[While his retort goes without remark, the tether warms with a pleased flush. Warmth that only blooms in intensity at the bubble of laughter caught in his throat, so endearing that the memory of the spot on his thigh settles somewhere at the front of her mind, where she can easily recall it in the event that she ever wants to hear him do that again. (She will. She already does.)
He's more eager than she expected after an orgasm, but perhaps the arousing properties of the basement air have affected his biological function beyond the sudden self-lubrication. That's as far as anything resembling a train of thought gets before she's swept up in the catch and crest of his voice, ears turned intently forward as if magnetically drawn to the sound. She's enthralled by the way the relaxation at her fingertips spreads to his face, smoothing his expression to something charmingly blissful as her fingers begin to push in. Cute.
Though she proceeds gently regardless, she can't help the interjection of disbelieving wonder that escapes her at the ease with which the digits slide in. A chuckle escapes from under her breath when she glances down to watch as half the length of her fingers disappears past the relaxed ring of muscle, her excitement shockingly pure for what she's marveling at.] Wow.
Is it always this easy? [Despite her banter, she doesn't tease where it counts, pushing in to the knuckles and offering a careful, provocative curl.]
[ Her touch is a careful one, even with the lubrication easing the way. Despite the want that burns through his nerves, he appreciates the gentleness, a slow work up in the immediate aftermath of his orgasm. His ass isn't over-sensitized like his cock is, but everything between his legs feels as though it's thrumming, his pulse still a desirous throb under his skin.
That feeling extends at her comment, a rosy blush crawling across his cheeks, coloring the tips of his ears, and washing down his chest. To call it shame or even embarrassment would be a misnomer. Instead, it's akin to a shy lust, freshly awakened. ]
Sometimes. I like getting fucked. [ Well, the natural lubrication is clearly out of place. But even when synthetic is being used, he's usually eager enough to take what his bed partner wants to give him with little difficulty. Now is no different, as Kalmiya slides her fingers in deeper, knuckles pressed to the rim. Fingertips crook on the inside, brushing against his prostate; the effect is immediate as his muscles clench, hips hitching, cock giving a near-stinging twitch. His breath stutters as he squirms a bit, both wanting more and keenly feeling like the touch is too much. ]
Oh fuck—[ Biting his lip, he breathes in, trying to relax again, carefully rolling his hips towards her hand. ]
[Push and pull. Heat spills from her face down her neck, chest going flush beneath her collarbone, warming the phantom shapes of ears at the sides of her face. Already delighted, her grin only brightens at the bashful want that unfolds within, tail swaying with her satisfaction at the admission. The first beckon of her fingers is but an echo across the tether. The second, though, intensified by the matching motion of Arthur's hips, sends a parallel pulse through her abdomen, prompting a gratified sigh at the pressure of her cock shifting between the sheets and the press of her own body.
Good-humored; in some ways, a concession for her teasing:] Hey, me too.
[Though there's a lustful veil over the darkening silver of her eyes, her attention on Arthur is steady, enthralled by what she wasn't able to see when she was sucking him off. As she sets the slow push and pull of her hand, she's intent on every crease and corner of his changing expression, every time she can almost catch the shape of his dimples. The salt of the humid air hits her tongue when she watches a rivulet of sweat settle at his clavicle; she feels drawn to it like a tug in her chest, like the squeeze of his muscles around her fingers as she draws them nearly out, dips them in, curls and parts them in motions both deliberate and practiced.
A stray hitch of his leg has her tilting her head towards it to nuzzle his inner thigh, the faint rumble of a purr in her throat. Nuzzling quickly becomes kissing, and kissing gives way to the possessive nip of teeth, punctuation on the firm pressure of her fingertips each time they find his prostate.]
[ He feels caught. Not only by the hook of her fingers within him as she slides them in and out, prompting the muscles to relax, but also by her expression. There's an intensity in her expression he doesn't see too often, and it makes his stomach flip, a hot lick of lust searing through his veins.
Something that only builds up as he watches her press her cheek to his thigh, the brush of her lips in the same spot making his breath catch. By the time she's applied the use of her teeth, the rhythmic pulse of her fingertips has shoved him past overstimulation and back into sheer want, the length of his cock starting to fill back out.
With the hesitation borne from a feeling of too much fading, he more eagerly fucks himself onto the digits she's spread in him, head tipping back with a breathy sigh of enjoyment. His free hand settles on her shoulder, fingers digging in whenever she teases that spot inside. Panting, he lets out a soft moan on the next pass. It feels good, undoubtedly, but it isn't quite enough. Squeezing around her fingers, he glances down, dark eyes glazed with desire. ]
You can give me another. Or better yet, put your dick in. [ His own erection jerks at the thought; he remembers the weight and breadth of it on his tongue, against the back of his throat. If he wasn't wet before, he is now, craving that feeling of possession and wishing more of their skin was touching. ]
[It takes everything in her to keep her mouth closed when she steals a glance down at the renewed swell of his erection. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth as she swallows around the memory of his taste, the scent of slick settling on her palate and pooling in the pockets of heat aligned with her back teeth. For a moment, the fine muscles of her jaw and throat forget speech; they know only how to taste, to bite, to consume.
Shining like an oil slick and dilated by the primal nature of her attention, her eyes are nearly as dark when they meet his, fixated even within the haze of hunger. His request—his instruction, which feels more like a challenge than guidance, pulls consciousness a little closer to the surface. Just close enough to remember how to talk, but not enough to suppress the eerie, bestial echo keeping pace with her sultry words, the slight cock of her head more provocative than curious.] I want to watch first.
[More than want, it's unshakeable, absolutely imperative that she devotes her full attention to the sight she's made of him. She wants to see him unravel, clutch every fallen piece in her claws as he comes apart for her.
So she gives him another, the joints of her fingers relaxing to better fit together as she pulls nearly all the way out and then eases back in with a third digit added. It is an unnatural dexterity, a flexibility allowed by her malleable body to curl all three fingers so precisely at once after burying them to the knuckle. The cautious gentleness in her movements is gone, taking its leave alongside the fading overstimulation; she is relentless in the targeted pressure she gives him now, each push deep and purposeful.
Even when she inclines her head to drag her tongue over the tip of his cock, she's seized by her focus on the expressions of his pleasure: his flushed face, the crest of his moans, the needy texture of his breathing. Because of her, for her, treasures only for her as they are in this moment.]
Watch? [ He asks faintly, distracted by the predatory flash of her eyes, the narrowed focus she has on both the task set before her and on his face. Where she salivates, jaw flexing against the urge to sink her teeth in, he suffers the desire to arch under her gaze, to tip his chin back and bare the column of his throat. Suppressing the shiver that races across his nervous system, his breath stutters, words cracking under the strain of arousal. ] W-watch what?
[ She's seen him fall apart mere moments ago, remnants of his release coating her tongue. Her provocative touch has since goaded his body into heated anticipation again, the swell of his cock laid across his belly, fluid beading at the slit. That droplet fattens as she slips three digits into him on the next push, dexterous tips aimed to grant electric pressure within. All of his air leaves in a rush, a high keen caught behind his teeth; the tide of her motion is uncompromising and he's unmoored, helpless against the drag.
Heels dig into the downy comforter, skidding on the forgiving material, his knuckles going splotchy where he's gripped the sheets, senseless. Trapped in the crook of her fingers, he squirms in needle point pleasure, clenching around the width of those knuckles as he feels tears spring into his vision. ]
[Watch what, he asks, as if it's not made abundantly clear by the crack in his voice and the wrench of his body. As if he has no idea how he looks right now, wanton and unwound at her fingertips. She got a glimpse of a single peak of satisfaction as she sucked him off, but this is different. This is more. This feeds some dark, grasping part of her—the same part that rumbles low in her chest with appreciation as his eyes squeeze shut and she catches the faintest salinity of tears on the air.
She adjusts her weight on her elbows as she beckons him closer and closer with every adamant crook of her fingers; propping herself up, pushing her shoulders a little higher so she can better see his lovely face in this desperate state. The high flush, the tears at the corners of his eyes, the pretty shape of his mouth as he cries and swears in a way that sings in harmony with every glowing nerve in her body.]
This, [she finally says, more a growl than a word as she pulls partway out and spreads him wider with a forceful flex of her digits.] You.
[So gorgeous, so unwound, so good. Impulses that drip onto the tether in pieces—all of that and surely, sharply over the chaotic chorus of praise: Mine.
Her own magic feels faraway in this state, tucked into the recesses of her consciousness as the feral need of Sleep's touch has taken fore, but it's not gone. Not in this den of desire, not where time is stretchy and space is just a suggestion. It's child's play, it's nothing at all to send a wild pulse of her fey blessing into her hand, which brings with it heat and a buzz like the beating wings of a bumblebee as she drives her fingers in, and in, and in.]
[ There's a silent litany playing in the usual static of his mind, a desirous stream of curses stuck in a throat that can only form raw little whines, as she shoulders her way closer, forcing his legs further apart. Like this, he's pinned in; an obedient pet to her whims. The low grit of her voice scrapes along his nerves as acutely as the indelicate push of her fingers, a shudder overtaking him from his scalp downwards.
Nearly nothing in comparison to the way her touch spreads, stretching him wide, mixing with the way she lays claim over the tether. Gasping from the praise and physical sensation alike, he pushes towards her hand, thinking yes, yours. Despite being tipped over the edge so recently, his body reacts to the stimulus more now, clear strings of precome beginning to collect on his stomach, the unnatural slick between his legs continuing to coat the way he's being opened. ]
Kalmiya, please, I— [ He pants, clenching around the delicious intrusion. However he was going to finish his plea gets lost as he feels the fluttering buzz of magic, insistently pressed to his prostate. With a loud cry, he arches, fresh tears welling up and spilling over the longer it goes on. Soon enough, she gets what she wants as he sobs through a second release, come pooling towards his navel. More than overstimulated, he writhes over the penetration, salt and moisture tracking on his cheeks.
Yet, even with this, their connection throbs with more, a primal need to have her closer, to be filled, scratching its way up. ]
[He submits, he cries, he begs for relief under her touch. Whether it is generosity or torture is unclear as she fucks him mercilessly through another orgasm, made possible only by the malleability of time and need in this lovingly-crafted room. While she doesn't stop, doesn't even slow, the vibration of her digits tapers off as he rides through, possessive praise on her breath. She rasps through a pleased rumble, chest full of her barely audible purr,] Good. That's good— perfect.
[Only when he emerges out the other side of release does the push and pull of her hand relax gradually to stillness. For a beat she simply drinks him in, from torn lingerie and mottled flush to the come on his stomach and the shiny slick dripping down her wrist. Somehow, though, he still squirms with the need that has seeped into his bones; even though she can feel how hard climax hit him, echoing hot pins and needles in her digits, it's not enough.
In one smooth motion she withdraws from him and hungrily laps the fluid from her hand with wide sweeps of her tongue. The crystals dangling from her chest click and sparkle as she sits up, effortlessly popping joints that have remained too still; her shoulders get a particularly good stretch as she unhooks the clasp at the front of her decorative bra and then shrugs it off to the foot of the bed in a loud clatter. She doesn't bother with the paper-thin floral pants, as they don't impede her in crawling to one side of Arthur.
It seems for a moment like she might rest her head on the pillow next to him. But she just leans in far enough to kiss a tear track from his temple and murmur a command into his ear.] Roll over.
[ Over the sound of his own pulse and the jangle of his nerves, he barely hears her. What he does make out, though, is the meaning as it soaks across their tether, and that has him whining high in his throat, his cock straining out another couple weak pulses. Because he wants to be good, so good for her. A sigh shudders out of him as she pulls her hand away, muscles in both his stomach and thighs jumping from the sheer overwhelm.
There's a rustle of motion and he blinks the haze of pleasure back to cast a curious look over at her, desire still simmering in his bones. Stinging interest sparks as she shrugs her bra off, leaving her top bare; saliva collects on his tongue at the sight, something he swallows around for now. Bleary, he watches her prowl up the bed, gaze catching on the full arc of her erection, a needy jolt singing in him at the sight. It doesn't matter that she's wrung two orgasms from him in a row or that the potential for a third sounds nearly painful—he wants, all sense and reason having fled in the wake of the unnatural warp of this dream and the sticky drip between his legs.
Tempted to roll towards her as she settles close by, he doesn't get a chance, her demanding words a compulsion he readily follows. Fresh arousal shivers down his spine as he turns over, at first settling on his hands and knees. Still shaky from his release, his wrists don't feel stable enough, so he drops onto his elbows instead, hips shifting from it makes him feel more exposed. Gravity takes hold and slick drips from his hole down the curve of his perineum, tracking a slow descent to the hang of his dick. ]
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pointedlook) wrote2030-06-26 09:56 pm
no subject
He's more eager than she expected after an orgasm, but perhaps the arousing properties of the basement air have affected his biological function beyond the sudden self-lubrication. That's as far as anything resembling a train of thought gets before she's swept up in the catch and crest of his voice, ears turned intently forward as if magnetically drawn to the sound. She's enthralled by the way the relaxation at her fingertips spreads to his face, smoothing his expression to something charmingly blissful as her fingers begin to push in. Cute.
Though she proceeds gently regardless, she can't help the interjection of disbelieving wonder that escapes her at the ease with which the digits slide in. A chuckle escapes from under her breath when she glances down to watch as half the length of her fingers disappears past the relaxed ring of muscle, her excitement shockingly pure for what she's marveling at.] Wow.
Is it always this easy? [Despite her banter, she doesn't tease where it counts, pushing in to the knuckles and offering a careful, provocative curl.]
no subject
That feeling extends at her comment, a rosy blush crawling across his cheeks, coloring the tips of his ears, and washing down his chest. To call it shame or even embarrassment would be a misnomer. Instead, it's akin to a shy lust, freshly awakened. ]
Sometimes. I like getting fucked. [ Well, the natural lubrication is clearly out of place. But even when synthetic is being used, he's usually eager enough to take what his bed partner wants to give him with little difficulty. Now is no different, as Kalmiya slides her fingers in deeper, knuckles pressed to the rim. Fingertips crook on the inside, brushing against his prostate; the effect is immediate as his muscles clench, hips hitching, cock giving a near-stinging twitch. His breath stutters as he squirms a bit, both wanting more and keenly feeling like the touch is too much. ]
Oh fuck—[ Biting his lip, he breathes in, trying to relax again, carefully rolling his hips towards her hand. ]
no subject
Good-humored; in some ways, a concession for her teasing:] Hey, me too.
[Though there's a lustful veil over the darkening silver of her eyes, her attention on Arthur is steady, enthralled by what she wasn't able to see when she was sucking him off. As she sets the slow push and pull of her hand, she's intent on every crease and corner of his changing expression, every time she can almost catch the shape of his dimples. The salt of the humid air hits her tongue when she watches a rivulet of sweat settle at his clavicle; she feels drawn to it like a tug in her chest, like the squeeze of his muscles around her fingers as she draws them nearly out, dips them in, curls and parts them in motions both deliberate and practiced.
A stray hitch of his leg has her tilting her head towards it to nuzzle his inner thigh, the faint rumble of a purr in her throat. Nuzzling quickly becomes kissing, and kissing gives way to the possessive nip of teeth, punctuation on the firm pressure of her fingertips each time they find his prostate.]
no subject
Something that only builds up as he watches her press her cheek to his thigh, the brush of her lips in the same spot making his breath catch. By the time she's applied the use of her teeth, the rhythmic pulse of her fingertips has shoved him past overstimulation and back into sheer want, the length of his cock starting to fill back out.
With the hesitation borne from a feeling of too much fading, he more eagerly fucks himself onto the digits she's spread in him, head tipping back with a breathy sigh of enjoyment. His free hand settles on her shoulder, fingers digging in whenever she teases that spot inside. Panting, he lets out a soft moan on the next pass. It feels good, undoubtedly, but it isn't quite enough. Squeezing around her fingers, he glances down, dark eyes glazed with desire. ]
You can give me another. Or better yet, put your dick in. [ His own erection jerks at the thought; he remembers the weight and breadth of it on his tongue, against the back of his throat. If he wasn't wet before, he is now, craving that feeling of possession and wishing more of their skin was touching. ]
no subject
Shining like an oil slick and dilated by the primal nature of her attention, her eyes are nearly as dark when they meet his, fixated even within the haze of hunger. His request—his instruction, which feels more like a challenge than guidance, pulls consciousness a little closer to the surface. Just close enough to remember how to talk, but not enough to suppress the eerie, bestial echo keeping pace with her sultry words, the slight cock of her head more provocative than curious.] I want to watch first.
[More than want, it's unshakeable, absolutely imperative that she devotes her full attention to the sight she's made of him. She wants to see him unravel, clutch every fallen piece in her claws as he comes apart for her.
So she gives him another, the joints of her fingers relaxing to better fit together as she pulls nearly all the way out and then eases back in with a third digit added. It is an unnatural dexterity, a flexibility allowed by her malleable body to curl all three fingers so precisely at once after burying them to the knuckle. The cautious gentleness in her movements is gone, taking its leave alongside the fading overstimulation; she is relentless in the targeted pressure she gives him now, each push deep and purposeful.
Even when she inclines her head to drag her tongue over the tip of his cock, she's seized by her focus on the expressions of his pleasure: his flushed face, the crest of his moans, the needy texture of his breathing. Because of her, for her, treasures only for her as they are in this moment.]
no subject
[ She's seen him fall apart mere moments ago, remnants of his release coating her tongue. Her provocative touch has since goaded his body into heated anticipation again, the swell of his cock laid across his belly, fluid beading at the slit. That droplet fattens as she slips three digits into him on the next push, dexterous tips aimed to grant electric pressure within. All of his air leaves in a rush, a high keen caught behind his teeth; the tide of her motion is uncompromising and he's unmoored, helpless against the drag.
Heels dig into the downy comforter, skidding on the forgiving material, his knuckles going splotchy where he's gripped the sheets, senseless. Trapped in the crook of her fingers, he squirms in needle point pleasure, clenching around the width of those knuckles as he feels tears spring into his vision. ]
Fuck–
no subject
She adjusts her weight on her elbows as she beckons him closer and closer with every adamant crook of her fingers; propping herself up, pushing her shoulders a little higher so she can better see his lovely face in this desperate state. The high flush, the tears at the corners of his eyes, the pretty shape of his mouth as he cries and swears in a way that sings in harmony with every glowing nerve in her body.]
This, [she finally says, more a growl than a word as she pulls partway out and spreads him wider with a forceful flex of her digits.] You.
[So gorgeous, so unwound, so good. Impulses that drip onto the tether in pieces—all of that and surely, sharply over the chaotic chorus of praise: Mine.
Her own magic feels faraway in this state, tucked into the recesses of her consciousness as the feral need of Sleep's touch has taken fore, but it's not gone. Not in this den of desire, not where time is stretchy and space is just a suggestion. It's child's play, it's nothing at all to send a wild pulse of her fey blessing into her hand, which brings with it heat and a buzz like the beating wings of a bumblebee as she drives her fingers in, and in, and in.]
no subject
Nearly nothing in comparison to the way her touch spreads, stretching him wide, mixing with the way she lays claim over the tether. Gasping from the praise and physical sensation alike, he pushes towards her hand, thinking yes, yours. Despite being tipped over the edge so recently, his body reacts to the stimulus more now, clear strings of precome beginning to collect on his stomach, the unnatural slick between his legs continuing to coat the way he's being opened. ]
Kalmiya, please, I— [ He pants, clenching around the delicious intrusion. However he was going to finish his plea gets lost as he feels the fluttering buzz of magic, insistently pressed to his prostate. With a loud cry, he arches, fresh tears welling up and spilling over the longer it goes on. Soon enough, she gets what she wants as he sobs through a second release, come pooling towards his navel. More than overstimulated, he writhes over the penetration, salt and moisture tracking on his cheeks.
Yet, even with this, their connection throbs with more, a primal need to have her closer, to be filled, scratching its way up. ]
no subject
[Only when he emerges out the other side of release does the push and pull of her hand relax gradually to stillness. For a beat she simply drinks him in, from torn lingerie and mottled flush to the come on his stomach and the shiny slick dripping down her wrist. Somehow, though, he still squirms with the need that has seeped into his bones; even though she can feel how hard climax hit him, echoing hot pins and needles in her digits, it's not enough.
In one smooth motion she withdraws from him and hungrily laps the fluid from her hand with wide sweeps of her tongue. The crystals dangling from her chest click and sparkle as she sits up, effortlessly popping joints that have remained too still; her shoulders get a particularly good stretch as she unhooks the clasp at the front of her decorative bra and then shrugs it off to the foot of the bed in a loud clatter. She doesn't bother with the paper-thin floral pants, as they don't impede her in crawling to one side of Arthur.
It seems for a moment like she might rest her head on the pillow next to him. But she just leans in far enough to kiss a tear track from his temple and murmur a command into his ear.] Roll over.
no subject
There's a rustle of motion and he blinks the haze of pleasure back to cast a curious look over at her, desire still simmering in his bones. Stinging interest sparks as she shrugs her bra off, leaving her top bare; saliva collects on his tongue at the sight, something he swallows around for now. Bleary, he watches her prowl up the bed, gaze catching on the full arc of her erection, a needy jolt singing in him at the sight. It doesn't matter that she's wrung two orgasms from him in a row or that the potential for a third sounds nearly painful—he wants, all sense and reason having fled in the wake of the unnatural warp of this dream and the sticky drip between his legs.
Tempted to roll towards her as she settles close by, he doesn't get a chance, her demanding words a compulsion he readily follows. Fresh arousal shivers down his spine as he turns over, at first settling on his hands and knees. Still shaky from his release, his wrists don't feel stable enough, so he drops onto his elbows instead, hips shifting from it makes him feel more exposed. Gravity takes hold and slick drips from his hole down the curve of his perineum, tracking a slow descent to the hang of his dick. ]
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