vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

Which ways?

[ a far cry now from "you are talking too much". but she wants to know the floodplain through which his mind trawls now, as he humps so deeply between her cheeks that her thighs tremble. if it had felt juvenile before, now is so much more so—in that harried, erotic way of shedding only what needs must in order to find pleasure. her panties around her knees. her blouse rucked up beneath her shoulders.

fuck. fuck. tightens her tail around his thigh, as much as he'll allow her. ]

Tell me.

[He’ll allow as much as she wants to tighten it; he loves that squeeze. All for him.

Chases that continual friction, warm but only as slick as much as his precome smears across her skin. It isn’t quite enough. Selfishly, Henry brings a hand down to cup at her now-exposed folds, dragging his fingers through them. Collecting her wetness to transfer it to the length of his cock, before he seats himself against her again.

Ruts… more. That’s better. Lewd. Feels so, so good. She earns a soft little moan for it.]

I mean… you returning the favor. For what I did to you last time. My tongue against your hole, tasting you. But with a length like yours—

[Is this too obscene. How kinky is Sprezzatura. He just— This doesn’t register. His mouth speaks on its own.]

You could delve in deep.

[ that brief, soaked slide of his fingers through her may as well be torture. absence of touch is easier to endure than the briefness of it.

so when it leaves her, she makes a low sound of protest, one she chokes on. he's wetter now, coated in her. moaning. oh, Mammon, he's moaning. ]

You want I should fuck you like that? [ he could suggest nearly anything right now and she would obey like a dog. ] Suck on your hole until it has turned swollen and pink? Fill you with inches... Let me up. I will do so eagerly.

[ because it's him. ]

[Inside Henry Creel, there are two wolves: one that still wants to prove that he'll not give in so easily, not with a few lurid promises, and the second that wants to let her do absolutely whatever she wants to him, who knows his pride only stands in the way of very specific things — sex with Sprezzatura, apparently, is not one of them.

Ahh, fuck. Fuck, fuck.

Just blurts out:] I still want to finger you first.

[ just like that, the upper hand is hers once more. ]

Oh, now you wish to?

[Did she ever really not have it, though.]

Of course. But you're just being so stubborn, Sprezzatura.

[Hand dipping down low to slide a finger through her folds again. His cock practically throbs against her with the effort.]

I want to deny you, and make you beg for it. But the problem is that I want you just as badly. So where does that leave us?

[ leaves them right here, aching and neither fully satisfied. she all but growls at that teasing touch, wishing for it to curve, slip inside, fill her. ]

I will never beg.

[It doesn't; not yet, anyway.]

Not even for me?

It is not my nature.

I know. That's the point.

[That she'd do it, just for him. For no one else. But maybe that's not what she's hearing; or maybe it doesn't matter.

But ultimately, he releases her, all the same. The telekinetic grip loosens, because he wants to make a request of his own.]

Turn over. I want to watch your face.

[ ...how loose?

because if she's given enough lead, she'll take all of it, flinging herself over with verve and pushing him down ]

[Pretty loose. The invisible touch was just a formality at that point, and when he’s pushed down, it all but dissipates.

Inhales in surprise — even if he really shouldn’t be.]

Sprezzatura. I give you an inch… [And she takes a mile!!]

Oh, I can count at least five you aren't giving me...

[ inches. ]

Edited 2024-07-16 05:21 (UTC)

[GIRL

Laughs disbelievingly. He walked right into that one.]

I’d you’d rather have my cock than my fingers…

[Does he still have leeway to reach between her legs and run one long digit through her folds? Because he’s going to.]

Then I won’t say no.

[ oh. with her hands now free to move, she's eager to grab his wrist and hold him there, close, cupping her. trying to angle him to slip that finger inside. ]

More than enough of you to go around.

[His wrist fixed in place, then, whether he wants to or not. (He wants to.) His eyes, piercing, remaining steady on her face — the lipstick smears feel so secondary to everything, now.]

This is the problem, Ms Vaux. You're so impatient.

[With that, one long finger finally, slowly pushes inside. She's so wet there's hardly any resistance at all, and the sound this one small movement makes is somehow the most lurid one yet.]

[ secondary, perhaps, to him. Sprezzatura still sees every blotch of colour, vividly, joyfully, and reaches for the tube with her free hand... as Henry finally enters her. oh. oh, perfection.

her lips part around him as though welcoming him in. her hips push down. she is soaking, yes, and so inexpressibly hot that it's a wonder she isn't steaming. drops her head forward on her shoulders with a small groan, lashes low. ]

Good.

[ splaying her fingers at his wrist, she pushes that hand up towards his elbow, then down again. rucking fabric. ]

[Impossibly wet, and incredibly soft on the inside. Just this alone sends another thrill through him, especially as she sinks herself just a little lower onto that finger, practically buried to his knuckle. Henry lets out a low note of appreciation and encouragement.

He pushes up a little more inside of her, seeking even a millimeter of difference, and... Well. He isn't sure what next, really. Angles his wrist, crooks his finger around, feeling and exploring with what room he does have. Her ministrations against the sleeve of his arm make him wish he could remove his shirt right now, but there is something thrilling about doing this mostly clothed.]

You're practically dripping. Did you like being bound ["bound"] and teased that much?

I must have.

[ she feels it now, too. slippery. pulls her hand back up to his wrist, fingers grazing over the heel of his palm. ]

Put two inside. Lay others on either side so they are holding me.

[ and she'll lift her hips enough to give him both the space and the view. her underwear stretches between her open thighs ]

[Her fingers brush close to both his 001 tattoo and his Pride marking, perhaps the only part of this entire imagery—her lifting up to give him better access, and what a view it is—that could sully the moment. Thankfully, it doesn’t come even close. In fact, wouldn’t it be just as sinful and wonderful if she was so wet that she dripped down across the tattooed ink? Maybe he can get her to that point, if she’s not already close to it.

He follows instructions with both obedience and curiosity, slipping one more finger in, and finding that she welcomes him inside without issue at all. Now both middle and ring fingers are seated inside of Sprezzatura, and the others brace her on either side.

Henry’s face is so flushed now, a pretty pink. His cock decries a lack of stimulation, but even this barely registers in this moment, with her balanced atop him, his fingers deep inside, the way she looks at him, the way she feels.]

You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

[ that would be very sinful... and unlikely. but she is wet enough to fulfil the fantasies of an inexperienced man, and fingering her makes for an easy glide. slowly, inch by steady inch, he fills her, and her gaze darkens and her lashes fall low. ]

Aren't I?

[ breathy inhale. one of surprise and accommodation for him inside. she settles back, then, as much as she can, and with the deft sweep of her tail, tugs his cock close through the net of her panties to nestle its head between her cheeks. ]

Give me kiss.

[You have to let his imagination run wild to the extreme and unlikely sometimes, okay!!

The exact moment her tail touches his cock, Henry lets out a shuddering breath. Here’s that imagination wandering free again, as its head finds itself tucked close: he wonders what it would be like to push his cock inside of her. Either opening. Would she feel as velvety as she does around his fingers? A different kind of warmth and pressure, maybe, compared to when he fucked her throat the first time.

Ahh, god.

Will she let him sit up? It might shift their position only slightly, but everything is where it needs to be—his fingers and his cock—and he doubts that’ll change if he tries to rise up and tilt his head upwards, asking for a kiss.]

[ she'll let him up. after all, a kiss is what she wants most. her weight adjusts, but she keeps him close and his fingers remain seated, and she tips her face and parts her lips and exhales in eagerness just before their lips touch.]

[He has one free hand to loop around her middle and keep her close, as though she might slip away if he doesn't, her open blouse allowing himself such a wonderful heat when they seam together.

The kiss has his heart throbbing in his throat. It's just as pleasurable as any other kiss he's had with her, and he wonders if that'll ever change. But right now, it's a firecracker in his chest going off as his lips meet hers, half-parted, too. Slotting their mouths together in a way that he missed, when he had her turned around to not face him.]

[ as before: one kiss becomes two becomes ten becomes... a messy slide of wet lips and tongue, everything intermingled and collecting at the corners of their mouths and trailing down to their chins. it's good. it's perfect. it's a still frame of peace in a life that often gives her little of it.

smiling, murmuring into his mouth: ] Now curl them.

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