vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[And a low, long moan in return to let her know—quite obviously—that he approves of her tending to his cock. Snug between her hand and her thigh, feeling her body move in even small increments, enough to keep him achingly hard throughout the lengthy, wet kiss. Smearing against her leg.

He’ll return the favor, of course, as she guides him to cup her. His palm presses and rubs against her swollen clit each time his fingers push back in, and Henry makes sure it lingers each time, too. Rubs a little again and again, make her enjoy every moment of having his hand delved between her legs. The blood is a bonus.]

[ the room is nothing but wet sounds and their low moaning. it's so heady that she feels almost dizzy with it, humping into his hand the best she can when folded so completely. she lets go of his tongue with a pop. ]

This is so nice... so nice...

[ the hug of her around his fingers is just that now: a hug. little pulses as he palms her clit, but no longer clutching him so tightly. ]

[A part of him believes he could do this forever; remain lost in each other's bodies, all warmth and wet sounds and the musky scent of their sex between them. The rest of Henry is a needle piercing through that contentedness, a poignant impatience that constantly reminds him how he's still aching, unsated, and very much just wants to rut into her like an animal. The pressure around his fingers, more a hug than a clench, underlines this notion.

Breathes in a haggard breath when their lips part, and his fingers twist incrementally and wiggle inside of her.]

You know what would make it nicer?

[ she almost giggles. giggling doesn't suit her, she's always thought. ]

Wine...

[He’d disagree. Any form of laughter from her makes his heart race.

Exhales a laugh.]

No. My cock buried deep inside of you. You feel… [wiggle] …like you might agree.

No, it is most certainly wine.

Really? [Teasing.] I have my fingers inside of you and you're thinking about drinking?

Mhhh. Deep, dark glass... Red wine. Rivulets down my throat and staining your sheets. So much red.

[If only Shadowpeaks had halfway decent wine.] Sprezzatura, you've already stained my sheets red. We don't need wine for that.

It is not my fault you have no taste for aesthetics.

[the way i thought that could've been a gagtag]

It is your fault that the last thing I care about right now is wine.

Ohh?

[ she's gonna be like that is she ]

[apparently so

So let him be more straightforward:] That's right. I just want to fuck you.

[ she will NEVER get tired of that word in his softspoken little mouth. ]

Hhah! Then fuck me. Fuck me!

[And how he loves to hear her excited — to hear even the smallest laugh pulled from her throat.

Hums contentedly, dips in for one more greedy kiss as he drags his fingers out, so languorously, from her hole.]

[ to withdraw completely is a much more sinful feeling, one that prompts a gasp as he finally slips free. leaves her empty, leaves her wanting. croons against his lips, smiling, shivering. she wants... she wants... she wants... ]

More.

[And one more parting kiss as he finally, finally eases himself back up into a kneel. He, too, misses the hug of her insides around his fingers, as well as the press of his cock against her thigh. Which is why he'll waste no time at all to reapply more oil, tipping it into his palm and slicking his cock again with a fresh new shine.

And it probably comes as no surprise that he similarly doesn't waste time bumping the head of his cock against her rim when he's through.]

And more?

[ oh, this is happening. ]

Yes. [ breathless ] More and more and more.

[It’s most certainly happening. There was never any doubt — and at this point, the anticipation has run too high for him to tease or drag it out for much longer. Even the pressure of his tip against her hole makes the warmth in his belly feel again like molten fire.

So low exhale, one hand moving to brace against her thigh, acting as both an anchor point and to keep her folded up and at that slight angle. His other holds the base of his slicked cock as Henry pushes himself in, in, slow, inside of her. His head, eventually swallowed by her.

A snug fit, a stretch — a bit more girth to his cock than two fingers, after all.]

[ and she feels it. her entire body like a singular bruise, a throb around him where he's only just past the rim, and a new flush in her cheeks and neck and chest. she's blushing. ]

Oh, you. You're so warm. So stiff. I... [ a little cracking moan ] it's good.

[ she's fisting up the sheets until they groan. Henry is a slight man but he's tall and lithe in all the ways that make him seem to engulf her now: leaning over, holding her folded in half. that's good, too. an easier slide. and that's what this will become, so long as she doesn't tense. a sliiiiide. ]

Kiss me—

[Henry’s pale complexion has long been flushed, though now the pinkish but has seeped down his neck, spreading gently across his chest. His heart is absolutely hammering, even seated so minimally inside of her — the way she hugs him at her entrance should be no surprise since he experienced it with his fingers, but to feel it around his cock is another matter entirely.

Already, it’s so different from her spider body, which was all give and easy stretch and a strange, malleable softness. As much as he loved that, this feels closer, somehow. More intimate. Probably because he does engulf her, in a way, his body pressed close, making her bend for him.

And pressed even closer she requests a kiss, leaning forward in a motion that doubles as a slow thrust forward, to bury the full length of him slowly but steadily inside of her. Yes, that’s right — it is a slide. The feeling is utterly sublime, and out come messy, clumsy words as he seeks her lips with a messy, clumsy kiss.]

Fuck. Sprezzatura, it’s like you swallow me whole.

I do. I do...

[ inch by aching inch, Sprezzatura making choked noises, almost pained noises, the entire while. her body clutching tremblingly tight around him where they join, then the warm, soft, and slick insides. to her, the slide goes on forever. she muffles herself in his mouth, cupping his face to prolong the kiss. his entry feels good, but kissing is better.

he's big. she'd thought he was big then, but... no. this is it. psychologically, too, this is it.

in fact. knowing how men are, how they like to hear this, she croons against his lips, ] You give me so much to swallow. Henry...

[It is a boost to his ego, in that roundabout way — after all, all that matters is that he’s big enough to please her. That he makes her feel so good, filled to the brim. He’s never had a reason to care about size before now.

She’s clenched snug around his base, but her insides are impossibly soft and warm. He can’t help the low moan that escapes his lips, a murmur between their mouths as she keeps him drawn in close. Even without any real movement so far, she feels better than he thought she would; and he had high expectations already.]

Do I?

[Barely any effort at all to draw his cock out of her by a few inches, letting mere instinct take over. It’s as though she grips him tightly the entire way, and just the same as he sinks into her again. Ohh, yes. Fucking her like this will be just as unreal as before.

So breathily-]

But you take me in so easily. It’s like we were made for each other.

[ such a small movement and yet the sound she makes is monumental: a rich, deep groan that turns into hard and fast panting. and she clutches him with her arms, too. her body sucks him back deep inside. she imagines what it's like to be made for someone to fit into and finds her chest aches with want. ]

H—hhah! Made for touching each other like animals? You like that I let you do this. Not so above it all, Henry Creel...

[No, when it comes to rutting into her like an animal, maybe Henry Creel isn't above it all. But she should take that as something of a compliment, really, that he would ever tear down that big, steel wall of sexual repression for her. That she dredges it from inside of him so, so easily.

The sounds she makes... He urges them out again, one more slow thrust, finding his rhythm, feeling her reaction thrum beneath him and around him when she hugs him tight. His lips find her neck, a kiss and a suck, a line of teeth. There's no way to ignore the tightening coil of pleasure in his abdomen, but Henry merely lets it motivate him to find the wherewithal for a faux indignant reply.]

Don't act like you're much above it all, either, Sprezzatura. We're degenerate together.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject