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Hubert preferred to wake before sunrise, but Mercedes was heavy, and warm, and he found himself sleeping longer than usual when she was draped across him. He woke up when it was still dark, but he’d feel her breathing, feel her hand curled up against his chest, then shut his eyes until she decided to stir.
She was frisky in the mornings, for a woman of the church. She at least asked him before she went ahead and did it, though. He’d shift ever so slightly beneath her, and her eyes would fly open, and she’d ask if he was feeling in the mood. Usually, the answer was yes. It became routine, at some point, but she kept asking. At times, he wondered if she just wanted to hear him ask for it.
One morning, he woke up with her on top of him, as always; as if she couldn’t sleep any other way. The sun was high and bright in the sky, and she rose with it, her eyes opening sleepily. “Good morning, Hubert,” Mercedes chirped, kissing him on the nose.
His face scrunched up off of instinct, but she didn’t mind. She knew he struggled to handle intimacy, but he’d told her openly before that that didn’t mean he disliked it. “Good morning, Mercedes. How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby.” She laid her head on his shoulder, cupping his face with her hand. “Your hair’s getting a little long...do you want me to cut it for you?”
“Hm,” he grunted, unable to think about such things so early. Hubert looked at the ceiling, moving again beneath her. Her knee was tucked up near his stomach, and she was pressing against him a bit. He’d been asleep for a while, and they’d had some pilfered wine before bed, and...he was feeling a bit uncomfortable, to say the least. “Mercedes.”
“Yes?”
“Could you...move your knee a little bit? It’s hitting a rather sensitive area, at the moment.”
Mercedes raised her eyebrows in surprise, then smiled. “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to do that. Sorry!”
“There is no need to apologize, you simply need to adjust yourself a bit—” And, adjust herself she did. Her knee went from his bladder to his groin, and he appreciated the pressure there, but he must have miscommunicated. Greatly.
“Does that feel a little better, Hubie?” Yes. No. Hubert had never turned her down before. And while he certainly voiced his opinions whenever the hell he wanted, it wasn’t exactly normal to call off morning sex with your lover because you had to use the bathroom, was it? And to make matters worse, he was already getting hard. Just say it. Tell her you’ll be right back. He parted his lips, but Mercedes shifted again; she removed her knee from his growing erection, then straddled him, her hips right above his. “I think I like this, though. If you want to keep going...”
Maybe it would be easy. She was obviously horny, looking to get off, and that wasn’t hard for him to do. He just had to lay back, let her do what she wanted, and he could go relieve himself afterwards—or so he thought. One more move from Mercedes sent a sharp pang through his body, and a small spurt of piss into his boxers. No, no, it wouldn’t be that easy. “Mercedes...i-if I may,” Hubert choked out, “I need to step out for a moment and—and take care of myself.”
“No need to step out for that. Can’t you do it right here?”
She began to grind against him, far too forceful for him to maintain any semblance of control; another few drops of urine escaped. His body couldn’t decide whether to recoil or thrust into her, so he simply froze, breath catching in his lungs while she grinded against his erection. Couldn’t she feel the warmth of it through his underwear? Hubert, a man rarely weighed down by etiquette, decided to be more straightforward. “Mercedes, you are misunderstanding. I need to go to the bathroom. To urinate. If you would give me a few moments, I—”
“Oh, there’s no misunderstanding.” Hubert clawed at the bedsheets. “It’s only natural to need to go when you wake up, right? But what I’m telling you is that you can do it right here.”
Ah.
He had almost forgotten that Mercedes, beneath her veil of kindness and princess-like innocence, was a monster.
“I need not inform you that that is disgusting,” Hubert hissed, trying to control his bladder and his temper as he spoke.
“Quite a lot of sex is dirty.” Mercedes laid her hands on his chest to steady herself, getting more aggressive with the rolls of her hips. “What makes this kind of dirty different than the dirty that you’re used to?”
“This is—” These are my bodily fluids we’re talking about, Hubert wanted to say, but she’d kissed him with an open mouth and swallowed him down her throat far too many times in the past for that to make sense. “This is different.”
“Different in the good way? So different that you can’t describe it?” She was right that he couldn’t describe it, but good, he wasn’t sure about. Perhaps spotting the confusion on his face, Mercedes continued, “You’re always working so hard, Hubie, and holding yourself to all types of standards. Just this once, I want you not to think about it.”
“This goes beyond standards. What you’re asking me to do, that’s—”
“Don’t think about it.” Mercedes was making that half-lidded, rosy-cheeked, bitten-lipped expression that had a tendency to chip away at his senses. “If you have to go, then go.”
Hubert went.
Not because she told him to, not because he’d disregarded his standards like she’d asked him to, but because he just couldn’t stop himself any longer. Mercedes was rubbing fervently up against him now, jostling him and sending a sharp pain to his bladder each time. When he first realized that he was wetting himself, he panicked, wondering how he would clean it up or if it was getting on her lovely little nightgown. But once it had started, he couldn’t stop, and soon the relief he felt far outweighed the shame and the embarrassment. Sure, it was disgusting, but it was warm, and he was still tired, because something about Mercedes always made him feel so cozy and drowsy...
Mercedes. She was still moving on top of him, bedhead falling around her face as she did. Even in what seemed to him to be the throes of climax, she praised, “Good job, Hubie. See? I-I knew it’d feel good when you let it all out like that...”
Feel good for him, or for her? He was sure her movements were stimulating him, but the heat of his own piss and the fabric clinging to his shaft made it hard for him to tell what was what. He did know, however, that Mercedes was cumming on top of him, knees tightening around his sides and nails digging into his chest. Mercedes was always so intense, sometimes to the point of causing him a bit of pain, but he didn’t really care much, at the moment. After all, he’d just soaked them both in his own waste.
He probably should have been upset with her, and yet, when she fell forward onto him, he didn’t scold her, and instead placed a hand on the small of her back. He was glad she was still on top of him; the damp mess between his legs likely would have been uncomfortable to lay with, had she left him to get cold.
“I hope you know I have no intentions of cleaning these sheets,” Hubert said, wryly.
“Of course. It’d be rude of me to force you into making such a mess and then making you clean it up. I’ll take care of everything.” Mercedes kissed his temple, and for once, he didn’t flinch away. Maybe he had been humiliated into paralysis...or so he thought. When Mercedes lifted herself just enough to reach for the sopping wet tent in his pants, taking him into her hand, he jerked his hips upwards. Again, his body became Mercedes’ plaything. “Shall I start here?”