vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[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.]

[ Sprezzatura Vaux humps demurely, Mister Creel. you should know that! like now, as he pulls her closer to the edge without allowing her over. the next pop of her clit pulling from his mouth has her entire body jolting. the sheets feel hot and damp everywhere she touches them. ]

Oh, fuck—suck her again, Henry.

[Has she humped his face like this, demurely or otherwise, yet? It hardly matters; he loves her enthusiasm, though he takes a breath after pulling away and sliding his tongue along his bottom lip to taste.]

I thought you didn't want to come yet.

[...He says, as he obliges in the next moment, mouth sealing over her clit once more and sucking. Slowly, oh so slowly.]

[ she does love to see him lick his lips. does a woman's ego wonders. she rubs her hand over his hand over her breast, and up his wrist, towards his elbow, circling around there.

through another moan: ] I... don't...

[ she can hold on. must hold on, because she wants to experience this for as long as possible. ]

[Can she hold on? Henry trusts that she'll either tell him to stop when she edges too close to the precipice or she'll simply give in and spill over. It's exciting to guess at which.

He keeps his hands busy as he sucks at her clit again and again, licking and suckling and keeping that aching bud well-tended to. His fingers continue to collect the wetness of her cunt along his knuckles, and his other hand massages against her breast in an almost idle motion. The way he wants to tend to her each and every need, manifested in each way he can manage.]

[ oh, she's not sure which she'll do, either. her mind is a blissful haze, fuzzy and warm, meandering outward as Henry works at her. eventually, she slips her tail from his throat and wends it about his wrist, so that he keeps his fingering gentle. ]

Ohh... yes... yes. Da, kiss it. Oh, kiss—

[ somewhere in there, she's threading her fingers with his, which impedes the way he tropes her breast, but only a little. ]

[Harder to fondle, but not impossible. But more importantly: lacing his fingers together with hers makes his heart—already beating hard—perform yet one more eagersomersault in his chest. Little acts of attachment, connection, affection… He will always be weak to them. He will always welcome them, more than anything.

And in a different way, her tail looping around his wrist is yet one more example he chooses to interpret as such. All of this, coupled with her encouragement, bolsters him further. His hands please her; but his mouth… Oh, his mouth kisses and sucks as though to siphon some of her ecstasy for himself. He’ll keep going, too — he’s less and less concerned about tipping her over the edge than he was just a few moments ago, now.]

[ his mouth—

she makes a loud, painful whining sound and slams her other hand back down on his head, fisting up his hair with enough intensity to pull, hurt a little. her belly flutters, her thighs begin to tremble, and she feels it coming. that peak. he's never kissed her clit like this before—and that shouldn't surprise her, he's only kissed her clit so many times at all, but, maybe it's more that no one has kissed her clit like this before. not bleeding and not any other time.

her face, it's radiating heat. she hugs her thighs hard around his face, all but smothering, and humps in little jerky movements against his mouth. it's full-on grinding, nothing but instinct and the need to chase what's right there. right there. right there. right— ]

[Oh, what a reaction. A hard tug at his scalp, faint and stinging pain. The way her thighs practically trap him in place, his mouth “forced” to remain sealed around her clit. Her movements are base and quickened, as though she’s just chasing her pleasure, and Henry wonders if she’s close. He squeezes her breast in turn, followed by another sharp pinch of her nipple.

Now — a choice. Let her come, or leave her hanging in the cruelest fashion possible. Both appeal for different reasons, but…

He can’t deny her when she’s close. He loves to make her come undone. And so, as she grinds against his mouth, he presses his tongue flat against her in another long lick, and sucks generously again.]

Ye—eessssss—!

[ it's practically exultant, Mammon, she cries out so loudly that you'd think even Wrench might be able to hear. and it's a violent one, this one, all spasmodic limbs and a deep clutch around his fingers like her body'll never let them go. it goes on and on, taking the wind out of her and leaving her gasping and sweat-slick and jittering.

careful she doesn't break your nose, Henry. ]

[WHAT HAPPENED TO DEMURE HUMPING, HUH

He will ride every moment of it out with her. The way she sounds, god, it's loud and beautiful and a fraction of him hopes everyone in the house does hear it. Every part of Sprezzatura seems to shake, but most prevalently, her cunt clutches hard around his fingers, and even if he curls them in, the resistance is tighter than he's ever felt from her before.

Her body's a paroxysm, but he wants to encourage it, and he lifts his head just enough to spare his nose, his tongue slowly licking up to stimulate her soon-too-sensitive clit, and ending it with a grin. Red is smeared all over his lips and chin, wet and shining.]

Sorry, I couldn't resist. You're too beautiful, Sprezzatura.

[ the sound of her orgasm is long, lewd, loud. wet cunt, ragged voice. she's flushed and wobbly-legged by the time it's run its course through her, and she looks at him and his blood-stained mouth and starts to laugh. ]

You have made mess of yourself.

[ she feels like so much limp paper in the breeze. one shaking hand falls from his hair and lands on the bedspread, fingers twitchy. ah. like being underwater. ]

[She looks it, too: limp and lazy. Meanwhile, he's still hot and feeling as though he's bursting a little at the seams — or maybe that's just the untenable bulge in his underwear at this point.

But the sight of her is more important than chasing his own release just yet, and he practically sprawls out between her legs, his free hand sliding up and down her torso as his other hand slowly pulls out from her cunt. Very slowly.

Plops his cheek onto her thigh.]

What, you're saying I shouldn't go out like this?

Bloody-faced and so, so stiff between your thighs? Mmhh.

[ she massages her toes into the back of his shoulder. a little jolt shivering through her as his fingers withdraw.

oh, she feels wondrous. ]

Whoever is going to clean you off?

[Who, indeed. Those wet, warm fingers slide up her other thigh, leaving red streaks. She gets to enjoy herself a little mess, too.]

I wonder. Who could possibly clean me off with their own mouth?

[ her expression changes in an instant. ]

Don't smear it on me.

[a;kldjsf amazing]

You're getting it everywhere, anyway.

[everywhere = bedsheets. him.]

You said you are not caring!

[ppffft he has to laugh, sorry]

I- don't. I just don't see why you do.

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