no shame — undertaker
-> OCT. 9 : COCKWARMING
SUMMARY: you’ve gone awfully too long unchecked, and while at a party, Undertaker takes matters into his own hands
WARNINGS: 18+ minors dni, cockwarming, teasing, diiirty talk, exhibitionism, orgasm denial (if you squint)
WC: 1.1k
He was shameless. What did he care that other people were in the room?
Your arms were crossed against the polished liquor table, a color resembling that of blood stained your lips, and your stare. He knew what it meant. He knew why your skin grew hot when his delicate fingers traced along your arms.
Upon entering the room everything looked normal, only as if a group of noblemen were gathered for a laugh and a few rounds of whiskey. Undertaker was sitting in an armchair, you on his lap flanking him. Together, you watched the others play pool.
•
You smiled as you sauntered towards Undertaker, completely aware that you enticed the entire party with your lascivious gestures. It was in your nature to tease, and it was in Undertaker’s to entertain such behavior. There had been another chair across the room to sit in, but it wasn’t as inviting, and certainly not as warm. Originally, it wasn’t your plan to sit on his lap, but he coaxed you forth with a bony finger, and with very little hesitation you complied.
“You get away with much more than what you really should, poppet,” he whispered. Undertaker gently moved your hair away from your ear, and rested his chin on your shoulder. “How should I take care of this little problem on my hands, hm?”
He rutted his erection against your ass, showing you every bit of what he meant.
You gasped.
A thought entered your head, something so impossible, yet the idea so thrilling.
You had to tell him. It was purely a joke, of course. So this wasn’t what you’d expected to intrigue him, and certainly not what you’d think he’d be growling in your ear about.
“Hehe… Oh, the things I have taught made a naughty minx out of you,” he giggled. His nails scratched along your back, soothing the hint of embarrassment that heated your cheeks.
You should have known he would say yes. Experimenting with sex was his thing.
He suggested that you raise your gown, so he could access you better, and cover up the view of you sinking down onto his cock, as well. To everyone else you were adjusting how you sat in his lap.
“I don’t think we - I’m sure Vincent wouldn’t be very fond of his guests fucking in his chair.”
Undertaker was tired of you rambling, and took little time to unbutton his pants.
“Well, I would argue that Vincent isn’t a very modest man himself,” he breathed.
His arms were around you in seconds, pressing his chest against your back and pulling you directly onto his swollen length.
“Uah!” Your hand slapped over your mouth. “What are you—”
“Shh… One more outburst and you are begging for everyone to know,” Undertaker spoke curtly. He squeezed your arm with warning.
At that moment you locked eyes with Lord Wilks, a longtime friend of the Phantomhives. He knew, and you knew he knew. There was no way to excuse what he saw. Undertaker’s grimace, and your jaw slack from taking a cock; he could connect the dots.
“But Undy…”
“Shh,” he hushed, kissing the back of your neck. God, the softness of his lips tracing down the top of your exposed shoulder left you panting with need. Undertaker shifted in his seat, tentatively ghosting his digits over your clit until you gave in.
“Lord Wilks is a weedy old man with loose morals. Really, you expect me to care that he’s watching? Wouldn’t you agree it’s much more rousing instead? Being watched?”
How did he —
A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. He skimmed his hands over your sides, his breath heavy in his chest as he rolled his hips into you.
“No need to be surprised, I always know what you’re thinking, little one.”
“That’s wonderful, love. It really is,” you moaned, carding your fingers through his locks. You loved how it felt, every inch of his cock dragging deep inside where you needed him most, but you had to remember how to breathe again: in through your nose, out through your mouth. Your face scrunched in concentration. “But how do you expect him to not run off and tell someone?”
You peaked over your shoulder and saw his expression. He was already stony-faced, green eyes watching you through a curtain of bangs.
“Once again, you must think poorly of my intuition.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at you for being so worrisome. A groan passed over his lips when you clenched around him absentmindedly, and he nipped at your earlobe in response.
“Undy… I never - that wasn’t what I was trying to say.”
“It wasn’t?”
Undertaker quirked an eye at you and you froze. Your pouting lips and innocent eyes made his cock twitch inside your warmth.
“Oh poppet, I know that man. I know he wouldn’t dare say anything to Vincent. Besides, he can barely cover up that embarrassing tent in his pants.”
His hips pressed further into you possessively, and you’d never felt so full. You moaned softly as he continued, and the sound was so wanton to his ears that he needed to hear more.
“Believe me, with a woman like you… he wouldn’t have the capability to tend to your demands accordingly. But who doesn’t love fantasizing about what they can’t have?” He started nudging you deeper, just to draw those pretty whimpers from your lips. “You want me to fuck you, yes? Yet you must know that I won’t.”
You dug your nails into his arm. The rhythm of his fingers on your clit, faster. The throbbing in your core bloomed.
“Shitshitshit,” you choked out, bracing yourself.
“Why not be louder? It’s only your shame that stands between you and your impending release.”
Across the parlour room, Vincent finished the game with a winning hit, and afterwards turned to Undertaker. Perfect timing. You diverted your attention elsewhere as he waved your partner over. Undertaker nodded, putting up a slick finger before returning his attention back to you.
“You forget that I’m unbothered by what other people may think.” Small kisses trailed down your arm and to your fingertips. He lingered there, letting a finger slip into his mouth. So suggestive at a time like this.
“Then you wouldn’t mind knowing that Lord Wilks is nearly getting himself off at the thought of me?”
Without warning, he thrust his hips upward, pulling you impossibly closer. This sent an involuntary spasm through your abdomen, thighs trembling and back arching. Finding some ground, his mouth settled back at your ear again.
“Difference between Lord Wilks and I is that I’ll bend you over that pool table and finish you off,” he groaned, feeling his orgasm fast-approaching. “Is that what you want, hm?”
