vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[ 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. ]

[Her adjustments, a leg hooked over him, means that they’re practically slotted together. It also allows Henry to move his free arm around her thigh, and snake it up her middle, reaching and reaching to grasp at her breast, fondling with a palmful.

His mouth sucks with increased pressure as he pulls back and breaks the prolonged kiss for a proper breath. His mouth is smeared with her, once again looking as though he’s wearing a messily-applied lip tint. He takes advantage of that fact to turn his head a little into the fat of her inner thigh—assuming she’s given him enough leeway—to plant a kiss there. Leaving a bloody mark.]

We could do this every month.

[Looks like their thoughts align. Blue, hungry eyes meet hers.]

Don’t you think so?

Yes!

[ throws her head back and laughs, full-throated. partially surprise, and partially a gut response to that long, hard suck and how it reverberates out to her very fingertips and toes. he leaves a perfect kiss-mark on her thigh and her tail squeezes around his neck in pleasure and affirmation. saying that so soon after she thought it—did he read her mind? or maybe he loves it enough to come to that conclusion on his own. given the way he buries himself in her, that could be true. suddenly palming his hand as it palms her breast. it could be true. it must be true.

now her whole body's electric, thrilling. she shivers and shivers and the feeling doesn't abate.

dreamily, ] Oh, I would do anything for you if you did that. [ and this in low, dizzy Rashemi: ] This is best I have ever felt while bleeding...

[He loves it, of course he loves it — he loves any and all instance that he gets to share with her in bed. And every time is, at the moment it’s happening, better than the last. If it makes her reaction this way, it it catapults her into bliss, then why wouldn’t he want to kiss and suck between her legs to please her? To keep her pain at bay?

It’s the absolute least he can do for this woman. And it sets him on fire to think that it’s him who has the privilege of making her feel this way, of nudging his face deep into her cunt so that his tongue can slip through her folds and taste every inch of her softness, and whatever tangs of copper she grants him with.

Her hand over his hand, where he fondles her breast generously. He gives another squeeze, forefinger and thumb pinching at her nipple. He wants to feel the ripple of her tail again.]

Anything? [He laughs, breath spreading across her. The things one says while inundated with mirth. In his broken Russian—] It’s only going to get better. No?

[ pinching! mean! she laughs again, jittering under him from head to flexing tail. ]

Da. Da, haha!

[ she gets her other leg along his opposite cheek and squeezes him there in the fat squish of her thighs. the scent is heavy and heady and her soft curls tickle against his face as she rocks. you promise big things, Henry! ]

[It's so thrilling when she writhes under him. Maybe his desire to exert control informs this pleasure, or maybe he just likes getting a reaction from her. Both can be true.

She squishes him, and he's practically trapped in the best place a man can be: between her legs. He breathes out a laugh, once again a warmth fanning over her, and nuzzles in as she rocks against him. Watch the nose!!]

Mm-hm, good.

[Nothing more than warm platitudes and encouragement, no need to say anything else. He seals his mouth over her clit, giving it extra attention. Swirling his tongue over it again and again, sucking hard, then relenting in pressure. His fingers stretching inside of her all the while.

Enough to drive her mad, ideally. But not enough to make her come just yet.]

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