vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[YOU’RE STILL TELLING LIES MA’AM]

“Again” maybe. But definitely not now.

[…Bites the inside of her thigh without warning. Not terribly hard. But enough to feel that sudden pinch of teeth.

Followed by the warm wet of his tongue.]

Say it.

Ouch!

[ it stings, and her entire body strings up tense from it. and, between her legs... she gets a little warmer. ]

Biting me??

[Very, very sweetly-]

Just some tough love.

[Bites the other side. Same amount of pressure. :) ]

Come on, Sprezzatura. Say it for me.

[ holy shit ]

I won't!

[Kisses that same spot, so gentle compared to the nibble-bite.]

I thought you wanted my fingers inside of you. All the way to the knuckle, fucking you slowly.

[ well, is that how he's going to play it? then yes, she can play it right back. she wants him stern, wants to know why it was he mentioned the spiders and the bindings, wants to coat his lips afresh in colour and set him loose. she also wants to rest in the cradle of his powers, comfortably folded, never straining, and allow herself the pleasure of being teased, watched, and held. ]

I am patient woman. [ a direct contradiction to what she said earlier ] I can wait. I will outlast you.

[He'd like to do any and all of these things for her. But mostly, he hears-]

Is that a challenge, Sprezzatura?

[Can she outlast him when it's her pleasure having to wait, and not his? He can certainly find ways to have fun without needing to finger her, of course.]

Will you outlast me if I touch everywhere except for where you want it the most?

[ here's her secret—secret even from herself: she will like anywhere he touches her. because it's him. ]

Do you think me some ill-disciplined young boy?

[ like you? ]

[Wow that's more soft than sexy 🥺]

I think you're not nearly as patient as you'd like to believe.

[But Henry believes he is. Very, very patient. Patient enough to wait through 27 years of hell.

He lowers her thighs, though keeping them spread so that when he lowers himself to lie atop her again, she can feel his growing erection pressing between her legs.]

Or you're forgetting that I can always pleasure myself while I make you wait.

[ yes, even this—his firm and steady weight bearing down. his breath fanning on her skin, and her skin tingling from every brush of fabric. the smell of his soap, the smears of lipstick on his face, and his beautiful hair. she relishes all of it and his closeness. things she'd forgotten the keenness of in the long months since her last fizzling relationship. ]

Yes. [ quick and sharp ] Pleasure yourself. I wish to see this, too. Don't I wonder, Henry? Do you twist your wrist when you stroke yourself? Part your lips, play with yourself? Everything you do will please me in turn.

[Just as he’s entranced by her closeness in ways he’s not felt since. Ever. Physically, at least. She’s so, impossibly beautiful — even when she’s so, so sure that she’ll beat him. Even when she’s sure she won’t ever mutter “please” in his direction.

But isn’t it its own kind of pleasantness, knowing that even being selfish, she takes some pleasure in it, too? Like maybe they are just an echo chamber when they’re close to each other like this.

And the idea of her watching him touch himself… really is compelling.]

Mmn. Do you wonder? And do you really think watching me won’t make it all the more difficult for you?

[Quite notably… is reaching down between them both to fuss at his trouser’s button.]

[ there. she has him. the overjoyed thrum of her heart, oh, it makes the idea of sitting untended to much easier ]

It goes without saying I wonder. Do you not wonder about me?

[That’s an easy admittance.]

Yes. I do. How you touch yourself…

[A slow grind, just enough to tease at them both, really.]

The faces you make.

Ohhh, all such beautiful ones.

[ pleasure that looks like pain. concentration which borders on the ephemeral. her fingers twitch against her palms as if in memory; he's seen how she touches herself. some, at least. ]

[Some, at least, yes. Though it felt so fleetin — or maybe it does now, the desire to always see more of those private, intimate moments having never gone away.]

Always, I’m sure.

[In the next passing second, he’s already undone his fly. The open vee of his trousers makes his bulge all the more prominent as it presses between them, but only for one blessed moment. Henry sits up in the next, looking down at her with flushed cheeks and eyes full of reverence. She can take a moment to enjoy the view — even fully dressed, it’s difficult for the eye not to be drawn down to the tent between his legs.]

So then, does my wizard want a show?

[ there he is, so close to free. straining and warm and framed by the open vee. it's still so thrilling to know she elicits this depth of feeling in him. ]

Yes. Perform for me.

[Giving commands again. (Even if he just asked her.) She really is such a bratty sub.

Henry just smiles gently down at her, his lips still smeared with the variations of color they've painted and kissed on each other. One hand splays at his thigh, the other snakes down beneath the band of his underwear, meeting the familiar sensation of his erection beneath.

And then his powers turn her on her side. Legs, torso, and chest still unable to move, arrested by his telekinesis. He'll give her back the use of her arms, though, for now — how long that remains depends on if she behaves.

The mattress shifts. Henry lies down on his side, too, behind her; she's turned away so she can't see, only feel and hear. His free arm loops around her middle, reaching up to grope at her chest. His other hand... still delved beneath his legs. His face neatly lowered and sanctioned at the nape of her neck.]

You can just listen, instead. What about that?

[ onto her side, and the desire immediately to both protest, and to curl up with her knees close to her chest. she's left scrambling to try to memorize the sight of him reaching beneath his waistband, the tent of his fingers beneath, even as he cuddles close behind her and slips his hand beneath her open blouse to palm her.

listening only? goosebumps raise at her nape where his face nuzzles in. at her chest, where he holds her firmly. well, it's not the worst that could happen. but she had wanted so badly to watch. ]

Are you going to bite down on every sound?

[He knows she did. Just as he knows she wanted him to finger her, but if her pride cuts back a please, if she challenges him to outlast her, why would Henry give her exactly what she wants?

He wants to make this difficult for her. Wants to hear her break down… even if just a little. Wants to surprise her by rising to that challenge and no doubt performing better than she thinks he can. Whether or not he can manage remains to be seen.

Kisses the back of her neck, wet and messy, then murmurs in her ear:]

You wondered about me touching myself, so I’ll tell you this — I can be very quiet if I choose to be.

[His hand finds the fullness of a breast, squeezing with his fingers. Rolling over a nipple with his thumb.]

But if that’s not enough for you, the option to ask nicely is still always on the table.

[ her hands are free. she digs her nails into her thigh, squeezing herself and grounding herself. if he won't let her look, and won't make a sound, then... what's the point of any of this? it won't be fun, only frustrating and a disappointment. knowing that there is pleasure is not enough. not on its own.

breathing shakily, she says, ] You won't be quiet. You wouldn't take all joy out of this like that.

I'll still kiss you. [His lips brush across the long line of her ear, as though to make the point.] And touch you. And you'll hear me breathing; you'll feel me moving.

[Kindly words spoken from a man who knows he's depriving her. In fact, as he says as much, the sound of rustling clothing. The sound of Henry stroking himself, slow. Maybe she'll even feel it brushing against her, for how close they are.]

[ is that enough? will it be enough?

it will have to be, as the soft sound begins of skin on skin, and with it, the rhythmic movement of his hand up and down. she can feel its ghostly path almost stroking her, too, but not quite. ]

Breathe pretty for me, then.

[He doesn't think it will be. That's the point.

The movements, then, don't stop, the rustle of his trousers ghosting against the small of her back. He breathes out lowly against her skin; it's warm, fanning across the back of her neck this time.]

Your imagination can do the rest of the heavy lifting, can't it? [Teases at her nipple between forefinger and thumb.] Just imagine my face as I touch myself, thinking about actually getting the chance to finger you someday.

[ evil, evil man. goosebumps all over. her heart hard in her chest. ]

You are— [ she gasps a breath and wriggles as best she can on the spot ] talking too much.

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Oops 2/2

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