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xcherryerim · 15 days

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A Helping Hand

Touch starved Mike x gn!reader | wc: 2.4k

“It will take a while for the scars in my heart to heal, that’s what I believed. At some point, I am in your embrace. You touch my heart baby” — Touch by Miss A

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

In the warm lit bathroom, illuminated only by a single soft glow of the cheap lightbulb, Mike sat on a plastic chair, his broken leg propped up on a stack of towels. The lukewarm water cascaded over his body, mingling with the salty tears that traced down his pale cheeks.

His eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, pleaded with yours as he whispered, "Please touch me."

For the past few weeks, you'd been there for Mike whenever he needed you. He was once a self-sufficient man who refused help from others, but now that his leg was momentarily immobilized, he found himself at the mercy of those around him. His job not compensating for his leave, coupled with the overwhelming weight of daily struggles, had left him feeling trapped and helpless.

The realization that his life had spiraled out of control weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was one thing to acknowledge the despair, but quite another to confront it head-on with nothing but time on his hands. In this cramped bathroom, surrounded by tiled walls, he felt even smaller, more isolated than ever.

With tenderness and care, you stepped into the shower stall, succumbing to the task of helping Mike bathe despite the challenges posed by his injured leg. As the warm water poured down upon both of you, you began to wash his hair with the specialized shampoo and conditioner, working the suds through his locks with gentle precision.

When you moved onto his back, your fingertips brushed over his tense muscles, tracing the web of pain etched into his skin. Each stroke, each caress seemed to pull at the threads of his empty heart, finally, he couldn't contain it any longer when you stood in front of him, trying to wash his neck and chest. His fragile facade cracked as tears formed into his honey soulless eyes.

Looking at his reddened eyes and the sniffling sounds emanating from his nose, concern washed over you. "Mike, are you alright?" you inquired, worry lacing your words.

"Please touch me," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just… touch me. Please."

Your heart ached for him, seeing him like this - broken, vulnerable, and begging for human connection. His erection strained against the fabric of his shorts, an unmistakable sign of his need for intimacy.

“I know I'm asking too much, I know I've been a burden with all the favors you've done for me these past few days, but I just—" Mike hesitated, his voice breaking as he struggled to find the right words.

His admission hung in the air between you, thick with guilt and the weight of his burgeoning dependency on your kindness.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he continued, "I just can't take this loneliness any longer."

His confession struck you like a punch to the gut, his vulnerability laying bare the emotional toll his situation had taken on him. You could see the fear lurking in his eyes, the desperate plea for understanding and support. And though a part of you yearned to provide the comfort he sought, you also knew that giving in would only complicate matters further.

Instead, you opted for a different approach, seeking to ease his pain in words rather than touch.

"Mike, I understand how hard this must be for you," you said softly. "But you're not alone, and we'll get through it together. I promise."

Your hand lingered on his shoulder, a tentative gesture of solidarity, offering the smallest measure of comfort without breaching the boundaries of your friendship.

Despite the distance you maintained, you could feel the tension in his frame, the unraveling of his composure under the strain of his emotions.

"You don't find me attractive?" he asked, his voice strained as if the very thought pained him. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he searched your face for answers. "I... I didn't mean to push you, I just..."

Swallowing hard, you replied softly, "It's not that, Mike. It's just... your request would change things between us. Our friendship would never be the same."

Defeat washed over his features, and he shifted his gaze downward, fixating on his length before quickly looking away in embarrassment. "I just want to feel wanted, desired, useful to someone... anything..." he whispered, the depth of his anguish echoing in every word.

"It could be just once," Mike suggested, grasping at any sliver of hope he could find. His hopeful eyes locked onto yours, their pleading depths reflecting the faint light from the bathroom fixture.

His grip on your hand tightened, a silent prayer that you'd consider his desperate proposal. The air grew heavier with his unspoken desires, the weight of his needs bearing down upon both of you in the confined space.

“Our secret.”

You stood there, torn between compassion and conviction, struggling to reconcile the gravity of the situation. It was impossible to ignore the sincerity in his gaze, the raw need for human connection that seemed to emanate from him. Yet, you couldn't shake the sense that giving in would irreparably alter the course of your relationship.

Finally, you managed to find your voice, your tone heavy with uncertainty as you answered, "Mike, I don't think it's a good idea. This isn't something we can undo or ignore later.” Uncertainty lacing your words.

But his grasp on your hand tightened, his pleading gaze never wavering. "I don't want to ignore it. I want you, I truly do. Please, just do this for me." His fingers trailed along your palm, his touch lingering on your skin as he guided it towards his trembling form. When his hand paused at his pelvis, you felt the heat radiating from him, a testament to the turmoil within.

Staring into your eyes, he implored you once more, his voice quivering with the weight of his longing. You could see the torment reflected in his pupils, the raw honesty of his need. And yet, despite the yearning, you knew that giving in would be crossing a line neither of you could return from.

Yet you found yourself drawn to the sight before you: his waterlogged body, the foggy atmosphere, and the haunting desperation in his eyes.

With a shaky breath, you gave in, nodding reluctantly in agreement with his plea. "But, this never happened," you insisted, attempting to impose some semblance of control over the situation.

Slowly, your hand descended to meet his base, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the dampness of the surroundings. Each nerve in your body screamed at you to stop, urging you to reconsider the implications of your actions. But the anguish in his eyes pulled you forward, forcing you to grapple with the reality of his suffering.

Biting your lip, you closed your eyes, swallowing hard as you began to move your hand, knowing full well that this moment would forever change the course of your lives. The steamy air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome of your decision as the two of you were in the shower, bound by a secret neither of you could escape.

Mike nodded numbly, a silent agreement between you both as he attempted to stifle the rising cries of pleasure. "Thank you," he whispered, his gratitude overshadowed by the raw emotion surging through him.

Watching your hand move delicately over him, he couldn't help but feel the intense mix of shame and ecstasy coursing through his veins.

You steeled yourself against the stirrings of guilt, focusing solely on the task at hand. The water continued to pour over you both, serving as a constant reminder of the fragility of your situation.

As Mike's breath hitched and his eyes rolled back in bliss, you found yourself lost in the dichotomy of his emotions: the gratitude, the shame, and the overwhelming need for connection.

You opened your eyes, catching sight of Mike biting down on his fist, a futile attempt to silence his cries of pleasure. A small, involuntary chuckle escaped you, the sound carrying a hint of tension.

“You can make sounds, it's okay," you reassured him, a tender smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Closing your eyes once more, you hoped that the vivid imagery of their current predicament wouldn't scar your memories.

But the sight of Mike's flushed skin, his eyes tight shut in ecstasy, and the pink length curved around your hand was enough to dispel any remaining reservations. To your surprise, your grip tightened around him, your movements becoming more assured, more passionate. The water continued to fall, oblivious to the shift in dynamics between you both.

"Fuck!" Mike groaned, gripping your wrist and urging you to increase your pace. His gratitude shone brightly in his eyes as he spoke. "Thank you."

Nodding in agreement, you positioned yourself between his legs, the steamy environment providing little privacy in this intimate encounter.

Mike's head shook slightly, his eyes cast downward in a display of vulnerability. "You don't have to do this, It's okay." His voice trembled, tinged with shyness.

A smirk played across your lips. "Be a good boy and take what I give you," you instructed playfully, wrapping your hand around him once more. Your tongue danced around his tip, drawing a startled whimper from him.

"I'll be a good boy! I'll be a good boy!" he cried out, his words punctuated by gasps of pleasure.

His moans filled the bathroom, a testament to the newfound intimacy that had consumed you.

As you continued, the boundaries between friends and lovers blurred, leaving no room for regret or hesitation. Every touch, every movement was driven by an unspoken understanding, born of necessity and longing.

This time, you engulfed him fully, relishing in the way his body shuddered under your touch. It seemed as if he teetered on the edge of release, his cries growing louder and more fervent.

His hand reached back, gently guiding your head to him, a combination of shyness and desperation etched in his expression. Over time, his grip tightened, urging you to accept more of him, hungry for the sensation.

Your heart raced, the consequences of your actions weighing heavily on your mind. But the hunger in his eyes, the pleading earnestness in his touch, made it difficult to resist.

"You take me so good..." Mike murmured, locking gazes with you as he succumbed further to his desire. His appreciation was palpable, the praise you offered striking a chord in his soul.

In response, you slowed your movements, meeting his eyes as you whispered, "And you feel so good in my mouth." The compliment sparked a blush and a small, grateful smile on his face. Praise – an elixir for his wounded heart.

The water continued to rain down on you both, rendering the bathroom a sacred chamber of vulnerable admissions and simmering passions. In this cramped space, the two of you were stripped bare, submerged in a maelstrom of shifting emotions and escalating pleasures. The boundary between friend and lover had vanished, replaced by a new territory where your instincts governed your actions.

Mike's breathing quickened, the anticipation of release building within him. And though you knew this moment was fraught with consequence, there was an undeniable pull toward the ecstasy that lay just beyond the horizon.

"Can I...?" Mike stammered, his voice trembling and hoarse. After collecting himself, he asked hesitantly, "Can I come on your face or, your body?"

"You're close?" you inquired, unable to hide the curiosity from your tone.

"Yeah, I couldn't last that long with you... you know," he admitted, flustered. Taking a deep breath, he hastily added, "Sorry, I wanted to last longer." Embarrassment colored his features, but his eyes beseeched you to understand.

Mike's apology lingered in the air, but you dismissed it with a gentle wave of your hand, recognizing the power of your connection. Despite the enormity of what was happening between you, the bond that once existed seemed to transform, adapting to the new landscape of emotions and desires.

His release drew near, every twitch and moan drawing you closer to the precipice. The water continued to pour, its relentless cadence echoing the intensity of the situation. And while the implications of your actions weighed heavily on your mind, the thrall of the present moment beckoned you, the two of you locked in an intricate dance of surrender and acceptance.

Finally, Mike released a strained cry, using the last of his strength to guide his release onto your face. It painted your skin, marking you with the evidence of his passion, only to be washed away by the endless stream of water. In that brief moment of shared ecstasy, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome.

Then, without warning, Mike hauled you in for a kiss – a desperate, yearning embrace that had years of suppressed feelings woven into it. His lips pressed against yours, a testament to the depth of your connection. The water continued its steady descent, but you barely noticed as you were consumed by the weight of the moment.

As the echo of Mike's cry faded, you found yourselves frozen in the aftermath, clinging to each other like shipwrecked sailors finding solid ground. The reality of your actions bore down on you, a stark reminder of the journey you had just embarked upon. Yet amid the chaos, there was a strange sense of calm, the two of you buoyed by the shared experience that would forever bind you together.

Mike reached for the loofah hanging on the wall, extending it to you between gasps for air.

"You didn't do my back right," he panted, half-joking.

Rolling your eyes, you rose to your feet, a soft chuckle escaping you. "Asshole," you muttered, taking the loofah and moving behind him. As you carefully scrubbed his back, you couldn't help but study the contours, each mole a tiny piece of art etched onto his skin.

"We seriously need to find you a partner or a sneaky link," you sighed, the gravity of your recent exchange weighing heavily on your mind.

"Or maybe a friend with benefits?" Mike countered, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You considered his suggestion briefly, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Maybe," you agreed, the idea hovering between laughter and contemplation.

The water continued to flow, washing away the remnants of your uncertainty and hesitation. The room felt charged with the knowledge of what had transpired, yet there was a strange comfort in the weight of it all. Your hands moved gently over his back, the loofah a buffer between the new reality and the old normalcy.

my dumbass forgot the taglist bro: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo @cassiecasluciluce @jhutchismyl0verb0y

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