arranged extra, nsfw, charlie masturbating
He can barely sleep, but he wakes up earlier than anticipated. His wife’s masturbatory session seems insistent on being at the forefront of his mind, and though he didn’t see it, he knows.
She would be beside herself with embarrassment if she… actually, would she? He remembers the morning before. The loose white shirt hanging off of her, the peek of her collarbone, her in his underwear. As sleepwear.
She can’t possibly.
Those beautiful legs. He can barely imagine what they feel like. What… do other people feel like? He’s worn gloves when he touches patients. When he does get touched, it’s always clouded over by pain.
He strokes his palm with one hand.
Rough?
She has touched him before. Her arm in his, both for the marriage and for the party recently. And walking down the hall… and for treating his back. Amazing that he’s avoided it so far.
Charlie purses his lips. The… heir making process… would not be the worst, if it’s with someone like her. Quickly and to the point. Hell, if they’re determined, he could just… artificially inseminate her… after all, bodily fluids—filthy.
So, when he imagines her spread open like that, why is his body reacting? Physiology. Nothing more than that. He can wait it out.
His body puts up a fight. He remembers that heavy breathing. The dip in her dress. The way the key to his room is swallowed between her breasts, hiding it while at the same time seeking to invite eyes to slide into her cleavage. Her smiling face, and her excitement at eating something nice. Her stern expression when reading.
This isn’t going to go away on its own.
He reaches down, pauses. Should he…
His body wins this fight. Charlie’s hand massages himself through the front of his trousers, and… he forgot how good it feels, even just for that. It feels like forever before he unbuttons, reaches in, and continues the slow pace. He can’t seem to stray his thoughts away from her.
Surely, when he’s done, he won’t have to think about her quite so much. He’s certain that he wouldn’t buy cake and books just to thank her and get her something nice if he could just. Do this.
His breathing picks up with the pace of his stroking. He stops each time he gets too close. It’s rare that he does this and he may as well enjoy it. Slow stroking. Her legs. Her body… she looked kind of sad when he agreed that there would be no children from a union between them.
Did she want… no. Disgusting. Filthy. Even now, what he’s doing—natural, yes. Gross? Absolutely.
There’s a knock on the door and he panics, putting himself away and rushing to the doo.r did she hear him somehow? Does she know?
He cracks the door open. He could smell earl grey, see her peering in at him. Oooh, no. He’s glad he didn’t open up all the way. His cock jumps at the sight of her, tousled from sleep, a little messy, a sweet scent that rolls off of her… wow.
“Mr. Vanderbee, I’m going out.”
What a stark reminder of her disinterest in him. Of course he was imagining an attraction. She’s simply being kind.
“Going already? Er, have fun.” Look at her. Her hips are wonderful. Her fingers, elegant. Those eyes of hers remind him of looking into himself through Rev. Something deep. He shudders and closes the door, leaning against it. “Enjoy.”
Rev follows her to her rooms. He’s been hanging around her a lot lately. Is it a sign that he himself is getting overprotective? Of, what. Her? His property? That feels… sick. She was acquired for what Byron thought she should do, not for what she could do.
So this is a private matter to be kept under wraps. Only a one time event. He should finish up. Again, he drops to the couch, unbuttons, and this time, he spits in his hand—he’s going to hate himself afterwards regardless—and takes a firm grip on himself. He sets a good pace, going slowly. Agonizing over it.
Rev starts sending reports.
At her window. She’s in the bath.
Yes, that’s fine.
You should come over and get her to lay your eggs.
Rev! You’re not helping. You’re making this take longer.
Isn’t that what you want?
No!!
He can’t close the link. If something happens, she would be in danger if she can’t get anyone. And she’s naked in a room that anyone could get access to at the moment. Including him.
What would he do? Even if she was receptive? Would she treat him like any of the pets around here? Pet and scratch and stroke and for some reason the idea makes the pleasure he’s feeling better.
He leans back, ignoring the ache of his spine and bruises. His hand moves faster as his thoughts go in circles.
Imagine actually taking her as his wife. Consummating it. Would she say his name? How would it feel inside of her? Hot? He’s heard it’s immensely pleasurable, but what little experience he has with partnered sex acts isn’t exactly a good measure.
His pace increases. Just. To have sex with his wife. Hold her, kiss her, enjoy her while she enjoys him. Watching her react to him. Needing him. Loving him…
He breathes out her name so softly that even he barely notices.
It’s impossible that they would ever be together. She said as much. But just for a little longer, he wonders what their bodies would feel like when they’re pressed together. The smell of their sex. The heat of her body. Her wrapped around him, squeezing down, saying his name.
A vivid image of Thandi, naked as a lark as she greets Rev. “Fuck!!”
That did it. He’s cumming, and it’s more than anticipated. Each rope of it is accompanied by her name, and a curse.
“Fuck, Thandi…”
“Shit… Thandi…”
“Thandi… Thandi… gods.”
He rocks his hips a little more into his hand, deaf to himself. Just… more. Need… damnit!
Stop sending me this! It isn’t helping the situation!
No.
I don’t need to know!
But he won’t be able to forget. Her chest, so cute and pert. Her waist, perfect for his hands. The curves of her body, that teasing patch of hair at her groin, the shine of freshly bathed skin! And the smile. Completely free of worry.
It would be nice to see more of that.
He curses himself again and goes to wash up and change for the day.