vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[ then she jolts and giggles, that razor blade giggle of a woman whose voice does not suit the sound. encircles his wrist again, both hands this time, and the act of reaching down like that presses her breasts together prettily. that's on purpose. ]

Lyubimaya.

Lyubimaya.

[Henry repeats it, slipping once more into his broken Russian. Though the fact that her breasts have very much earned his attention, pressed together as they are, gives the slightly comedic effect of him saying this to her chest, but. She understands the sentiment, surely.]

The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, or will ever see.

[ he is so easy! now it really is a leer. she will continue in Rashemi, for all its differences still close enough to get the point across. though Henry may not be able to follow all of it, she does thrill at the idea of dirty talking to him in a language he can only half-understand. ]

Most beautiful woman or most beautiful breasts? [ both can be true. ] They are perfect size and shape for those plush and pretty lips of yours.

[ it would feel nice to... touch herself. she brings her fingers up from his wrist and toys them through slick pubic hair and the soft wet of her folds. slips her middle and ring finger gently inside her cunt and wiggles them, too. he'll be able to feel it through her walls. ]

[He is incredibly easy when it comes to drinking in the shape of her everything, and it's nothing short of a miracle that his brain can manage to parse even half of that Rashemi at all. Henry can pull enough context clues out to know that she isn't saying anything particularly pure and innocent, at least.

Still, in his terrible Russian-] I'd kiss you there now if I could.

[But her fingers have wandered down to slip into her cunt, an obscenely wet and easy entrance, and he can feel the movement against his own finger. Henry's heart feels as though it beats all the way up his throat; it makes sense, that he would feel it, but he never realized that he could. Would. Why would have he given it any thought until this exact moment in time?]

But I'm busy.

[Fingering her. And teasing the entry of a second digit, the pad of his ring finger pushing in, testing how receptive she is to the suggestion.]

[ a few gentle wiggles, to impart to him just how thin that wall is, how much she feels, how much he would have felt if it had been him she'd done this to. in slow, idle motions, she bounces her ankles up and down on the backs of her thighs, the picture of irreverence... and when he uncurls his ring finger and teases at her rim, her mouth falls open again. ]

Hhah. You are eager. I have idea...

[He's becoming very aware of how little there is to divide his fingers from hers, making his mind wander to particularly obscene places. Would she be able to take his cock in one hole, and something just as penetrative in the other? ~~psl verse says yes~~ Maybe they can test that sometime, if she's feeling particularly bold.

His ring finger presses, teases at slipping in, but if she has an idea then he wants to hear it first.

English again:]

Oh? What?

[ dreamily smiles at him ]

Turn and kneel by me here. [ she pats the bed by her shoulder. ] Let me put fingers in you while you are putting fingers in me. I lay my cheek on your thigh. Hm?

[ placing a lot of faith in her own body's flexibility, but the thing is. it's not impossible. ]

[O-oh. Looks up at where she indicates, then back down at her. Arranging themselves just so they can finger each other; if that's not dedication to getting each other off, then he doesn't know what is.

But of course he must ask...] Would that be comfortable for you?

You are stuffing your fingers inside my ass.

[Actually laughs.]

But you like that.

[ a shyer woman would blush. Sprezzatura wriggles, bears down on him so he can feel the hot clutch. ]

Maybe I do.

[Hm. He likes the notion, of course he does. Why would he not want to be touched and pleasured by her while he returns the favor?]

I like the idea. But I'm fine with making this all about you for now, too.

[To make up for before.

But because he is pleasured, happy, and content as long as she is all the above. A mental and emotional condition so twined and dependent on hers that he thrives when she thrives, too.

Anyway.

He slips that ring finger of his into her. Slowly. But no more warning than that.]

Which do you want more? Sprezzatura.

[ head drops back. now it is tight, and she pulls her own bloody fingers free to grab at the sheets. her knees bow inward towards her chin. ]

Oh, more oil.

[ :)) There's his answer.

He watches as her fingers, bloodied, slip out of her cunt and stain his sheets as she grips them. Henry breathes out another laugh, fainter this time, fond and loving her reaction.

Out comes his ring finger—it was never even that far in—and he has to realign his focus to drift the bottle of oil nearer with his powers. It tips and practically drizzles more along his fingers, messy and slick.]

You're still tight. Am I going too fast?

[ she hates how hot his laugh makes her feel, that hushy sound. here the blush flares again, not from embarrassment, but desire. ]

Still—? [ a breathless exhale. she feels herself twitching around him, a numbing ache ] Lapochka, you must be fucking your fingers in and out for little while first. Loosen me up... Feel how tight it is right there, [ she clenches, that hard squeeze ] but deeper it is only soft and warm?

[The twitching, the squeeze. If he's patient, his cock will get to feel that just as prominently as his fingers do now, and he breathes in, then out, to keep the building anticipation at bay. Henry feels so, so hard again, absolutely throbbing between his legs.]

I do.

[Well, the second finger, now wholly covered in oil, presses in again. Slides in slowly, once more up past the first knuckle... and then farther. What a nice, warm stretch.]

So different from the last time. [He says, with a quirk of a smile. Different from the drider.]

[ lucky for them both that Henry Creel is very, very patient.

this low, aching groan falls out of her mouth. it feels perverse and yet so pleasurable to take her fill of him in this way, to let someone inside of her in this way. the trust there is... incalculably high. her eyes are still affixed to his face, even half-lidded, even as she tosses her cheek to one side to press into the cooler pillow. ]

That was not normal... It is better like this.

[ the drider... had been obscene. bottomless, she'd felt. the idea of doing that now seems insane. all of it a fever dream. ]

[As he speaks, he wiggles his finger in, sliding it up parallel with the one already seated inside of her. Feeling the stretch, the tight hug of her rim, and the slight give he can sense after he pushes past that threshold.]

There was nothing normal about that, no.

[Said in a way that betrays his incredible fondness for the memory.]

But you were just as incredible then as you are now. Just as beautiful, because it’s you.

[ oh, that's deep. deeper than she can reach on her own, more sensual than a touch she can predict, and the warmth in Henry's tone. oh, yes, she's sure he was utterly enamored of that body. whatever he says, the body was important, too.

covers her mouth with a hand so that she muffles the sounds. ]

You bound me.

[ that had been so hot. ]

[Don't cover your pretty little sounds, Sprezzatura. Henry loves to hear them. His finger moves all the way up until it's hilted at the knuckle properly, and he indulges in the feeling of both of his fingers inside for a moment.]

I did.

[Leans in conspiratorially — which, in their current positions, means that his touch pushes incrementally in deeper.]

And you were beautiful then, too, all bound up, unable to move. A bit at my mercy. I think you must have liked that, too.

[Because otherwise she would have just... broken free.]

[ any shift now prompts another husky sound of pleasure, held close beneath her palm. she's tight but not painfully so; it is just reacclimation.

when she wriggles, as she has already been doing, it bounces her legs cutely on either side of him. she plays it up. look how cute she is. be nice to her. ]

It was different. I did not... dislike it.

[ reaches for him! kiss. kiss! ]

[She is cute; she doesn't even have to be performative for him. But the little bounces draw his attention, as predictable as he is, always loving how she wriggles and jostles and shifts beneath him, as though her one anchor point are his fingers seated in her ass. What an obscene but delightful thought.

And just as predictably, Henry Creel will never deny Sprezzatura a kiss.]

We can do it again. Tie you up and nice and secure to the bed while I fuck you.

[He dips down low when she reaches for him, a hungry, wet, clumsy kiss just for her. Then his fingers slide out by a few centimeters at most, experimentally, and then push back in.]

[ a kiss of tongue and then teeth when his fingers move. he looks so pleased with himself, sounds so pleased with himself, she kisses him hard and hooks her ankles over his hips.

raggedly between kisses, ] I want to tie you down.

[ she gets her hands in his hair—the bloody one too—and pulls. ]

[He returns each and every kiss, his own reply coarse and interrupted. And then there's a sharp but not unpleasant thrill of a sting as she tugs his hair by the root; there exist very, very few instances where Henry will accept his hair being utterly ruined, but this is one of them. Blood in his hair? Who cares.]

And what will you do, then? Hm? [His fingers sliding out again, and then back in, a slow but steady tempo to accompany their ideas for the future. Ideas that are quickly piling up, and he has the look of a man playing them in his imagination.]

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real tag

crying again

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