finalflight | DEDICATED HENRATURRA POST;

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.]

[ it is unreal and intangible and defiantly there, slipping through wet muscle and parting her without any physical intrusion. her navel dips and swells as it would if his cock were stroking her in and out; she can feel it move. she wonders if there is pleasure for him in it. does an instrument of his mind fucking her make him shiver, are the goosebumps on his thighs a product of that, or of her tongue buried in his hole?

she doesn't answer right away, but instead kisses him hard, then lighter, then lighter, then just the ghost of her lips wet and warm across tender skin. ]

Maybe.

[ it's hard to speak when she's so out of breath and her heart is pumping like she's dying. her hands drift shaking down his body, down his stomach with her nails tickling at him. down to his hips. in. she covers his hand curled around himself: let me. ]

Play with my body. Use your hands.

[In a strictly physiological way, using his telekinesis only affects him with the occasional nosebleed when he's strained himself too much. But mentally, it excites the imagination, the very idea of manipulating her with his mind one more example of his control over her — and how it derives them both pleasure.

It's a shame to let that go, especially as she gifts him more fervent kisses, but then her hand is curled over his own, halting the way he touches himself just long enough to loosen his grip.]

Afraid I'm going to bleed all over you?

[Speaking of nosebleeds; he did just recover from one in the greenhouse. That said, it's a tease, and his powers retract from inside of her cunt, a sight that should be messy if it were anything else—fingers, cock, his own tongue—pulling out.

Hands free, he glides them up her thighs instead to start.]

Hm?

[ so easily, she's left empty, all that filling and squirming sensation ... gone. a piece of her regrets. it fades when his warm hands cup the undersides of her thighs. pulled up as though to cradle him, pulled up like a spider turned on its back.

... that had been nice. she still thinks about that time. ]

I like your blood.

[ he should know she's never been afraid of it. even as a child, and he told her to be, she hadn't been. she kisses him very slowly, now, as her hand cradles his cock as he had, unseen by her eyes. it's simply natural to hold him this way.

a probing lick. a pull up the length of him. she lingers beneath the head and pulls down again only as her tongue slips beneath to toy with the tender span between his balls and his hole. a chance to breathe. if he lets her. ]

[Teenage Henry Creel would very much still balk at the idea of Sapione licking up his nosebleed. 😭 Too bad(?) Adult Henry Creel kind of finds it sexy, so I guess there's no stopping her from indulging when she sees fit.]

Ah... uh-huh. [A very coherent reply as she strokes him again, her tongue pressing and licking in the space between two very sensitive areas. He'll allow her that reprieve for now, so she had best take the chance to breathe; because maybe in the next moment his weight adjusts just enough to steal it away from her again. But not wholly purposeful this time.

That's just the nature of it as he leaaaans forward, sliding one hand down in-between her legs. Just like before, but now with proper effort, not just a tease. He cups, massages gently, smearing her wetness across his palm.]

Stroke me off while I fuck you. [With his fingers.]

[ mmmn. feels nice. she lips at him once more, then nuzzles between his legs, admiring the curve of his spine as he leans. it's pink. her free hand slips around his thigh to stroke at the small of his back. the other obligingly pulls at his cock. once, twice, little twist at the base. once, twice, again. ]

Put middle and ring inside. Cup me with others.

[ is he still low enough to lick? a flick of her eyes downward seeks to get a glimpse at how wet and swollen she's left him.

she likes that he likes this. the profane nature of what they do and how easily they do it... she feels that it almost signifies a kind of deeper understanding. they will always do what makes the other feel good. they will always like how it feels to do that for them. they will never fight. ]

[A command for a command. It's only fair. She touches him so nicely, and not just the way she strokes him, which makes his aching cock twitch and eke more with nearly every pass. The distraction of his hands having their own job will be a nice way to prolong their sex.]

Just two fingers? After all we've done...

[The tentacles. His... entire arm when she was half-spider. The way she's bound like this reminds him of that time, too, but of course he only says this to joke with her.

And he is indeed still low enough to lick, especially with a tongue like hers. Her assessment will show that he's practically shining from her kissing, swollen just enough to accommodate the pretty pink flush around her rim and even slightly below. And yes, it's obscene; but they seem to enjoy that, don't they? It is an understanding between them, that the other person's pleasure is paramount to all. At least, that's how Henry feels.

His middle finger plunges in first, wiggling just enough to ease her open, even if that isn't necessary. And more slowly, his ring finger joins it, enjoying the feel of her parting to make room. Allll the way in, with the rest of his hand curving to fit the shape of her, cupped nice and snug.]

Just two. [ even after all they've done. the simplest, the gentlest, and intimate of its own merit. she sighs as he does as asked. ] Mmmn. This feels nice.

[ oh, his hand could belong there. keep her always warm. she rubs his back once, slowly, then pulls on a thigh to bring him back down. closer. her vision blocked again by his pretty back and the pretty flush all the way down it and below. the kiss is feather-light. ]

[He does as suggested, moving back enough to settle down closer. Her kisses are not the fervent ones from before, but rather gentle and considerate, almost ticklish were it not for how she's already left him swollen and aching.]

Everything's nice with you.

[He murmurs it mindlessly as he lets his weight rest against her fully again, though slightly more distributed than before since he's still stretched out to finger her. What a different angle than what he's used to, and within, his fingers wiggle to feel — and to hear, for the wet noises her cunt makes are just as appealing.]

You make everything perfect. If I could do this to you all day, I would.

You have.

[ that husky laugh fanning warm, because hasn't it been hours now since he beckoned her to the greenhouse? and further down the rabbit-hole—hadn't he convinced her mind that he had fucked her for hours and filled her to overflowing?

the apples of her cheeks lift in a smile, even nestled between Henry's. the wiggling is not particularly erotic, but it is still pleasant. him. his inexperience shines through even when he is trying so very hard to present control, and Sprezzatura likes that. ]

Henry...

[ there's her tongue again: warm, slippery, lapping at him, coaxing, as though his rim hasn't already accepted her before. his heartbeat seems to pulse in her fist. ]

[He had accepted her before, and he will accept her now, with even more ease than the last. She’ll barely have to push past that ring of muscle if that’s her true aim — and if not, it’s still as though his hole is primed for her in any way possible. More kisses, more licking, more anything.

It makes him shudder this time, absolutely aching for even more stimulation. His hips move to grind against her, but more pressingly, to encourage more friction against his still-twitching cock.

He palms her, rubs in slow massages, but his focus remains on his fingers. How he can fuck her from this angle — and the answer’s nearly the same as before. Fingers undulating inside, that come-hither motion with his hand simply facing a different direction. Ah, he wonders if he can slip in a third finger, too, and does so without even prompting. She’ll feel the stretch, no doubt.]

And all night.

[If only they could.]

[ she does, and she answers with a husky, muffled moan and the steady slip of her tongue inside him. she pulls on his cock and his thigh, holding him in place so that he's all but smothering her. her breath drips damply between his legs as she pants, making little, breathy sounds and nuzzling closer.

even still pinned to the mattress, the tip of her tail flickers happily. her toes curl and wriggle and her thighs flush as he fingers her. she loves how it feels. how it sounds. the sensation of something inside her, moving around. feeling him crook his fingers and squirm. she thumbs the tender head of his cock and pulls away, gasping, only long enough for breath before she burrows back in. she's so wet that he has her dripping. he may feel, or see, the shine. ]

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