Work Text:
If Milla hadn’t been the one to suggest it, Jude never would have gotten himself into this mess.
It all started about two weeks ago when, after a particularly taxing fight with monsters, Milla noticed her clothes were wet with more than just sweat. Her confusion had quickly melted into excitement at the new experience. Though Alvin wasn’t shy about commenting on it, Jude really had tried his best to ignore the way she was squeezing her breasts in interest at the substance leaking from them. Of course, Alvin’s comments had quickly turned on Jude instead:
“Hey, doc, shouldn’t she be a little concerned about that?”
Jude steeled himself, though it didn’t really help to diminish the flush on his face when met with the full image of Milla jiggling her tits around beneath fabric darkened on one side with milk. It’s not as if Jude had never met a lactating woman before. He’d just…never met one who was so openly fascinated by it.
He shook himself in an attempt to clear his head. “It can be a symptom of a few things, yeah.”
Milla dropped the hand that was pressing down against her lactating breast and turned to him curiously. “Is that so? Then, I should want to get rid of it, I suppose.” She didn’t look too fussed, either way. “It’s not as if I have a baby in need of feeding, after all.”
Jude still isn’t sure why that comment had him so flustered, but that would have been bearable, at least, if not for the fact that later that day she came knocking on his door for advice.
“It’s leaking again,” she explained, in that very direct, matter-of-fact way of hers. “I admit, it is rather inconvenient. Am I correct in my assumption that it will stop if I empty it?”
It was…admittedly very hard not to stare at the wet patch on her chest. With considerable effort, he jerked his eyes back up to hers. “For right now, maybe. But it’ll keep happening unless you address whatever’s causing it. It’s usually just a hormone imbalance, but you’d need an examination to be sure…”
“Can you do that?”
She sounded curious, rather than concerned. In all probability, if he were to deny it, she would simply walk away and move on and not think about it. But, well…she should be concerned, and Jude knew that too, even if in the moment he was having a hard time thinking about touching her breasts without his blood rushing somewhere it absolutely could not go.
He took in a deep breath, and nodded. “You’ll have to come in and take off your shirt, though.”
“Of course.” She swept by him without so much as a questioning look in his direction, and politely seated herself on his bed.
It isn’t as if Jude had a problem with examining female patients. He had done it plenty of times before, and had it drilled into him by each and every one of his superiors that there was nothing less sexy than touching a patient beneath their clothes. In his experience, that had turned out to be mostly true, too. It was so easy to get into the mindset of doctor and completely ignore when a beautiful man or woman came into the clinic in need of a more personal kind of examination.
Besides, he had only ever done such things under someone else’s supervision. It’s awfully hard to give into baser human instincts when one’s career could be on the line for it.
But here, now, it was just them, and he already knew Milla—and knew he was incredibly attracted to her. It was not the fact that she was lactating in specific that made it so difficult to approach her as she shucked off her shirt and bra and tossed them to the side. Rather, it was the fact that he had already spent far too much time imagining that exact thing happening in a very different scenario to avoid feeling a little breathless over it playing out in front of him for real.
She didn’t seem to mind his staring, though. She just smiled at him, and said, as casually as though she were asking about the weather, “Are you planning to touch me anytime soon?”
Oh, spirits.
He stepped forward, swallowing back the lump in his throat with considerable effort, and gently cupped her lactating breast in one hand. It was large, and soft, and her nipple shone tantalizingly with the milk. But he had a job to do, and he needed to focus on feeling all around her chest, so he firmly put that out of his mind.
At least until she said, “It’s my understanding that the best way to empty it now would be through oral stimulation.”
Jude inhaled sharply through his nose, and tried to think more about how proud of himself he ought to be for not squeezing her breast in his alarm at that comment than of what her implication might be.
Of course, Milla has never been one to mince her words, so when he did not respond, she immediately clarified, “I’m suggesting it might be easier for me to sleep tonight if you drank the milk. As interesting an experience as this has been, it isn’t a very comfortable sensation.”
His hands pulled back immediately, feeling burned. “Milla, I can’t drink your milk.”
She just tilted her head pensively. “Why not? I was under the impression that there were no health risks to grown humans drinking breast milk. Is that incorrect?”
“N-no, that’s right, but…”
“Oh, I see. You don’t want to.” She paused, and then, with an air of genuine disappointment: “That’s too bad, then. I suppose I can just use my hands.”
And Jude’s terrible, traitorous mind went directly to Milla playing with her tits, milk dripping from her nipple, sighing in pleasure at the release.
“I’ll do it,” he blurted out. “I mean—it’ll be faster than doing it yourself. And, anyway—it doesn’t seem like there are any lumps or anything, and it looks healthy, so there aren’t really any health risks for either of us.”
Her gaze turned soft, in a way that made his cheeks burn all the brighter.
“Go ahead, then,” she said. “Should I hold you?”
“Th-that’s okay. I’ll just…” Awkwardly, he climbed up on to the bed beside her. She lifted one leg up, bending her knee and pressing her heel against her other thigh in order to turn and face him. He reached out for her chest again, hesitantly; this time, when his hand made contact, she lifted one of her own to place over his head and gently push him closer to her.
His nose brushed against her skin first, and then his lips. His tongue darted out, curious to taste, and he felt her straighten up.
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting my body to react so strongly. Humans are so fascinating.”
Something in him relaxed, just a bit, and he let that minuscule comfort propel him to lap up the milk that had leaked out around her mound. To Milla, this was just…another interesting new experience. It didn’t need to be weird, even if cupping her breast like this was making him think a little too vividly of a dream he’d had earlier in the same week.
The milk tasted good, he had to admit. Creamy and rich, enough to drive him to seal his lips around her nipple and begin sucking in search of more. The hand atop his head shifted, until her fingers were winding through his hair, and she sighed a sigh he had never imagined he would ever hear from her outside of, well, his imagination.
Too soon, though, the taste began to fade. He continued suckling perhaps a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary, running his tongue over her peaked nipple and trying very hard to commit the way she shivered to his memory. But though it was the last thing he, or his hardening cock, wanted to do, he had to pull back.
Her hand fell out from his hair, and reached forward to wipe his lips. They parted under her touch, a sound caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan escaping before he could bite it back, and she chuckled.
“How did it taste?” she asked as she pulled away from him, leaving him boneless in her absence.
It took a moment for him to register the question, and once he noticed her watching him expectantly, he flushed right up to his ears.
“Sweet,” he said at last.
“Did you like it?”
Her eyes were, thankfully, still on his tomato-red face, rather than on the glaringly obvious tent in his pants. If he could just stay still, and slowly bring his hands down to his lap…
“Jude?”
He jerked up, and squeaked out, “Y-yes?”
“Did you like it?” she repeated, and his cock pulsed with need beneath his folded hands.
“I—I guess so?” he tried, faintly.
She hummed in thought, and then said, “Well, thank you for this, Jude. I certainly appreciate your insight. By the way, you’re sitting on my shirt.”
He scurried up to his feet, turning quickly to avoid her seeing the erection straining his pants even as he had to bite back a groan when the motion only increased the pressure against it.
She graciously paid him no mind as she dressed again, though, at least until she was rising to leave the room. She stopped at the door and glanced back at him. He resolutely did not let himself turn and face her.
“I would appreciate any advice you can give me on how to prevent this, going forward, but until it stops, I hope you won’t mind helping me again. It feels much better now.”
He turned his head to offer her what he hoped was a kind smile, if a bit shaky, over his shoulder. “Of course,” he said. “However you want me to help, I will.”
That was all she needed to bid him good night and leave. As soon as the door had clicked shut behind her, he was unzipping his pants to free his cock, which already was red and leaking from the extent of his arousal. A relieved sigh escaped him as he ran a hand over his shaft, though it quickly devolved into a breathy moan. He closed his eyes and rocked his hips into his hands, thinking of Milla—her hand on his head, his lips on her tit, her milk in his mouth.
He came in an embarrassingly short time, with an embarrassingly loud and needy sound only just in time muffled by his other hand.
The shame that washed over him in that moment was not strong enough to prevent him from letting the exact same thing happen the next evening. Nor the evening after.
Each time, his release felt that much more urgent, sending him sky-high with bliss. Too quickly, his wanting surpassed the limits of mere desire. If she had never given him a taste, he surely would not have fallen prey so easily to his need, but when she looked at him with that soft, almost thoughtful smile as he sucked her dry, it was impossible not to want to keep this going forever.
So, he fed her a few lies. It wasn’t as if he was hurting her by doing so—beyond being a bit annoying, especially when her tits started leaking at inconvenient times—and if she really wanted this all to be over with herself, she would have stopped coming to him every night asking him to suckle her until she could comfortably go back to sleep, right?
Still, it’s wrong. Jude knows that. Each time he told her to eat more grains, each time he suggested tightening her bra, each time he encouraged her to massage her breasts in the morning, he hated himself for it. There is a long list of people who would be disappointed in him for misleading her like this, and Milla is probably far too close to the top for him to even hope to salvage things if she were to find out.
He should stop. He should have stopped, right after the first lie came out.
But just the thought of her lately has been enough to drive him to the brink. The taste is nearly as addictive as the feeling of what it does to him is. He’s never enjoyed touching himself as much as he does with the taste of her milk lingering on his tongue.
Two weeks in now, though, and her breasts only seeming to produce more milk since he first came to her, she is obviously suspicious. They opted to split three rooms at the inn tonight, and Jude knew as soon as Milla said they would be sharing that he was in trouble—either because she was on to him, or because he would not be able to hide just how aroused lapping up her milk made him. Perhaps he ought to be grateful, then, when it turns out to be the former case, rather than the drawn-out humiliation of the latter.
She’s sitting on her bed, fondling her leaking breast through her clothes with a look he can only describe as ambivalent. But regardless of her feelings towards her predicament, Jude’s stir incessantly beneath his gut, and propel him forward to sit down beside her.
But unlike usual, she does not undress for him. He tries, and likely fails, to hide his disappointment when she turns to him still fully clothed.
“Jude,” she says seriously, and he straightens up, anxiety thrumming through him.
“Y-yes?”
“I thought you might like to know, I had a rather enlightening conversation with Leia today.”
He blinks at her. “Leia?”
“Yes. She made some suggestions to alter my diet, and my clothes, to help stop this from happening so often.” She gestures vaguely towards her chest.
The hidden accusation behind her words stabs deep. He feels the blood rush out of his face.
“I have no reason to believe you aren’t fully aware of what those suggestions might be,” she goes on, as if she hasn’t noticed his reaction at all. “And considering it’s getting worse, rather than better, I can only assume that was your intention. The only thing I suppose I don’t understand is why you were dishonest with me in the first place.”
A million flimsy justifications swirl through his mind, but when he opens his mouth, none of them comes out. He has never been a good liar, and the way Milla is looking at him now makes him feel small and childlike—as if receiving a sharp reprimand from one of his parents, and—
He sucks in a sharp breath. Why is this thought turning him on? He’s ruined, absolutely ruined, by that wet stain on her shirt, by his carnal urge to lean forward and divest her of it so he can suckle away to his heart’s content.
There’s something terribly, awfully wrong with him. He imagines her stroking his hair while he drinks her milk, imagines her cooing sweet praise at him, imagines her ripping off his pants and running her hands over his cock and saying something utterly depraved in that unflappable, Milla way of hers, like, “Come for Mommy, Jude” or “Let Mommy take care of you,” and he is so, so fucked, because in actuality she is sitting beside him waiting for him to admit he lied to her so he could keep sucking her tits every night and jerking himself off to it later.
Feeling thoroughly and utterly pathetic, he drops his gaze down to the space on the bed between them.
He hears her sigh, and shift closer to him. He sets his jaw just before her fingers glide beneath it and force his eyes back up to hers.
“You’re the last person I ever would have expected to lie to me about this,” she tells him. “So before I cast any judgements on you, I would like to know your reasons. Don’t make me assume them.”
He swallows thickly, and nods. Her gaze is so arresting, even as he longs to reach out and touch her and give himself the release he craves so deeply. He walked himself into this mess, even if she is the one who held his hand and guided him here in the first place, and now he just needs to…walk himself out.
It’s a lot easier said than done, though.
“Jude,” she says again, more firmly this time. His cock twitches urgently.
“I—I’m sorry,” he squeaks. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she agrees. “So, why did you?”
He opens his mouth uselessly, and then closes it again. His breath catches in his throat no fewer than three times before he is able to force out the words, “I—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, eyes boring down on him in heavy disappointment, and it takes all his willpower to keep himself from making any of the depraved noises that threaten to spill from his lips. Maybe she is going to push him to the limit of humiliating arousal, after all; lately, it hasn’t exactly been difficult.
“Be honest,” she implores him. “I’m hardly going to be angry.”
He caves immediately, of course. He has never been able to tell her no, but the words that tumble out are nonetheless beyond embarrassing, and leave his voice high-pitched and raw with an emotion he can’t seem to blink out of his eyes:
“I couldn’t get enough of it. Your milk tastes so good, and—and you’re so beautiful, and I just didn’t want it to stop because it felt really nice. I’m sorry, Milla. I shouldn’t have done it. I only considered how I felt and that was wrong and…”
He trails off as he registers that she’s smiling. He swallows back the rest of his apology, chest stuttering.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want instead of trying to manipulate me into giving it to you?” she suggests, with a shocking neutrality. “Obviously, you want to drink my milk. That’s easy enough.”
“It—it is?”
“I’ve certainly produced enough to feed you right now. But something tells me you want more than that.”
“I…” He averts his gaze, cheeks stinging. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Very well.” She reaches across her torso, pulling her shirt up over her head and tossing it carelessly aside. As she works at unclasping her bra, she tells him, “You have my permission to do as you like.”
His head jerks up again, eyes going wide. “Are you sure about this?”
“Of course. Don’t hold back on my account.”
He doesn’t wait for her to tell him a third time. There is a part of his brain that is convinced this is all a dream anyway, but he firmly shuts it down and lunges forward to take her leaking tit in his hands and press his lips against it, sucking greedily. When she puts her head back and sighs in pleasure, he shifts to put one leg over hers, so he is straddling her thigh. His cock responds to the stimulation immediately, and, vaguely, he hears her chuckle.
“You are eager, aren’t you?” she remarks, lifting one hand to card fondly through his hair. “There’s no need to hold yourself still for me. Move your hips, Jude. I’d like to see just how far this desire of yours will push you.”
He whimpers, some of her milk splashing down off his wobbling lips. She shudders beneath him at the sudden breach in the seal of his mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair. Resolutely, he applies himself to sucking and swallowing, even as his hips begin to thrust desperately against her thigh. The friction increases as his cock grows harder, until it reaches a point where he can’t hold his moans back anymore. Pleasure and pain mingle into one, until he is sure if he stays like this for one second longer he will make a disgusting mess of his pants. But before he can pull himself off her completely to try to reposition himself, the hand on his head is pushing him back against her breast.
“Keep drinking,” she tells him sternly. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I’ll decide when you’ve had your fill.”
He chokes, his hips thrusting painfully against her seemingly of their own volition. He comes with a cry muffled by the full force of her breast pushed firmly against his mouth. Even as his thrusts slow and then stop, his seed spent, she does not bend. Obediently, he continues to suckle, even though his whole body is trembling, now, in the wake of his orgasm, milk dribbling down his chin from where he was not able to hold the seal of his lips against her skin. After what feels like a lifetime, he feels her free hand reach up to wipe it off his face, and she lifts it to her own mouth to lick it clean.
Finally, her other hand relaxes, giving him space to pull back. But before he can try to move off of her, she has leaned down and captured his lips in a hungry kiss. She licks the milk from the inside of his mouth and he moans pitifully into her, already feeling heat rushing down past his gut again.
When she draws back, he cannot quite help the disappointed whine that escapes hims. He is spent, and sticky, but still he craves more—he doubts he could ever get enough of her, especially when her lips are parted so prettily, when her nipple is peaked and red from his suckling. She twists to offer him her other breast, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“Milla,” he tries to say, but she shakes her head at him.
“This is what you wanted,” she reminds him. “You need to take accountability, Jude. If you need to come again, you can touch yourself, but you need to drink.”
“Okay,” he breathes. “Will you touch me?”
“Maybe I would have, if you had been honest with me earlier.”
He winces, but knows he is not exactly in a position to be protesting. It’s completely fair. She said he could do as he wished; she never said anything about helping him.
Conceding with a minute nod, he repositions himself in order to stick a hand down his pants before he leans forward and takes her other tit in his mouth. She puts her head back and pushes her chest out, driving him to suck harder. Her moans guide the movement of his hand on his cock, which glides effortlessly over his shaft thanks to the wetness of his already shot seed. His increased sensitivity makes his mouth far less coordinated, and milk spills down his face at every little gasp and groan he lets out.
Kindly, Milla says nothing of it, though he can feel her eyes burning into him, and one of her hands comes up to cup his cheek. His lips part involuntarily, allowing a stream of milk to drip out the side of his mouth, and she tsks, even as she wipes it off him and licks it slowly off her own fingers.
He can’t see her, not completely, but it is enough to have his cock pulsing with painful need as he desperately pumps it with his hand, willing it to rise again though it remains stubbornly only half-hard.
“You can keep touching yourself even once you’ve finished drinking,” she murmurs. “You’ll be wound up all night, otherwise.”
Her words wash over him, hot and humiliating. Did she know all along what he was doing? Maybe she hadn’t realized he was manipulating her for his own gain, but did she think about it? How turned on he was every time he drank from her? How often he touched himself, remembering how she felt, how she sounded?
So lost in the prickling sensation of shame over his skin, he does not notice the rich creaminess of her milk has begun to dwindle until she puts a hand under his chin and gently pulls him away from her. She doesn’t let go, though, lifting his head until his eyes meet hers, and she offers him a soft smile that has it all melting away again.
“Shall I remove your pants, Jude?”
Breathing hard, all he manages to say is, “Please,” but she needs nothing other than this to propel herself into motion. Her hands are deft as they shift his hips to pull his pants and boxers down, freeing the hand that is still wrapped desperately around his throbbing cock. Still, though, she does not reach out to help him, even as she guides him to turn and lean back against her, his head falling against her bare breasts. Her chin comes to settle atop his head, and he knows without looking up that her gaze is on his cock, which, little by little, is finally gaining some length again.
“Isn’t this so much better than being left to your own?” she muses. “Honesty goes a long way, after all.”
He groans, deflating against her. He could not have spoken to agree even if he tried, so focussed on his red, aching cock as he is. She holds him by the hips, watching as he jerks himself off, wishing so deeply it actually physically aches that it were her hand on him instead of his own.
Each ragged breath in sears through him. In no time at all, he is bucking up into his hand with keening cries, seeking more, anything, to give him the release he needs. Milla’s hands slide up and down his sides, eliciting shivers and moans, and, at last, with a sound nearer to a sob than the groan of pleasure that has been building up inside him, he comes again, his seed splashing up over his sore, aching hand.
He comes back down slower this time, panting and shaking, to find her arms wrapped around him, chin tucked against his neck.
“Milla,” he slurs, and she shushes him.
“You’ve had more than enough to learn this lesson,” she says softly. “You won’t lie to me again, will you, Jude?”
He shakes his head, suddenly too exhausted to string the words together.
“I thought so.” Then, to his surprise, she turns her head and presses a kiss against the inside of his throat. He sighs, warmth spreading out from where her lips brush against his skin, eyes slipping blissfully shut.
“Just like a baby,” she comments, sounding somehow delighted even as Jude tries, failingly, to protest that evaluation. “A good meal, and then straight to bed.”
He feels himself flush, though it isn’t entirely with the heat of embarrassment, he has to admit. He is content to follow along as she shifts his limbs to fully remove his soiled garments, feeling warm all the way down to his toes. Once it is done, he crawls under the blankets, and tries very hard to mask his disappointment when she doesn’t immediately join him.
He must not do a very good job, though, because she chuckles. “Two weeks is an awfully long time to tell a lie, Jude. You’ll have to sit with that on your own tonight. Next time, perhaps…if you behave.”
He flops on to his back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling petulantly, though he dares not speak, in case she decides to rescind that last bit, too.
Still, she leans down and presses a kiss against his creased brow, letting her lips linger until it has relaxed again. Then, she steps back. Says, “Sleep well, Jude.”
She has already crossed the room and settled down on to her own bed by the time he is able to force a response past his parched lips: “Good night, Milla.”
She reaches over, and turns off the lamp, bathing them both in darkness.
For the first time since the first lie slipped out, Jude allows himself to fall comfortably into a deep, dreamless sleep, sated by the feeling of Milla’s lips ghosting over his skin.