finalflight | DEDICATED HENRATURRA POST;

[Less of a tickling jolt this time, that feeling against his rim. She'll definitely feel him twitch in more ways than one soon enough: his balls, and certainly his cock. Even his hole, more so than the rest, reacting to whatever ministrations she's kind enough to give him. He settles down lower, a bit more pressure to really feel.

But look at her, making her even more exposed, hiking herself up. Just asking for attention between her legs. His powers drag their wanderings towards her inner thighs, until both "hands" converge at her cunt, rubbing up against her folds once, twice.]

Dirty girl. Spread wide open, waiting for my touch, while you tongue me? Insatiable, aren't you?

[ insatiable, she mocks in her head, when he's the one who emerged from utterly dated memory still hungering for more. she exhales warm against him, fanning breath across tender places, and murmurs something that might be affirmative—yes, those hands, that caress. a touch like fingers seeking, playing. yes. yes.

another pull, another pop, and the warm, wet stroke of her tongue in generous circles over and over and over and over his hole. she opens her eyes, gazing up the pretty curve of his back, and wriggles her fingers on his thighs contentedly. ]

[The line of his back both tenses and relaxes, alternating in response to her sucking and releasing against his hole. What an obscene act, he thinks, in the wake of the already obscene things they’ve done — but he loves it. Feeling absolutely filthy with her, highlighted still by the way her tongue laves in circles around his rim. All of her touches are mere affirmation—and this would not change even if he perceived that hint of mocking in her thoughts—and Henry spares another tendril of his powers to be play with the tip of her tail as the heat in his body (and groin, mostly) suffuses through him more fully.

The touch between her legs spreads her lips apart in a tease, to really expose her to the room as she seems to enjoy. The hint of a suggestion — maybe she’d like that same touch sheathed in deep, just as his fingers were moments before.]

Absolutely… insatiable.

[yeah so what if he’s the perpetually horny one]

[ simple as this to wrap him around her finger. her breathing heavy, smothered in the humid heat of his backside, Sprezzatura tugs at his rim again and again and watches how the sensation plays out across his back. like this, she knows; plush lipping, tongue flat. don't shy away from gifting him full, slow contact, from coaxing licks to the very same kisses she would offer his mouth. nice, steady, passionate. working him all so wet and open until she is rewarded by his hole giving beneath her tongue, asking for something to fill it.

it won't take long... but she will enjoy the process and make the best of it last until she gets him there. another wet kiss. his skin shines.

in answer: ] Mmh-h-m-m-m...

[ a sort of laughing moan, juttering, because she can feel him parting her for the room. at once the flush rises in her cheeks pressed between his, and in her breasts. can't move her tail but for the tip, which twitches tellingly. ]

[She’s right about it not taking terribly long; as always, Henry loses himself willingly in sensation, with not enough experience to bulwark him against being so easily manipulated by her. Never mind all his teasing, never mind how much he loves to ply a sense of control. It all falls apart when he touches him just so, or kisses him just so… Just as she eases her tongue so beautifully against his rim, that the muscle there so generously gives way. Relaxes, for whatever she wishes to do to him, wet and throbbingly warm.

Henry, for his part, lets a moan slip past his lips. He finds his hands bracing him on either side of the sheets, fingers flexing. His powers, too, follow this lead, all the places where she’s bound gripping into her, then relaxing into its default state again. He senses the tip of her tail flickering in his periphery — just barely.]

Ngh. [A little impatiently-] Fill me up if you want the same.

[ the first, she hopes, of many moans. he never moans as often when he's actually fucking her, whether it's his own focus or intensity which silences him, and so the sound now makes her shiver. the peaks of each breast pebble and the nipples go taut.

it feels... as though he's squeezing her all over. but his hands—the real ones—are in the sheets. curls her toes again, because she thinks that conveys to him all that needs conveying: she likes this.

she likes having him on her face.

she likes her horns being held to keep her down.

she likes the sight of his back curving above her while her mouth buries in his most intimate places.

so she begins to pull her nails back and forth on his thighs while she holds him. continuing to play at his rim, letting her tongue drift further beneath with every lick, rather than inside. ]

[Always sensitive there, too, almost ticklish, at his thighs. It's one more layer of something prickly keen to contrast the way her tongue teases him, and though he holds back a shiver, it might as well be seen in the flexing muscles along his back. His shoulder blades most especially prominent, given that he's tilted his arms back at an angle to lean and arch, palms in the sheets. All him taut, with a sheen to his skin courtesy of faint perspiration.

Hyperfocused on a few things right now: how her tongue is very much not even teasing slipping inside, the movement of her body beneath him, how his cock feels stiffer than it's ever been. He could touch himself, allowing him some relief, but he's stubborn, too. A shuddering breath, an almost-moan this time, and his powers squeeze at her legs, imploring. His other invisible touch glides up her cunt again, but refuses to even brush past her clit.]

Come on. Be good for me.

[ isn't she? licking and kissing as she would his mouth, with all the same infinite gentleness. with some offense, she exhales through her nose so he can feel the heat of it crawl up his back.

another wet pop, and a gasp as she angles for breath. her lips and chin will get slick now, she knows, as Henry in his impatience wriggles on her. she laughs. ]

Haah. Most women cannot... put tongues inside.

[She is being very nice to him, yes, but now she's stopping and as for something as silly as breath and Henry wiggles and shifts again impatiently atop her while she recoups.

His reply to that is easy. He almost wonders if she wants him to say it.]

You're not most women, though.

[He would not have fallen so deeply and worrisomely in love with just any woman, of course.]

[ feeling used. but... her ego is stroked, too, by that compliment. she isn't most women! most women wouldn't love him the way she loves him.

she playfully bites at his inner thigh. ]

And if I prefer not to?

[Aha, stings. Naughty girl.]

Don't tell me you're going to change your mind now?

[His telekinesis plays gently with her clit without much warning, just slow and gentle circles.]

Hm?

Mmmmnnnnnno...

[ again, those curling-uncurling toes depicting the simplicity of her pleasure; the flush mottling her chest; a breath quality to her voice.

it took all but begging to get him here. she won't change her mind now. she just wants the heat of him smothering her face, and soft give beneath her tongue, and his length stiff against her face when she needs to breathe.

who is she?

she tries to duck her chin to kiss at his balls, but the hold on her horns... it's unyielding. ]

Tongues cannot fill as fingers and cocks can. Let me be subtler.

[Nice as it would be to let her, he will deprive the both of them by keeping her horns held down firmly. Diligently. Just like the rest of his powers which keep her in place, or propped up. Or playing with the heat between her legs.]

Subtler how? I'm sure your tongue would feel unique in its own way.

[Isn't it always? When he feels it in his own mouth while they kiss, he doesn't think he'd ever mistake it for anything else.]

Subtler because it is quickly sore to using my tongue as men use their penises.

[ in punctuation, she parts her lips for a warm exhale; draws her tongue up and slowly over his twitching hole. it does feel unique. ]

Do you want something inside so much?

[Yes it does. His hole all but flutters against her tongue. Her question prompts a non-answer.]

It feels like you’re teasing me.

[His powers drift down to the folds of her cunt, still gently held apart on display, and slowly slips inside — very slowly.]

I wouldn’t be so cruel.

[ what is he doing? he can do that? beneath him, Sprezzatura's entire body goes tense and then slack and very dull. a long breath in, held, fingers spreading wide across each of Henry's thighs but nothing else.

she doesn't answer. her lips simply push against him while her hands hold him down and in place. none of this was meant as teasing, but if he thinks it was... then... well...

a hitch. a shudder she can't keep down.

mmmn. it's undeniable; she's being filled up inch by inch. she doesn't have to see to know it. the softest parts of her are giving way to fingers that are not fingers, just as before they gave to vines that were not like cocks. they were better. were they better?

another steadying breath, then a sigh, then Sprezzatura's palms gliding up his thighs, hips, abdomen, and finally grasping at his ribs. yes, it feels like another Henry entering her while he still sits on her face.

more tongue. sucking, kissing, the sounds wet and dirty in a quiet room. her little moans wet and dirty, too. ]

[What is it like to be penetrated by something that isn't solidly manifested? He supposes it isn't too different from a cock or a vine (it's very different), given that his powers exert force just like any other physical presence to manipulate everything around it. He can sense and "feel" the inside of her cunt as it resists his intrusion, but mostly gives way, settling inside comfortably.

Her hands keep him situated until they decide to glide up to his ribs, and he doesn't know if that's a request to bear down on her more, but... he does, anyway. She can be kindly rewarded for her effort by being fucked via his powers, as it's the most he can do while her mouth kisses and sucks at his hole, and his cock throbs uncomfortably, but divinely, as she works him wetly. Maybe he should touch himself, but first-

He arches, and it rubs against her mouth. His powers wiggle out of her cunt, then push back in, playfully.]

I want you to be rewarded, too, for how well you always treat me.

[ no, it's nothing like the vines. they had perhaps, in retrospect, spoiled her in their slickness. what Henry does to her now suggests stretch, suggests friction, suggests a fullness that can expand and change within. her navel moves slightly as he pushes inside—proof of her fullness.

to take a deep breath now is... hard. he has borne down on her so completely that it verges on a true smother, and Sprezzatura flexes her fingers on his ribs before reaching even higher and pulling the points of her nails across his nipples and chest.

uselessly, ] Mmmmnnnm...

[ suck, pop. suck, pop. suck... pop. her tongue circles his pampered rim and finally really pushes at it, to stretch and slip inside. ]

[Full, at least in a way that differentiates his powers from the writhing pulsations of his vines, or the twitching warmth of his cock. In that way, for how unusual and singular it is, maybe she’ll enjoy it, especially when his telekinesis gently expands, contracts, glides out in that strange pull of friction, yet taking none of her slick with it.

As for her face, she’ll earn herself a small reprieve when it comes to breathing, because even the slight insertion of her tongue makes him gasp, makes him rise on his knees ever so slightly as she wiggles in.

She’ll do it with ease, regardless. He’s swollen and slick from saliva and ready for as much as she wants to give.]

Ah… ha— Fuck. Just like that.

[ just like that, then. probing licks and the rich sound of her sighing through her open mouth; hot breath spilling across him, warming him, making her feel dizzy.

praise her. isn't she so good? doesn't he love her as much as she loves him?

another wiggle, then the withdraw, then the pressure again. ostensibly fucking him—at a simmer—on the tip of her tapered tongue. just as slow as he fucks her. her toes are wiggling again, happily. ]

[He has a feeling she doesn't quite understand the depths of which he loves her. It cannot be put into words, it cannot be shown in actions, no matter how utterly insane and transcendental their sex ever becomes.

But that's fine. He can try. No doubt she wants to hear it herself, a crooning compliment for each insertion of the tip of her tongue, and she certainly deserves it. Her reprieve from his weight is temporary as he settles back in, pressing down as though to seek even more inside. She'll feel, too, the weight of his palm pressing into the mattress beside her... disappear, as he finally reaches up to touch himself, fingers cradling at his stiffened cock.]

You're so good to me, Sprezzatura. Always so perfect. Open me up, just like that, you're the only one with a tongue like yours—

[Certainly the only tongue he'd ever like to feel like this.]

[ her exhale a thick reply as he rides down on her face. Mammon, he could smother her. the thought drifts across her mind like ichor; sludgy, slow. her legs are up and held open and her tail and head held down, and while Henry is a slender man, he's still a man. he more than covers her when he pushes himself onto her tongue.

and even still... she's so excited. it doesn't so much replace her tiredness as it does overlay it. he's touching himself now. laying thick the pleasure of using her this way. the sickening thump of her heart going too fast, and her face getting too hot. she smears her mouth, one slippery kiss after the next, squirming underneath him as best she can when already trussed up.

isn't he lucky she likes him enough to do this? she reaches up his body with her nails en pointe and pulls them gently, but keenly, back down. ]

[And she'll be kept in place for as long as Henry desires it for now, her head held down for his pleasure and her legs held open for her own — his powers, after all, still fuck her slowly, if you could perhaps call it that. Moving in a rhythm he mentally sets, pulsating inside, though perhaps it hitches slightly as her kisses continue around his rim, eager and hot.

The sharp sting of her nails leaves slender, long pink marks as she drags them down, but of course this only amplifies the pleasure he's giving him, courtesy of his own hand stroking himself off. How does it always come to this? That she makes him so worked up that it feels as though he's already so close? God, how easily she's able to undo him, a thought that should be borderline worrying if not for how much he loves to have one person in his life who means this much to him, who can physical unravel him in this way as much as she could emotionally-

A low, low noise that sounds almost like a growl. It's encouragement.]

Ahh... fuck me just like that, make me come. Make me spill all over you until I don't have anything left.

[A slight reprieve, a slight lift up... then back down. His powers within feel like they're massaging her from the inside out.]

[ it's an alien sensation, and her body tenses and strains beneath him for more control. he won't give that up now. he loves it and wants it as much as she does, and for her to give it up to him is surrender, because once his voice takes on the timbre it has now, he becomes selfish. greedy. he smears himself against her mouth, angling and arching, fluttering beneath her tongue.

he's touching himself. oh, she wishes she could see. she can feel the motion almost dully, as though through water, and tell from his body language couched around her that he has given in. when she cracks her eyes open, she gazes up his pretty spine glistening with sweat over every dip and swell.

wriggles her toes happily. an answering breathy moan: yes. yes, yes. Sprezzatura turns her hands to cup his chest, maybe tweak his nipples gently, and he'll enjoy the deep and probing sensation of her tongue working past pulsing muscle to toy inside, then sucking out, tugging out, lapping slickly at a slicker hole.

murmured, hoarse, ] What you are doing... it is very strange thing...

[ it's as though she has something living inside her cunt, trying to get out ]

[They're both greedy when it comes to sex in their own ways. Henry cedes plenty of power and control to her when she all but asks for it — but in moments like these, he will indulge, and take as he pleases, because they're uncommon. Until she says otherwise.

But she must enjoy it, too, in her own way. Her toes wiggling (cute, despite it all), her tongue still slipping past his rim, feeling him out. Her fingers squeezing quite successfully at his nipples. All of this elevates — none of it is proof of discomfort on her part. Or rather, a discomfort she'd not endure for his sake, a thought that only makes him love her more. Makes him want her forever.

He's not going to stop squirming atop her, touching himself, keeping her pinned, fucking her strangely with his powers. His reply is guttural, proof of his cognizance pulled in one direction and one direction only.]

Should I stop?

[Part tease, part assessment of what she thinks of it, his telekinesis filling, or stretching, slick on entry and exit without feeling truly present at all.]

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