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"Crawl inside this body, find me where I am most ruined - love me there."
Rune Lazuli
It was no secret that the abbey would crumble without Copia. He worked relentlessly to not only go above the expectations of his job as Cardinal, but he took on the work of others as well, mainly the three Papas who would much rather be doing anything else than ministry work. Which was a lot, since even though Papas I and II were no longer the reigning popes, Papa III was , and all of his paperwork on top of what Copia was already tasked with took a toll on him. Sister Imperator would try to step in when she was able to stop it from happening, but Papa III was an ass, and Copia was a pushover.
Which is why he often ended up in your rooms when he finally gave up, crawling into your lap, sometimes shyly instigating things with hesitant hands at the hem of your pants, but sometimes he just preferred to rest.
Tonight, when he pressed his body up against yours, he began to weep.
You held him and ran your hands through his hair and in circles on his back, not sure what else to do. He’d spoken of his troubles, and was visibly upset by them often, but he’d never let himself be so vulnerable as to cry in front of you. You weren’t sure exactly what your relationship was between sex and late-night talks under the covers, but it became quickly apparent that something had shifted.
“It’s alright, honey,” You muttered into his hairline. He whimpered and buried his nose deeper into the crook of your neck. Your nightshirt was soaked in tears, and probably snot too, but your first instinct was to hold him tighter and sooth him as best as you were able. He cried harder when you pressed kisses into his temple, but you could tell that you were getting somewhere, at least.
Copia sobbed into your neck for a while longer before his cries died down to sniffles and whimpers, hiccuping hard enough to shake his entire body. His clothed erection was pressed into your thigh through his cassock, but you chose to ignore it.
“Same as usual?” You asked, putting a hand beneath his jaw to point his eyes up towards yours. The paint around his eyes and lips now stained his cheeks and your shirt, but you didn’t mind. You wiped away the snot with your sleeve and the stray tears with your thumb.
“ Sì , yes, it - a lot.” He hiccuped again. You pressed another kiss into his forehead, then nudged at his arm.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He groaned and pressed his face back into your neck.
“We can take a bath, if you want?” You offered. He looked up at you through his lashes, and you smiled. “A bath, then.”
He stood up with little fuss, but clung to your arm as you led him into your bathroom.
The bathroom was small, the tub even smaller, but you were sure that Copia wanted to feel surrounded by all sides at the moment, so its tininess worked in your favor. You worked him out of his cassock as you let the tub fill up. His black dress shirt came next, then the undershirt, then the slacks, socks, and shoes before finally his briefs. His erection had only flagged slightly, but he wasn’t enough in his own head to pay it any mind, so you didn’t either.
After squirting a generous amount of bubble soap into the bath, you wet a cloth and began to drag it gently across his cheeks, slowly wiping away all of the paint and tears as he anchored himself with his hands on your hips. When his face was clean, you pressed a quick kiss to his nose, stripped, wiped the paint and snot from your shoulder, and climbed into the tub.
He sat between your legs as he always did, his back to your chest with his boney knees sticking out of the water. You ran a hand over his chest and willed him to relax. With his weight and muscles finally relaxed into you, he resigned to fiddling with the bubbles absentmindedly, his last hiccup interrupting the silence at some insignificant point in time. You hummed and ran water over his head with the cup you’d started keeping by the tub around the time he first found his way into your bed, then your bath.
Copia began to squirm, if only a little bit, and you realized that he was still hard under the barrage of bubbles at the water’s surface.
You hummed into his neck, “Do you want me to take care of you, honey?”
Copia let out a quivered breath. “Please…please.”
He shivered as you ran a hand through his chest hair and down his rounded tummy to tease at the hair at his base, only wrapping your hand around him when he began to squirm again. You didn’t feel like playing with him; that wasn’t what he needed. He needed to be loved, thoroughly , and cared for until the only tears he shed were those of pleasure and joy. He needed a firm yet warm hand to keep him grounded, lest he float back off to those darker corners of his mind again.
Copia whined and threw his head back onto your shoulder, burying his nose in your neck and gripping desperately at your thighs. “Ah - per favore, please, more…”
You hummed with a grin, stroking slowly up his cock and teasing him at the slit, brushing just enough at the sensitive head to have him moaning at your touch.
Without thinking, you praised him: “There’s a good boy.”
His cock twitched in your hand, and you were sure he would have cum were it not for his own hand gripping himself at the base. Your horror at letting the name you’d wanted to call him for months slip so easily was overshadowed by how he now bucked and canted, so desperate for anything you had to give but not nearly ready to cum so quickly.
“Say it again, per favore,” He whimpered into your neck, “Per favore, I want - I want to be your good boy.”
“You are,” You whispered into his temple. “You are a good boy. You’re my good boy.”
The second you moved your hand, his hips bucked up into your hold, cumming with a slew of whimpers and moans under the water’s surface. He rambled in his mother tongue as you continued to stroke him through his sudden orgasm. You muttered little praises in his ear as he came down from his high and slumped against you, completely spent.
“Forgive me,” He huffed, shifting awkwardly in your hold. “I didn't mean to finish that quickly, I…”
He tried to pull away, but you wrapped your arms around his middle and pulled him back to you before he could move to stand. “There’s nothing to apologize for, honey. Don’t apologize for feeling good.”
“But I didn’t - you haven’t finished…”
“There’ll be time for that later, honey. Why don’t we get out for now?” You patted his thigh, signaling for him to stand, and he did so quickly before immediately finding a towel and extending it to you. You climbed out after him and took the towel to his hair, despite his protests, and made sure that he was dry before moving to wipe yourself down.
“Go lay down on the bed, good boy. I’ll be there soon.” The moment from earlier had vanished, but the name slipped out of your mouth just as easily as it had the first time. He perked up at the sound and nodded, ducking sheepishly out of the bathroom to follow your order. A warmth was building quickly in your gut, and before Copia vanished completely, you saw his cock twitch, too. You’d been planning on putting him to bed, but it seemed like the night held other plans.
You finished drying off and breezed through your skincare routine. The plug on the bath was pulled, and Copia’s clothes were tossed in the hamper alongside your own.
It had only been minutes since he’d left the bathroom, but he was already riled up atop your comforter when you reentered the bedroom. His hand rested on his stomach as his hips canted gently upwards into nothing, eyes closed and pointed towards the ceiling with a blissful look on his face.
So pretty , you thought, which initially you took as weird, but you’d already crossed so many new lines with Copia tonight, you decided that it wasn’t worth looking into every little thought and word you let slip. And he was pretty. He was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever laid eyes on. His silhouette was akin to a portrait from Raphael, twisted about your bedsheets like a muse. He was nothing less than a gift from Satan Himself.
He opened his eyes when you climbed on the bed with him. You slotted yourself between his legs and sat back on your haunches to gaze down at him. You ran your hands over his tummy, which you knew he was insecure about, which was not only wrong but also a preposterous notion that needed immediate correcting. You ignored his cock resting heavily on his stomach, already beading with precum, and slid your hands gently along his skin upwards to dust over his nipples.
He squeezed his eyes shut as you began to toy with his chest. It looked like he wanted to grab you, touch you, but he balled the sheets into his fists at his sides, adamant on taking whatever you had to give.
Leaning down to mouth at his neck, you propped yourself up with one hand and ran the other along his inner thigh. He began to open his legs with your coaxing, though you weren’t sure he was aware, as he was doing his best to keep still and refrain from whimpering at your teasing. He only noticed what you were doing when you pushed his thighs gently up towards his chest, exposing all of him to you.
“Wha… bella , I…”
“It’s alright, honey. Let me take care of you.”
“I - oh… ” You took one of his nipples into your mouth and rolled the other between your fingers. The obscene moan he let out sent heat rushing down to your core, but you were determined to have him finish at least one more time before you even thought to take care of yourself.
You continued to tease his chest with your mouth and wandering hands, threading through his chest hair and slipping slowly down the trail of hair that led to where he needed you most, but where you wouldn’t touch just yet. Right as you put your mouth over his other nipple, his hands shot up to try to find your own, but you pressed them gently back into the mattress.
“Be a good boy for me, Copia. Keep those right there. Let me give you what you need.” He whined in protest and threw his head back into the pillow, but obeyed wonderfully and spread his legs even wider beneath you. You finally began to inch your mouth down his chest, sucking and nipping at the skin there, before stopping just above his cockhead. Copia babbled and whimpered to the ceiling, squirming beneath you but keeping his hands at his sides.
“You want me here?” You breathed over his cock. His abdomen twitched.
“Sì, sì, right there, per favore,” He begged, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Tell me what you want, my good boy.”
“Your mouth, Mamma , please-”
Your breath hitched, and he stilled under you. The panic set in quickly in his eyes, his muscles going stiff. The moment of pause barely lasted before a clenching heat erupted in your gut.
He seemed to take this as rejection, already gasping for air between anxious intakes of breath, trying to apologize with a voice that wouldn’t come out. You took his hands into your own and slotted your fingers together.
“Mamma’s here, good boy. I’m here.”
He went quiet again, tears falling from the corners of his eyes as his chin began to wobble.
“ M-Mamma ?”
“Yes, good boy?”
He swallowed heavily, understanding beginning to settle in his chest. He squeezed your hands in his. His Italian accent had gotten considerably heavier. “Can you keep going, per favore?”
You weren’t going to think too hard about it. Being his mamma turned you on too much to stop the scene that had formed by accident, and he needed you to take care of him more than ever. Whatever headspace he was in, it wasn’t surface-level, and despite your lack of knowledge on the subject, it seemed best to keep going rather than shatter the moment.
Copia needed someone to take care of him. He’d needed care and love for so long, you realized, and no one had ever given it to him when it really mattered. Sister Imperator would praise him and take him to lunch every now and again, but little gestures were nothing against the torrent of stress that plagued him in every waking moment. He needed to let go, and he needed to do it with someone he trusted. You supposed that person was you, now.
You grinned up at him. “Of course, honey.”
Your lips were feather-light when they brushed against the head of his cock, but his hips jolted upwards as if you’d put your entire mouth on him. “Stay still for me, honey. Can you do that?”
“Sì, mi - mi dispiace, Mamma .”
“Good boy.”
He shivered and threw his head back into the pillows once again, readjusting his grip on your hands. You mouthed at the head before moving downward, kissing his shaft before licking his base and taking one of his balls into your mouth.
Copia let out a breathless cry, opening his legs wider for you. You ended the teasing by finally taking him into your mouth and slowly working him down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and flicking your tongue in the exact way you knew he loved.
He let out a string of expletives and pleads in his mother tongue, almost all of which was beyond your knowledge, but his resounding begs of “ Mamma ” over and over was enough to send you into a subtle headspace of your own. There was nothing else but your good boy and the weight of him in your mouth, and there was nothing you wanted more than to please him just how he deserved.
You popped off of his cock and crawled upward to lean over him, letting go of his hands in favor of holding his cheeks. You swiped away his tears with your thumbs and kissed him, letting him taste himself on your tongue.
“Such a good boy for me,” You mumbled. “Do you want to take me, now?”
He looked at you like you’d hung the stars. You were certain the way you looked back down at him wasn’t too far off.
He nodded.
“Do you want me to ride you? Or do you want to be on top?”
Copia thought hard for a moment, biting his lip and tracing his fingers along your ribs. “O-On top, per favore.”
“There’s my sweet boy. Such good manners.” His cheeks went red with a sheepish smile, practically glowing as you switched positions.
Lying on your back, you wrapped your legs around him to pull him closer. He draped himself over you until he was practically laying down, his elbows the only thing keeping him upright. You didn’t mind; you preferred the closeness, and you were sure he did, too.
You slid your hand down his torso in warning before taking his cock, lining it up with your entrance. You were so wet at that point, you doubted even his above-average size could feel anything but amazing.
“Go on, honey. You’ve earned it.” You pressed a kiss into his cheek.
He pushed in, slowly at first, but the pleasure of your walls around him seemed to take over, and he bottomed out within seconds. But despite his initial impatience, he kept himself still once his hips were flush with yours.
It only took a moment to adjust before you nodded for him to continue.
Despite his eagerness, he kept a slow, steady pace, rocking your body against his in lieu of actual thrusting. He was buried deep inside you and was constantly brushing up against your clit, whining into your ear and palming one of your breasts. He surrounded you from every direction, and drew so much pleasure from your body that you already felt close to the edge.
“ Grazie, grazie Mamma ,” He panted, kissing and nipping at the skin of your neck. You threaded your hand through his hair and scratched the other down his back, only enough to leave a temporary mark but always made him more desperate, especially when he was inside you.
“Such a good boy,” You huffed. The whine he let out sounded almost like a cry. Whatever composure he had left vanished as he quickly pinned your legs nearly to your torso and began to assault your cunt with fast, harsh thrusts. He forced his hand between your bodies to rub heavily at your clit as he moaned into your ear.
“Oh - oh, Mamma, è troppo buono, non durero, please let me cum, please…” He babbled and cried into your shoulder, his tears staining your skin as his thrusts grew more desperate.
You balled your fingers tightly into his hair. “Yes, fuck yes, good boy, cum in me, you earned it sweet boy, fill me up-”
His body tightened around you with a cry as he went still, buried to the hilt as he spilled his seed into your womb. The pressure of his hand on your clit and the feeling of being filled full finally snapped the tight-drawn band in your stomach, tossing your head back as you came around his cock. Copia moaned, feeling your orgasm and pumped another load of cum into your cunt. He moaned and cried as he continued to spill small spurts of his seed into you. Your orgasm seemed to last forever, and you twitched around him even as he began to soften.
Eventually, he collapsed, easing himself as gently as he could onto your chest (which wasn’t very gentle at all with how exhausted he now was). His softening cock slipped from your cunt, the cum following and staining your thighs and the bed with a sensation that definitely wasn’t as hot as it had been just minutes before. But you let him lay on you anyway, carding your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your breast.
His breathing evened out eventually, and you were left to lay in silence, the only sounds coming from his sniffling and the air conditioning across the room. He was heavy, but with how at peace he finally was, you didn’t have the heart to move him.
After a while, when the last remnants of his tears dried up, you thought he might have fallen asleep. But looking down, you noticed that his eyes were pointed blankly at the wall, red-brimmed and vacant. Massaging your fingers into his scalp, you were relieved to watch them fall closed.
“Thank you,” He muttered. You gave an equally weak “of course” and ran your hand along the skin of his back.
When he shivered, you finally gestured for him to move so that you could change the comforter and slip quickly beneath it with him. He again laid his head on your chest, his arm wound tightly over your middle.
You briefly considered how to go about talking about what had just transpired when you were both in better states of mind. You didn’t want to be in the dark about the new dynamic you’d established, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated to explain himself, either. Maybe it would be best if you could just let it be .
“I was raised in Rome.”
Your attention drifted down to where his chin was tucked into the comforter. He kept his eyes averted, and you didn’t interrupt him.
“My papà was a bishop and - and my mamma took care of the house.” With the arm he had laying across your stomach, he grabbed for your hand, squeezing it. “She wanted different children. But she could only have me.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” You whispered, rubbing his back.
“I want to,” He replied, “I don’t…I have not told this to anyone.”
You hummed, then went silent.
After a long pause, he continued: “I think she wanted me to be like my papà. She would always take me to his sermons and tell me to be more like him. She said - she told my papà once that I would read anything but my Bible.
“And then papà died, and I was all she had, and she was so - so cruel, and…” His voice broke. You felt a tear hit the bare skin of your chest. “...and I always had bruises, and she told all of her f-friends that I played too hard, and everyone knew that I did-didn’t have friends, and…”
He choked. You covered more of him with the blanket and held him tighter.
“...And no matter how much I told myself that I hated her, I still cried when they buried her, and I still cry, and…” You finally shushed him gently as he began to sob again, wrapping your arms tight around his quivering body. You tried not to imagine his past, tried not to stew over how it fed into what he needed from you, what that meant going forward. You instead focused all of your remaining energy on comforting him, on pressing kisses into his hairline and holding him just as close as he needed you to.
Copia didn’t speak of it again that night, and he didn’t need to. He only kissed weakly at your skin, mumbling “grazie”’s and “thank you”’s until he finally went still. There was more than pity, more than sexual interest, more than the want to care for him stewing under the surface. A part of you hoped he felt the same, and the other part told you to go to bed and not get your hopes up.
You chose only to rest, and hold him as long as he would hold you.