#Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 2, Female Reader][18+]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

No plot, just making Chilton watch while Bryan fucks his girlfriend better than he ever could. For @thatesqcrush’s summer bingo: cuckolding square.

Warnings: NSFW, threesome, p in v sex, rough bj, degrading language, humiliation, cuckolding, cum licking. Bryan calls himself daddy. No talk about protection or consent, just assume it happened beforehand.

2,151 words

Bryan’s hands were broad and firm around your waist as he guided you down onto him, but nothing could prepare you for the size of his cock. Not the fingers he’d stuffed inside of you, long digits working you open and slicking you with lube. Not the relaxing afterglow of the climax you’d already reached in Dr. Chilton’s mouth.

Bryan was massive to the point of it being more uncomfortable than fun.

The throbbing dome of his head pressed against your entrance like a blunted battering ram.

“Easy now,” Bryan soothed. “Deep breath. There.”

You bit your lower lip as your slicked walls began to yield and stretch around it.

“That’s a good girl.”

He was at least experienced in taking it slow. Making it feel good. Chilton certainly had fun, though he was excited by things you weren’t. Pain, for example. Bryan tore into his ass with much less prep because he liked being thrown around and used. That was why Bryan was here, after all—to be rougher than you ever could. Despite the dramatic yelping and whining, Chilton loved when it hurt. It did something to him. Justified his scars, sexualized his trauma, or something like that. He was the psychiatrist, he could tell you. Maybe he just had a high pain tolerance.

The head of Bryan’s cock slipped a few inches into the first part of your core, and you gasped, almost pulling yourself out.

Leaning forward intently, Chilton watched with eyes captivated by your every facial tick and stuttered breath. He sat across from the couch, exiled to the ottoman from which he was instructed not to get up. “This is where fucktoys stay,” were Bryan’s exact words.

His cock was lengthening in his hand, but his brow furrowed at your sharp hiss of breath.

“You can do it, darling,” he encouraged. “You are doing so well.”

You nodded. You were facing out to him, your back toward Bryan, who reclined on the couch, his feet planted on the floor. Giving Chilton a show. He could see every expression of ecstasy crossing your face, every line of pain, the way your pussy stretched so tightly around Bryan’s girth. So much thicker than Chilton’s. It made him feel so small and pathetic, and his dick burned in his fist.

He swallowed, practically drooling with his eyes glued to where you were spread taut around the invasion, your pussylips swollen with wanting, glistening with your wetness. You were so wet for him, dripping wet, and Chilton could see it all. “You look so… so beautiful.”

“It’s so big,” you whimpered, but it was almost a moan now. “He’s stretching me so much.”

“This is what a real man’s cock feels like,” Bryan taunted. His hands reached around to knead your breasts, letting Chilton watch as it made you writhe and let out noises of pleasure.

You lifted off his massive cock, sighing in relief, and used it to rub against your throbbing clit, making you wetter, more aroused, and ready. Chilton’s eyes darkened at the sight of Bryan’s commanding length pressed against your slit, ending at your belly. It seemed impossible that all of it could fit inside you. Yet when you gripped his cock to position it and sank down it again, it disappeared deeper.

“Oh fuck, Frederick. It’s so big. His cock feels so good!” Your voice was strained as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelmed you—pleasure finally usurping the pain, the burning stretch settling into a warm fullness, with only a dull ache woven through it that heightened the sensation.

“Good girl, take it. Take daddy’s cock,” Bryan growled. “Show that loser boyfriend how good I make you feel.”

Bryan’s hands returned to your waist, helping you bounce slowly until you were taking his entire thick length, your ass touching his thighs and his wrinkled balls hanging right below your pussy in the middle of your spread legs.

When you started to rock up and down on his cock without assistance, that was when Bryan’s hands greedily wrapped around your waist. His hips began to pump up into you, slowly at first, but building rapidly when you didn’t protest, pushing the limit of your discomfort until he was bottoming out inside you with each stroke.

“H-how does it feel,” Chilton asked, his hot eyes lavishing over your breasts, which bounced obscenely to Bryan’s forceful rhythm. He licked his lips, hand pumping in his lap.

You glanced down at Chilton. The way he was watching you brought out your cruelty again. “He’s so much bigger than you,” you moaned, punctuated irregularly by involuntary gasps of pleasure. “The way he fills me is so good. Fu-uck—he’s going to split me in half!”

Chilton’s hand worked faster, frantically, but Bryan sat up against the back of the couch to fire a steely glare at him.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? You don’t deserve to cum, do you?”

“No, sir,” Chilton said.

His hand stopped moving, and Bryan gave a particularly vengeful thrust that made you cry out.

“That’s fucking right you don’t.”

A bead of pre-cum glistened on the tip of Chilton’s cock, now alone between his legs. It strained and bucked, aching for contact, to be buried inside you instead of Bryan. He was burning at the injustice of it, furious that someone else was fucking his girlfriend, and he couldn’t even touch himself—miserable that you liked it so much, knowing how empty your cunt would feel if he took Bryan’s place. He was pathetic. Worthless.

Tears pricked the back of his eyes. Yet, watching you bounce on that monster cock, the breathless flush blossoming over your face as you grew closer to your release, watching you lose yourself in it—he had never been so turned on.

“So pathetic,” Bryan mocked. “A sniveling little author. You think publishing makes you a big man? Everyone is laughing at you, you know. I could see right through you the moment we met. A little weakling with a small dick. This is what a man does to your girl.”

Chilton’s eyes began to visibly shimmer with unshed tears, and you winced at Bryan’s harsh words, but somehow your discomfort only made your walls clench down harder on his cock. He became the villain, his large, controlling hands almost predatory, taking you by force to humiliate your lover. Fuck, it sent sparks racing up your spine. Guilt swirled with arousal and heightened the throbbing of your clit, pooling molten heat in your lower back.

“You’re nothing but a filthy toy for us to use and throw away,” Bryan continued the verbal onslaught as he drove you helplessly toward the climax.

“Yes, sir.” Chilton’s knuckles were white on the edge of the ottoman, eyes piercing you.

You wailed out as Bryan fucked you harder, his hips moving at such a wanton speed the motion blurred. Your body shook, reaching back to grasp at the couch cushions, at Bryan’s chest for balance. The base of his pink cock was coated with your cream, dripping down his balls. Your jaw went slack, and your throat was too tight for words, but Bryan kept up the degrading bombardment, his voice strained and breathy as he pumped, but just as cruel.

“See how she loves this cock?” he sneered. “You could never satisfy her like I do. Good girl,” his tone changed to patronizing encouragement as he addressed you, though the show was still all for Chilton. “Yes… good girl, cum on your daddy’s cock. Show this worm how hard you cum for a real man. Show him what you’ve been missing.”

Suddenly, your guilt flared up. You opened your sex-hazy eyes and met Chilton’s, biting your lower lip and tried to fight your orgasm. The humiliation had gone too far now. You couldn’t imagine how devastated he would be seeing you cum on command for Bryan’s cock.

And yet, when you met his gaze, all you saw was fiery, raw lust staring back. His cock was thick and twitching between his thighs, pre-cum dripping down the throbbing purple head. “May I help?” he stammered, not addressing you, but asking Bryan’s permission. “Let me get her off.”

“You’re just the cum-dump. She’s all mine. She doesn’t want you,” he snapped. Bryan’s fingers pinched your nipples, circling his thumb over them, and a squeal broke from your constricted throat.

But after five or six more lightspeed thrusts, you were still resisting being pushed over your peak, and Chilton stood from the ottoman, knelt between Bryan’s legs, licked his thumb and swirled it over your clit. Bryan might have had the size advantage, but Dr. Chilton knew exactly what you liked, how you needed to get off. The right balance of gentle and force. You cried out—a raw, body-shaking moan—as you broke, the overstimulation of Chilton’s familiar touch making your pussy clench around Bryan, and you came instantly.

Chilton stroked his dick furiously as he scanned your disheveled face, your bouncing tits—one of them puffing through Bryan’s squeezing fingers—then down to the juncture where Bryan’s cock vanished into your swollen pussylips, inches from his mouth. His other hand circled your sensitive heat just above it, brushing against the base of Bryan’s fat cock. He was so close, he couldn’t resist dipping to lick at your clit, which smacked his nose as you were bucked and bounced by Bryan’s violent thrusting. But you tasted so fucking good, the mix of you and Bryan.

Sobbing out miserably, his lonely release shot from the tip of his cock into his hand, spattering onto the couch and yours and Bryan’s thighs.

“Oh, wow,” you gasped, walls still fluttering up and down Bryan’s shaft. You shifted your weight forward, taking the stubble of Chilton’s cheeks between each palm, and kissed him sloppily, lips hot and wet, his thumb still making lazy circles between your thighs.

Before his tongue could wrap itself in yours, Bryan was snarling, lifting you off his cock and dumping you onto the couch in the same movement that he grabbed Chilton by the throat.

“Ballsy, disobedient little whore,” he growled as Chilton gasped and choked in his squeezing fingers. “On your knees.”

He didn’t wait for the doctor to comply, shoving him down hard enough to bruise even with the plush carpet. Releasing his grip on his throat, Bryan shoved his cock into his open mouth as Chilton gasped for air. The taste of you flooded his tongue, and he began to suck hungrily, lapping at the familiar flavor. Chilton bobbed between Bryan’s legs like the dutiful plaything he was, but Bryan slapped him anyway. Left his cheek stinging for the cum he had gotten on Bryan’s ass. It didn’t slow Chilton’s pace.

In fact, the cheek you had smacked earlier stung worse, despite Bryan’s more powerful hand. And Bryan stroked the base of his own shaft instead of shoving the rest of it into the doctor’s mouth.

“He can take more than that.”

Bryan glanced back at you, observing from the couch, and raised his eyebrows.

“Go on and fuck his face,” you suggested. “See how much his throat can handle.”

Despite his aggressive attitude, Bryan wasn’t as willing to suffocate Chilton between his thighs as you were, but he was getting close and desperate now. He canted his hips forward and was surprised at the doctor’s lack of gag reflex—how easily he swallowed such a large cock.

“Well, well. You really are a slut.” Bryan fucked his mouth harder now that he knew he could take it until Chilton was moaning and drooling, and Bryan was on the verge of breaking. Then he yanked Chilton off his spit-slicked length by his hair, pumping it with his fist instead. Chilton opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out, anticipating what was coming, but Bryan had no intention of getting it in his mouth. Hot ropes of cum plastered every part of Chilton’s face and chest, some of it sticking in his hair.

Bryan slapped his cheek with his heavy dick, then dipped it back in Chilton’s mouth to clean it off before stepping back and admiring his work.

“Like a work of art. You have never looked so beautiful—has he?” Bryan turned to you.

“Never,” you grinned.

Now that it was over, Chilton began to groan with discomfort, groping around for something to wipe up with. His eyes were squeezed closed like when he shampooed in the shower. Semen in the eye is not nearly as fun as it looks.

“I’ll help you clean up, sweetie,” you purred, kneeling beside him on the carpet.

Your tongue was wet and slippery but somehow slightly raspy, too, as it dragged up his sullied cheek. Chilton’s back stiffened and he shuddered, though he held in a whine. Complaining about you being gross would be laughably hypocritical right now.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #Frederick Chilton x reader #Bryan Kneef x Reader #Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef #my writing

42 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 2, Male Reader][18+]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

No plot, just making Chilton watch while Bryan fucks his boyfriend better than he ever could. For @thatesqcrush’s summer bingo: cuckolding square.

Warnings: NSFW, threesome, anal sex, rough bj, degrading language, humiliation, cuckolding, cum licking. Bryan calls himself daddy. No talk about protection or consent, just assume it happened beforehand.

2,150 words

Bryan was massive to the point of it being more uncomfortable than fun.

The throbbing dome of his head pressed against your entrance like a blunted battering ram.

“Easy now,” Bryan soothed. “Deep breath. There.”

You bit your lower lip as your slicked walls began to yield and stretch around it.

“That’s a good boy.”

The head of Bryan’s cock slipped a few inches into the first part of your core, and you gasped, almost pulling yourself out.

His cock was lengthening in his hand, but his brow furrowed at your sharp hiss of breath.

“You can do it, darling,” he encouraged. “You are doing so well.”

You nodded. You were facing out to him, your back toward Bryan, who reclined on the couch, his feet planted on the floor. Giving Chilton a show. He could see every expression of ecstasy crossing your face, every line of pain, the way your ass stretched so tightly around Bryan’s girth. So much thicker than Chilton’s. It made him feel so small and pathetic, and his dick burned in his fist.

He swallowed, practically drooling with his eyes glued to where your hole was spread taut around the invasion, your soft cock, still glistening with his saliva, twitching to life again above it. “You look so… so beautiful.”

“It’s so big,” you whimpered, but it was almost a moan now. “He’s stretching me so much.”

“This is what a real man’s cock feels like,” Bryan taunted. His hand reached around to stoke your hardening sex, letting Chilton watch as it made you writhe and let out noises of pleasure.

You sank down another inch as your body adjusted to his size, slowly opening up. Bryan’s legs were vibrating with the effort of holding still—of not plunging into your hot depths all at once—but he controlled his hips and let you control your descent.

“Oh fuck, Frederick. It’s so big. His cock feels so good!” Your voice strained as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelmed you—pleasure finally usurping the pain, the burning stretch settling into a warm fullness, with only a dull ache woven through it that heightened the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Bryan hissed. “Good boy, take it. Take daddy’s cock. Show that loser boyfriend how good I make you feel.”

Bryan’s hands returned to your waist, helping you bounce slowly until you were taking his entire thick length, seated on his thighs with his wrinkled balls hanging right below your fucked-open hole, with yours stacked just above it in the middle of your spread legs. From this position, Dr. Chilton could see everything—but he wasn’t allowed to touch.

When you started to rock up and down on his cock without assistance, that was when Bryan’s hips greedily began to pump up into you, slowly at first, but building rapidly when you didn’t protest, pushing the limit of your discomfort until he was bottoming out inside you with each stroke.

“H-how does it feel,” Chilton asked, his hot eyes lavishing over your erection, which bounced obscenely to Bryan’s forceful rhythm. He licked his lips, hand pumping in his lap. He wished it was your velvety cock he was stroking.

Forget the fact that Bryan was by far bigger than you, too. Chilton was the one with the ego. The one who took such pride in the way he fucked you. The one who wanted to be torn down and emasculated by a man he could never measure up to.

Chilton’s hand worked faster, frantically, but Bryan sat up against the back of the couch to fire a steely glare at him.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? You don’t deserve to cum, do you?”

“No, sir,” Chilton said.

His hand stopped moving, and Bryan gave a particularly vengeful thrust that made you cry out.

“That’s fucking right you don’t.”

A bead of pre-cum glistened on the tip of Chilton’s cock, now alone between his legs. It strained and bucked, aching for contact, to be buried inside you instead of Bryan. He was burning at the injustice of it, furious that someone else was fucking his boyfriend, and he couldn’t even touch himself—miserable that you liked it so much, knowing how empty you would feel if he took Bryan’s place. He was pathetic. Worthless.

“You’re nothing but a filthy plaything for us to use and throw away,” Bryan continued the verbal onslaught as he drove you helplessly toward the climax.

“Yes, sir.” Chilton’s knuckles were white on the edge of the ottoman, eyes piercing you.

You wailed out as Bryan fucked you harder, his hips moving at such a wanton speed the motion blurred. Your body shook, reaching back to grasp at the couch cushions, at Bryan’s chest for balance. Every brutal stroke hit the sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside you, and he was filling you so deep you couldn’t think straight. Your jaw went slack, and your throat was too tight for words, but Bryan kept up the degrading bombardment, his voice strained and breathy as he pumped, but just as cruel.

“See how he loves this cock?” he sneered. “You could never satisfy him like I do. Good boy,” his tone changed to patronizing encouragement as he addressed you, though the show was still all for Chilton. “Yes… good boy, cum on your daddy’s cock. Show this worm how hard you cum for a real man. Show him what you’ve been missing.”

Suddenly, your guilt flared up. You opened your sex-hazy eyes and met Chilton’s, biting your lower lip and tried to fight your climax. The humiliation had gone too far now. You couldn’t imagine how devastated he would be seeing you cum on command for Bryan’s cock.

“You’re just the cum-dump. He’s all mine. He doesn’t want you,” he snapped. Bryan’s fingers pinched your nipples, circling his thumb over them, and a high squeal broke from your constricted throat.

But after five or six more lightspeed thrusts, you were still resisting being pushed over your peak, and Chilton jumped from the ottoman, knelt between Bryan’s legs, licked his hand and pumped the head of your cock. Bryan might have had the size advantage, but Dr. Chilton knew exactly what you liked, how you needed to get off. The right balance of gentle and force. You cried out—a raw, body-shaking moan—as you broke, the overstimulation of Chilton’s familiar touch making your hole clench around Bryan, and you came instantly. Your cum spurted under Chilton’s thumb, which was working the sensitive slit, coating his hand. He opened his mouth to catch some, though your whole body was bucking and bouncing with Bryan’s violent thrusts, and most of it spattered on his lips and cheek. But you tasted so fucking good.

Chilton stroked his dick furiously as he scanned your disheveled face, then down to the juncture where Bryan’s cock vanished into your tight hole. Sobbing out miserably, his lonely release shot from the tip of his cock, spattering onto the couch and yours and Bryan’s thighs.

“Oh, wow,” you gasped, walls still convulsing on Bryan’s shaft. You shifted your weight forward, taking the stubble of Chilton’s cheeks between each palm, and kissed him sloppily, lips hot and wet, his thumb still making lazy circles between your thighs.

Before his tongue could wrap itself in yours, Bryan was snarling, lifting you off his cock and dumping you onto the couch in the same movement that he grabbed Chilton by the throat.

“Ballsy, disobedient little whore,” he growled as Chilton gasped and choked in his squeezing fingers. “On your knees.”

He didn’t wait for the doctor to comply, shoving him down hard enough to bruise even with the plush carpet. Releasing his grip on his throat, Bryan shoved his cock into his open mouth as Chilton gasped for air. The taste of you flooded his tongue, and he began to suck hungrily, lapping at the familiar flavor. Bryan had expected more revulsion out of the prissy doctor—for this to be a punishment—but Chilton bobbed between Bryan’s legs like the dutiful plaything he was. Bryan slapped him. Left his cheek stinging for the cum he had gotten on his ass. It didn’t slow Chilton’s pace.

In fact, the cheek you had smacked earlier stung worse, despite Bryan’s more powerful hand. And Bryan stroked the base of his own shaft instead of shoving the rest of it into the doctor’s mouth.

“He can take more than that.”

Bryan glanced back at you, observing from the couch, and raised his eyebrows.

“Go on and fuck his face,” you suggested. “See how much his throat can handle.”

“Well, well. You really are a slut.” Bryan fucked his mouth harder now that he knew he could take it until Chilton was moaning and drooling, and Bryan was on the verge of breaking. Then he yanked Chilton off his spit-slicked length by his hair, pumping it with his fist instead. Chilton opened his mouth, tongue out, anticipating what was coming, but Bryan had no intention of getting it in his mouth. Hot ropes of cum plastered every part of Chilton’s face and chest, some of it sticking in his hair.

Bryan slapped his cheek with his heavy dick, then dipped it back in Chilton’s mouth to clean it off before stepping back and admiring his work.

“Like a work of art. You have never looked so beautiful—has he?” Bryan turned to you.

“Never,” you grinned.

“I’ll help you clean up, sweetie,” you purred, kneeling beside him on the carpet.

Your tongue was wet and slippery but somehow slightly raspy, too, as it dragged up his sullied cheek. The salty taste of you and Bryan mingling. Chilton’s back stiffened and he shuddered, though he held in a whine. Complaining about you being gross would be laughably hypocritical right now.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #Frederick Chilton x reader #Bryan Kneef x Reader #Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef #male reader #my writing

26 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 3][18+]

<- Part 2 [male reader] <- Part 2 [female reader] | Part 4 [female reader] -> Part 4 [male reader] ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

No plot, just fluff. For @thatesqcrush’s summer bingo: aftercare square.

Warnings: NSFW, immediate aftermath of threesome, cuddling, insecurity, feelings

1,800 words

Bryan Kneef was the type of ruthless lawyer who stood up for the man and stuck it to the little guy. Vulgar, shameless, and tenacious, his name made opposing counsel tremble, and for good reason. He would do anything to win, and would just as soon bribe you, throw you under a bus, or fuck you.

And this man, having just fucked you and Dr. Frederick Chilton raw, was casually humming as he brought clean towels from the bathroom.

“Eyes closed,” he said—a tone that did not allow for argument, but soft, wearing a look of tender concentration on his brow.

Chilton closed his eyes, and he dabbed the warm, wet terrycloth to his cum-spattered face, clearing the stinging release from the area of danger before handing the towel to you to finish the job.

“This one’s dry.” Bryan pointed to a second towel he placed down beside you, then busied himself filling glasses of water from the sink.

As the partner doling out the most punishment, he took responsibility for taking care of everyone.

You guided Chilton to the couch, laying down a towel to catch the slick coating your thighs. He let out a stiff groan as he sank down, his bruised knees protesting, and you continued wiping down his face, stained with your, Bryan’s, and his own release. Some was stuck in his thick brown hair that would need an extra shampooing, some flecked his bare stomach, and swipes transferred from his hands painted his arms and chest. You let him wipe up his own stomach. He was sensitive about the long, raised scar there, which, while it had long ago healed physically, produced a different pain than the kind he got off on. The place he had been brutally violated was the one place treated with dignity.

Bryan returned with the water insisting everyone hydrate. Then he joined you on the couch, sitting beside Chilton, and pulling him down onto his broad, soft chest. Chilton curled his legs over your lap, and you tipped over his back, partially spooning him as he rested on Bryan. You trailed your hand over his back, stroking down the outside of his thigh, and he sighed as Bryan ran his fingers through his sweat-matted hair.

“You did very well,” Bryan cooed. “Our good little fuck toy.”

Chilton’s muscles went rigid. He turned his face down into Bryan’s greying chest hair to hide the color rising on his cheeks, though there was no hiding the blotchy red on a pale, naked doctor. Degradation was one thing, but praise? Praise was another entirely. He relished the safe feeling of being nestled between your two warm bodies as he came down from the adrenaline, but being told he was good triggered a squirmy, hot feeling in his stomach.

He was relieved when Bryan moved on and asked, “How do you feel? Anything hurt?”

Business. Professional. Checking on him physically, he could handle. Chilton shook his head and murmured something meant to be more intelligible than what came out, but managed to convey that he was fine—fucked brainless and boneless, but fine.

Bryan didn’t stay long.

That was the deal. While you were playing at Chilton being a toy for the two of you to use, in reality, Bryan was the one you brought in to have fun with. He had no intention of overstaying his welcome. After a quick shower, his clothes were back on—a sharp navy suit hiding any hint of the unprofessional purpose for which he had visited your hotel room—and he was making a quick goodbye.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay? There’s plenty of room.”

Bryan’s pink lips curved up slightly, the corners lost in his neatly trimmed beard. “Nah, I have a deposition in the morning. Boring shit, but—” He shrugged.

Chilton had managed to change into a loose-fitting t-shirt, though his eyes were heavy-lidded, and his chatty nature was subdued. His hair was tousled and wet from the shower, making it appear almost black.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Bryan said to him jovially, with a pat on the shoulder. “This was fun. Next time you’re in Chicago, let’s meet at my place. I have a lot more toys.”

He ran two fingers under your chin with the promise of pleasure to come, stepping into your space. Your nostrils quivered as you involuntarily sniffed him.

Then he turned to Chilton, whose hand was glued to your waist. Bryan narrowed his eyes slightly in consideration, and kissed him on the mouth. Lips colliding with a hungry snarl, their teeth clashed, and his beard battled Chilton’s coat of stubble to see who would leave a burn on the other’s chin. When he pulled back, Chilton’s green eyes gaped unblinking at him like a deer caught in the headlights of a swingers’ cruise.

Bryan smirked, and was gone.

* * *

The VIP hotel suite had a separate bedroom—a sweeping space decorated with modern black and white marble in crisp lines, a king-sized bed dressed in white linens and a fluffy black throw blanket. It opened into a master bathroom with a standing spa tub which you would certainly enjoy later when the soreness set in. For now, you and Frederick stumbled in to the privacy of the room and fell onto the vast bed together.

He let out a long, grateful moan as he stretched out on the clean sheets. It was rare to see him look so comfortable, with towel-dried hair curling into messy ringlets in every direction. Your heart fluttered at this perfectly unwound Chilton. There was the faintest hint of a bruise where Bryan’s fingers had dug in below his jaw, but it would be easy enough to hide with makeup if it wasn’t faded by the next day.

You kissed him gently on the bruise, and then curled an arm over his chest and settled against his side. His thumb found the back of your hand and traced small, wandering circles.

“So… did you like it?”

He nodded speechlessly.

“That’s good. I was worried it went too far.”

“That was the idea,” he replied.

A frown tugged at the affectionate smile your lips wanted to make, wrestled with it for control, and finally overpowered it in its sullen grip. You weren’t good enough on your own, in other words. You weren’t strong enough, not harsh enough to satisfy Dr. Chilton’s masochistic lust to be dominated.

Still, you wouldn’t ruin a lovely night by letting on that it bothered you.

“Yes, it was. And you took it so well,” you purred, savoring the feeling of his chest hair between your splayed fingers as you thoughtfully stroked his chest. “I think you really enjoyed yourself.”

He smiled dreamily, closing his eyes and reliving the memories. Your gentle palm was so warm, lulling him to sleep with its slow, meandering journey. His hand rested over yours, accompanying it like a passenger.

“Did you?” he asked.

Your hand stopped.

One of his deep green eyes cracked open.

“I did,” you said. “I wasn’t sure at first, but Bryan was so easy to work with. So magnetic. It was empowering having him there. Making you our willing slave that I had total control over.” A shiver ran straight to your over-worked sex remembering Chilton on his knees between you. How hard he worked to get you off. The way he looked at you with worship, even as tears burned down his face. No need to mention how it made you feel inadequate.

Frederick was quiet for a time, lost somewhere, too. Then a tiny voice came from his pillow. “Did you… like Bryan’s cock more than mine?”

“What?”

“Am I unsatisfactory by comparison? Do I not make you feel as good?”

“Frederick… this is why I didn’t want to do this.” Apparently Bryan made everyone feel inadequate.

“Oh.” His chin bobbed with a stiff inhale, and he looked away as if that was your answer.

“That stuff about him fucking me better… Those were just mean things we said to emasculate you—because you wanted us to!”

“It does not make it less true.”

“Well, it’s not,” you retorted stubbornly. “I love you.”

His cheeks flamed again. All of your emphasis on you, as in not Bryan. Not anyone else. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling in his belly returned, and he had to look away before you noticed how emotional he was getting. God. Why was being told he was a dickless fuckdoll so much easier than hearing that he was loved, when he desperately wanted to be loved? Thank god the psychiatric analyses he published were about someone else’s issues.

“We could do this more often,” he said in a light tone to put you at ease, skimming past his rather pathetic outburst of insecurity. “I liked him, too.”

“That is a monster cock he’s packing. I’m going to need a week to recover!” you laughed.

“As will I.”

“Oh! Should I bring you a cold pack? Or the vitamin E oil?”

“Worry about it tomorrow?” He held your wrist to prevent you from springing into action-mode. “I just want you to hold me.”

You lay back on the impressive modern bedspread and enjoyed the feeling of closeness. Frederick’s hand on your back, the quiet rhythm of his breath. You thought about sinking into a bath tomorrow, letting it ease your muscles and tender entrance. Frederick would want to wash his hair again before the Chicago Psychiatric Convention tomorrow to make sure all of the cum was gone, and to fix the results of letting it dry naturally. You anticipated waking up next to the cutest little cowlick. Maybe sending him off with a blowjob if there was time.

But a dark thought kept nipping at the soft corners of the moment, tugging it out of focus with sharp needle teeth. Replaying the titillating scene from earlier, the pest only grew, preventing you from enjoying what should have been an arousing memory. The longer you ignored it, the harder it bit.

Finally, you sighed, “Did you like him more than me?”

Startled, Frederick raised a brow and laughed. “He was quite impressive.”

When your face failed to show any sign of mirth, he realized you might have needed as much reassurance as he did. (Though he could not account for why. You were perfect.) He dropped his teasing, narrow-eyed, carefully-considering-it look.

“But I am rather fond of you.”

His lips met yours softly, with just the faintest brush of thin skin, melding slowly as you let out a contented noise that vibrated against him. Your fingers brushed through his messy hair, soothing over the scalp where you’d yanked before. The contrast made his skin tingle with goosebumps.

“Nothing could ever replace you,” he whispered reverently against your lips. “Nothing.”

A soft sob you hadn’t realized was threatening to break free broke, and you quelled it with another kiss, deeper this time. Not urgent, but needy, your tongue delving into his mouth, capturing the lingering taste of Bryan Kneef. Two gorgeous men to fuck. How did you get so lucky? You felt even luckier knowing that whatever happened with Bryan, you and Frederick had each other.

Always.

“So,” you spoke in a low voice as your lips parted, “are you nice and relaxed for your panel tomorrow?”

“Am I ready to stand up in front of a room filled with hundreds of bitter academic rivals and defend my results, while they all wait to pick them apart, hoping to humiliate me with a question I had not accounted for? Is that what you mean?”

“...Yes?”

“My nerves are much calmer now.” He melted into the pillow with a sated smile. “Thank you.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #Bryan Kneef x Reader #Frederick Chilton x reader #Frederick Chilton x Bryan Kneef x Reader #gender-neutral reader #my writing

61 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 5, Female Reader][18+]

<- Part 4 | Part 6 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

For @thatesqcrush‘s Summer Bingo: anal square

Warnings: NSFW. Hospital sex. Threesome. Anal sex. Blowjob with bedridden burn patient. Improper sterility procedures for removal of a foley catheter. Basically sounding. Not exactly piss kink (despite the debauched suggestions on Discord, no one drinks from Chilton’s catheter like a sippy-straw) but there is a bit of pee I mean not much but look it just kind of happens, OK?

With apologies to all medical professionals in the audience. I am absolutely sure this violates hospital policy :)

5,500 words

Bryan Kneef shifted uncomfortably.

In another room, a heart monitor beeped quietly but incessantly, and if it continued much longer, he might go insane. The dry air filling the sterile white walls was slightly too cold for someone dressed for a southern summer in cool linen. Outside, bees and flowers filled the hazy orange world, but it was always winter inside the Chesapeake Hospital burn ward. His eyes darted around for the offending AC vent, searching for anything to fixate on besides the man in front of him.

Frederick Chilton was laid out on a hospital bed like a corpse. Inflamed skin wrinkled with scars wrapped too tightly around his bones, as if there were no muscle in between, and white teeth grinned from his skull like a mummy. He hadn’t moved from that bed in months.

Bryan wasn’t one to cower from difficult situations, but this? He didn’t know how to behave around the sick.

“Well, you look like shit,” he at last blurted.

Frederick Chilton rolled his eyes, scowling as much as his face was able without the assistance of lips.

In the bedroom, Frederick reveled in being humiliated, the ego of his outside persona stripped away and torn down. He deserved it, and fuck, he loved getting what he deserved. And the praise for being a good little slut made him melt.

Outside was an entirely different matter. That carefully constructed persona—the esteemed psychiatrist who demanded respect—could not be threatened. Not by a vulgar, unpredictable man like Bryan who knew his filthy secrets.

So why did he call?

“I assure you, it looks better than it feels,” Chilton grunted. His speech was slow and deliberate. Daily sessions with a speech therapist were helping his cheeks and tongue learn to produce shapes and sounds his lips once handled, but it would never be quite the same.

Bryan took a step toward the bed. He puffed his chest out and pretended not to be bothered by the skeletal figure that seemed barely clinging to life.

“I’m not your dick-for-rent you can use whenever you want,” he said, cutting to the chase.

Chilton coughed—a weak, wheezing sound, accompanied by involuntary spittle. “Yet here you are, running when I call.”

Why did he come?

“Any chance to fuck our girl,” Bryan smirked. In other words: I’m not here foryou.

The flash of pain in Frederick’s eyes made him instantly regret saying it. It wasn’t the cute sort of jealousy when he had Fred on his knees, desperate to come—it was the kind that made his eyes drop to the floor.

A few hard lines on Bryan’s face softened. His lips went slack in their bearded nest. He would never admit that he had been worried sick, or the tears he’d shed when he heard the news. Baltimore Psychiatrist Mutilated by Red Dragon. He was pissed that he had to read it in a newspaper first, but your voice was so trembling and weak when you finally called—when you told him the doctors all said Frederick wasn’t going to make it. You were too distraught to think. He had to remind you to eat something. You asked if he wanted to come to the hospital to say goodbye, and he pretended he was too busy with a case.

But Frederick didn’t die.

A stillness came over the room, both men so lost in their thoughts they hardly noticed the other had also fallen silent.

“As you can see, I am in no condition to provide… sexual release.”

“Shame. You used to give great head.”

Affronted by Bryan’s piercing gaze, Frederick turned his head away as far as he could. It wasn’t far enough to hide his tattered mouth.

“I suppose I could return the favor,” Bryan mused, daring to lean closer over the bed, dropping his voice.

Blood rushed to Frederick’s cheeks and between his thighs. He had sucked Bryan off many times, but never had Bryan in a submissive position. The image of him between his legs, piercing eyes gazing up at him with a mouth stuffed full of his cock sent a shiver up his spine.

“No,” he stammered. “I asked you here for one reason.”

He was too skittish for such a thing now—too accustomed to Bryan’s roughness to trust him with his fragile body. Besides, he had not missed the shock on Bryan’s face when he entered the room, or how he almost turned around at the door. What would he say if he saw his grafted cock? Mere weeks ago, the poor organ had been flayed—flaps of skin peeled around the bloody shaft, stretched, split, pinned back down in place, and stitched together again under the head.

It was better now. The surgeries corrected uneven scarring that would have made erections painful, and it had time to heal. But it still felt… tender. Sore in a way that was not physical. It looked like a medical experiment.

No. He was not ready yet. But he wanted to see you happy. Bryan could give you pleasure his bedridden, broken shell could not.

***

You were surprised to find Bryan Kneef sitting in the visitor’s chair in the corner of the hospital room. He was flipping through an issue of The Wall Street Journal with a bored expression, one leg crossed over the other, but smiled and stood when you walked in.

“Bryan? What are you doing here?”

He paused long enough before answering to suggest the question stung—as if you were implying he shouldn’t have been there, which was not what you intended at all. In fact, it explained a few things.

“Shh. He’s sleeping,” he whispered.

A glance at the bed showed that Frederick was dozing peacefully—a rarity these days. You nodded your understanding. It would be a shame to wake him.

With a quiet sigh, you rushed into Bryan’s arms, burying your face against his solid form. Thick arms closed around your waist, warm and comforting, and his beard rubbed the back of your neck as he rested his chin over your shoulder.

“It’s good to see you,” you sniffed, and just like that, hot tears were rolling over the brim of your eyelids, soaking into the collar of Bryan’s white linen jacket.

“You too.”

He held you tighter, surprised at the lurch in his heart. His eyes hung on the broken figure sleeping on the bed and imagined what it had been like for you all these months. This gaunt thing was Frederick recovering. You were all alone when he was unconscious, his body an open wound, machines keeping him alive. Alone because Bryan was too selfish and cowardly to be near that kind of sickness. But he was here now, and the way your body clung to him, he knew it had been a long time since you had someone to comfort you.

***

“Right here in the hospital?” You quirked an eyebrow. Frederick had a private room in the burn ward, since his care was so intensive, but there was a constant stream of nurses in and out.

“Yes, here,” Frederick replied. “I want to see you.” A hungry spark entered his eye, and he sucked a quick breath to prevent his salivation from escaping.

Now that his plan was so close to fruition, excitement roiled in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. At first, calling Bryan was only meant as a gift for you. But suddenly, a familiar heat flared up in his belly, and he wanted to see—wanted to watch your eyes roll back as Bryan split you open.

“Don’t worry, we bribed the nurse supervisor not to disturb us,” Bryan added, hand on your lower back.

“Did you do as I instructed?”

The pressure in your ass seemed to increase as your mind was drawn back to it. “Yes,” you swallowed heavily. “I was wondering about that.” A plug kept your tight hole stretched and prepared, worn under your clothes, just as he had asked.

“Good.”

“So… you want to watch Bryan fuck me?” you purred, starting to get into the mood. You put your hands on the side of the bed and smirked down at Frederick, sticking your ass out for Bryan.

Before Frederick could answer, Bryan interrupted: “No.”

Frederick opened his mouth. You gave an equally confused look.

“I’m his dick-for-rent today,” Bryan chuckled, low and sultry. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Chilton? I’m going to fuck you for the doctor, since he can’t do it himself. Whatever way he wants.” He ran his palms over your shoulders and down your arms as if he were presenting you to Frederick as a gift.

Frederick nodded, not missing a beat as he pretended that was his plan all along, and not an unexpected act of charity from a man who seemed anything but charitable. When he woke to find the two of you conversing in hushed voices like a couple of dear old friends, he felt a sting of fear that Bryan was stealing you away.

So Bryan was going to let him be in charge? He liked the sound of that. After three months of bondage within his own skin, he liked the sound of that a lot.

***

“Pull it out slowly,” Chilton instructed.

Your ass spasmed around the flare of the plug as Bryan gradually removed it, and, under Chilton’s guidance, drizzled more lubricant over it.

“Push it in again. Fuck her with it a little.”

“Yes, doctor,” obeyed Bryan.

A guttural moan escaped your chest as he plunged it back inside, twisting it, fucking the lube back into your tight entrance. Your fingers clenched on the metal guardrail at the edge of the mattress.

“That’s right,” Chilton mumbled. “Good.” He raptly watched you bent above him, arousal building by the second.

He had never been more pleased with Bryan, following his instructions perfectly as he worked you open, first with the plug, then with his thick fingers.

“Look how wet she is for you,” Bryan said, drawing a finger through your cunt.

He held the slick digit out to Chilton, and he extended his tongue to lick your essence off Bryan’s calloused pad. A familiar taste flooded his mouth.

“I missed the way you taste,” he moaned.

It had been too long since he sampled your arousal, and it pooled like heat in his stomach. Bryan’s breath shuddered at the sensation, or perhaps the monstrous sight of a tongue probing forth from bared teeth.

Finally, the thick, round head of Bryan’s cock was notched against your prepared opening. Fisting the base of his cock, he circled it lightly over your puckered ring, listening to the breathy whimpers it elicited.

“Take a deep breath, my love,” Chilton said. He held your eyes, steadying you with his gaze. “And let it out slowly.”

He nodded to Bryan, who rocked his pelvis forward little by little, stretching you open around his impossible girth. You gritted your teeth and tried to relax under the invasion, but it was no longer Chilton using Bryan to fuck you—Bryan was so much bigger than Frederick ever was, the illusion was shattered in that moment. No plug could prepare you for this. You wanted to squeeze Frederick’s fragile hand, but with the intense burn you were feeling, it might have shattered like glass.

“Shh. There you are. Good girl,” Frederick whispered, and even though you weren’t touching, it was like he was helping you. That soothing, soft, carefully-spoken voice caressed your ears. You felt your lower body relax, the muscles opening up for Bryan, allowing him to penetrate deeper, deeper. “You are doing so well for me.”

Your body surrendered with a heave of breath, allowing Bryan to slide in all the way until his balls were pressed against your ass. You were so full, it frightened you to move. Frederick saw how wide and wild your eyes were, the tremble in your limbs as you gripped the rail, and told Bryan not to move.

“Let her get used to you.” He added regretfully, “It has been a long time for both of us.”

“I’m never in a rush,” Bryan said. A powerful hand gently stroked the side of your face as he waited, stock-still with his cock buried inside you.

Slowly, you experimented with moving your hips. Grinding against him just slightly, you felt the way he filled your walls, stretched your entrance as he slid in the lubricant. It was so hot, so impossibly hard, but it made blood rush between your legs, your clit throbbing to be touched.

“F-Frederick… please, make him touch me,” you whimpered.

There was a flash of jealousy in his good eye for a fraction of a second. He wondered why you didn’t beg him to touch you, even though he knew he couldn’t. You might be able to ride his hand and let his fingers haphazardly twitch over your flesh, but he could never reach your pussy from here.

At Chilton’s command, Bryan began stroking your heat, and soon your moans filled the sterile hospital room, drowning out the background hum of medical equipment. He guided Bryan in exactly how you liked to be touched, sharing the secrets of your body. Your lower half was on fire, screaming out for more until you were impaling yourself on Bryan’s length, hips bucking, indifferent to the pain.

Then Bryan began thrusting.

Chilton’s breath was heavy as he watched your chest heaving above him—bent over the edge of the bed so you were hovering above his face, giving him the perfect view as you were fucked brainless. Each swing of Bryan’s hips rocked you forward, your jaw slack, skin misted with a sheen of sweat.

His arms were too weak to reach up and touch you or to stroke his own cock, but he whispered words of encouragement that made your skin flush. “Good girl. You take his cock so well. That’s it… A touch faster,” he ordered, and the slap of Bryan’s skin against your ass quickened. You gurgled out a strangled moan as his cock hit a deeper spot.

“Good. Give her more. She can take it. Do you want more, dear?”

You closed your eyes as you nodded, throat too tight to form more than a strangled growl. It was almost too much—almost. But you wanted to take more for him. You wanted him to see you at your limit with Bryan rutting into you like a beast. Bryan stopped stroking your clit and fixed both hands to your hips like a vice, fingers bruising your flesh as he fucked you harder, drawing a cry with each brutal thrust.

Chilton’s cock stirred between his narrow thighs, envious of the pleasure just out of his reach.

“Kiss me,” he rasped.

You leaned over the railing and kissed his neck first, sloppy and unfocused, lavishing affection all over his skin. Down the side of his neck, over part of his shoulder exposed by the loose-fitting hospital gown, then up his jaw, your panting lips and tongue left a trail of saliva wherever they traveled.

Finally, he gasped softly as you found his toothy, exposed mouth. Your lips became its protection, replacing what was lost. He thought he would be scared—that insecurity and disturbing memories would surge to the surface—but for a beautiful moment in time, he was whole again. He had lips, and they were warm, and soft, and everything he missed. Then your tongue was exploring the smooth surface of his teeth, and his hungry tongue licked up to consume your muffled cries, inviting your sweetness deeper inside.

“Harder,” he groaned.

Your hand snaked around the back of his scorched-bald head and pulled him deeper against your mouth. Bryan obeyed the command, too, pounding you against the side of the bed until its locked wheels dragged scuff marks into the floor, and you were so breathless you almost collapsed on top of his fragile body.

Frederick’s mouth captured your wailing moans as Bryan’s massive cock nudged against a place impossibly far inside you. And suddenly, you were breaking—your empty cunt clenching around nothing, ass spasming around Bryan’s cock. It hit you so fast, you were practically drooling into Frederick’s mouth, melting as he kissed you through your release. When you parted, a string of saliva connected your tongues. Bryan’s cock was still buried deep in your ass, but he paused to let the two of you catch your breath.

“Keep going,” Frederick nodded to him, and he thrust again.

An inhuman noise choked out of your lungs, your body exploding with overstimulation. Stuffed to its limit, and you wanted more. Frederick wanted more, too. He wanted to be more than a spectator, trapped inside a broken body.

Your searching hand groped low on the blanket until it found a satisfyingly hard bulge buried between Frederick’s legs. You lightly squeezed around it, and he gasped out.

“I want to suck your cock,” you moaned, voice thick with need.

He froze, both eyes wide, the green seemingly as blind as the pale blue one in its scarred socket. You were already throwing back the thin blanket. A tent strained in the center of his hospital gown.

“Please let me suck it?”

“I… There is a…” he hesitated. He wanted it so badly, but fear held him back. Mortification merged with lust in his face, the inflamed pink scar tissue nearly beet red.

You shifted to the foot of the bed and gently grasped his ankles, spreading his legs wide enough for you to crawl onto your belly between them. Bryan followed with you, slipping his cock back inside you, his legs pressed up against the edge of the bed, nested between yours. He smirked down at Frederick, giving a few lazy thrusts.

Frederick glanced between you and Bryan, then back to you, your lips so close to his touch-starved erection. Watching you get fucked turned him on, and he was desperate to feel your mouth, but he did not want Bryan to see it… what was beneath the gown.

You had been by his side since he was admitted, witnessing every embarassing medical treatment he endured. But how would Bryan react?

The nervous stammering Frederick gave as you lay between his thighs wasn’t a no, and you had a safeword if he needed to stop, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic yes, either. Considering the circumstances, you didn’t proceed any further, just rested there, searching his eyes with a gentle expression as Bryan smoothly rolled his hips in a holding pattern.

Somehow your willingness to wait made him feel safer. He was in control, Frederick reminded himself. Bryan was just his puppet today. What did it matter if he was disgusted?

“Suck it, then.” His voice was sure. Aloof, even. But it trembled with emotion churning just below the surface.

You pulled the medical gown up over his hips.

And there was his cock, standing partly erect, with all its rosy mesh texture. In a few months or years, the graft texture was supposed to fade into smooth skin, indistinguishable from the original, but right now, it looked like a fishing net of flesh had been pulled over it and sewn with a zig-zagging seam down the underside.

From the center of its tip snaked a long yellow catheter, the other end feeding into a urine collection bag strapped to his thigh like a gun holster.

You circled the meeting of the tube and his cock with your finger. He hissed, and it twitched. You pulled away and glanced up to his face. His jaw was hanging open, but with no lips or eyebrows, it was difficult to assess whether it was slack with lust or open in a silent scream.

“Did that hurt?”

“N-no. Oh god,” he groaned. His fingers dug into the sheets. They could not grip tightly, but his body shuddered with the attempt.

Frederick instructed you on how to take the catheter out. You had seen it inserted and vaguely understood the process, but fortunately, he had a medical degree and academic knowledge of the procedure (if not as much practice as a nurse).

“That syringe there will do,” he gestured with his chin and signaled when you found the right one.

Bryan pulled out and patiently assisted the scavenger hunt, though he was averting his eyes from the reconstructed thing between Frederick’s legs. It did not make Frederick feel appealing, but at least it was better than a sarcastic remark. Even a half-joking “you look like shit” comment would have made him crumble, and perhaps Bryan was skilled enough at exploiting vulnerabilities to recognize that.

“And bring the kidney dish. Yes, that one.”

After disposing of the half-full plastic bladder of warm yellow liquid, you brought the supplies over to the bed and sprawled back out between his legs. Bryan stood nervously behind you, kneading your ass cheeks in his large palms.

“There is a small inflated balloon holding the catheter inside my bladder, so it cannot slip out. You will need to deflate it first.”

“A balloon?” You tilted your head curiously. “How does it feel?”

Taking the end of the yellow rubber tube in your fingers, you gently pulled until you felt resistance, the tiny inflated ball pressed against the wall of his bladder at the entrance of the urethra. You twisted it slowly, rubbing the ball against the internal opening.

Frederick’s back wanted to arch, but he was helplessly immobile in his body, completely at the mercy of whatever you chose to do. He realized in that moment how vulnerable he truly was—that you could do anything, and he couldn’t escape or resist. He gasped out, but not in pain.

“You like that?”

His breath stuttered, but he couldn’t quite form a response. He didn’t know if he liked it. It felt strange. Not unpleasant. He felt full. On the threshold of torture, but something was thrilling about it—electricity sparked and built deep inside as you kept moving it.

You were barely touching the catheter anymore, only holding the end as you searched for the balloon port, but each tiny vibration made him whine softly.

“The orange cap. Use the… s-syringe… to… drain the…”

By the time you drained a few milliliters of water into the syringe, he was moaning loudly, incoherent.

Now when you pulled, there was no resistance to the tube sliding out. As you started to remove it, the deflated balloon passed over his prostate. You recognized it by the familiar whimper—the same stuttery, breathy cry he gave when you fingered him and found just the right spot. You stopped pulling and let it slide back in a little.

He choked, panting and begging, “P-please… please!” but wouldn’t tell you please what? Stop? Faster? More? Don’t?

In truth, he did not know. It burned, but it felt like stroking the shaft of his cock from the inside. It was humiliating—urine dripped from the end of the tube. He had no control over it. He felt so alive. So wanted for the first time in months of lying in that bed. The way your eyes lit up, your lips quirking at his every trembling breath. The way you whispered, “Easy. You’ve got this. Almost there.”

He was on the verge of coming when you pulled it the rest of the way out and set it aside in the tray. You gripped his cock firmly but gently, tilting it up to show Frederick the tip.

“Look at that. Your cock is gaping open like your asshole when Bryan fucks you,” you smirked. A bit of that rough, teasing quality entered your voice—an echo of the way you and Bryan used to use Frederick like your personal sex toy.

But you were going to be gentle today.

Extending your tongue, you laved over the head of his cock, soothing the stretched hole. Then all at once, your warm, wet mouth sank over his entire length, and he let out a shattered wail that was heard through the hospital wing.

Frederick went absolutely brain dead at that moment. His entire existence floated in a shimmering void with no up or down, no gravity. There was nothing but dizzying pleasure consuming his senses. Going without sex—and until recently, without touch—for so long made every sensation more intense than seemed possible. Your head bobbed up and down in his lap, lips wrapped around his cock, and waves of volcanic heat exploded up his vertebrae with each stroke. He still could not arch his back, jerk his hips into your mouth, or writhe beneath you. All of that frustrated kinetic energy came out in uncontrolled vocalizations. The nurses must have been bribed well to not come running at the hoarse, fevered cries.

His cock felt like a cock again, not some pathetic thing discarded after surgery. He couldn’t wait to come down your throat.

He almost didn’t notice Bryan was still standing there watching, obediently waiting.

“Fuck her,” Frederick managed to hiss.

A small pink smile flashed across Bryan’s lips as he nodded and leaned over you.

Your throaty groan vibrated around Frederick’s cock as Bryan pushed forward, gripping your ass to hold you still as he split you open again. He didn’t wait for you to adjust this time, doing just what Frederick had asked—he fucked you. Skin slapping skin echoed through the small room as you choked on Frederick’s cock, powerful thrusts pushing you forward and down.

Bryan sharpened your focus. You had started with your tongue languidly exploring the underside of his cock, flicking over the sensitive area beneath the crest of its head. Warm wetness traced along scars where stitches had been removed and the flesh was still raised, making his skin erupt in tingles. Now, you hollowed your cheeks and held on for the ride.

Continuous moans tore from Frederick’s throat, louder as you drove him toward his climax. He wanted to really fuck your mouth, control your pace, but he couldn’t even lift his arms.

As if reading his mind, Bryan’s large, veined hand ran down the length of your spine and settled possessively on the back of your neck. His eyes met Frederick’s, bushy grey brows raised in question.

The corner of Chilton’s mouth quirked—a tug of his cheek—and he nodded. “Yes… faster. Make her go faster.”

Bryan’s fingers snarled into your hair and pushed you down onto Frederick’s cock, then dragged you back up and shoved you down again. Frederick sighed in relief as you gagged on the head striking the back of your throat. He pretended it was his hand controlling you—savored the tears streaming from your eyes, the drool smearing your lips and pooling around the base of his cock. Most of all, he relished how willingly you took him—let him abuse your mouth for his pleasure. You were so eager.

Sensing that Frederick’s mind was gone on that last, desperate stretch toward release, Bryan took charge, setting a punishing pace as he fucked you harder and faster in time with the rhythm he was pumping your head. Bryan was a bit skeptical at first, but listening to you gag, he wished he could have a turn sucking Frederick off. But it was almost as good using your mouth like a masturbation sleeve to jerk him off.

“Take his cock like a good girl. Nice and sloppy,” Bryan growled. “Make him come, and don’t spill a drop. You swallow it all.”

Frederick moaned again. He was so close. Heat coiled in his lower body; his balls felt so heavy and tight, ready to burst.

Each time Bryan pulled you back, your tongue did this perfect little swirl, sometimes over the tip or under the crown of his cock. A sinful flourish before his heavy hand impaled your throat on Frederick’s throbbing length. He wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. Looking down at the both of you—Bryan’s face drawn in effort, sweating, and you beneath him, cheeks hollowed as your nose met Frederick’s scarred-bare pubic mound—he couldn’t help think he didn’t deserve you. Either of you. So devoted to him in his time of need. A maddening heat rose under his abdomen. He was going to… going to—

“C-come inside her. Come in her ass,” Frederick choked out. Saliva ran down his chin wantonly without lips to collect it. His eyes were barely open and rolling back in his head.

Bryan’s breathing grew erratic and turned to audible grunts as he chased his pleasure in your tight little hole. There was no restraint now—he mercilessly abused your ass and your mouth, creating a symphony of Chilton’s cries and your choked gagging. He wasn’t sure if you could take it—usually, it was Chilton he treated this way—but your walls were gripping around him, eagerly pleasuring his cock while your hips pushed back into his thrusts. You were just as needy a cockslut as your boyfriend.

The antiseptic air seemed to still for a moment, like the perfect silence that precedes a thunderclap. Bryan’s rutting hips hitched, then came crashing back down, sheathed to the hilt inside you as he sheathed your throat around Frederick, and in an instant, you were filled with hot cum from both ends. Frederick gave the small whimpering cries of a dying animal as his bitter release coated your tongue, salty, coppery, and thick. Bryan’s roar was that of an apex predator, your inner walls flooding with his seed.

A euphoric feeling settled over you. The feeling of being claimed, totally and completely, surrounded by two men you loved and trusted, knowing you brought them satisfaction.

You sucked Frederick through each twitching aftershock until there was nothing left to be milked from him, and his cries turned to uncomfortable sobs. Only then did your lips release him, shiny and red, and already softening.

Bryan, on the other hand, was hard as steel when he pulled out of you, and knowing his quick recovery time, ready to go again if need be. But that wouldn’t be advisable, considering the hospital staff would only look the other way for so long.

You quickly pulled your underwear back on, cringing at the squishy feeling of Bryan’s dripping cum being pressed against your cunt. After returning Frederick’s legs to their usual closed position, you carefully crawled onto the edge of the mattress, avoiding the paths of tubes and wires attached to him, and gently cradled his prone body.

His breath was steadying, and his eyes were watery with emotion, coming down hard from his high. You surreptitiously brushed a tear away with your thumb. He wouldn’t want you to notice he was crying, but it would be worse if Bryan saw. So you held him, whispering soothing praises, and helped him calm down while Bryan cleaned himself up and made sure there were no stray fluids on the floor.

Then Bryan stood, once again unsure.

Where did he fit, with the bed too narrow for two people to cuddle on, much less three? Did he even want to join? Hospitals reminded him of death, and Frederick’s cadaverous figure made it worse. Fucking you with him was fun, but it felt like a last request—a favor for a dying man. Though as he understood it, Frederick had already beaten the odds and was going to survive, barring complications. But it still made him shudder.

He watched you smiling at him, gently whispering comfort with your arm so carefully draped around him, and watched his mutilated mouth try to smile back. Your eyes were transfixed on each other. Another pang throbbed through Bryan’s heart. He wanted to be part of that.

He took a step forward.

What if Frederick didn’t want him to be part of his lovey-dovey snuggle? It was stupid. Bryan was only here to fuck, anyway. It was what he was good at. Bryan Kneef didn’t do clingy emotional bullshit, and this was way too fucking Hallmark right now.

He took a step toward the door. It was roughly in the same direction. The last thing Bryan Kneef wanted was to appear indecisive.

But before he could pass the foot of the bed and lock his trajectory toward leaving, Frederick’s eyes shot open and froze him. He repressed another shudder, still freaked out by his ghostly blue eye.

“Thank you,” he said. His face was unreadable (there were not enough features left to read), but his voice had a hopeful edge.

“My pleasure.” A surprisingly uncomplicated reply. It didn’t seem the time for tacky vulgarity.

You looked up at him, too, and the combined forces of your puppy-dog gazes broke his resolve. He pivoted away from the door and pulled up a chair beside the bed so he could lean close, resting his head against your warm shoulder and gently stroking Frederick’s withered arm.

Frederick hummed contentedly at the contact, and he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#Frederick Chilton x reader #bryan kneef x reader #Frederick Chilton x Bryan Kneef x Reader #thatesqcrushsummerbingo #my writing

37 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [18+][Male Reader]

Part 2 -> | Female reader version

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

No plot, just fucking Dr. Chilton from both ends. For @thatesqcrush’s summer bingo: multiple partners square.

Warnings: NSFW, threesome, oral sex (reader receiving), anal (Chilton receiving), rough sex, degrading language, humiliation, cum licking. Bryan calls himself daddy. No talk of protection or consent beforehand, just assume it happened.

1,758 words

It was the look in his eyes that stoked the fire between your legs more than his mouth, skilled as it was. That pathetic, pleading look that always seemed to ask, “Am I doing well? Do I please you?” even as his face turned red and he suffocated himself trying to keep composure.

The leather of the ottoman creaked under Frederick Chilton’s hands and knees—a dull, rhythmic sound that followed the sharp slapping of thighs against his ass. A hoarse moan tore from his throat.

Bryan Kneef’s cock was so large it stretched him to his limit while dragging against his prostate with every merciless thrust. It was so much—so much more cock than the poor, fragile doctor was used to taking—it made his eyes unfocused and his head droop between his shoulders. He couldn’t breathe. When you had tauntingly asked if he could take both your cocks, his heart slammed his ribcage so hard he let out an involuntary whimper.

Then you laughed, “No? You don’t want that?”

Eyes wide at the thought of being violently fucked open, broken by taking both of you at once—taking anything on top of Bryan when his cock alone was too much—he shook his head.

“Then let me fuck your throat.”

The flat of your hand whipped across his cheek, the sting bringing him back to the present.

“Remember what you’re here for,” you threatened.

“Y-yes,” he gasped, “Sorry, sir.” He lifted his head, returning his tongue to your neglected erection. His breath fanned your shaft in hot bursts, matching the rhythm of Bryan’s hips as he gasped, half choking, trying to focus on pleasuring you in spite of the building ache between his own legs.

“That’s right,” you moaned. “That’s it.” Your fingers twined deep in his hair, eyes drooping with lust as they met his—looking up so pathetically, pleading, melting at the praise. “Remember, your only job is to be a good little whore and let us put all your holes to good use. Don’t forget.”

To prove his dedication, Chilton tried to be unflinchingly diligent circling his tongue as he serviced your cock, letting nothing distract him. A strained whine escaped his lips as Bryan doubled his pace, muffled around you in such a way that sent vibrations sizzling up your spine, back arching into his mouth. Bryan met your eyes with a dangerous smirk, silently asking if you enjoyed the interruption. It was a challenge that said he could make your boyfriend fall apart whenever he wanted. You grinned back, the sight of Bryan’s oversized cock disappearing into Chilton turning you on, making your fingers clench down in Chilton’s hair competitively, getting more of your own fill as you both used him.

Frederick Chilton was on top of a low ottoman as if he were on display upon a pedestal, putting both his ends at the right height for you and Bryan to fuck. Stripped naked and bereft of all his fancy trappings, he could have been any hired whore for you to play with, and the feeling of absolute humiliation made his thighs tremble. It built up a pleasure in his stomach that was impossible to restrain, yet forcing himself to control his own climax was part of the excitement.

He was your sex toy—he should not be allowed to finish first.

Bryan shifted his position, lifting a foot up onto the ottoman next to Chilton’s knee for leverage, bending over him as he fucked him harder, leaving finger-shaped bruises in the doctor’s pale hips.

Chilton moaned out again, arms shaking. Suddenly he was too weak to hold himself up, his ass in the air as Bryan continued to hammer it, his upper body slumping onto the leather cushion.

“Don’t you dare think about stopping,” you snarled.

A yelp echoed off the hotel walls as you grabbed a handful of Chilton’s hair and forced him back to your cock. Bryan’s eyes widened with mild shock, glancing between you, checking if the doctor was OK. You didn’t show any concern, but the whimpering hadn’t stopped.

His large hand splayed over Chilton’s lower back, stroking slow circles. His hips slowed, too, and he drizzled some extra lube onto his cock just in case.

“Shh, you’re doing well,” Bryan whispered.

“No, he isn’t.” You yanked Chilton’s hair even harder until he heaved a choked sob, and bobbed on your hardness with renewed hunger. “You don’t deserve this cock,” you growled, though your voice was husky and barely concealing a tremor.

Warmth began to spread through your lower body as your hips jerked into his mouth, reveling in his sputtered gagging. Your fingers unclenched their grip slightly with your sigh, your head thrown back, face to the ceiling as you lost yourself in the pleasure of his throat.

Chilton couldn’t say much, gagged as he was and breathless besides, but he let his satisfaction be heard with low, hungry moans that joined the wet sucking. His hips pushed back against Bryan’s, wiggling with impatience for him to resume his less gentle pace.

Bryan didn’t know Chilton like you did. While he did say he was OK with hitting and hair pulling, Bryan wasn’t accustomed to how vocal he was, always whining like a fragile baby. If something hurt enough to make him stop, the entire hotel would know it. But Bryan was quickly learning that Chilton was serious about his only boundaries being no hospital and don’t touch the scars.

“Such a whore,” Bryan spat, running a hand over one of Chilton’s ass cheeks and squeezing it roughly before dragging him heavily back onto his full length.

You felt his moan around the length of your cock.

With each brutal thrust, Chilton was pushed deeper down your length, his whole body rocking forward. His sloppy face was beautiful buried between your thighs, green eyes vacant and rolling back in his head as saliva dribbled down his chin, gasping around your girth every time Bryan pounded into his ass. You could tell he was close, trying so hard not to cum, but past his limit. If he kept moaning into you like your cock was the only thing keeping him alive, you wouldn’t last much longer, either.

“Yes, you take Bryan’s cock,” you encouraged. “You like that, huh? Let us hear how much you want it. Come on his cock for me like a good little boy.”

“Come on daddy’s cock,” Bryan added. “Come on daddy’s cock while you get him off—don’t you fucking stop. Use that smart mouth for the one thing it’s good for.”

Chilton whimpered, a wet gurgle as he frantically teased your head. His arms were shaking, threatening to give out under him again, and he couldn’t hold on—Chilton groaned deeply as he came, his untouched cock shooting its load onto the leather ottoman. As the breaking wave of his pleasure rippled through him, he sealed his lips around your shaft and sucked, directing its explosive energy toward sucking you off harder. Moaning and sobbing with his mouth sealed against your heat, you felt every helpless twitch of his body, the involuntary convulsions making his tongue frenzied. He sucked you off almost too hard in his eagerness, but it was the sound of his desperation, the sight of him so broken and drooling, that drove you to the precipice and hurtled you over the edge into a freefall. Then you were crying out as helplessly as he was, your release shooting down his abused throat and dripping down his already soaked chin.

Holding him between your thighs, you rode out wave after wave, squeezing his tongue for every ounce of pleasure as Bryan continued fucking into him, slowly now, guiding the pace to let you come down.

Finally, you ripped yourself away and looked down at the pathetic, panting wreck on his knees before you. His face was stained with tears and your release, and his hair was a clumpy mess matted to a flushed, sweat-drenched forehead. His cock dribbled cum from a weak orgasm with no contact.

“Oh, Frederick… I’m so disappointed. Look at you. Such a mess. Can’t even hold it together,” you taunted.

He pouted, but there was a fire deep in his eyes beneath the browbeaten expression. He loved being humiliated. Finally called out for the spineless bitch of a man he was… but knowing you loved it that way. He was a sexual object for you to get off on—he was wanted, just as badly as he wanted you.

Bryan’s hand settled at the base of Chilton’s neck, strong fingers wrapping around it tightly. “Look what you did to the furniture.” He pushed him down onto the ottoman like a naughty dog into his own mess. “Clean it up,” Bryan ordered.

When Chilton hesitated, nose wrinkling in disgust, Bryan chuckled darkly and pushed his face down harder, smearing his cheek into his own bitter puddle on the ruined leather.

“Don’t even pretend you don’t want to.”

And he was right. Though Chilton’s face turned a deeper shade of red and his lips trembled, his tongue extended sideways, past his cheek that was still squished against the cushion, dipping into the stain. His own taste was pungent, filling his nostrils with a smell not unlike the locker room at a public swimming pool, and the dry hotel furniture tasted of disinfectant, but his tongue lapped it all up eagerly.

“You like being our fuckdoll that much, don’t you? Pathetic loser.”

“Alright, take a break,” you shot at Bryan, who stepped away, stretching his muscular arms out. He peeled off and discarded the condom, then lazily fisted his cock to keep it hard.

Chilton was laying in a puddle of his own mess, panting, muscles trembling. You lay down behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle and curling your legs behind the curve of his. Protective, like when you cuddle in bed.

“Are you OK?” you murmured in his ear. “How was that? Do you want to stop?”

Shaking, lip quivering, he mumbled back, “Good. Mmm… that was amazing.”

Barely intelligible by the eloquent doctor’s standards, but you were pleased nothing had gone too far while he stubbornly refused to give the safeword. Bryan’s cock fucked him stupid, that was all.

“What would you like now?”

He glanced back at the solidly-built man now reclining on the couch in an obscene, man-spread pose and the pink, velvety coffee thermos standing in his lap. “I want to watch him fuck you in front of me.”

You followed Chilton’s gaze and smiled.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #Frederick Chilton x reader #Bryan Kneef x reader #male reader

31 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 4, Male Reader][18+]

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

For @thatesqcrush‘s Summer Bingo: masturbation square

Warnings: NSFW. Cuckolding, humiliation kink, use of safeword, penetrative sex, no discussion of condoms/protection, jealousy/insecurity, reassurance.

The arrangement you and Frederick Chilton have with Bryan Kneef is beginning to lead to some hurt feelings…

1,600 words

Your moans filled the room as Bryan Kneef pounded into you, his voice growling low taunts to punctuate each heavy thrust.

In the corner, a steady, wet thapt, thapt, thapt, thapt set a continuous rhythm.

“You love watching him take this cock, don’t you?” Bryan’s voice remained commanding and powerful, not dissolving into pants despite the extreme physical performance. He held one of your legs up, your thigh bruised under his grip, so that Chilton could see your hole spread wide by Bryan’s massive cock as he drove into you, your cock bouncing in time with his swinging balls.

Chilton groaned in frustration and lust, fist jerking his swollen sex faster. It glistened with lube, the head nearly purple in his fist. He watched the two of you raptly from his submissive position, kneeling on the floor, eyes focused on every movement—the way his balls struck your ass, the wild look in your eye, each hitch of your breath as stretched you even further.

You felt his eyes on you like fire, his jealousy building in synchrony with your pleasure. It was almost too much—Bryan filling you to your limits, splitting you open, while the man you loved watched helplessly, allowed to look but not touch. He bit his lower lip as he worked himself, trying not to whine. Fuck, you wanted to hear that whine—for him to cry out in anguish and pleasure as spurts of opalescent cum shoot out from his tip like dandelion seeds casting a wish to be inside you. It would land helplessly on the carpet. None of it would reach your naked form. You were all Bryan’s tonight. The only thing to catch his cum would be his pathetic, sticky hand.

The thought nearly sent you to the edge.

“Fuck, his cock feels so much better than yours,” you moaned wantonly.

Frederick’s face twitched. He bit down harder on his lower lip. Yes… be jealous. Cum so fucking hard in impotent rage.

“Why would I ever fuck you when I can have him? You’re nothing compared to Bryan.” Let me hear you whimper.

Bryan smirked at your cutting words. His fingers curled around the front of your throat and pulled back possessively to kiss you, beard scratching your skin.

The steady thapt, thapt, thapt abruptly stopped, and when you sneered down at Chilton again, a sheen of tears clouded his eyes.

“I…” he stammered. “R-red.” His voice was soft, as if he wasn’t sure he ought to interrupt and half hoped you wouldn’t hear him murmur the safeword, but instantly, everything stopped.

You climbed off of Bryan and circled your arms around Frederick’s neck as you knelt before him. “Hey, it’s OK. Are you OK?” you whispered, stroking the side of his face. Though he was naked, he kept his makeup on—his green contact lens and concealer over the round, ugly bullet hole.

He didn’t answer for a long moment, lip trembling. He blinked several times, trying not to cry. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and pretended not to see. It would bruise his pride enough that he had to stop the game today.

With his lips close to your ear, he whispered so that Bryan wouldn’t hear: “Do… you think he is better than me? Is that true?”

“Oh, Frederick,” you peppered kisses across his neck. “I’m sorry—I went too far teasing you. It isn’t true at all. You’re just so cute when you’re jealous. And I… I thought you liked it.”

“Of course I do,” he huffed softly, still keeping the conversation between the two of you. “Why would I ask for this otherwise?” His pride was still so strong, even naked and humiliated.

You smiled at your dopey, contradictory Frederick, and gave a conciliatory, “You’re right.” Then sat back on your heels to study him. “What would you like now? We can end it for today and just cuddle… or I could ride that gorgeous cock until you finish, if you want.”

He swallowed hard at that last suggestion, eyes lighting up with a sinful spark again. “Yes. I would like to fuck you. If that is alright, sir,” he glanced up at Bryan, still towering above, his red cock like an erect baseball bat between his thighs.

“Hey, you called safety,” Bryan shrugged, scratching his beard. “Whatever makes you comfortable. Guess I’m the one watching now.” He tried not to sound too disappointed.

Bracing your arms on his shoulders, you sank down onto Frederick’s lap, pushing him to the ground as he filled you. He gasped at your warmth. Taking him in one fluid motion was easy after Bryan fucked you. He really was smaller, and even fully seated on his thighs, it felt like something was missing—that extra needle of pain where Bryan’s girth stretched you too far, like a rubber band about to snap. But you moaned appreciatively as he began to grind up into you, your weeping cock trailing a string of clear precum onto his belly. That familiar cock. You sighed at the way his body felt right, the way your ass perfectly molded around every curve and vein, because he wasn’t an intrusion; he was part of you. There was nothing wrong with the fact that it didn’t hurt.

“That’s it,” you sighed as you found a rhythm together, one that brought delicious friction to your prostate with each stroke, “That’s the cock I love.”

You savored his warmth as the look in his eyes slowly transformed from insecurity to love—confident and true. This was his place, with you, and you would never hurt him. You would never want Bryan more than him. Bryan was fun—for both of you—but you loved him.

He was barely even aware of the choked gasps Bryan made as he came into his hand. Frederick’s lips moved against your soft, sweet ones, and his release shuddered into your accepting depths, your muscular walls gripping him, pulling him deeper as if you never wanted to let him go.

***

Bryan watched the two of you in such disgustingly tender harmony as you reassured Chilton that Bryan wasn’t important. His release felt cold and empty, even with his dick heavy and pulsing in his hand.

Fuck.

Not like he cared or anything. Bryan Kneef didn’t do commitment. He fucking hated when partners got clingy. Or was that what he told himself because no one ever stayed?

No. This just brought into too sharp focus that he was a sex toy, whatever games they liked to play with Chilton. Bryan was the disposable one, tossed to the side when you were through with him. He ought to at least charge for his services if it was going to be like this.

Bryan liked sex—he liked filling his nights with companionship so he felt less alone. And right now, with his dick drying in his hand as you comforted your real partner, he felt terribly alone.

You tried to whisper, but he could hear you. He got the gist. You never cared about Bryan Kneef—his big dick didn’t mean shit. It was just fun for the weekend, when you happened to be in Chicago. He knew that already. That was the deal. But he wished—

Don’t be a girl, Kneef. Let them have their sweet little moment. They don’t need you crowding them. The guy was on the verge of a meltdown. That wasn’t fun. This is supposed to be fun. You’re here to taunt and tease—stir up some jealousy to enhance the mood—not drive a wedge between couples.

Your arm was extended. Bryan blinked. He lost focus sulking—you were reaching your arm up to him. He took it, and helped you and Chilton off the floor. But you squeezed his fingers, didn’t let go. You stayed close to his side as he guided you over to the bed, and the three of you fell onto the mattress together.

And you held onto him, ran your fingers through his hair as you talked over how things went, whispering praises.

“That’s why we have a safeword. Don’t apologize,” he deflected.

Chilton watched suspiciously from the corner of his eye as you wrapped an arm around Bryan’s waist, and pulled himself flush against you with a jealous huff.

“If you are going to stay, I would have you turn that way,” Chilton fussed. “We do not do somnophilia.”

“I think I’ll manage to control myself, thanks.”

Chilton nodded, but gave a look that very distinctly said I am in charge here. Then he settled down, content with that, and draped an arm over both you and Bryan.

Being brought into the cuddle, into the soft pillow talk… It was always his own choice not to spend the night, you never sent him away. But he understood now why Chilton, after being forced to watch you fuck another man, needed that soft reassurance. That warm cocoon of affection and blankets felt so strangely good to be part of.

Not that he cared or anything.

#Frederick Chilton x reader #Bryan Kneef x Reader #Frederick Chilton x Bryan Kneef x Reader #Male Reader #My writing #no beta plz tell me if I borked anything up #thatesqcrushsummerbingo

17 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 5, Male Reader][18+]

<- Part 4 | Part 6 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

For @thatesqcrush‘s Summer Bingo: anal square

With apologies to all medical professionals in the audience. I am absolutely sure this violates hospital policy :)

5,500 words

Bryan Kneef shifted uncomfortably.

In another room, a heart monitor beeped quietly but incessantly, and if it continued much longer, he might go insane. The dry air filling the sterile white walls was slightly too cold for someone dressed in cool linen, prepared for a southern summer. Outside, bees and flowers filled the hazy orange world, but it was always winter inside the Chesapeake Hospital burn ward. His eyes darted around for the offending AC vent. Searching for anything to fixate on besides the man in front of him.

Bryan wasn’t one to cower from difficult situations, but this? He didn’t know how to behave around the sick.

“Well, you look like shit,” he at last blurted.

Frederick Chilton rolled his eyes, scowling as much as his face was able without the assistance of lips.

So why did he call?

Bryan took a step toward the bed. He puffed his chest out and pretended not to be bothered by the skeletal figure that seemed barely clinging to life.

“I’m not your dick-for-rent you can use whenever you want,” he said, cutting to the chase.

Chilton coughed—a weak, wheezing sound, accompanied by involuntary spittle. “Yet here you are, running when I call.”

Why did he come?

“Any chance to fuck our boy,” Bryan smirked. In other words: I’m not here foryou.

But Frederick didn’t die.

A stillness came over the room, both men so lost in their thoughts they hardly noticed the other had also fallen silent.

“As you can see, I am in no condition to provide… sexual release.”

“Shame. You used to give great head.”

Affronted by Bryan’s piercing gaze, Frederick turned his head away as far as he could. It wasn’t far enough to hide his tattered mouth.

“I suppose I could return the favor,” Bryan mused, daring to lean closer over the bed, dropping his voice.

“No,” he stammered. “I asked you here for one reason.”

No. He was not ready yet. But he wanted to see you happy. Bryan could give you pleasure his bedridden, broken shell could not.

***

“Bryan? What are you doing here?”

“Shh. He’s sleeping,” he whispered.

A glance at the bed showed that Frederick was dozing peacefully—a rarity these days. You nodded your understanding. It would be a shame to wake him.

“It’s good to see you,” you sniffed, and just like that, hot tears were rolling over the brim of your eyelids, soaking into the collar of Bryan’s white linen jacket.

“You too.”

***

“Right here in the hospital?” You quirked an eyebrow. Frederick had a private room in the burn ward, since his care was so intensive, but there was a constant stream of nurses in and out.

“Yes, here,” Frederick replied. “I want to see you.” A hungry spark entered his eye, and he sucked a quick breath to prevent his salivation from escaping.

“Don’t worry, we bribed the nurse supervisor not to disturb us,” Bryan added, hand on your lower back.

“Did you do as I instructed?”

“Good.”

“So… you want to watch Bryan fuck me?” you purred, starting to get into the mood. You put your hands on the side of the bed and smirked down at Frederick, sticking your ass out for Bryan.

Before Frederick could answer, Bryan interrupted: “No.”

Frederick opened his mouth. You gave an equally confused look.

So Bryan was going to let him be in charge? He liked the sound of that. After three months of bondage within his own skin, he liked the sound of that a lot.

***

“Pull it out slowly,” Chilton instructed.

Your ass spasmed around the flare of the plug as Bryan gradually removed it, and, under Chilton’s guidance, drizzled more lubricant over it.

“Push it in again. Fuck him with it a little.”

“Yes, doctor,” obeyed Bryan.

A guttural moan escaped your chest as he plunged it back inside, twisting it, fucking the lube back into your tight entrance. Your fingers clenched on the metal guardrail at the edge of the mattress.

“That’s right,” Chilton mumbled. “Good.” He raptly watched you bent above him, arousal building by the second.

He had never been more pleased with Bryan, following his instructions perfectly as he worked you open, first with the plug, then with his thick fingers.

“He’s dripping for you already,” Bryan said, drawing a finger through a bead of precum

He held the slick digit out to Chilton, and he extended his tongue to lick your essence off Bryan’s calloused pad. A familiar taste flooded his mouth.

“I missed the way you taste,” he moaned.

“Take a deep breath, my love,” Chilton said. He held your eyes, steadying you with his gaze. “And let it out slowly.”

“Shh. There you are. Good boy,” Frederick whispered, and even though you weren’t touching, it was like he was helping you. That soothing, soft, carefully-spoken voice caressed your ears. You felt your lower body relax, the muscles opening up for Bryan, allowing him to penetrate deeper, deeper. “You are doing so well for me.”

“Let him get used to you.” He added regretfully, “It has been a long time for both of us.”

“I’m never in a rush,” Bryan said. A powerful hand gently stroked the side of your face as he waited, stock-still with his cock buried inside you.

“F-Frederick… please, make him touch me,” you whimpered.

Then Bryan began thrusting.

His arms were too weak to reach up and touch you or to stroke his own cock, but he whispered words of encouragement that made your skin flush. “Good boy. You take his cock so well. That’s it… A touch faster,” he ordered, and the slap of Bryan’s skin against your ass quickened. You gurgled out a strangled moan as his cock hit a deeper spot.

“Good. Give him more. He can take it. Do you want more, dear?”

You closed your eyes as you nodded, throat too tight to form more than a strangled growl. It was almost too much—almost. But you wanted to take more for him. You wanted him to see you at your limit with Bryan rutting into you like a beast. Bryan stopped stroking your cock and fixed both hands to your hips like a vice, fingers bruising your flesh as he fucked you harder, drawing a cry with each brutal thrust.

Chilton’s cock stirred between his narrow thighs, envious of the pleasure just out of his reach.

“Kiss me,” he rasped.

“Harder,” he groaned.

Frederick’s mouth captured your wailing moans as Bryan’s massive cock nudged against a place impossibly far inside you. And suddenly, you were breaking—ropes of cum ruining the sheets, your ass spasming around Bryan’s cock. It hit you so fast, you were practically drooling into Frederick’s mouth, melting as he kissed you through your release. When you parted, a string of saliva connected your tongues. Bryan’s cock was still buried deep in your ass, but he paused to let the two of you catch your breath.

“Keep going,” Frederick nodded to him, and he thrust again.

Your searching hand groped low on the blanket until it found a satisfyingly hard bulge buried between Frederick’s legs. You lightly squeezed around it, and he gasped out.

“I want to suck your cock,” you moaned, voice thick with need.

He froze, both eyes wide, the green seemingly as blind as the pale blue one in its scarred socket. You were already throwing back the thin blanket. A tent strained in the center of his hospital gown.

“Please let me suck it?”

“I… There is a…” he hesitated. He wanted it so badly, but fear held him back. Mortification merged with lust in his face, the inflamed pink scar tissue nearly beet red.

You had been by his side since he was admitted, witnessing every embarassing medical treatment he endured. But how would Bryan react?

Somehow your willingness to wait made him feel safer. He was in control, Frederick reminded himself. Bryan was just his puppet today. What did it matter if he was disgusted?

“Suck it, then.” His voice was sure. Aloof, even. But it trembled with emotion churning just below the surface.

You pulled the medical gown up over his hips.

From the center of its tip snaked a long yellow catheter, the other end feeding into a urine collection bag strapped to his thigh like a gun holster.

“Did that hurt?”

“N-no. Oh god,” he groaned. His fingers dug into the sheets. They could not grip tightly, but his body shuddered with the attempt.

“That syringe there will do,” he gestured with his chin and signaled when you found the right one.

“And bring the kidney dish. Yes, that one.”

“There is a small inflated balloon holding the catheter inside my bladder, so it cannot slip out. You will need to deflate it first.”

“A balloon?” You tilted your head curiously. “How does it feel?”

“You like that?”

You were barely touching the catheter anymore, only holding the end as you searched for the balloon port, but each tiny vibration made him whine softly.

“The orange cap. Use the… s-syringe… to… drain the…”

By the time you drained a few milliliters of water into the syringe, he was moaning loudly, incoherent.

He choked, panting and begging, “P-please… please!” but wouldn’t tell you please what? Stop? Faster? More? Don’t?

He was on the verge of coming when you pulled it the rest of the way out and set it aside in the tray. You gripped his cock firmly but gently, tilting it up to show Frederick the tip.

But you were going to be gentle today.

His cock felt like a cock again, not some pathetic thing discarded after surgery. He couldn’t wait to come down your throat.

He almost didn’t notice Bryan was still standing there watching, obediently waiting.

“Fuck him,” Frederick managed to hiss.

A small pink smile flashed across Bryan’s lips as he nodded and leaned over you.

Continuous moans tore from Frederick’s throat, louder as you drove him toward his climax. He wanted to really fuck your mouth, control your pace, but he couldn’t even lift his arms.

The corner of Chilton’s mouth quirked—a tug of his cheek—and he nodded. “Yes… faster. Make him go faster.”

“Take his cock like a good boy. Nice and sloppy,” Bryan growled. “Make him come, and don’t spill a drop. You swallow it all.”

Frederick moaned again. He was so close. Heat coiled in his lower body; his balls felt so heavy and tight, ready to burst.

“C-come inside him. Come in his ass,” Frederick choked out. Saliva ran down his chin wantonly without lips to collect it. His eyes were barely open and rolling back in his head.

A euphoric feeling settled over you. The feeling of being claimed, totally and completely, surrounded by two men you loved and trusted, knowing you brought them satisfaction.

You quickly pulled your underwear back on, cringing at the squishy feeling of Bryan’s dripping cum being pressed into your skin. After returning Frederick’s legs to their usual closed position, you carefully crawled onto the edge of the mattress, avoiding the paths of tubes and wires attached to him, and gently cradled his prone body.

Then Bryan stood, once again unsure.

He took a step forward.

He took a step toward the door. It was roughly in the same direction. The last thing Bryan Kneef wanted was to appear indecisive.

“Thank you,” he said. His face was unreadable (there were not enough features left to read), but his voice had a hopeful edge.

“My pleasure.” A surprisingly uncomplicated reply. It didn’t seem the time for tacky vulgarity.

Frederick hummed contentedly at the contact, and he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

#Frederick Chilton x reader #bryan kneef x reader #Frederick Chilton x Bryan Kneef x Reader #male reader #thatesqcrushsummerbingo #my writing

13 notes · View notes