vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[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.

I thought you wanted to listen.

[To hear him moan and bite back embarrassing noises. Not to tease her, and he knows it.

Ah, more rustling. She can intuit, probably fairly easily, that he's shuffling his trousers and pants lower, because there is the very distinct, very hot feeling of his erection pressing up against her back. And his knuckles, too, as he strokes himself off, lingering at the tip of his cock to collect the slick there.]

Which one is it?

[ okay.

jerks her hand back and digs her nails into his thigh, now bared. ]

Everything.

[Ow?? Ow. Her nails are so sharp, it's painful, but it's also-

Exhilarating. She'll have left red welts where her nails bite in, proof of her presence, much like the lipstick. But better.]

Behave. [A force around her wrists to pull her hands back in front of her.] You're only making it harder- [Grinds into her back, leaving a bit of moisture there, too.] -on yourself.

[ no, no, no, she wants to see!!

yet, in the smallest of hearts, she understands she would be paralyzed now even without Henry holding her in place. the thrill of it. waiting for the contact to come and feeling her entire body, head to toe, tingle with delight when it does. he's so hot, so hard, so wet already— ]

Hahahaha...

[...With a laugh like that, she must be having some manner of fun. Which is good; he wanted to deprive her, but not completely.

He continues to stroke himself, slow and deliberate and almost pointedly in a way so she can feel it. Either the head of his cock pressing up against her, or the back of his hand brushing up and down the line of her spine.

This time, he plants a kiss at her shoulder blade, pressing in with his line of teeth.]

What's so funny?

[ mmmn. tries to roll her shoulder in silent protest, but. ]

You're wet.

[ a soft, breathy answer, lilting upwards in almost a croon. ]

So?

[His hand at her front dips down low to cup gently between her legs.]

You are, too.

Ah—

[ the fabric warm and humid. her thighs tense and anticipating the bare touch she knows won't come. ah, ah. wouldn't it feel so fulfilling to have him buried deep inside while those long, lithe fingers toyed at her clit, her lips, her thighs?

actually. lifts her tail, experimental. can she lift it? has he left her the ability to? if he has, he's going to have to think twice of it, because she's trying to squirm as much tail up between them as possible. a loop around his cock would be nice. ]

[Wouldn't it, though? If only she asked nicely. He could touch her in all the ways she liked instead of just gently, gently cupping her.

The thing is, however, that Henry harbors a rather big bias when it comes to her tail. Ever since day one, he was somewhat entranced by it; and now, he has left it to its own devices rather purposefully, just to see how it reacts—or how she might want to use it—otherwise.

Very creatively, apparently.

Her tail indeed can squeeze in between them, and though the limited space doesn't give a lot of room to snake around his cock, she can manage doing it just-so. It's just as warm as it feels at her back, pulsing and aching with his own heartbeat. His mouth opens in a quiet inhale just behind her, lips against the nape of her neck.]

And what are you doing?

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