vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

Yes. [ breathy, hurried; she doesn't want to stop kissing for anything, in case the exhaustion sweeps in to ruin it. her limbs are already so heavy... ] Open your mouth.

[ let her in!! ]

[😳🫡 yes ma'am

Parts his mouth for her, only to realize belatedly that she might want more room for her tongue — her very long and very tapered tongue.

His cheeks flush a little, hard to see in the lopsided lighting, but he's definitely warming up by a few degrees just thinking about it slipping inside.]

[ why imagine when he can experience? her eagerness surges anew when his lips open; yes, yes, this is what her mouth is meant for. to kiss and please. tucks the very tapered tip of it between his lips, sighing out in sweet relief, and squeezes herself closer.

this feels right. feels good. so much better than anything else today. ]

My hair...

[ tug on it. is that even clear? does it matter? ]

[It's not clear, but he can guess at a halfway point: he draws his hand up almost mindlessly—it's hard to focus on anything other than the molten heat of her tongue slipping between his lips—and threads his fingers through her hair. His hand curls, knuckles against her scalp. It's not a forceful gesture, but the way he catches strands of her hair in his grip probably gives her the little tug she wants to feel.

Meanwhile, his tongue nudges up against the underside of hers, seeking. Henry shifts his body closer, wanting to seam up right next to her, to take advantage of every place where they could touch; rip his tarot cards. But he can sort them out later.]

[ making a soft, pleasured sound into the wet juncture of their mouths--faint but so audible in the silence of late night.

it's... smothering beneath the blanket. get it off!! abandons his hair to push at it, push it down, and the rush of cool air after is a relief, and grounding, too. breaks the kiss with another sigh. ]

[That's a nice noise she makes, too. It sends a little node of pleasure traveling down his middle and warming his belly. She can push down the blanket as much as she likes (he doesn't blame her, he feels increasingly warm, too), and the little lamp topples to the side and shines uselessly against the wall next to the bed.

Takes a moment to breathe, though he doesn't pull away. His hand fiddles with strands of her hair.]

Should have started with this.

[ it's very silky... she's washed it since returning to the cabin. sharing breath, though. her heart flutters a bit. ]

Never give it to you easy...

[Silky and soft and she smells nice too.]

Making me work for it… I guess I won’t complain.

[She could have made him go through hell and back and he’d say this moment is worth it.

Dips in again, so close that his request is a bit redundant for how his lips still brush against hers-]

One more?

[ so close that he'll feel how that makes her shiver ]

One more, then.

[ parts her lips, closes them gently around his, lips and tongue and breath. warm, slick. maybe she should move her hands beneath his shirt. ]

[If she does, she’d feel just how warm she’s already making him run. Feel the way his muscles would jump and tighten, not from displeasure, but from the blissful shock of her bare hands against him. She’s certainly never touched him like that before, either.

His blood feels like it’s barely under the surface of his skin, at any rate. And it’s also hurrying down to… other places below the waistline, but even that isn’t enough to detract from the most important thing right now: her kissing him a second time.

As though to prove the first wasn’t a fluke. Not some delirious dream drifting in the wake of a wearying game. Henry kisses her right back, of course, mouth slotting open, too — his turn for his tongue to push along hers, just a taste.]

[ that's amazing. the memory had dimmed over long months—this is what it's like to have someone exult at your touch, this is what it's like to fall into another, this is what it's like, this, this, this this this. spreads her fingers out at the centre of his back, as far down his collar as she can feasibly reach in this position (not far). toys her tongue together with his, gently.

it's... relaxing...

barely a whisper, ] Have you tongue kissed before?

[Relaxing? In a way, it is. And in another way, he feels like he's a wire she's pulling taut when she touches him like that. She'll find he's very reactive to it — his top half nigh arching into her when she splays her fingers in the dip of his back.

Has he tongue-kissed before? If he was kissed anything like this when he was a teen, he would have melted on the spot, so somewhere in the middle of drawing his tongue along her lower lip, he gives a very eloquent-]

Nuh-uh.

[When would he have?]

Mmh. Then, like this...

[ exactly how she likes to kiss. sweeping tongue and kiss-swollen lips. her fingertips tingle and she presses them harder into his back. one kiss becomes two, becomes five, becomes too many to count, her tapered tongue playing and coiling around his. around, around, around... with the tip laying gently atop his. certainly no human kiss could ever feel like that. ]

[More than just one more kiss. Three, four, five. How’s a man not supposed to get excited, especially when the experience is so new?

And her tongue is just so… amazing.

It’s like a thing alive in his mouth. Coiling and massaging around, with its tip still seated atop his own. Dancing around so dexterously that it makes his own seem slow and inept — which it very well must be?

Whenever she finally pulls away, he seals his mouth around her tongue as she retracts it, feeling it slide against his lips. He is dizzyingly warm and buzzing, like she’s a new kind of euphoria for him. And that’s just from kissing and a little bit of touching!]

No one kisses like you.

[Says Henry Creel, a man who has kissed like two people ever now. He slides a leg between hers, just to feel more entwined.]

[ she can't not fuck him. ]

[ sh-shaky exhale, squirming heat moving languidly through her hips and thighs as he wends himself closer. her tongue seems to slide forever through his lips, the coolness of saliva gathering at the tip just before it tugs free, and it's making her feel lightheaded. every limb leaden.

closes her eyes. cups the side of his neck, his jaw. ]

Nno. [ no one kisses like her. then, with a hazy sort of frown, ] Sorry...

[HIS TAROT CARDS ARE HIS NEW FAVORITE THING

He swallows the taste of her down. His fingers are still fiddling with her hair, and he’s slotted closer, enjoying the way he can’t differentiate his body heat from hers.]

Sorry? [ ?? ] For what?

[ wouldn't it be nice to be naked and touched by those long fingers curled up in her hair? wouldn't it be nice to feel even more bare skin on skin? that would be so good, if she could just...

keep her eyes open...

makes a small, vexed sound, turning her cheek into the pillow. ]

Mmn... just... [ so fucking tired ] 'm... kiss me again...

[It would be very nice. She’d change his brain chemistry even more than she has already.

But Henry hasn’t been kissing and touching her with the expectation it turns into anything more heated than that. Yes, there’s a tent in his pajama pants, but she’s so, so tired. She’s barely keeping awake. More importantly, what they’ve already done is enough to keep him happy for the rest of the night.]

Sleep, Sprezzatura.

[He says softly, leaning in to give her another long, plush kiss. Gentler than the rest. And then one more. ]

We can always do this again.

[ but we won't, she thinks. this was the moment.

and she's too worn down to hang on. he kisses her once, twice more, and Sprezzatura slides her top leg higher up his thigh, a slight nudge that has her realizing the state of him between his legs. she wants to want to do something about it...

and yet. she's too worn down. lips stay parted as the kiss breaks. eyes stay closed. ]

Not...

[ but that's all she can manage; everything hazes, and fitful sleep creeps in. ]

[And there she goes. "Not" what? He supposes he'll never know.

Never mind the way his heart still beats hard in his chest, his skin still flushed. Never mind how her leg just nudges against that sensitive spot between his legs. He's glad she can sleep, if even for a few hours.

He's just... glad.

Henry lies there with her, tucked close, for a long as she decides to remain. At some point, through some manner of divine miracle that allows his body to wind down again, he'll drift off with her.]

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