vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[ 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?

[ ah, he's weak to it, isn't he? she'll remember that.

silently, smugly, begins to work him. it's utterly without compassion; a tight squeeze which urges his own hand out of the way, should he allow it. the kind of hug around him that's meant to make him come, and quickly. ]

[DEVIL WOMAN--

It takes all the willpower in the world to urge her tail away with his powers. Uncoiling it. Because that squeeze is utterly divine, and the way she works at him, how fast he would careen off that edge and come all over her, is very, very hard to resist.

But he can't let her win that easily. She'd like that, wouldn't she?]

Ahh, you are misbehaving.

[Wraps her tail around his thigh with his powers instead. :) Bites at her shoulder again, a little sting, but his hand doesn't wrap around his cock again just yet. Give him a second or two to recover from that close call.]

Why are you being so bad?

[ because she wants to hear him moan! gasp! feel him shudder, feel him spend. the unerring uncoil-recoil, though, has Sprezzatura gasping instead, and shortly her tail is wound firmly around his thigh as though it belongs there. just lifted enough that she can feel the tickle of cooler air kissing at her inside thighs when Henry isn't seamed up close.

a ragged exhale, long before she has an answer. ]

Ohhhh— [ grits her teeth, stop biting her!! ] I'm not.

[ /eloquent ]

You are.

[He scoots himself down just a little further, both hands now abandoning her rather cruelly, leaving her bereft of immediate touch for a few barren seconds — minus the loop of her tail around his thigh, anyway.

But it's only to grasp at her backside and spread her slightly, angling forward to push the line of his cock against that valley, feeling both cheeks couching him on either side. He ruts up, slowly, experimentally.]

You won't listen to a thing I tell you to do. If you just behaved, swallowed your pride, maybe I'd let you watch, and touch me, and I could play with your cunt with my fingers for as long as you liked.

[ it feels more lewd for not having taken her panties off first. her back goes very straight—or would, were she not all but completely mummified by Henry's will. she'd lash her tail, too, but...

like this, Sprezzatura feels the fabric drag on her skin and his cock drag against it, straining up and between, deepening the valley with its presence. he's... proportionate. certainly she hadn't forgotten this, but the thought flashes across her mind again now. proportionate, stiff, and eager to be buried between the plush of her cheeks. ]

You are telling me to do nonsense things. [ quite the claim from the woman who can't move a single limb. ] But you are getting ha—hang of things now.

[Lewd still because her panties are barely-there anyway. The material separating her skin and his cock is just a peasantry, not much else.

Still. She feels good like this, too. Hugged by her, when the rest of her can just barely move.]

Nonsense things? Like what?

[LIKE WANTING HER TO SAY PLEASE?]

[ hugged by the most intimate parts of her. he should know, having committed them to paper so lovingly before. with some effort, she strains to resist the hold that is keeping her so perfectly poised to be fucked like this, but not... so hard that she might actually break free of it. ]

Ask nicely, Sprezzatura; say please, Sprezzatura.

[ yeah. ]

[He thought so,

Not so forceful that she might actually break free of it — and so she doesn't. He feels the push against his telekinesis, though, and finds it very cute and very novel. She's not going anywhere. (Not until another nosebleed, anyway.)]

And what's so difficult about being polite? Being nice to me?

[He asks, moving into her again. And again. Far from hard and unfettered, but enough to jostle her.]

You can strain all you want, too, but you're not breaking out of this. Save your energy.

Aren't I already nice? You're here, you're permitted to doing this to me, I am so kind to you.

[ her tone belies "do not stop". this is so much more than she expected him to give her; this is touch she can glean pleasure from, easily, despite his assertions that he would deny her that.

she closes her eyes so that it all feels even closer to her. stiff. wet. a pleasing thickness that rubs over her hole--or would, but instead, her underwear is slowly sticking to the sweat forming on her body, and Henry ruts between her cheeks separated by millimeters. her cunt aches. ]

Pull my panties down.

[Halts in his movements, and surely, surely she knows what he’s going to say next.]

What’s the magic word?

Henry.

Hm. Flattering, but not quite.

[Much as he hates to do it, then, he doesn't oblige her. He doesn't even press his cock against her backside again, instead letting his hand drift back down to take his length in his palm. His other drifts under the band of her panties and squeezes one of her cheeks, fondling all too gently.]

I know you're aching for it. Stop torturing us both.

I refuse to plead with you.

[ a tremor in her voice even so. she wanted this, and she asked for this, and now she wishes she hadn't, because her pride chafes so keenly against the thought of begging. begging is the position she's put herself in. ]

No one tortures you but you. Get on with it! Let me hear.

And what happened to me being stern?

[Her panties are pushed down with his powers, but he does nothing more with them, instead just grinding once against her back again and stroking himself off. Long, indulgent touches.

He trails kisses along her back.

This is a killing with kindness sort of stern, truly.]

I am not sure you ever began.

[ "beg-ah!-n", because the sudden shucking of her underwear elicits a thrill and gasp. but he's still being cruel, if not particularly stern, and she steadies her breathing and closes her eyes, straining for the sound of skin stroking along skin. ]

[If she strains, she'll hear it. Maybe, anyway, if she can make it out over the wet kisses along back. But Henry very much meant it when he said he could be quiet when he wanted to — moreover, it's the dim rustling of his clothing that gives away the degree in which he pleasures himself. Only a slightly quickening tempo.]

Then what did you have in mind when you said it? That I'd disparage you? Use your body however I liked?

[She doesn't seem keen on actual humiliation, and Henry's idea of being stern is the Vecna-flavored kind, which is not always delicate to one's pride. Hers is already smarting from just being told to say please.]

I—don't know.

[ underneath all of it, this is probably exactly what she had in mind. it isn't so dangerous that she feels vulnerable, not so demanding that she feels taken advantage of, and not humiliating so much as the tiniest bit of welcome helplessness. if she thinks about it, her immobility is merely one more way Henry shows his affection. his every thought focused on her. every mote of concentration.

wants to lean back into him, massage him with her tail, so many things. instead, only the coolness of the room now drifting over her bared folds, and Henry's growing heat behind her. he's being so quiet. ]

Are you having fun? Henry?

[Is he having fun? That’s a strange question, he thinks. Is she asking because she’s suddenly uncertain if he’s enjoying himself?]

Fun? It’s more than just fun.

[Ah, it’s so hard to be… stern with her, to keep teasing her when he feels this way. Like he would turn himself inside out right now just to make her feel happy and contented and connected him.

He tilts his forehead against her back — after that, the sensation of a palm sliding up her spine, reverent.]

Nothing else matters right now besides being here with you.

[ what a relief. she shivers contentedly and gives his thigh a squeeze in wordless thanks. that word is always wordless when it comes to Sprezzatura, after all. ]

So beautiful, this day.

[ with the sunlight spilling in and moving slowly across her bed as the minute spend. with Henry close behind her. his desires clear and his voice soft near her ear. ]

I love your voice.

[Nooo, he’s weak. He’s weak he’s weak he’s weak. How can she say such things and not expect him to immediately bend over backwards for her? Whether purposefully or not, it’s so, so hard to deny this impulse.]

You are a wicked woman. Using sentiment against me.

[It doesn’t matter if that was her intent or not. He will frame it like she’s being devious about it as he… scoots back down again, grabbing both sides of her now-bare cheeks, spreading them and hitching his hips forward to seat the line of his cock right against that valley again. It's so much more prominent, the heat of her, when it's skin-on-skin. His cock throbs against her.]

And I love yours. All the little noises you make. Or the sound of your laugh. Or even that low timbre of yours when you’re displeased with me.

Do you?

[ couldn't be further away from displeased now. arches softly, in her mind, had she the control of her body for it. her mind strays, too, towards the hair oil she'd pilfered and brought back with her, lost somewhere in the sheets with all the other lipstick tubes. ]

Should I use it now? For going back on your word so many times?

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