vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[ 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.

[ oh, Mammon. closes her eyes, tosses her head back so there's the long line of her kiss-warmed neck. ]

Are—are you being dirty boy, Henry?

[And how tempting it is, to leave a trail of kisses down the entire length of her neck… But right now, he’s going to enjoy the view, first.]

Oh, very, Ms Vaux. The things I could do— No, the fun we could have if my powers returned to me…

But they have not. They are not returned to you. [ fun, he finds this fun... that makes her feel so good. ] So what are you doing until then?

[This is very fun, yes. The kind of fun he could spend hours doing, if either of them actually had the stamina for it. Never mind the hypotheticals.]

I guess just fuck you hard until I come. And then again… and again. And you give me a “break”, as you said you would… and…

[The words trail off and away. He is once more just distracted by the growing heat in his groin, the way his cock pulses inside of her, how she looks, so beautiful beneath him.]

[ eyes still closed, but a devilish smile spreading over her features. hums out half a laugh, half a sigh—and hooks her wrists behind each of her own knees, the vision of holding herself spread even though Henry's invisible hands have done that work for her.

mmh. that's right, she can feel how much he wants her with every renewed pulse. and... she wants him. to feel him really rail her. ]

Had better start fucking me, then.

[ """""start""""" ]

[Start, huh.

Maybe she doesn’t hold herself open any wider really, but the gesture alone hacks a part of his brain to make it seem like she is. Feels like she is. Invites him to well and truly fuck her.

He pretends to take offense first, though.]

And what have I been doing this whole time?

[Harder, then. A little faster, more than enough to make the bed frame jostle. A steady tempo, but as always, his heart ticks up a faster pace. Anticipation rises exponentially from wherever it had simmered quietly before.]

[ good, steady, insistent fucking. the kind she has no choice but to take, at face value, yet the comfort of knowing if she said to stop it would happen without question. which in itself gets her pulse really going.

she works her jaw before answering. swallows down her moan. ]

Playing with pretty hole.

[The fact that she has no choice but to take it—yes, at face value, even if it's an illusory notion—is what really gets his pulse going, though perhaps she's already pieced together that fragment of his prediction. Easily seen in his searching eyes, darkened with want, and the sharp edge of his smile as he fucks her.]

Oh, just playing.

[And he saw in real time the way she held back a moan; a true shame, because he loves those noises from her. Perhaps, with his insistent fucking, with finally and really setting a tempo that there's no turning back from, he can wrest it out of her. Skin on skin, the bedframe protesting beneath them, all heat and musky scent between them.]

And- this? Is this really fucking you now?

[ her thighs bounce. the lifted angle he holds her at, it is perfect for allowimg Henry to plummet into her over and over and over and over and over, each time louder and easier, too, a suck-squelch that prompts these mortified, gratified giggling moans from her.

but don't forget: she can't come unless she touches her clit. her soaked and bloodstained clit. ]

It is—ooooh—it is start!

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