So I wrote something. Hopefully it fits what you wanted a little. Also it's late so I didn't proofread
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It happens on accident.
He hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of her that causes her back to arch off of the bed and her heel to dig into his side as she searches for purchase. His hips stutters against her as he takes a sharp intake of air and she becomes acutely aware that she's hurt him.
It's hard to focus through the lightning tendrils of pleasure shooting through her nerves with each methodical thrust of his hips and the lava pooling in her abdomen threatening to scald her in the best way but she manages.
“Matt, your stitches” it comes out through bitten lips and choked moans but she meant it with intent and she knows he hears her because he hears everything - He likes the sounds she makes he says - but he continues non-deterred and that is not okay. The last thing she needs is more work later just because he has the worst ideas.
“Wait… Wait.” She manages to reach forward to grasp his hand where it's digging into the top of her thigh to stall him. It's the most torturous thing she's ever done, her body’s tethering on the edge pulled tight and ready to snap but she has to stop because that is her nature.
“Your stitches” she repeats when he pulls out of her and she’s able to draw her rubber band legs underneath her to sit up and observe.
He has an expression on his face that she can't quite read but she doesn't dwell on it and instead uses the tip of her fingers to peel the tape back from his skin.
She has the edges of the dressing in her fingers while the voice at the back of her mind screams ‘not without gloves’ but she's too preoccupied with the tension in both of their bodies to listen.
As soon as the wound comes into view she feels the guilt of it. The dark thread through his skin has loosened causing part of the wound to reopen. It must have cause him some pain and it was just like the man to ignore it for pursuit of something he deemed more important.
“I'll get the kit” she says pushing the dressing back in place, the heat in her belly officially forgotten for favor of patching up the man who will undoubtedly be the end of her one day.
She surprised when she's stopped in her movements by a tight grip on her wrist, “I'm fine Claire” he says looking at her but not seeing - or is seeing she's still not 100% on how that works.
“you're not fine, you have a 3 inch deep gash that's not going to knit together if I don't fix it” they're wasting time that they could've been… doing nothing else because she's is leaving after she's done so that he could rest and take care of himself.
“You can do that later” He says spreading his other hand on her waist and pressing her against him and she's reminded that she was trying to ignore his arousal not yet lessening with recent events.
It's pressing against both their abdomens and she refuses to acknowledge it despite Matt’s wandering hand from her waist to her ass to her thighs leaving a trail of heat as fingers caresses her skin.
“I can't actually… Not knowing that I'm hurting you.” She states with a hand on his chest. His very muscled, slick with sweat defined chest. It would be easy to be distracted if it wasn't for the large square bandage staring back at her.
“you're not hurting me” he says softly and she feels his arm tensing around her though she doesn't know what for as he buries his face in the crook of her neck.
“Obviously I –“
“You're not” he cuts her off with words spoken into her skin, definite and sharp with a tone that sounds as if he's ashamed to admit it.
She has to pull back to look at his face and sees the same expression as before which now that she is more focused she can make out to guilt.
She's confused but his eyes are cast downwards and the fingers around her wrist are loosening one by one. He doesn't offer her anything else and she's forced to come to her own conclusion.
It takes her a few minutes of studying his face and the posture of his body for her to get it.
“Oh.” She says softly for lack of anything better and she watches him swallow as he releases her completely and pulls away. Now he looks as if waiting for something, his shoulders dropping and jaw tightening as if he expects the worst but she really doesn't know where to go from there.
The first thing that she wants to do is wipe that rejected look off of his face but she also needs time to process. It changes things and makes her wonder whether he is truly as selfless as he has led her to believe.
It isn't something that she wants to think about, not while he's in the room with her. So she reaches out instead, edging to the end of the bed and letting her fingers ghost over a particularly nasty looking bruise – purple and stretching from below his breast bone to his ribs.
He gasps as if surprised when her tips first graze it but doesn't pull away so she presses her thumb into it and watches his body flinch and his hips twitch and his hand wrapped around hers again quickly and too tight before releasing.
“Okay.” She says as he breathes and she pulls her hand back to her side and gets off the mattress.
"Claire…” He starts undoubtedly with an apology on his lips that she does not want to hear.
“Don't. Just… Just get back in the bed. Lay down. On your back.” The words surprises but her biggest flaw is probably curiosity and this is something that will help her understand later on.
He freezes for a moment face shifting towards her and expression confused. “Hurry up.” She says looking at him wishing he would move before her nerves leave her.
He does as he’s told - after what seems like years of waiting but really was less than a minute – and gets on the bed, laying on his back with eyes up towards the ceiling. She watches him for a moment before climbing on herself back to her knees and taking deep breaths to settle her thoughts.
His length had softened some from his admission until now and so she wrapped a hand around him. His thigh muscles jumped at the touch and through her nerves she felt a little better that at least she was managing to catch him off guard.
“Claire,” he starts again and she tightens the grip around him to cut him off as she starts with slow pumps of his length.
“I can't talk with you right now” she admits but doesn't stop the motion of her hands as he returns to full hardness. She didn't really have a plan. But she was upset and she felt used and it seemed like a great place to start.
He nods and stays quiet as she finishes stroking his length and straddles his abdomen. She’s not wet as she was before and is going to take some stimulation before she could carry on with whatever the hell it was she was doing.
She has her ass rubbing against his length as she rocks against the ridges of his abdomen. She positions her knees against the side him and the square bandage and squeezes as she moved. He flails beneath her, hands flexing and resting on the outside of her thighs, pulling forward and encouraging the movement.
She could see the sharp pain cross his face as it tenses with a cringe followed quickly by the slack release of pleasure. She can't say she understands it, never having had a tolerance for pain herself but she continues the motion anyway and seeks her own pleasure as the hard ridges of his abs provides the friction needed against her clit and brings her back to a state of arousal.
She’s starting to become slick against him and he groans beneath her and his hands tightens on her thighs. It coils something inside of her as she recognizes the moments before he would shift them to bury his head between his legs and put his mouth on her.
He pulls her forward - an action she recognizes as his suggestion for her to climb up -but she catches herself on his chest, her hand landing on the large bruise pushing back and his hips bucks up again with a harsh ‘fuck’ torn from his lips.
“Claire.” He states as a request with head off of the pillow to look at her without focusing.
“No.” She says and feels better for it, she's not going to sate him in that way, not since he wants it so badly. Instead she slides back against him, feels the thick of him against her and his muscles jumping as he tries to stay still until she wraps her fingers around him to guide inside of her.
He lets out a deep throated groan and she bites her lips to keeps her sounds hidden. She won't give him that either. “Claire.” He repeats soft in a plea as she shoos her hands away from his hips and bracketed herself with her knees tight at his side. She couldn't push against the wound from so far down so she settled for the large bruise instead. She pressed her palm up into it and watched his face contort before she began to ride him.
There was an obvious difference to the way that he reacted as she rocked against him, grinding her clit against his pelvis and kneading her digits into the discolored area on his chest. His breathing was heavier, and he grunted and groaned and cursed more than usual and if she wasn’t so upset with him she might have sought to wring out more from him – she likes the sounds he makes too – but as it stands he lied and used her so she was only seeking her own pleasure and was entertaining him for the Catholic shame that he would surely feel later.
It doesn't take long for the lava pooled in her abdomen to return full force as she’d been so close before and she brings one of his hands to her hips and raises herself to give him a cue. He grabs on quickly and hits a fast face following the first thrust of his hips into her only losing rhythm when she pinches at the purpling skin beneath her hands when her orgasm hits her with intense current that causes her to shake and shudder. He works her through it, with fingers moving against her clit and his cock stroking her oversensitive insides.
He stops when she does and drops his hands to his sides before she asks him to and Claire wait a beat and then two before rising off of him and rolling to the side. He doesn't say anything to stop her as she picks her things from the floor and she forces herself to not look back and see if he finishes without her.
Fill: Matt/Claire -- Possibly Dubcon Painplay
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It happens on accident.
He hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of her that causes her back to arch off of the bed and her heel to dig into his side as she searches for purchase. His hips stutters against her as he takes a sharp intake of air and she becomes acutely aware that she's hurt him.
It's hard to focus through the lightning tendrils of pleasure shooting through her nerves with each methodical thrust of his hips and the lava pooling in her abdomen threatening to scald her in the best way but she manages.
“Matt, your stitches” it comes out through bitten lips and choked moans but she meant it with intent and she knows he hears her because he hears everything - He likes the sounds she makes he says - but he continues non-deterred and that is not okay. The last thing she needs is more work later just because he has the worst ideas.
“Wait… Wait.” She manages to reach forward to grasp his hand where it's digging into the top of her thigh to stall him. It's the most torturous thing she's ever done, her body’s tethering on the edge pulled tight and ready to snap but she has to stop because that is her nature.
“Your stitches” she repeats when he pulls out of her and she’s able to draw her rubber band legs underneath her to sit up and observe.
He has an expression on his face that she can't quite read but she doesn't dwell on it and instead uses the tip of her fingers to peel the tape back from his skin.
She has the edges of the dressing in her fingers while the voice at the back of her mind screams ‘not without gloves’ but she's too preoccupied with the tension in both of their bodies to listen.
As soon as the wound comes into view she feels the guilt of it. The dark thread through his skin has loosened causing part of the wound to reopen. It must have cause him some pain and it was just like the man to ignore it for pursuit of something he deemed more important.
“I'll get the kit” she says pushing the dressing back in place, the heat in her belly officially forgotten for favor of patching up the man who will undoubtedly be the end of her one day.
She surprised when she's stopped in her movements by a tight grip on her wrist, “I'm fine Claire” he says looking at her but not seeing - or is seeing she's still not 100% on how that works.
“you're not fine, you have a 3 inch deep gash that's not going to knit together if I don't fix it” they're wasting time that they could've been… doing nothing else because she's is leaving after she's done so that he could rest and take care of himself.
“You can do that later”
He says spreading his other hand on her waist and pressing her against him and she's reminded that she was trying to ignore his arousal not yet lessening with recent events.
It's pressing against both their abdomens and she refuses to acknowledge it despite Matt’s wandering hand from her waist to her ass to her thighs leaving a trail of heat as fingers caresses her skin.
“I can't actually… Not knowing that I'm hurting you.” She states with a hand on his chest. His very muscled, slick with sweat defined chest. It would be easy to be distracted if it wasn't for the large square bandage staring back at her.
“you're not hurting me” he says softly and she feels his arm tensing around her though she doesn't know what for as he buries his face in the crook of her neck.
“Obviously I –“
“You're not” he cuts her off with words spoken into her skin, definite and sharp with a tone that sounds as if he's ashamed to admit it.
She has to pull back to look at his face and sees the same expression as before which now that she is more focused she can make out to guilt.
She's confused but his eyes are cast downwards and the fingers around her wrist are loosening one by one. He doesn't offer her anything else and she's forced to come to her own conclusion.
It takes her a few minutes of studying his face and the posture of his body for her to get it.
“Oh.” She says softly for lack of anything better and she watches him swallow as he releases her completely and pulls away. Now he looks as if waiting for something, his shoulders dropping and jaw tightening as if he expects the worst but she really doesn't know where to go from there.
The first thing that she wants to do is wipe that rejected look off of his face but she also needs time to process. It changes things and makes her wonder whether he is truly as selfless as he has led her to believe.
It isn't something that she wants to think about, not while he's in the room with her. So she reaches out instead, edging to the end of the bed and letting her fingers ghost over a particularly nasty looking bruise – purple and stretching from below his breast bone to his ribs.
He gasps as if surprised when her tips first graze it but doesn't pull away so she presses her thumb into it and watches his body flinch and his hips twitch and his hand wrapped around hers again quickly and too tight before releasing.
“Okay.” She says as he breathes and she pulls her hand back to her side and gets off the mattress.
"Claire…” He starts undoubtedly with an apology on his lips that she does not want to hear.
“Don't. Just… Just get back in the bed. Lay down. On your back.” The words surprises but her biggest flaw is probably curiosity and this is something that will help her understand later on.
He freezes for a moment face shifting towards her and expression confused. “Hurry up.” She says looking at him wishing he would move before her nerves leave her.
He does as he’s told - after what seems like years of waiting but really was less than a minute – and gets on the bed, laying on his back with eyes up towards the ceiling. She watches him for a moment before climbing on herself back to her knees and taking deep breaths to settle her thoughts.
His length had softened some from his admission until now and so she wrapped a hand around him. His thigh muscles jumped at the touch and through her nerves she felt a little better that at least she was managing to catch him off guard.
“Claire,” he starts again and she tightens the grip around him to cut him off as she starts with slow pumps of his length.
“I can't talk with you right now” she admits but doesn't stop the motion of her hands as he returns to full hardness. She didn't really have a plan. But she was upset and she felt used and it seemed like a great place to start.
He nods and stays quiet as she finishes stroking his length and straddles his abdomen. She’s not wet as she was before and is going to take some stimulation before she could carry on with whatever the hell it was she was doing.
She has her ass rubbing against his length as she rocks against the ridges of his abdomen. She positions her knees against the side him and the square bandage and squeezes as she moved. He flails beneath her, hands flexing and resting on the outside of her thighs, pulling forward and encouraging the movement.
She could see the sharp pain cross his face as it tenses with a cringe followed quickly by the slack release of pleasure. She can't say she understands it, never having had a tolerance for pain herself but she continues the motion anyway and seeks her own pleasure as the hard ridges of his abs provides the friction needed against her clit and brings her back to a state of arousal.
She’s starting to become slick against him and he groans beneath her and his hands tightens on her thighs. It coils something inside of her as she recognizes the moments before he would shift them to bury his head between his legs and put his mouth on her.
He pulls her forward - an action she recognizes as his suggestion for her to climb up -but she catches herself on his chest, her hand landing on the large bruise pushing back and his hips bucks up again with a harsh ‘fuck’ torn from his lips.
“Claire.” He states as a request with head off of the pillow to look at her without focusing.
“No.” She says and feels better for it, she's not going to sate him in that way, not since he wants it so badly. Instead she slides back against him, feels the thick of him against her and his muscles jumping as he tries to stay still until she wraps her fingers around him to guide inside of her.
He lets out a deep throated groan and she bites her lips to keeps her sounds hidden. She won't give him that either. “Claire.” He repeats soft in a plea as she shoos her hands away from his hips and bracketed herself with her knees tight at his side. She couldn't push against the wound from so far down so she settled for the large bruise instead. She pressed her palm up into it and watched his face contort before she began to ride him.
There was an obvious difference to the way that he reacted as she rocked against him, grinding her clit against his pelvis and kneading her digits into the discolored area on his chest. His breathing was heavier, and he grunted and groaned and cursed more than usual and if she wasn’t so upset with him she might have sought to wring out more from him – she likes the sounds he makes too – but as it stands he lied and used her so she was only seeking her own pleasure and was entertaining him for the Catholic shame that he would surely feel later.
It doesn't take long for the lava pooled in her abdomen to return full force as she’d been so close before and she brings one of his hands to her hips and raises herself to give him a cue. He grabs on quickly and hits a fast face following the first thrust of his hips into her only losing rhythm when she pinches at the purpling skin beneath her hands when her orgasm hits her with intense current that causes her to shake and shudder. He works her through it, with fingers moving against her clit and his cock stroking her oversensitive insides.
He stops when she does and drops his hands to his sides before she asks him to and Claire wait a beat and then two before rising off of him and rolling to the side. He doesn't say anything to stop her as she picks her things from the floor and she forces herself to not look back and see if he finishes without her.