Work Text:
Silence had filled the long, winding stairs of the spire. Pure Vanilla Cookie, no, the Truthless Recluse sits at the edge of his bed, staring into the nothingness of the evening. No stars, no clouds, nothing.
It wasn't peaceful. The drumming in his chest could be further from the peace he knew, but it was something. Proof he was still a Cookie, more or less.
The bedroom given to him by Shadow Milk Cookie was farthest from the style he could have asked for, but to still have a proper bedroom is something to be thankful for, even in a situation such as this.
Truthless Recluse, however, finds himself in a dilemma.
He's frustrated, annoyingly pent up; feeling a multitude eyes all around him, no doubt that of the trickster's. With the night so young, and his body ever so tense, he decides to destress. Might as well put on a show if someone truly is watching him.
He shuffles to the other end of the mattress and begins this little tango. Leaning against the cold wall, he hovers his fingers on his thighs—quivering at the eventual touch and stifling a gasp.
He sinks down into the mattress, tracing upwards and deeper into the crevices of his legs just to rub at the clit. The gasp he stifled released from his throat into a soft groan, and he can feel the wetness releasing from his cunt.
That'll do.
Truthless Recluse takes a deep breath and grabs the pillow he had just laid on, and folds it inwards. Fully clothed, this is the best way for him to have some form of release without making a mess. Quick and easy.
So he puts the folded pillow between his legs, and the warmth spreads. Sitting down on it so that there's some friction, he sighs and closes his eyes. "Fuck."
Taking a deep breath, he rubs against the pillow and lets out a groan. The quietest he could muster. He starts it slow, desperately trying to find the perfect angle in which he could get pleasure from.
Somewhere in the middle of it, he begins to space out; thinking about his situation, of White Lily's, Gingerbrave's, the Beasts' . . . until his mind supplies very conveniently, Shadow Milk Cookie.
As if clockwork, he finds the angle and melts, managing to put a hand on his mouth before moaning. Mind still full of the Beast of Deceit, he can't help but drift into more indecent territory; of what it would be like to taken care of.
Closer and closer to climax, he slows down, taking all of it in with a deep breath and sinking down into the soft mattress. He feels the tenseness of his body coil and snap once he cums, biting into his hand once he does. The evening started quietly, and he will not be the one to change that.
Truthless Recluse glances outside, breathing deep as he relaxes. He sighs, taking this as an opportunity to let his weariness take hold of him and grow deeper into slumber. For now, he is at peace.