vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[Is he really what?

Is he really bringing his fingers to his mouth, sliding them past his lips, sucking them off for a preemptive taste of her, not breaking her gaze?

Yes.]

[ ffffuck.

almost a subconscious mirror, she's brought her own fingers to her own mouth. but she bites down on the thumbnail while Henry sucks himself. heat flashes through. her heart seizes almost painfully. the brief and vivid fantasy plays of his fingers in her ass and his tongue in her cunt—sheer devotional overwhelm. and, Mammon, to think of all the things a respectable woman oughtn't do.

well. respectable women don't have Henry Creel, do they?

she starts rubbing her tail between her cheeks. and... laughs! ]

Oh, you are strange.

[Her laughter is contagious, as always, sparking delight in him that has nothing to do with the physical, pressurized heat coiling in his groin. He sucks the last remaining coppery tinge from his two fingers, pulling them away from his lips slowly. They glisten with his saliva once they're free from his mouth.]

Am I? Just because I appreciate every part of you?

[He hasn't the keen taste for blood like he did when he was affected by the paintball game, unable to tell the difference between the blood he sampled from her neck versus the kind that bleeds from between her legs, but it's not unpleasant. It's warm, slick blood. It's her, and that's all that matters.

His clean hand finally works at the buttons of his shirt. And the other slips in towards her cunt to repeat fingering her a second time. In deep, fingers crooked slightly, feeling and stretching dimly.]

I was just getting a taste of what was to come, anyway.

[ shouldn't she tell him that usually there isn't much blood-drinking involved in eating out a woman on her period?

... no. no, why would she think that? why discourage him from appreciating every part of her? Mammon, has anyone else ever done as much?

he sinks back into her with a squelch, he's undressing now, but she's fixed on his face, his mouth, his eyes. ]

You are sure you are not still half-vampire after all?

[He's going to learn it first-hand today. Sprezzatura's done an awful lot to expand his horizons these days.

His smile tilts into a little smirk, amused, and his hand works his button-up open. Of course, with his other hand and its fingers seated inside of her, he can't quite remove it yet.]

If I am, no one's told me.

[nah he's a different kind of undead, girl]

[ but she can admire the pale expanse of skin now exposed, note the way her mouth seems to water, and how she throbs around his working fingers. he's a very beautiful man.

the want rolls off her in waves. ]

Touch yourself for me.

[His fingers slide out to the middle knuckles, only to enter her again. Just to feel it, the slick friction, collecting more crimson on his skin.]

Are you making requests? I thought you wanted me to do whatever I wanted.

[lol

We all know what comes next-]

Ask nicely?

[ lets her legs fall open a little more ]

Do as you wish.

[as expected

He removes his fingers again, just so he can work to shrug off his shirt. The material is stained in places with red in the interim, but he doesn’t care.]

What’s it going to take to make you ask something of me so sweetly, I wonder?

[ Mammon, she wants to touch. reaches for him, but without sitting up, still laid out and spread with her cunt beginning to glisten more wetly with blood and desire ]

I wonder...

[Topless, the shirt tossed aside, he works open the vee of his pants to give his bulge more leeway. But little more than that — a tease for her, because he reveals little, and he doesn’t touch.

Instead, he leans forward, hands sliding up the back of her thighs, and takes in her scent with a smile.]

Desperation? Or me spoiling you more?

[Mwah. A soft, soft kiss against her wet cunt.]

I am not desperate.

[ there is so much she wishes to pay attention to—not least of all that teasing glimpse of the swelling between his legs, and that pleasing way it fills the space of the open vee. and on Henry Creel... even better. such a prim man and such a base want.

then the kiss.

all the heat, all the wet, all the want comes rushing to the foreground. there is pleasure in how easily he does it; no hesitation, no disgust. truly, he is unlike any man she has ever been with. unlike many women, too. her breath bubbles in her throat, a sort of thick moan that she doesn't let out. she puts her hands in his hair, combing it back from his brow. shaky exhale, toes curling. ]

Oh, Henry.

[Eventually, it'll become too hot and restrictive for him to want to keep his trousers and underwear on, but right now he just relishes the feeling of her fingers in his hair. The taste of her on his tongue, that tang of cooper and that unique flavor of her sex.

His kiss presses in deeper, his tongue slides up amid where his lips are sealed over her, through her folds. Again lapping up the taste of her.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are not as stained as his fingers were, but still tinted red.]

But maybe I could make you desperate.

[ he is so gentle. so... good to her.

tosses her head back in the sheets. her toes now flex wide, the soft fat of her thighs rippling with the muscle beneath. as she breathes and melts into the bed, she draws her hands back and cover his hands on her legs. ]

...Hhah.

[ the laugh just jumps out of her as she opens her eyes again. ]

Mm? No?

[In response to that laugh. But maybe he wants to hear her reply with a quiver in each syllable, so he kisses again, sucking gently at her folds, luxuriating in both taste and sensation — she's so soft and wet.

And then... his tongue flits out and dances a little circle around her clit.]

Your mouth. [ by way of explanation, and—yes, it shakes a little. ] You look to be wearing my lipsticks again.

[ the sucking. oh, what a man. slowly, like a viper, her tail lifts and curves around the back of his neck. stay there like a good boy. ]

Should I kiss you all over just like before, then?

[He does remain there, encouraged not only by her tail, though it does help.

Licks that little bud more and more, hands flexing into her thighs. And then he sucks again, long and generous, sucks at her until she's practically clean.]

[ breathed, ] Don't move.

[ like this, she could melt completely away. every limb like liquid. she could not ignore the things Henry does for her, at the drop of a pin, anything that comes from her mouth like the world's only truths to him. so far from the man she's seen in glimpses, the monster, the murderer. still she wants to call him that, remind herself that he is that, but still she ushers him between her legs.

she wants Henry Creel more than she's afraid of him. wiggles her toes as he sucks, the long line of her neck stretching. she tips her face back, mouthing silently at the ceiling. speckles of sweat have broken across her brow. ]

Don't move.

[She was right about him, after all. He's soft for her, easily bending to her desire, wanting so much to please her. To make her happy is to make himself feel the same, almost the only real way to these days.

So when she tells him not to move, he doesn't. Not yet. He kisses, sucks gently and then with a bit more pressure, repeats himself after a small interlude of simply licking all the way up through her middle.

He shifts a little.]

Don't tell me you want me to make you come like this already.

[The reason why he moved: to smooth one hand down and slightly under, so he can slip another finger in again. He can do this while sucking at her cunt, he's sure.]

No—

[ she doesn't want to rush this! how strange and rare and wonderful it is. self-aware and hot, exultant when he opens her on his finger again and she feels how easy the slide. she can feel herself dripping, too, or else she thinks she can—is worried she can—but Henry continues to kiss her. Mammon. she's going to be ruined. so much warmth in her for this man. an affection she's never felt for another. ]

Oh, this feels so good—

[No? he’d say. Then she better have the willpower to hold on as long as she can, because he has no intention of pausing. In fact, he can say none of this at all, because his mouth continues to be busy with luxuriating kisses, the occasional flick of his tongue. His finger inside, stretching enough to allow a second, slipping in with the same amount of ease.

Is she dripping? Maybe. He feels moisture coalesce as it drips between his fingers, and he wonders what he’ll look like when he’s done with her. What a mess. He hopes it’s such a mess.

Hums against her cunt, less for the vibrations (though maybe she feels it, too) and more out of approval. His fingers wiggle playfully inside.]

[ and her cunt clenches down on them, tugs on them as if to pull them deeper. ]

Mmmmmhhh...

[ why doesn't she do this more often? every month, every day during that time of the month, she could be like this. the thought drifts through her mind as she stretches one leg out, thigh hugging Henry's cheek, and drapes her foot down over his back. when her toes scrunch this time, they graze along his spine. and then again. it's all so tight and good, a combination that Sprezzatura wants more and more and more of.

lolls her head to one side, resting on one shoulder. she can't seem to stand taking her eyes off him for more than a moment—wanting to see his face, his lashes, his blush, his hair, his lips, his eyes, his eyes, his eyes. a moan slips out on an exhale. ]

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