Sexchange ● JJK

• 5 • inebirated adoration

With a pop, he's out.

Being steady, he had slithered out most of his length but when his bloody tip slid out of your hole, it made an embarrassing pop sound. Your eyes widened in horror as you saw his hard dick covered in your blood, tears cascading down.

This was so embarrassing. It was going to happen, it was inevitable. But, you just can't take it. You try to keep yourself so collected in front of him. Almost like a princess to the fairyland prince he was. Fairy tales never show the princesses bleeding on their first time. It's picture-perfect. Both of you were far from that.

Yet, you never wished to show your human, weak side to him. Wanted to give him the best. The blood patch on the mattress said otherwise. Not to mention the scorching burn on your rim. He could continue. Continue to spear you open then fuck you right but you can't move further.

All of this is too much for you to digest. The embarrassment, stained sheet, not being able to give him a nice time. Ruining your first time. Accumulating the strength to refuse him to go further broke you, choked you. If he entered one more time in you, there's no way you'll be able to handle it. It's a matter of your personal capacity. You just need some time. Let all of this wash away from your mind.

You're already open so, perhaps, next time when you both do it, it'll flow like rills against summer heat. The sting won't be as intolerable.

He's looking at you, sitting on his calves. Abs packed, carpeted with oily sweat. Shoulders hunched but still sexy. Frown louder than ever. He eyes you suppressing your cries, trying to cover up, blurt an apology, trying to tell him something. Anything, really. This perplexed state you're in is hard to watch. Even if he wants to, his mouth stays zipped shut out of habit. It's like his lips are glued together. The pain in his chest, impalpable.

"We can stop," he breathes, finally. Knowing you're struggling, gulping down words that want to come out of your mouth. Forcing the tears back.

You nod, looking down. "Thank you," you whisper, in a voice that disappears somewhere in the distance between you both.

He shifts off of you, sighing. You try to search his face for displeasure, annoyance or disappointment but you find none. Why can't you read his face? Why doesn't he express something? You want to know if him stopping is a green signal or not. On failed tries, you slump back on the pillows while he's picking up his clothes from below.

"Use my washroom. I'll give you some space." Buck naked, he walks out with his clothes. Probably going to another bathroom in the apartment. His shameless nudity does startle the living daylights out of you but you can't bother about it now. The throbbing torment of your pussy tears you apart. It's no different than being murdered but from down there.

When you get off, you see the stain of blood caused by you and pull at your hair, frustrated. It's okay, it's natural. But, you hoped you'll be able to take the pain. You couldn't. That resulted into both of you not even starting when it was your first time. It was his first time with you too. There's no way you can face him after this but you'll have to. You can't run away from his apartment, especially not when your middle is aching so bad.

***

Far into the night, you slept covered in new, fresh sheets which smelled of detergent and minutely of him. His duvet wrapping you sound, hair sprawled on the pillows, face buried in there somewhere. Entire body curled into a warm cocoon.

As expected, his actions were nothing less than a gentleman. He could be a gentleman, if he wanted to. He let you borrow his clothes, put the spoiled sheets into the washing machine before you came out of the bathroom and changed them to new ones. Didn't let you dare to leave the apartment so late, insisted on you sleeping on his bed instead. You looked conflicted, things were awkward enough but not for him.