vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[You know Henry Creel is always ready for a nice, wet squelch. He bites at his lower lip, hissing out breath.]

Ohh? [Is it a moan or a question? It could be both. He pushes into her again, as though to underline her own words.] Do you want me to? Lift you up even more?

[A higher angle? A deeper angle?]

I want you to.

[ what a beautiful man. his voice tingles through her, all the way down to her curling toes. ]

I want you to crawl inside me! Hha!

[If that isn't all the reason he needs. Not even a moment passes between her declaration and the way he ruts into her again, chasing the hot, building pressure inside of him — that alone might be enough to bank her back a little more, but those invisible hands clamp around her hips, cup her backside, and truly lift her.

If he felt sheathed by her before, this is entirely more. The angle makes it feel as though her insides massage against his length, and the wet noise of his readjusting—yes, that wet squelch—somehow sounds just as loudly as the first time.

How comfortable are you feeling, Sprezzatura? Because there's no way Henry can't start fucking in earnest now.]

[ she feels... raw, vulnerable, divine. he presses and fills and her hiccough of surprise transforms into a little wailing moan. soon to escalate, if he's moving in earnest now. the tap-tap-tapping of her bouncing her heels on his buttocks, one after the other after the first again, a motion of joy and pleasure. she's cupping his face in her hands, smushing his cheeks like an overbearing mother ]

Oh! Henry! You are so good—so good, yes, like that—trying to bury yourself inside, that's right... It will not be enough until these [ tug on his balls ] are bouncing. Can you do that? Can you fuck Ms Vaux like it is all you live for?

[That dirty, dirty mouth of hers. Henry thinks she could make him come with just the right string of utterances, bolstering both imagery and feeling and vigor, if such a thing were possible.

His physical hands grip at her knees, the invisible ones still keeping her propped up. She's incredibly, wonderfully spread wide for him, but he wants to make sure that remains the case as he fucks her. Grinds into her like an animal, burying himself deep, his heart feeling as though it thunders in his head and pulses in his cock. Ffffuck. Her hands are like fire against his face, too, and it keeps his darkened gaze fixed hard on her face.]

Yes... I- I just want to fuck you until you scream, until- I come, and then I keep fucking you until— [Nghh, impossibly, dizzyingly good, all of this-] -you see stars, Sprezza...tura.

[ she laughs—at the sway of the mattress as he works her, at his lofty ambition, at the thought of what being inside her cunt might do to him. starts squirming, bearing down on him. he may have her by the hips and the knees, but Sprezzatura Vaux can still squirm. and oh, it's bliss to do so. worked so wet and open that anything at all is a pleasured tug in her groin. ]

Mmmmhhh. Scream? Stars?

[A man's always very confident of himself when he's worked himself up into a haze-addled state; but Henry takes cues from the noises she makes when he drives into her. He doesn't think it's too far removed from reality that he could win a pleasured strangle of a cry from her.

Of course, her wiggling only wins her a low, almost-growl from Henry, instead. The way she moves, her laughter, how she plays with his balls, that beautiful look on her face... She still thinks she's in control here. (She is.)

His next few thrusts truly rock her, though.]

I already have you... mewling.

This? This is not—hha—mewling!

[ it's merely talk! tease! but either way, he's fucking her up the bed by steady inches. she pulls at his face, wanting him seamed down atop her so that she can feel his breath on her shoulder and throat.

Mammon, she feels full. ]

[Mewling, teasing, talking. What's the difference, really.

Down he goes, his lips practically bruising against the curve of her shoulder, messy not-quite-kisses because he's trying to get breathy, disjointed words in between all the effort.]

No? Are you sure?

[She's cupping his face but he tries to move his head just so he can suck on the lobe of her ear. A little press of teeth.]

[ the sound of his breaths so hot and heavy against her ear. their dampness. that pinch. she tosses her head back so that it's the long line of her throat bobbing and her ear turned eagerly towards his mouth. yes. suck on it. she loves that. ]

Ohhh. [ maybe that's a bit of a mewl. she won't say. ] I love how you plummet into me.

[ heavy. skin slapping on skin. between her legs is a melt of heat and humidity and that definitive sense of completion. Sprezzatura gropes her right hand down, finds his left, feels how he holds her open at the knees. how lurid. how connective. her throat flutters like a little bird's. ]

More... more... Henry. Slow down if you are going to come.

[She doesn't have to say it. It's a mewl and he knows it! Henry makes a contented noise, sucks harder, teases the tip of his tongue against her skin. She feels so good — everything about everywhere they connect feels so good.

But most especially where he pistons into her, where the heat rises to incandescence, where he would very much like to keep fucking her half-inches up the bed at a time until he comes, were it not for her words, and his own juxtaposing desire to make this last as long as possible. To please her until his own release cannot be denied.

Even so, he still makes a keening noise of what sounds like a complaint. There is the briefest, briefest slow in the tempo he's set for their fucking. Oh, god. Everything throbs with warmth, his breath hitches in his throat.]

It's hard to... take my time with you, you know.

[ now that's a good sound. her mouth twitches in a delirious, lecherous sort of smile, one he won't see but will hear in her tone. ]

But you... will, hm, out of your fondness for—for me?

[ she feels better than she could have hoped, warm and slick and the cramps slowly fading in favour of pleasure suffusing through her every nerve. it's good to be held like this, hefted up like this, cradled by invisible hands so all she has to do is lay here and feel. and listen. that, too.

she strokes her hands up and down his thighs spread on either side of her. squeezing and palming. ]

[A trailing touch that nearly sends a shiver crawling through him, a notion that feels impossible given how heated he otherwise feels. Nibbles again on her lobe, and his lips are wet against the shell of her ear.]

Maybe... I could be convinced... Since I'm so fond.

[ his thighs, the muscles working beneath to push him into her again, again, again, again. she wanders into the crease of his thigh meeting his cheek and pinches. her ankles bounce gently with each thrust. ]

Fuck me for hours...

Ha... for hours-

[Oh, he would if he could. The notion's a lovely one, even if it's not nearly practical or possible.

Her insides tug at him, pull at him, with each thrust. Slower, yes, as suggested, but as deep as he can go each time—

A sharp sting of inconsequential pain where she pinches, another hitch in his breath.]

Tangled up in the sheets all day... All night... I wouldn't let you sleep.

[ helpless to resist, though not really. exhausted, though most nights she is still not on the best of terms with the mistress sleep. and yet her muscles clench with pleasure just to picture herself spread and drenched and barely hanging on, fucked out of her mind.

moves to grope his chest now in panting, ragged silence. who hasn't fantasized about such things once or twice?

... probably Henry Creel. ]

Well used. [ breathy ] Would you really?

[No need to fantasize such things until he met her. And aren’t they lovely fantasies, anyway? If she’s already to be deprived of sleep, at least it can be because Henry Creel’s the one who kept her up all night.

He props himself up on his elbows as she grips at him, then higher by pressing a palm to the mattress itself, to look down at her.]

I would. [With the means to do so. Probably with a break now and again.] For as long as either of us can go, until we’re too… tired or satisfied to continue.

[And with a fondness amid the heat, even mid-fuck:]

Might be a while. I’m insatiable when it comes to you

[ the better the view, the warmer the face. she likes the sound of "insatiable", and it seems that's true. the throbbing of his cock inside her is endless in every conceivable way. goosebumps are showing down her arms and across her breasts and these belie Sprezzatura's imagination. ]

I would give him breaks, I suppose...

You suppose?

[He smiles down at her, face so flushed. His own skin glistens with the exertion of their sex; to him, the whole room feels at least ten degrees hotter.]

Maybe you’re the one that’d need the break.

Hha! Nonsense.

I don't think so. I could think of plenty of ways to wear you out.

[If he only... had his tentacles... to play with her with...]

Could you, o novice!

I'm a fast learner. Even you have to admit to that.

[Thrusts into her again, harder, his powers squeezing (teasingly) at her hips, fondling at her cheeks. Be nice to him!]

And I let my imagination go wild.

[ actually whines, squirming as hard as she can against that immoveable grip. feeling jelly-legged. ]

Then why do you not tell me!

[Oh. 😳 He likes it when she whines. Those invisible touches continue to fondle her, and while his hips move slower than they had been, they undoubtedly jostle her, making her bounce.]

Because...

[BECAUSE HE'S NOT SURE YOU'D BE INTO THE IDEA OF TENTACLES RIGHT NOW]

It's sordid.

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