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You’ve hardly seen Copia all week.
It starts to grate on you by the eighth day of spending your mornings on your own, preparing food in the small kitchenette you share with him by yourself, sitting at your small dining table alone. With no Copia in sight because he’s been spending so much time in his office, working through document after document as Sister Imperator seems to dump more and more work on him.
You don’t blame him for this, of course. It’s certainly not his fault that she’s overworking him, but the knowledge that he has spent every morning, evening, and oftentimes night without your company makes something writhe in you in discomfort. You miss him, plain and simple. You miss his hands, his hair, that soft, sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon that clings to his clothes.
You haven’t even been able to hold him while you sleep, Copia always slipping into bed long after you’ve fallen asleep and rising long before you wake. You can always see the indentation of his body left behind, the clinging vestiges of that smell you recognize that’s distinctly him. But he’s never there, and the sheets are often cold by the time your eyes open to the morning light spilling in through your blinds.
You can hardly imagine the state he must be in now, working himself haggard. Because you know that he is, no matter how little you’ve earned the pleasure of seeing him in the past week. You know him enough that he takes his work very seriously, enough so that he will neglect himself. Enough so that he will gently shoo you from his office, a nervous ramble of how busy he is intoning through a locked door.
It had hurt a bit, to be ushered away when you sought him out.
But—with the right push, you can get him to take a break. A moment to relax, to let himself just let go for a little while. A moment where he can think about nothing other than pleasure and warmth.
You chew on your bottom lip, the trickles of a plan already seeping into your mind.
You’re just gonna need a little help.
———
Cirrus bounces on her heels beside you, a leather bag swinging next to her, the strap balanced on her fingers.
She had been the first ghoul you had thought to go to with what you had planned. She’s rather mellow in many ways, laidback and easy to talk to, but she had a mean streak when she needed it. Caring and loving but firm and unyielding, perfect for what you wanted to surprise Copia with.
“I’ve been worried about him lately, you know?” She says into the companionable silence, “Have you talked to him at all recently?”
You curl your hand over the back of your neck, “I was trying to give him some space, I guess. I mean—I get it, he’s Papa, he’s going to be busy. I just—” You trail off, eyes landing on the floor. You think of Copia assuring you that he would be done with his work soon, of his voice low and muffled through a wooden door, and you grimace. That had been two days ago.
“But you miss him.” Cirrus cuts through your trailing thoughts, her shoulder bumping lightly into yours, her mouth open on a fanged smile. You can’t help but return it despite your strange mood.
She continues, “And I’ve seen him once or twice these last few days, sneaking in and out of his office. He looks exhausted.” Her lips purse slightly together, “I don’t think he wanted to worry you.”
Your lips part as you blink over at her, and the moment you consider her words you find that they’re likely accurate.
“I’m going to kill him. Affectionately.” You mutter, and Cirrus giggles.
She pats your arm conspiratorially, “Well, I imagine you could manage as much throughout the evening.” Her lips curl into something sharper, her fangs glinting in the candlelight as you make your way to Copia’s office.
And then it immediately shifts into something softer, “Don’t feel bad about wanting his company. We all miss him, sometimes.”
“You think the other ghouls are going to want— time, with him?”
“Oh, definitely.” She laughs, and it’s like the slamming of keys on an organ in the high ceilings of the church’s halls.
_______
When you’re finally standing in front of Copia’s office door, you’re excited. It’s a spreading warmth that simmers in your gut, that makes your skin prickle with heat. It’s hard not to feel some kind of anticipation, and there’s a steady ache of want in your chest.
Cirrus knocks on the door before you can, her pale knuckles rapping against the surface, “Papa? Do you have a moment?” She says in a deceptively innocent voice, her arm behind her back and the leather strap of her bag hanging from her palm.
You can hear the sound of something hitting the floor and a small yelp, and you try to stifle a smile. You can already imagine him scrambling to try and appear presentable, and it makes his recent absence pang somewhere in your chest.
“Ah—sì, sì, come in!” He calls, and Cirrus is quickly pushing the door open, her dark lips spreading in a large smile.
“Cirrus.” Copia greets, frantically shifting around papers and books, but when his eyes catch on you from over her shoulder he freezes for a moment, his throat flexing.
“Amore.” He says softly, gaze darting to his desk as he fidgets with a stack of papers, unnecessarily straightening them. He clears his throat, “What is it that you need?”
“Do I have to need something to come here?” You push the door closed behind you, hiding the way you surreptitiously lock it by using your back to hide Copia’s view of your hand
Copia’s lips part, blinking owlishly at you, before he smiles. Though you notice that it’s smaller than usual, how it’s tired around the edges, it’s still something you’ve missed seeing.
“Of course not.” He amends quietly.
You walk closer to him, Cirrus silently doing the same, her starry eyes glancing over at you in mischief.
You take a moment to study Copia’s appearance as you approach his desk, the way his hair is clean but more mussed than usual, curling out of the slicked back style it’s typically in. It looks soft, makes him look soft, smoothing out the severe lines of his face. Without his papal paint, you can see his freckles clearly, dappled across his nose and cheeks. It makes you want to reach out and map them with your fingers, to get your lips on each individual one.
The makeup under his eyes is slightly smudged, as if he had been rubbing at his face periodically. He looks tired, his shoulders slumped and a perpetual pinch to his brow.
You don’t stop yourself from reaching out, smoothing your thumb between his eyes from where you now stand next to his chair. He sighs quietly, unabashedly leaning into your touch, eyelids immediately fluttering closed. As if some part of him had been waiting for this.
“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” You say with a small smile, moving your hand so that it cups his jaw instead. His head tilts when you use your palm to move him forward, his mismatched eyes blinking open. Your thumb catches on his chin, and his mouth automatically falls open, his lips parting as he peers up at you.
You swallow as a slight shiver runs down your spine, your skin already feeling hot. You’re eager, and now that you have your hands on him you want to run them everywhere.
But you have plans for the evening, no matter how much you just want to forgo them and spread him out on his desk. Tempting, but you know that patience will be worth it.
Copia startles slightly when Cirrus runs a clawed hand over the back of his neck, but he quickly melts into her touch, her fingers threading into his thick hair.
“Mio caro?” He breathes quietly, looking up at you questioningly.
Your thumb smooths over his bottom lip and you can feel the way his breath catches and stutters over your skin.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” You say, and he jerks slightly, his eyes widening, and he looks like he’s on the verge of profusely apologizing.
You shush him softly, thumb pressing against the parting of his lips, “I’m not mad, promise. Just a bit— lonely.” You accentuate the word by pushing your thumb into his slack mouth, and Copia allows the intrusion without protest.
You press down against his tongue, his responding moan hot against your hand when he breathes out, his eyelids flickering. His lips easily close around your finger, but his tongue is held in place, and you can feel him swallow around you.
“The ghouls miss you too, Papa.” Cirrus murmurs from behind him, her hand petting through his hair, her body draped over the back of Copia’s chair. Her head leans down, her painted lips brushing his ear, trailing softly down his throat without properly pressing or biting.
He shivers, his hands twitching in his lap as you hold him in place, his neck slightly craned forward but Cirrus still does not mark him yet. You can hear the creaking of his gloves, feel the way his tongue shifts as he swallows. You thrust your finger just a few times, watching as he startles at the sudden movement, his breath hitching as he attempts to suck on it properly.
But you pull away quickly, his tongue following your thumb as you slide it out, stopping to trail across his bottom lip before you cup his jaw again. He makes a small noise, close to a whimper, and it makes your gut curl with heat.
He swallows, “I really am sorry, amore. I didn’t mean to leave you by yourself for so long. Either of you.” He says as soon as his mouth is free, and your lips lift into a smile that you try to bite down on.
You look over at Cirrus, catching her gaze for just a moment, before you turn back to Copia. You lean closer to him, making sure he’s looking at you properly, “Make it up to us then, sweet boy?”
His eyes immediately widen, something going slack in his jaw. Cirrus’s hands find Copia’s hips, thumbs pressing under his shirt. He breathes out heavily, shifting in her hold and leaning into your palm.
“How?” He rasps, and you move to hold both sides of his face between your hands, tilting his head up.
You hum, pretending to consider the question, “You’re going to sit on Cirrus’s cock and look pretty while we help you finish your work. Does that sound good?”
Copia nearly chokes, blinking up at you as he swallows. His lips part around a trembling breath, “Yes.” He says quietly.
“Hm?” You tease, “No?”
“Please, yes please, tesoro.” He says louder, gasping when Cirrus squeezes his thighs in appreciation before smoothing her hands back over his hips.
“Good boy.” You praise, and you swallow his moan when you finally kiss him. You can’t help but sigh into his mouth, something wound and tense inside of you abruptly unraveling.
It’s always easy, kissing him. His lips are soft and yielding, instinctively opening for you with just the slightest of urgings. Especially now, when he’s desperately looking to please you. That hazy look is already settling in his eyes, present in the way that he leans into you, his mouth soft and warm and pliant.
He always smells and tastes sweet, something rich and creamy on his tongue. When you bite into his bottom lip he whimpers, his hands loosely wrapped around your wrists as you angle his head to your whims.
And then he suddenly jerks, straining into you with a sharp whine. Your eyes slit open and you can see Cirrus biting into his shoulder, lapping at his skin and kissing the marks she’s left behind, dark and bruising. You moan, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth before releasing it.
“Let’s get you ready.” You breathe, something inside of you already simmering with impatience. But you try to keep your voice level, rising off of Copia. He sways forward, as if he were chasing your warmth. You resist the urge to shower him in praise, to just climb into his chair and have him right then and there.
You look over at Cirrus and she nods slightly, walking around his chair until she stands before Copia. He blinks up at her, and then she’s using her hands on Copia’s hips to pull him out of his seat. He yelps, momentarily taken by surprise by her strength as he falls into her.
She chuckles softly, “Come on, sweet thing.” She urges, tugging him forward by his hips until she’s leaned back against his desk, Copia draped across her front, “Hands on either side of me.” She orders, and Copia easily obliges, swallowing as his gloved hands scramble to grip the edge of his desk.
Cirrus smiles, white and fanged, “Good boy.” She says, and you can see the tremble in Copia’s shoulders, can hear the way that his breath hitches.
You can’t help but watch them as you retrieve a bottle of lube from Cirrus’s bag. Cirrus pets over Copia’s hips and thighs, squeezing as she urges him to sway even closer to her. Her painted lips leave black smudges on his skin, bruises now littering his neck, a ring of dark marks around his throat. His hands are still tightly gripping the desk, leather creaking along with the gasp of his breath.
You walk forward, bottle of lube in hand, and run your hand up his thigh. He jerks in surprise but moans when you squeeze his ass, your hand moving to settle on his waist. You place the tube down next to one of Copia’s hands as you lean forward, kissing the back of his head and neck.
“Want me to open you up, love?” You murmur, partially so that you have permission and partially to hear him whine, his hips shifting in an attempt to get you to touch him.
“Mio caro, please.”
You smile, placing one last kiss to his nape before you’re tugging at the belt of his pants. You get them around his thighs and when you look back up Cirrus is kissing him, clawed hands tight in his hair as she tilts his head back. You quickly grab the lube, your stomach tight and hot and eager to move on.
You squirt a generous amount onto your hand, warming it between your fingers. You place the tube back on the desk before reaching for his hip. You palm at his skin, skimming his stomach just to feel his muscles tighten. You finally pull his briefs down, sliding them down his thighs just far enough so that you see his entrance.
You circle his hole with two lubed fingers, both feeling and seeing the way that he shivers, his moan muffled by Cirrus’s mouth. You knead at his thigh, urging him to relax under your hands. He practically goes slack beneath you touch, Cirrus pulling away from him so that his forehead is resting against hers, his breaths coming out soft and low.
And with his hole slick with lube you begin to slowly push one finger in. His breath hitches and you pet at his hip with your other hand, smoothing over his soft skin. He pushes back into you after a moment and you start moving properly, listening to his sweet sighs as Cirrus kisses at his jaw and palms at his chest through his shirt.
He’s shifting into your hand, and even from this angle you can see the furrow in his brow. It’s not enough, and you know that it’s not, but half the fun is getting him to ask for more even through your own impatience.
This time, when he goes to move his hips you hold him in place, keeping your pace careful and slow. He groans, his head landing on Cirrus’s shoulder. You can see Cirrus smile into his hair, her eyes twinkling over at you.
“Amore, please.” He mutters, his gloved hands clenching around the rim of his desk, obediently staying in place ever since Cirrus had told him to put them there.
You hum innocently, and this time you still your hand completely, Copia whining into Cirrus’s shoulder at the lack of stimulation. Your fingers squeeze over his hip bone when he attempts to shift against you and he huffs, leather gloves creaking as his fingers clench.
“Your words, sweet thing.” Cirrus urges with a glint of fangs, her hands still massaging his chest.
He can hear him sigh, his hole clenching around you, “Please, I need more—” His breath hitches when Cirrus thumbs at one of his nipples, his legs shifting farther apart, “Please, cuore mio, vita mia, please I need you— ah—”
He gasps when you finally add a second finger, curling into his hole, “Fuck, you’re so good.” You groan, already feeling a spreading wetness in your pants just from the sound of his voice, needy and pitched.
His back curves, head falling back as he gasps at your quickening pace, face red and hair even messier than before from Cirrus’s petting. She returns to biting at his bared throat, sucking dark marks that will take days to heal, her fangs leaving red pricks all over his skin. You want people to see him marked, you want him to look in the mirror and run his fingers over purpling bruises.
You try to find that spot in him that has him crying out, and it isn’t long before you do, a long trembling whine pressing past his lips as his thighs shake. Each time you press against his prostate he moans, a litany of noises that he can barely bite down on, but he tries to muffle himself regardless.
Cirrus grabs his face, thumbing at his bottom lip until his mouth parts.
“I want to hear you, Papa.” She says, and even you pause to watch her, her eyes glinting like flames, “I want this whole church to hear how pretty you sound.”
Copia nearly sobs, trembling between the two of you, his breath stuttering. You can already imagine that teary eyed look on his face, his jaw slack with pleasure, and your breath nearly catches in your chest just from the thought. And you could probably get him there rather quickly, you just need to give him a little something more.
Slowly, you sink to your knees behind him. Like this, you’re level with his twitching hole, your fingers still rhythmically fucking in and out of him. You slightly spread them as you lean forward, licking between the V of your fingers and over his wet entrance.
Copia jerks, something like a squeak leaving his throat in surprise. Your lips curl and you lap at his hole again, your fingers pushing forward. He moans, hips rolling back into your mouth.
You groan, your fingers pulling out just so you can replace them with your tongue. You lick into him, sucking lightly at the rim as your hands squeeze at his hips, leading him until he’s properly rocking back onto your face. You can hear him growing in volume, his breaths hitching and stuttering in his throat. You smooth your hands down his thighs, brushing the delicate skin between his legs. Your fingers press up against his taint, firmly massaging the flesh there and you can hear him choke on a moan, a high whine that catches in his chest.
You can tell that he’s close, can hear it in the pitched ah-ah-ahs that escape his mouth unbidden, but you’re not ready for things to end like that just yet. You flatten your tongue over his entrance one last time before you pull away entirely.
You hear Copia’s breath hitch, catching on a sob. You rise back up, your fingers sliding over his hips as you drape yourself over his back. One of your hands slides into his hair, sinking into the thick strands as you gently tug his head back off of Cirrus’s shoulder. He whines, completely pliant as you move him.
There are already tears curling down his jaw, makeup running over flushed cheeks, teeth digging into his bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut. Your core aches at the sight of him, hot and insistent.
“Not yet.” You murmur, kissing along his cheekbone, “You don’t get to come until I say you can. Understand?”
He exhales shakily but nods his head, “Yes.” He breathes, blinking a glassy eye open to blearily look at you.
You kiss the point of his jaw, “Good boy.” He still shutters weakly at the praise, sighing quietly.
And then you’re looking over at Cirrus, who looks just as worked up as you likely do, but there’s still much more that you two have planned together. She nods at you in understanding and you gently ease Copia off of her, letting him lean back onto your chest instead. She slides off to the side, recovering the leather bag you had dropped to the ground earlier in the evening.
You look away as she prepares yourself, instead focusing on kissing Copia’s bare shoulder, the collar of his frilled shirt long since popped wide open. He moans softly, his head lolling back against you, his forehead pressed against the side of your neck. You squeeze gently at his waist, fingers running up his shirt and over his soft belly.
“Do you remember your safe word?” You murmur while he’s still mostly coherent, leaning far enough back so that you can look at him properly.
He hums, blinking up at you, “Rat tail.”
You smile, catching his lips in a short kiss, “Good.”
You hear the creak of Copia’s chair and you turn to see Cirrus seated there, her strap on harnessed between her legs. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of her, but tonight is about Copia.
And Copia looks over at her too, blinking almost owlishly. She smiles, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Now, come here, pretty thing.” She props her chin on a clawed hand, patting her thigh.
You can hear Copia swallow and he quickly kicks off the rest of his pants, and Cirrus’s smile only grows sharper. She reaches out, catching his wrist as she leads him down into her lap. You watch as Copia sinks down onto her cock, his back to her chest and her hands on his hips, claws leaving pinpricks in his soft skin.
You especially watch his expression, the way his mouth falls open on a silent moan, his damp hair curling over his forehead. It’s not long before he’s fully seated, Cirrus easily taking his full weight without a sign of strain. She purrs, a deep rumble as she palms at his thighs, his plump hips.
“So, so pretty.” She murmurs, and she pulls him against her until he’s draped over her body. Copia shivers, his thighs clenching together at the praise.
You’re practically throbbing in your pants, and you know you must be soaked at this point. But now you’re at the hard part—waiting.
You pull up a spare chair, settling to the side of Copia’s desk. You grab a random stack of papers and settle them in your lap, twirling a pen in your hand.
“Amore?” Copia questions, and you look up at his wide-eyed expression, a faux innocent look on your face.
“Did you forget? I told you that we’d help you get some of your work done.” You say sweetly, and you watch as Cirrus uses her foot to roll Copia’s chair closer to his desk.
She pinches his waist, teasing, “You’re going to sit here and look nice while we work.” Cirrus leans her head on his shoulder, “Warm my cock like a pretty little toy. And toys are still and quiet, Papa.”
She rolls her hips and Copia jerks but obediently bites down on his bottom lip, keeping any sound from slipping out.
Her forked tongue laps over the side of his neck, “Just like that, good boy.”
His lips press together, his throat flexing as he swallows.
And then Cirrus is properly shifting through his documents, seemingly unbothered by the man sitting in her lap.
You can hear Copia’s breaths, long and deep as he tries to sit still. She allows one of his hands to lace with hers, resting on his hip bone. His thighs are still spread, bent over Cirrus’s knees, cock still hard between his legs.
You shift in your own seat, aching to reach between your thighs, but you’ve been patient for this long. You look down at the papers in your lap even if you know you truly aren’t going to get a single thing done. This is for show, to get Copia worked up, until he’s a puddle of heady moans and simmering heat. You wouldn’t be able to focus long enough to actually get any work done, and you know that.
You glance at the clock every few minutes and then at Copia, seated in Cirrus’s lap and leaned back against her shoulder.
He almost looks relaxed, Cirrus’s thumb running over one of his knuckles where their hands are laced together. His face is flushed a pretty pink, slack and freckled, and you think you could look at him for hours like this, pliant and soft. The only sound he makes is quiet sighs, mouth parted in a small o.
Cirrus doesn’t look as if she’s getting any work done either, and you catch her gaze. Her pupils are tiny slits, her irises practically glowing. It looks as if even her patience is running out, the hand that isn’t holding Copia’s practically crushing the pen she has between her fingers.
You nod to the leather bag that she had placed on Copia’s desk earlier, and her mouth parts around a fanged smile that’s vaguely feral around the edges.
Quietly, she reaches into it, so as to not disturb Copia, whose eyes have slipped closed sometime in the last thirty minutes. She pulls out a small remote, her nail trailing over the settings.
You’re reminded that Cirrus has a mean streak when it suits her.
She immediately turns the remote on high and Copia jerks as if he’s been electrocuted, one of his gloved hands slapping over his mouth as he curls forward. You can still hear the choked whine that catches in his throat, his thighs clenching but staying forcibly spread by Cirrus’s knees.
“That’s cheating, toy.” She coos, and she places the remote down so she can tug his hand away from his mouth, her teeth catching on his ear. You watch as Copia bites harshly into his bottom lip, his face screwing up and thighs trembling. Her hips shift the slightest bit, a slow circle, and his back arches sharply, tears already gathering in the corner of his eyes.
You can see the way that Cirrus’s claws dig into his thigh, leaving sharp pin pricks in his pale skin. He sucks in a short breath, tears quickly cascading down his face, and you decide to take mercy on him. You slide out of your chair, slipping into the space between his desk and the V of Cirrus’s knees.
You catch his face in your hands, “You’ve been doing so good.” You praise and he tries to look up at you, lashes clumped and makeup streaked down his cheeks, his lids fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes open. You wipe the tears away, leaning forward and catching his lips in your own.
He makes a small noise, his mouth nearly trembling too much to properly kiss you back. You suck his bottom lip between your teeth, hearing him whine softly, his head lolling as he allows you to do as you please. You shiver, and the heat between your legs is nearly unbearable, your stomach tight and hot.
You look at Cirrus for just a moment, catching her heated gaze before you look back towards Copia, “I think you deserve a reward by now.” You tell him, your fingers petting at the greying hairs around his temple. He whimpers, leaning into your touch, and it’s the only reprieve he gets before Cirrus starts properly fucking him.
He sobs, jerking towards you, and you swallow the sound as you surge forward to kiss him, blindly reaching for your pants as you finally attempt to free yourself. Each whimper and whine is muffled by your mouth as Cirrus fucks him, her hands gripping under his knees as she shifts his weight in whatever way that she wants.
You kick your pants and underwear off your legs, sighing in relief, your cunt throbbing in the cool air. You moan, gripping Copia’s hair as you suck at his tongue, licking against the roof of his mouth. You pull back, panting, and Copia’s face is a mess of spit and tears, lipstick smudged across his mouth and cheeks. He’s so beautiful it makes you ache.
“I want your mouth on me.” You gasp, your thumb running across his bottom lip, catching on the drool and tears that curl down his chin.
He whimpers, nodding his head and sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.
Cirrus looks up at you, wordlessly pushing Copia’s chair back before she’s grabbing Copia’s hips and moving him. You pull yourself up on his desk and Cirrus bends him over, his hands bracketing your hips and his face level with your crotch. You can feel his breath brush against you and you shiver.
“Go on, sweet thing.” She urges, her hands on his waist squeezing, her hips rolling slowly into him.
He lets out a trembling sigh and then he’s leaning forward, his tongue immediately lapping up through your slick folds. You choke on a moan, bucking shallowly onto his tongue. You grip his hair in one of your hands, your legs spreading as you hold his head in place.
Cirrus continues fucking into him, slow and deep as she coos praise, voice like dripping honey, “So pretty like this. Like you were made for it.” Her claws rake down his side and you can feel him moan against your clit, making you cry out, fingers clenching in his hair.
“Could keep you like this for hours.” She continues, “On my cock or with your mouth on him. So long as I could look at you.” She moans, her hands squeezing his ass as she fucks him deeper, jostling him forwards onto your cunt, “So long as I could hear you.”
He whimpers, muffled and choked as he eats you out, your legs trembling on either side of his head. There must be a puddle of your slick and his drool on the desk by now, and the thought makes you moan, your hips rolling on to his tongue as best as you can in your position.
“Don’t come before I do.” You gasp, your voice surprisingly steady, “Okay, baby?”
He moans around you and your cunt throbs, and you bite your lip, knowing that you won’t last much longer. His lips close around your clit, sucking and tounging at it, and you can still hear him whimpering, can feel the clench of his gloved hands on your knees. Your breath comes fast, your thighs quivering, and you use the hand you have in his hair to hold him in place as you roll your hips into his mouth.
His mouth on you is always so hot and so perfect. Like he wants to worship every part of you, licking and sucking like he doesn’t need to breathe, until his chin and nose drip with your slick. You shiver at the image, chewing on your bottom lip as you rock against him harder—
And then you’re coming, a gasp catching in your throat as you throw your head back, riding through waves and waves of pleasure as Copia continues to lap at your cunt and clit. You moan, your chest heaving and you slowly let go of his hair, feeling the way he pants and moans against your inner thigh as Cirrus continues to fuck him.
You cup the back of his neck gently, “Come here.” You urge, and Copia’s back bows as Cirrus pulls his hips back.
His chin is a mess of drool and slick, cheeks still wet with tears, his nose glistening from being buried in your folds. You can’t help but kiss him, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue, licking into his mouth and biting at his bottom lip. Your free hand runs down his chest, thumbing over a nipple before trailing down his stomach. Your knuckles gently brush his hard cock, far too light for any kind of satisfying stimulation, but he still jerks, gasping against your mouth.
“Don’t come until I say so.” You remind him, and he whines, pitched and needy.
“Shh, you’ve been so good.” You pet his hair, your hand closing around his cock in a loose fist, “Just a little bit longer.” You say softly, watching as his brows furrow, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses solely on not coming in your hand. You can feel it twitch against your palm, red and leaking against your fingers. Your thumb brushes the slit and he chokes, his head nearly falling forward onto your shoulder.
“Please—ah— cazzo—”
Cirrus slides a hand up his stomach, laying it flat against his sternum. Her other hand curls around his hip, claws pricking his skin. You lean forward to mouth at the center of his throat, teeth catching over his Adam’s apple.
You squeeze his cock, thumb swiping over the tip, “Come.”
Copia sucks in a sharp breath, stilling for just a moment before come spurts out onto your hand, his head falling forward as he gasp and pants into your shoulder, and you guide him through it as Cirrus fucks him. You stroke him until he’s whimpering, hands clenching around your thighs.
Cirrus reaches for the remote to her strap on and turns off the vibrations, her other hand petting at the small of his back. You sigh, scratching gently at his scalp. He hums, squeezing your thigh gently in response. You smile, peppering kisses against his temple.
“Good?” You murmur, and he only hums again, head still pillowed in your shoulder.
Cirrus tilts her head at you, a glint of fangs peeking from behind her painted lips. You nod at her and she thrusts forward, making Copia yelp, his hands scrabbling at your thighs.
“Ah—amore?”
You smile at him, “You can give me one more, can’t you?” You urge, and he shivers as you stroke his soft cock. He whines when Cirrus thrusts forward again, jerking between the two of you, but with nowhere to go.
“I can’t—” He gasps, “Please—mio caro—I can’t!”
“You can’t?” You tease, but you watch his expression, listening for his safe word. But he doesn’t use it, he only whimpers and buries his head into your shoulder, mouth open on choking gasps.
You use your other hand to rub at your clit, feeling the way you drip onto his desk.
“So good, so pretty.” You murmur into his temple, listening to his trembling and hitching breaths. His hands spasm over your thighs, and you have the suspicion that the only thing keeping him standing at all is Cirrus’s bruising grip on his hips and waist.
She drags her claws down his back and he gasps, arching and whimpering. His fingers dig into your thighs, mouth open on a sob as he jerks in your hold, new tears curling down his cheeks.
“Mm—amore, ti prego—ti prego—”
You grin against his hair, “Come on.” You gasp, “You can give me another one, love.” You suck a bruise beneath his ear and he sobs as he comes again, whimpering and rutting into your hand.
You follow soon after, slumping into him with an exhausted sigh. You wipe a careless hand on your thigh before you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You catch your breath for a few moments, petting through the hair at the nape of his neck.
Cirrus carefully pulls out of him, tugging her strap on off with ease. She tosses it on top of her bag for the time being, petting her hands down Copia’s sides.
“Let’s get you to the couch.” She murmurs, her thumbs rubbing over his hip bones. She kisses the middle of his back, right on top of a particularly deep scratch mark.
Copia groans quietly and you chuckle, pressing a kiss against his temple, “She’s right, it’s just a little farther away.”
He makes a small noise but he moves, slowly pulling off of you. And then Cirrus is picking him up, her arms scooping under his legs and easily picking him up bridal style. He yelps and both you and Cirrus laugh, and Copia halfheartedly grumbles but he doesn't protest as she places him down on the couch in his office.
You carefully slip off of his desk, sliding next to him on the couch, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pull him into a lying position. His head fits under your chin easily, his arms curling around your waist. You reach down, wiping gently at stray tears.
You’ll need to get cleaned up soon, but you’ll allow him to just lay with you for a little while. He’s particularly clingy when he’s like this, tired and fucked out. You’ve always enjoyed it.
“Was that good?” You ask, and he huffs quitely, his breath warm against your skin.
“I do not believe you need to ask that question, caro.”
You chuckle, running your hand through his hair, “I guess not.” You murmur, “You did well. So, so good.”
He shivers, his nose turning into your collarbone. “You two take care of me very well.”
You smile, placing a soft kiss on top of his head.
Cirrus walks up to you with two glasses of water, placing them on the small coffee table behind you. Along with it is a bowl of Copia’s favorite fruits, fresh from his fridge. She pulls the blanket off of the back of the couch, unfolding it and throwing it over the two of you.
And then she finally sits down when she’s satisfied, placing Copia’s legs over her thighs.
“Rest, and then we’re getting a bath. Humans sweat a lot.” She wrinkles her nose in distaste.
You laugh and you can hear Copia huff against your throat, Cirrus’s smile a glint of sharp fangs.