin touches his he leans into you, starved for your touch. He’s not worryingly hot, but definitely has a fever.

“Poor thing,” you coo, reaching into your bags and getting him medicated. You brought Gatorade as well, and make him drink as much as he can manage (which isn’t a lot before he gags).

“Alright, well the meds are going to take a bit before they start making you feel much better. Is there something I could do to help?”

Vincent stares at you for so long you wonder if he heard you. Just when you’re about to repeat yourself, he looks away from you and signs

“Lay down with me?” And oh, isn’t that sweet. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“Of course, darling,” you lift the blankets and slide into bed next to him. Vincent slowly inches towards you until he’s nestled against your body, humming softly and inhaling your scent. You brush your fingers through his hair until his breathing evens out and he falls asleep.

You’re brought out of slumber for a second time during the night to the sound of Vincent getting sick in the bathroom.

Dragging yourself out of the comfort of his bed you make your way to him. He’s crouched over the toilet, catching his breath from the work his body is putting him through. He whimpers softly when you sit yourself next to him, and tenderly move his hair from his face and gather it into a ponytail.

You kiss the back of his neck which is now exposed, and Vincent groans as he lazily lifts a hand up to fingerspell,

“Leave.”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart,” you muse softly, bringing the hand that’s not holding his hair back to rub comforting circles into his stomach, “couldn’t possibly go when you're in such a state,” you decide not to add how you think he looks cute like this, all helpless. Vincent is either too tired or too sick to protest more. Even if he wanted to, another wave of nausea hits him, and he’s puking again.

You can feel the way his stomach clenches and pulses under your touch. He’s sick for a while, working up a sweat as he empties his stomach over and over again. Softly you whisper praise and apologies, sorry for the discomfort and pain he’s going through, even if it does make you a bit flustered.

As soon as he’s done, you’re kissing him all over, gentle pecks which remind him that you’re here and you’ve got him. Vincent slumps into your hold, his hands coming up to cover his face. You know he appreciates you being there, even if he’s somewhat embarrassed.

You hold him close, kissing him, and gently rubbing at his stomach until Vincent rises on shaky legs. You follow his lead, and once you’re on your feet he leans his body weight on you in front of the sink, letting you get his toothbrush ready for him.

When it comes to brushing his teeth, ridding his mouth of any leftover bile, Vincent doesn’t take the brush from you, rather he closes his eyes and opens his mouth.

Cooing you take his face into one of your hands and brush his teeth for him. You’re especially gentle with him, taking care not to activate his gag reflex. He moans as the soft bristles brush their way across each tooth and along his tongue. He’d normally never let you baby him so much. You’re eating up how easily he submits to your coddling.

“Sorry, I was gross,” Vincent signs as soon as he lifts his head from spitting into the sink. You hold back a laugh; it’s funny that he’s more embarrassed by puking in front of you than admitting the heinous and cruel murders he’s committed.

“You were never gross,” you assure him, cupping his scarred face and bringing him into a sweet kiss now that his mouth is clean. You wrap an arm around his waist, “back to bed?” he lets out an affirmative hum and lets himself be led by you.

“Think you could eat a little something before you fall back asleep?” he doesn’t seem all that tired anyways, and despite the grimace he makes at the prospect of eating, Vincent nods all the same.

From the bags you’d brought with you, you pull some inoffensive snacks, and more Gatorade. Vincent does the best he can before grimacing and pushing the food away. Pleased that he was able to stomach anything at all, you make him take another dose of medication before laying down again.

“I am hot,” he complains as he snuggles up under the covers with you. You bring the back of your hand to his forehead and Vincent’s eyelashes flutter shut.

“You are hot,” you hum, “I think your fever’s back. The meds should kick in again soon,” you state, attempting to be reassuring. Vincent sighs and goes so still and so quiet that you think he’s maybe fallen asleep.

“Hot here,” he finally signs clumsily, avoiding eye contact as he takes your hand and brings it to his clothed crotch.

“Oh?” You can’t tell if the flush on Vincent’s cheeks is from fever or fluster, but it makes him look adorable all the same. “I can help out with that,” you purr, feeling desire stir in you as he lets out the softest moan and nods.

“You’ve been so cute tonight,” you hum, pulling the blankets back and stationing a leg over either side of him, caging him in, as you rub your thumb on his clit through his sleep pants.

Vincent whines, turning the scarred half of his face to hide it in the pillow. “I mean it, letting me take care of you, and being so helpless makes you really cute,” you hum. His thighs clench around your hand, and he jerks his hips, wanting more.

You’ll give him more when he asks for it, but for the moment you lean in and kiss him as you tease him through his pants.

Vincent loves your kisses, moaning softly when he feels your tongue lick against his lips. He opens his mouth easily for you, desperate to deepen the kiss. You lick deep into his mouth, forgetting how sensitive he is right now.

He pushes you away quick, turning to dry heave and gag. He swallows, and the two of you wait a moment, adrenaline coursing through you as you wait to see if he’ll be sick or not. The nausea seems to pass because he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you into another kiss, grinding his cunt into your hand.

You deepen the kiss once again, this time being careful of just how deep you tongue fuck his mouth, instead sucking on his lip, and letting his tongue into your mouth.

Vincent continues to weakly hump your hand, sighing and moaning at the feeling of your finger circling his clit. It’s not long before you can feel a hot, damp wetness on the outside of his pants. Your cock aches imagining how wet he is.

Finally, Vincent pushes you back to sign “please,” looking up at you with pleading eyes.

Pulling away, you’re quick to help him out of his pants, revealing his glistening wet pussy to your hungry eyes.

“Let me eat you out?” you ask, using two fingers to spread his lips apart and look at his hole.

Vincent makes a strangled noise and nods his head quickly. He regrets that immediately, bringing a hand to his head at the ache that comes from the action. You laugh softly, rubbing gentle circles into his thighs,

“Careful with yourself baby, you’re not feeling well,” you remind him as you make yourself comfortable between his legs. You kiss his hip bone, then kiss along his skin until your lips reach his erect clit. Vincent sighs and melts into the bed, weakly wrapping his legs around your head, and pushing you further against his pussy.

You both moan as you take Vincent into your mouth, circling around his t-dick with your tongue, then sucking gently. Bringing your fingers to his wet hole, you gently press two fingers inside of him. He’s hot and practically gushing self-lubricant, opening easily for you. You suck his dick for a minute longer, then move onto the main event.

Sliding your fingers out of Vincent, you quickly replace them with your tongue, and groan at the taste of him. He makes sweet little sounds as you curl your tongue, pressing it as deep as possible into his hole. His thighs tremble and clench around your head, his hands holding weakly onto your head, pushing you further into his cunt.

You pull back to return to his clit, sucking hard then swirling your tongue around it. Vincent gasps, his thighs shaking and twitching. You look up at him, and one of his hands has left your head to try and finger-spell something to you. Whatever he’s saying is incomprehensible to you, because the letters get scrambled and lost as his head gets more and more muddled with lust.

While still looking up at him, you pull of his clit and return to burying your tongue inside of him. Vincent’s hole clenches around you, and then he's shaking his head and mouthing something to you. You figure he must be close to cumming, and double down on your efforts. His breathing hitches and quickens, and then a hot liquid spurts from his cunt and into your mouth.

Vincent’s not a squirter, and the two of you know that. You open your mouth further as you realize that Vincent is pissing into your mouth. You can hear him whining and squeaking noises of objection, yet his legs tighten around you, keeping you closer.

You’ll apologize to him later for making him drink all that Gatorade, but for now you moan and slurp hungrily at his cunt as you drink down his piss. Your cock throbs in your pants, and if you weren’t leaking pre before, you are now.

Even after his stream dies down you lick and lave your tongue along his cunt, making sure he’s all clean, and that you haven’t missed a drop.

“Sorry,” Vincent signs.

“Don’t start with that,” you groan, pulling away from his pussy (despite wanting to back in for another bite, so to speak), your voice rough and deep with want, “that was so fucking hot.” He covers his face with his hands, but you can still see him grinning underneath them.

“Can I fuck you, darling?” you ask, bordering on pleading. Vincent nods, still hiding behind his hands.

With his permission, you fumble for the lube on his bedside table, nearly vibrating with excitement and arousal. “God, can’t wait to fuck your dirty pussy,” you mutter to yourself, slicking your cock up with lube. “Letting me stick my cock in your piss and spit slicked cunt, christ,” Vincent whines softly at that, tugging on his own hair to find something to occupy his hands.

“You good on your back?” you ask, knowing that he loves getting fucked on his hands and knees more than anything. Vincent nods, likely far too tired to hold himself up. Even if he prefers doggystyle, you like having him like this, being able to see and hear every reaction he has to your cock stirring up his insides.

“Perfect,” you purr, holding onto his hips as you press your cockhead against his hole. Vincent hiccups, reaching up to wrap his arms around your neck. Shyly he pulls your head towards his, leaning up and trying to capture your lips in a kiss.

“Sure you wanna kiss me, baby?” you tease, pressing yourself into him. He whines and you continue, “gonna taste your own piss—hah— on my mouth.” Vincent squeezes around your cock at your words, his mouth dropping open.

“Please,” he brings a hand down to sign. Always being one to spoil your lover rotten, you lean down and kiss him deeply. Vincent moans, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you pressing yourself further into him, or because he can taste himself in your mouth.

He’s nice and relaxed around you, opening up so sweetly for your cock. You wonder if he’d been tighter if you’d fucked him before eating him out, if he would have squeezed tighter around you as he tried to stop himself from pissing all over your cock.

“Fuck,” you sigh, bottoming out inside of him. He’s as hot and flushed inside as his skin is, burning up around your length. You know you shouldn't be happy that he's got a fever, but it feels so fucking good.

Vincent lets out an appreciative sigh, his lashes fluttering shut. “Feelin’ good?” in your haze of lust you’d nearly forgotten how sick he is right now. Vincent nods lazily, but he’s sweating, his long hair sticking to his body. You hum, feeling his forehead again.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re overheating,” you muse, hoping he’s really feeling alright. Vincent whines,

“Good, good, more,” he signs in a rush, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Despite him telling you he’s alright, you fuck him nice and slow, being so tender and fragile with him. You rub circles into his hips as you drag your hips back and forth. Your kisses match the pace, as filthy as ever, but slow and drawn out. You’re in no rush, and you will savor him.

Vincent accepts the sweet treatment for longer than you’d anticipated, if you’re honest. It doesn’t surprise you when he finally pushes you back to frown at you, cutely demanding "more," his hands sharp and determined as they sign.

“Just let me know if it’s too much,” you remind him, picking up the pace ever so slightly. The slightest shift has him slightly arching his back off the bed, gasping softly as your cock hits drags along his insides, going deeper and fucking him faster than before. Refusing to get carried away, you keep the pace consistent, even if all you want to do is pound him into the mattress.

“Once you’re all better I’m gonna ruin you,” you promise. Vincent moans at that, nodding and twitching around you. You bring a hand down to circle your thumb around his clit. He clenches like a vice, letting out a spurt of piss, and wetting your cock.

“Fuck baby,” you moan, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching.

“More, say more,” Vincent signs. It takes you a second to remember what you were talking about.

“Oh, sweetheart, once you’re all better I’ll make your pussy a mess. Fuck, want that? I'll fill your fucking tummy with my cum, make you eat any that drips out of your pussy. Want me cumming in you, dropping load after load into you?" you don’t wait for a response, the words tumbling uncontrollably out of your mouth now that he’s got you started.

“Want you to piss all over my cock, let me do the same to you, hah, I’ll cover you in my piss, from here,” you bring a hand from his hips to touch his collarbone, peaking out from under his shirt, “down to here,” you quickly move that same hand down to circle his clit. Vincent spasms around you, “shit, I’ll fill you up with it, let it mix with my cum. Hah I know you want that, want to be covered in my piss, to be messy with me, don’t you darling?”

This time you wait for a response, slowing the movement of your hips, rubbing agonizingly slow circles on his sensitive clit until Vincent nods his head, moving his hips back clumsily against yours. You reward him, speeding up your pace once again.

“Good boy,” you groan, “gonna cum soon, y’close baby?”

Vincent doesn’t answer verbally or with his hands, he just lets out a broken keen, and tugs you close as he cums around your cock. You fuck him through it, jackhammering your hips into him, working him over the edge and through the waves of pleasure that coarse through his body.

You’re so close, but you hold off until he whimpers softly, letting you know he needs you out of him. You pull out, and your hand flies to your cock, jerking yourself off roughly.

“Fuck, fuck baby, gonna cum all over your cunt, make it mine,” you groan, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling your way through his long black locks until your teeth graze against Vincent’s neck. When your balls finally tighten and your orgasm crescendos, you paint his pussy white, and suck a hickey into his neck.

Vincent hums, looking down at the mess you’ve made with indifference. You know he prefers it when you cum inside, but it would have been much more messy and time consuming if you had. You may have really wanted to go in and eat him out again, and Vincent is well past his limit.

“Lets get you cleaned up, huh?” you hum once your limbs stop feeling like jello.

He's much too tired now to be anything but dead weight. There’s no shame nor shyness found as you carry Vincent into the bathroom and lay him down in the bathtub. He lazily signs your name again and again, meditatively going through the motions as the water rises and submerges his body.

“Thank you,” he signs as you join him in the bath.

“Love you,” is your response, largely muffled as you sleepily lean your head on his shoulder.

He hums softly, and your eyes have drifted shut, so you don’t see him tell you that he loves you back, but you already know he does.

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

#hey remember when i said i needed to write some freaky stuff for my health <3 here we go #cw piss #cw emetophilia #emeto tw #spice #sub slasher #sub vincent sinclair #first fic on the new account lets gooo

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