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It's been 2 hours and Stiles has not only lost count of the amount of times he’s shuddered his way through an orgasm but lost his mind too. He can't keep his eyes open.
His pussy is clenching around the dildo that relentlessly fucking into him in long unbearably slow strokes. With every rotation of the gears the machine's constant movement of the attached dildo forces out a loud squelch with each stroke. It's audible even above the persistent hum of the vibrator held against his sore clit and the clunking mechanics of the machine itself.
His face is mashed into the white sheets, a small puddle of drool starting to form underneath his cheek. His arms have long given out. He can feel another orgasm building from the constant stimulation of his clit forcing more slick out his pussy.
The loud moans that Stiles started the night with have been reduced to whimpers. His arms lay limp at his side's fingers sore from clutching and twisting the sheet below him, his toes feel like they are permanently curled. He think he might cry. He’s surprised he hasn't broken into tears already.
“Color?” a voice asks.
He can hardly mumble out a slurred and stuttered green.
He’s about to cum. The vibrator seems to go up in intensity. He's so close he lets out a dry sob. Before he knows he’s shaking so hard the dildo attached to machine is threatening to slip out of his abused pussy.
He hears a low chuckle and forces his heavy heavy eyelids open, blinking slowly trying to focus on the figure in front of him. A finger slips into his mouth, salty and fleshy tasting, he can't help but to bite down lightly.
“Think I can get you to gush this time?”
Stiles hardly hears the question over his heart beat. He can't even will his vocal cords to affirm, too focused on the simulation on the fact that it feels like he's about to burst.
The machine gets faster. Hot tears are trailing down his cheeks, some getting brushed away by a spit covered thumb while some get soaked up by the sheets.
“P-Peter…” , is all Stiles can say before his entire body seizes up. The dildo is forcibly pushed out of his pussy which is clenching sporadically. With each spasm a rush of liquid comes out his hole, soaking the sweat filled sheets below him till they are truly ruined.
His vision blacks out. His knees, already shaky and unstable , slump flat out on the bed.
When Stiles wakes up he’s a) clean and sweat free, b) sore as hell holy shit, and c) going to have to text Scott about how he orgasmed so hard he blacked out.