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“Let me take care of you,” Lydia said, in between kisses.
Betelgeuse blinked. “‘Kay, sure, babes.” A pause as his eyes narrowed at her. “What’d I do?”
Lydia hummed. He’d done a lot of things. She hadn’t gotten much time with him for the past couple of weeks (spring finals had nearly kicked her ass), and for the most part he’d been good about that. But she knew that exam season hit hard for Betelgeuse, with his girl (as he now called her to her face, which made her stomach flutter in the most embarrassing way) busy and tired and running on too much caffeine and too little sleep. Still. He’d behaved. “You’ve been great,” she said, eventually, and smiled as hot pink flushed through Betelgeuse’s hairline.
So she pressed him against her bedroom wallpaper, whispering to him, “Usual rules, no powers, and you have to be quiet, okay?” Lydia jerked her head toward the doorway. She’d begged out of movie night with the family (Adam and Dad both going in on Master and Commander, hard pass), claiming post-finals exhaustion. Betelgeuse nodded, eyes bright. Lydia kissed him soundly and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Throughout their relationship, Betelgeuse had displayed intense enthusiasm about giving, about serving her, but receiving pleasure came harder to him. So now, done with her first year of college, safe and back in the old Victorian, she wanted to spoil him. Force him to accept pleasure. See if she could turn his entire body that pretty rosy pink.
As she walked backwards toward her bed (oh, how she’d missed the queen-size bed in her room at home) Lydia pulled Betelgeuse by his moldy necktie, hearing him stumble and stammer against her mouth. Once the backs of her legs bumped into the bedframe, she knelt on the rug and began tugging off his boots and socks. She’d never really undressed him before, and her actions came as a surprise, clearly, making him fidget and twitch.
After those were taken care of, she stood back up, smoothing her hands over his wide lapels. Lydia ran her thumbs under the neck of his jacket and eased it off his back, letting it fall on the floor. She loved seeing Betelgeuse without it, smaller and more vulnerable, more on display for her. Especially with his suspenders framing his torso so nicely. She licked her lips, looking him over as his eyes darted everywhere, refusing to settle on her.
As she loosened his tie and tugged it over Betelgeuse’s mess of hair (starting to turn pink already, a good sign), she saw him swallow hard. “Uh,” he began, “you really don’t hafta do all this, Lyds.”
He trailed off into a moan as Lydia unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, kissing the hollow of his neck. Smirking, Lydia asked, “What did I say earlier?”
“A-ahh.” A little sigh. “To l-let you take care of me.” Lydia kissed him right below his scruffy jawline, proud of him for listening, for remembering, for keeping her in the forefront of his mind.
“Exactly.” Lydia sat on the bed, pulling Betelgeuse down with her, before arranging them both so she sat on top of him, straddling his waist. “Relax,” she breathed. She savored his choked noises, the hitches of his hips as he sought more sensation. She slid the suspenders off his shoulders (regrettable but necessary), started working on the buttons on his cuffs. His hands twitched, fingers tensing with the need to grab her, but he didn’t give into his impulse.
It didn’t take Lydia long to finish unbuttoning his shirt, and she watched with bated breath as she peeled it off him. No undershirt this time. Just his broad, soft chest, the swirls of hair (magenta) leading into a thick stripe down the plump belly protruding over his waistband. Lydia took his right hand and kissed the tip of his middle finger, slow, tender, before planting soft little pecks up his strong arm, his meaty shoulder, over his collarbone. She heard Betelgeuse’s hushed gasps as she explored him, and he squirmed noticeably when she got to his chest.
Her hands came up to rub his nipples, already stiff points. She knew from experience how sensitive those were, so she took her time, mouthing at his soft neck while she teased her fingers in tight circles. He tasted like dirt, like wet leaves in the middle of rotting, dark and earthy with a sharp, sweet aftertaste. Betelgeuse’s throat worked under her, straining, already overwhelmed from her light touches and slow pace. Lydia felt his hips rock upward and grinned.
She moved her head down to suck his right nipple. Betelgeuse’s head jerked hard, slamming into the pillow, as she covered his high, thready moan with the palm of her hand. “Pretty,” she murmured into his skin. She glanced up just in time to see hot pink spike through the front locks of his hair, shocked, smitten, before fading back to magenta. “Love your cute little tits.” That got her a high whimper, almost a squeal, reverberating against her palm. There was no way she could match his dirty mouth, but her attempts at talking during sex always riled him up. Maybe he just liked hearing her voice. She rubbed her cheek against his cold chest, pleased.
As she kissed her way down, Betelgeuse pulled away from her hand, head rising from the pillow. He didn’t seem like he knew what to do with his hands, petting her hair, brushing her shoulders, running a thumb down her cheek. “Lyds,” he panted, “please, please, lemme...” His voice gave out halfway through. Or he gave up trying to talk. Either way, she met his eyes, saw they were bulging, white surrounding the slivers of yellow iris around his blown-out pupils. Lydia couldn’t help but smile. He was giving her exactly the reaction she’d hoped for.
“No,” she replied, firm. She sucked a wet kiss onto the swell of his belly. He hissed, sensitive. “I insist.” Lydia felt certain that no one had ever spoiled Betelgeuse like this before, which was such a shame – his reactions were so big, so sweet. But, she thought, hot greed lighting up her brain, that meant that each little sound, each gesture, the way his eyes squeezed shut and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, was all for her.
She dipped her tongue into his navel, felt him shake under her. “You’re so soft,” she marveled, nuzzling her face against his belly. Betelgeuse bit his knuckles (hot) as the hair on his chest flushed pink.
Lydia scooted down, kissed the crease where Betelgeuse’s stomach met his pants (that got her a gasp - another sensitive, secret place). She rubbed one hand over his straining fly, grinning up at him, before she began to undo that too. As she yanked his pants off him, Betelgeuse’s hands flew to the bedspread, gripping fistfuls. His erection tented his striped boxers, a visible wet spot tantalizing her. Unable to resist, she mouthed it, feeling him buck his hips into her face. Every hair above his waist was flushed hot pink now. Betelgeuse gazed down at her, eyes huge and disbelieving, lips parted and shiny with spit. He’d lost his words completely, she thought, delighted.
Crawling further down the bed, she dragged her hands over his calves, watching, heated, as the hair there turned pink too. “You know I can’t get enough of your legs,” she said, watching him react. Betelgeuse propped himself up on his elbows, unable to take his eyes off her. Lydia rubbed her thighs together, titillated by Betelgeuse’s laser-focused attention (so much of it and all for her). She kissed from his ankle up to the back of his knee. He squirmed away from that one, hissing.
“Are you ticklish?” Lydia asked, glee shading her voice.
Betelgeuse shook his head, lips pressed tight, pink hair wild. Lydia laughed, surprised and delighted. Cute. She’d have to remember that.
Her fingers spidered along Betelgeuse’s hairy, thick thighs. “These might be my favorite,” she whispered, still loud enough for him to hear. She squeezed lightly, felt the muscles tremble under her palms. A gentle nip along his tender inner thigh made him groan, loud, as his hips rose off the bed to meet her mouth. “You have to be quiet,” Lydia reminded him, before kissing the soft flesh, lips working up to the tattered hem of his boxers. She heard the meaty slap of a hand over his mouth and bit down on his thigh, still softer than their normal but hard enough to bruise a living human, as a reward for his obedience.
Deliberately slow, she eased Betelgeuse’s boxers down over his erect cock, her mouth watering as it sprung free. His cock throbbed visibly, a steady stream of precum dripping down the shaft. Lydia couldn’t resist licking the spill up, trailing her tongue from the base to the head. Another fat bead leaked out as Betelgeuse groaned into his hand. Lydia’s core pulsed at the thrill of affecting her monster so strongly, having his dead body to play with.
One hand cupped his balls, feeling out their weight in her hand, fingers rubbing the softer hair on his sac. (Still magenta. She wanted him pink.) She relished the little noises he made, the muffled “ah!”s as she licked the index finger of her other hand, brushing against his taint, down further to his hole. No penetration this time, just a tease. She pressed the wet pad of her finger against him, slight and soft, as she sucked one of his balls into her mouth. Betelgeuse yelped into his own hand, and Lydia smiled. She released him from her mouth with a little wet pop. “You’re really good at this whole being quiet thing when you’re motivated enough,” she said, wickedly sweet, before taking the purple head of his cock between her lips.
It really was a shame that she didn’t go down on him more often, she thought. Certainly not as often as he ate her out. To be fair, Betelgeuse didn’t need to breathe and he was so obsessed with her pussy that he’d stay between her legs all day if she let him. But this felt special, sucking his cold shaft like a popsicle, hearing him try to stay still and quiet and feeling his thighs tense as he held himself back from fucking her face.
So Lydia took the opportunity to enjoy him, pumping his cock shallowly with her hand as she worked him with her lips, her tongue. Before long, she felt an urgent tap on her shoulder. “Babes,” he hissed, sounding hoarse, “Fuck, I’m not gonna last, please…”
Lydia pulled off immediately, crawling back up Betelgeuse’s trembling body to kiss his cold mouth, thankful, stroking her hands along his beard. She beamed thinking about his growth, his willingness to trust her, to forfeit his own desires if it meant obeying her. The gratitude in his eyes and the pink in his hair told her everything she needed to know, told her he wanted her to control his pleasure.
“You’re being so good,” she told him, looking him straight in the eye. The pink of his hair lightened momentarily. She booped his nose, playful, before stroking over his stiff cock with her hand.
Lydia jerked him, loose, slow, while she dove back into his tits, sucking and kissing him all over. As she worked back up to Betelgeuse’s neck, teasing him with soft nips and hard kisses, he had to stuff his hand over his mouth again to silence his needy little noises. After only a few minutes of attention, he mumbled, “C-close,” sooner than she expected.
Another kiss to his panting mouth as she took her hands off him, alleviating the pressure. As Lydia pulled away from Betelgeuse’s lips, he followed her, desperate for contact, chasing her. “Good boy,” she said, smiling down at him. His eyelids fluttered shut and he bucked his hips, moaning like her praise felt better than her hands.
She brought Betelgeuse to the edge twice more. Once with her mouth on his cock, once fingering his perineum, rubbing gently at his prostate. He leaked precum like a faucet, dribbling onto his belly, hips thrusting into the air, desperate for the slightest sensation. Greedy, she noticed how his hair turned lighter and lighter pink each time she denied him his pleasure. By now he was splayed out on her bed, boneless, limp and pliant and willing to do anything Lydia asked. She breathed on his cock and watched it jump. It looked painful, swollen, the head a dark blue-purple, black veins visibly pulsing along the shaft. His balls drew tight underneath, full, needing release.
Lydia saw Betelgeuse blink dark tears from the corners of his eyes as she cradled his trembling body in her arms. Two of his fingers wound themselves in a stray lock of her hair, twisting, as he looked at her like he couldn’t believe she was real.
Betelgeuse shook against Lydia as she petted his hair, head cradled to her breast. She could tell how overwhelmed he was, how carefully she held him on the knife’s edge between pleasure and the pain of overstimulation. When she pressed her lips to his cool forehead, tender, he whined, sounding broken. Fear coiled tight in her chest – but no, he looked up at her, eyes wide and pleading. “Babes,” he begged. “L-lydia. I can’t take anymore. I’m gonna die again. It’s too much.”
Lydia pretended to consider, rubbing a fingertip along one stiff nipple. He thrashed in her arms, cock jerking hard enough to slap against his lower belly. Betelgeuse bit down hard on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Completely overwhelmed. For her. She took pity on him, fisting his cock gently as she leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“Come for me.” And then, the killing blow. “I love you.”
Betelgeuse choked, burying his face between her tits. His howl resonated through her body as Lydia felt his cock swell and harden and spurt in her hand. Ropes of icy cum shot out from him, dirtying her hand, her bedspread, the lace of her skirt. His shoulders shook with effort, with the sweet release of tension he’d been holding back, and, she knew, with the confirmation of those three little words that she hadn’t felt brave enough to say until that moment. She stroked him through it, murmuring tender little words to him, telling him how good he’d been for her, how beautiful he was, how much he made her proud, how he belonged to her.
By the time his cock softened, completely spent, Betelgeuse was still shaking against her. Lydia pulled him close, hands rubbing his back. She heard what she thought was either laughter or sobbing from him – probably the latter, but with Betelgeuse you never really knew.
A knock on the door made them both jerk. “Lydia,” Barbara called, “is everything okay in there? I thought I heard something…”
“Nope!” Lydia yelled. Shit! “Nope, everything’s fine!”
A long pause. “Okay,” Barbara said, unconvinced, dragging the word out. “Have a good night…”
Lydia heard Barbara’s little ankle boots tapping on the stairs. Once the door to the attic creaked she flopped back down, breathing a sigh of relief.
Her back had barely hit the bed before hands grabbed her shoulders, yanking and flipping her over. Cold lips peppered kisses all over her face, finally slanting over her mouth. “Coast clear?” Betelgeuse asked, once he’d kissed the breath out of her. His voice still sounded rough. More importantly, his hair was still bubblegum pink. He grinned down at her, toothy, mischievous.
She tried to answer but Betelgeuse kissed her again, hands already working at the back of her dress. “Gotta return the favor, babes,” he growled into her ear. The heat she’d successfully ignored roared back through her as he dove between her legs, ravenous. Lydia smiled, closing her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to say anything back. But they both knew.