vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[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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