[ for a moment, no room for breath. all of it given, instead, to Henry's length seated inside her, her tongue moving gently against it, if not intentionally. she feels the sting of watering eyes and closes them.
then—a release. he tugs from her throat with a sound that is indescribable in its messiness. a soaked sound. a whimpering one. is this better than before? doubtful. but it's more familiar, with a sense of devotion which may have been lacking then. she's squirming in place as he drags between her lips, and Sprezzatura takes greedy fast breaths and tries to tug him back in with the coil of her tongue alone.
show him "better".
... moves one hand back and full on squeezes one of his buttocks. ]
[It’s better in that she isn’t choking on him. Granted, that’s a low bar to clear, but perhaps the familiarity helps. Or the deepest sense of love that’s only compounded upon itself since the first time.
Well, they’ll see. For now, she cuts her own reprieve short, depriving Henry further of the symphony of wet sounds, her gasps for breath, and her tongue coils and tugs and the tips of her nails prick at his skin as she gropes his backside. Henry sheaths inside once again, more at her behest this time than his own, but who’s he to complain? Her enthusiasm is enthralling, and inside her mouth is the only thing he cares to feel. How it hugs his cock, so stiff, aching for attention so much that every minute movement is elevated sensation. His nerves bright as he nudges in deeper with the slightest angle of his hips, inches more with so little effort.]
And more enthusiastic.
[He’s just asking for her to leave nail marks on his ass at this point.]
[ he is. and she does. she curls her fingers into his cheek, hard, mostly fingertip but a little bit of claw, too—and her other hand comes back to get the other buttock. he's completely in her throat and that makes her feel strangely combative, as though she needs to do something to prove she isn't just a submissive mindless woman who will swallow a man's cock just because he puts it in front of her. ]
[It just about tracks that she'd feel that way (he can feel tinges of it via his telepathy, picking up on the strange but not surprising indignity), that she still wants to prove herself despite being the one to suggest that he fucks her this way. That affront is made obvious by the sting biting into his cheeks, pinpricks of nails that'll more than leave a mark. Henry hisses out at the pain, but... predictably... he doesn't mind it. He likes it.
In reality, of course, he doesn't actually mean to goad her — he'd be the biggest fool in the universe to do that when he has his cock in her throat. His hands, instead, come forward and splay out, reaching to lean his weight forward as he gropes at her chest. Handfuls.
Hips easing out, then back in.]
Only teasing you. You know I love this, I love that you do this for me, I love you.
[ there is not very much room for the groping, with the way her knees are still tugged up to her chest, how she's almost curled up on herself as Henry sheathes and rocks in her. he can still manage it, of course—but not the full-bodied lean and weight of the first time.
love, love, love. her face burns the hotter with each proclamation. she loves him, she loves him too much, she should never succumb to this with him—but she couldn't say no. she wants to know the pleasure of allowing him what no one else was permitted.
she gulps down a breath when he eases out, swallows painfully around his length on the in. still squeezing his backside about as hard as she dares to. ten nail-pricks, fingertips practically bruising, and when she lifts and parts his backside, he'll feel—
a spectral, cool hand slip in and stroke over his hole. ]
[It's enough. Soft and malleable beneath his touch, even if the bend of her body prevents it in full. It's still half an anchor point (only half, because the majority of his weight, of course, remains on his knees), still enough for his fingers to flex into when he fucks her – out, then the blissful pull back in, her throat wrapped around him.
The prickling pain of her nails remains bright; a counterpoint to the pleasure, one that further elevates rather instead of detracts. Layered atop each other, the variation of sensation is divine, pain and pleasure twined into one experience that defines their love. Maybe there's more introspection to be had regarding that, but now's not the time for it. He feels—
An unexpectedly cool sensation over his hole.
Henry audibly gasps. His fingers flex hard and his spine straightens, pure surprise. The result is that he buries himself deeper down her throat, more instinct than intent.]
The little sound of her struggling brings enough awareness into his mind for him to ease back and out. Maybe towards that feeling around his rim, if it's still there.]
[ she turns her face to one side and coughs wetly against his thigh. the sensation of her Mage Hand remains, gently stroking in a little circle, but it stutters now and then. ]
[ she squeezes his cheeks in thanks, and the Mage Hand plays gently with him. beneath, Sprezzatura lipping at everything she can reach. the low-hanging fruit, so to speak. ]
[He supposes this is a short respite, well-earned since he nearly choked her a few moments ago. Henry keeps his back arched and nearly tries to nudge himself down on that ghostly touch. Sprezzatura’s mouth tickles at the underside of his cock, near the base. Glides against his balls, too, as she seeks to kiss whatever is near. He’s almost forgotten about his hands groping her chest, an effort that’s lessened since he’s straightened — but newfound awareness just means he pinches her nipples playfully as he takes every sensation in.]
How can you concentrate?
[To keep that magic going while they’re doing this. (Maybe no different than how Henry can concentrate enough to use his telekinesis when needed.)]
[ exactly so. but he receives no verbal reply, for Sprezzatura has occupied herself with those wet, licking kisses wherever she can place them. here and there, the worming presence of her tongue—especially when he pinches at her breasts.
he thinks he is so unique. that only he can maintain a focus like this.
he'll feel the pressure of her intent on him. he must look so pretty just now. too bad this view is the worst, even just peering through her lashes. she mouths at his thigh, then murmurs, ] This is most rudimentary magic.
[ the finger taps! on his hole! as if to punctuate. ]
[Even back home, he was not unique, though he was certainly uncommon. After having been departed from his version of Earth—at first unwillingly, and now very willingly—Henry has since learnt that he is not even that when it comes to strange abilities and the determined focus it sometimes takes to sustain them.
Still, even with those commonalities, he sometimes finds himself jealous of Sprezzatura's magic. Rudimentary, she calls it. Whereas even if Henry used his most rudimentary form of telekinesis, he'd still eventually reach a limit. That point where the blood vessels in his nose break and bleed.
He tries to click his tongue, and instead finds he doesn't even have the will to pretend to be indignant when she's treating him so well. A little jolt at the tap, though.]
[ several points. she kisses him once more, a soft nudging kiss right up at the join of his thigh to his groin, that tender skin there. she has mostly uncurled, revealing just how far down her flush goes.
[Uncurled, meaning that he can grope a bit more easily and openly than before, leaning forward with his palms fondly. Warmly.
She invites him in, and he won’t hesitate to nudge forward and slide the tip of his cock into her open mouth again.]
Good. You feel so good.
[He wants to the feel the aid of her coiling tongue welcome and tug him in again. But even if that doesn’t happen, the length of him doesn’t hesitate to seek out the snug line of her throat a second time.]
[ of course she wraps him up and pulls him in. what other reason does she have such a tongue for? to bring him deep, but not too deep, and warm.
slow, deep inhale through her nose. difficult. but she... does like to do this for him. pretend at giving him the power, the control. as he slides in, she makes sure to moan for him in the back of her throat—enjoying the muffled quality to it, the whiny twinge. she's not used to hearing herself this way and it isn't... bad.
the Mage Hand strokes at him, curls under and cups him coolly. ]
Though maybe it is just pretend when it's her magic that intuitively sets the rhythm for him. Once she's sunk inside, to the point where he can feel his tip nudge against the back of her throat—and she provides him with such a lovely moan that he can feel in every nerve ending—his hips move forward again, then ease back to nudge against the cool Mage Hand that cups him. The length of his cock tugs out accordingly, hugged by her in that magnificent way all the while.]
[ she would not dream of stopping a second time. he's slow enough now that she doesn't think... she'll choke... only hold her breath when he hilts himself.
it won't do to be the only one moaning, though. and she knows what a pretty moaner Henry Creel can be, so—she presses her fingers in and lifts and spreads his cheeks, curling her own toes into the sheets as she tries to wriggle on the bed. slow squeeze of the Mage Hand around his balls, never painful, never releasing.
there is so much of him in her mouth it's hard to think. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vecna) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2024-12-26 07:22 pm
no subject
then—a release. he tugs from her throat with a sound that is indescribable in its messiness. a soaked sound. a whimpering one. is this better than before? doubtful. but it's more familiar, with a sense of devotion which may have been lacking then. she's squirming in place as he drags between her lips, and Sprezzatura takes greedy fast breaths and tries to tug him back in with the coil of her tongue alone.
show him "better".
... moves one hand back and full on squeezes one of his buttocks. ]
no subject
Well, they’ll see. For now, she cuts her own reprieve short, depriving Henry further of the symphony of wet sounds, her gasps for breath, and her tongue coils and tugs and the tips of her nails prick at his skin as she gropes his backside. Henry sheaths inside once again, more at her behest this time than his own, but who’s he to complain? Her enthusiasm is enthralling, and inside her mouth is the only thing he cares to feel. How it hugs his cock, so stiff, aching for attention so much that every minute movement is elevated sensation. His nerves bright as he nudges in deeper with the slightest angle of his hips, inches more with so little effort.]
And more enthusiastic.
[He’s just asking for her to leave nail marks on his ass at this point.]
no subject
no subject
In reality, of course, he doesn't actually mean to goad her — he'd be the biggest fool in the universe to do that when he has his cock in her throat. His hands, instead, come forward and splay out, reaching to lean his weight forward as he gropes at her chest. Handfuls.
Hips easing out, then back in.]
Only teasing you. You know I love this, I love that you do this for me, I love you.
no subject
love, love, love. her face burns the hotter with each proclamation. she loves him, she loves him too much, she should never succumb to this with him—but she couldn't say no. she wants to know the pleasure of allowing him what no one else was permitted.
she gulps down a breath when he eases out, swallows painfully around his length on the in. still squeezing his backside about as hard as she dares to. ten nail-pricks, fingertips practically bruising, and when she lifts and parts his backside, he'll feel—
a spectral, cool hand slip in and stroke over his hole. ]
no subject
The prickling pain of her nails remains bright; a counterpoint to the pleasure, one that further elevates rather instead of detracts. Layered atop each other, the variation of sensation is divine, pain and pleasure twined into one experience that defines their love. Maybe there's more introspection to be had regarding that, but now's not the time for it. He feels—
An unexpectedly cool sensation over his hole.
Henry audibly gasps. His fingers flex hard and his spine straightens, pure surprise. The result is that he buries himself deeper down her throat, more instinct than intent.]
no subject
slightly. ]
no subject
The little sound of her struggling brings enough awareness into his mind for him to ease back and out. Maybe towards that feeling around his rim, if it's still there.]
You startled me.
[Sorry.]
no subject
Do you not like it cold?
no subject
I do. I didn't say anything at all about not liking it.
no subject
Then arch your back.
no subject
He does as he's told, arching his back for her.]
no subject
no subject
How can you concentrate?
[To keep that magic going while they’re doing this. (Maybe no different than how Henry can concentrate enough to use his telekinesis when needed.)]
no subject
he thinks he is so unique. that only he can maintain a focus like this.
he'll feel the pressure of her intent on him. he must look so pretty just now. too bad this view is the worst, even just peering through her lashes. she mouths at his thigh, then murmurs, ] This is most rudimentary magic.
[ the finger taps! on his hole! as if to punctuate. ]
no subject
Still, even with those commonalities, he sometimes finds himself jealous of Sprezzatura's magic. Rudimentary, she calls it. Whereas even if Henry used his most rudimentary form of telekinesis, he'd still eventually reach a limit. That point where the blood vessels in his nose break and bleed.
He tries to click his tongue, and instead finds he doesn't even have the will to pretend to be indignant when she's treating him so well. A little jolt at the tap, though.]
Uh-huh.
[Tweaks her nipples again, a little harder.]
You should... use it more often.
no subject
Should I?
no subject
Another way of being touched by you? Why wouldn't I want that?
no subject
Come back into my mouth.
no subject
Then open up for me again, so nicely like before.
no subject
warm, open-mouthed exhale. ]
Ahh.
no subject
She invites him in, and he won’t hesitate to nudge forward and slide the tip of his cock into her open mouth again.]
Good. You feel so good.
[He wants to the feel the aid of her coiling tongue welcome and tug him in again. But even if that doesn’t happen, the length of him doesn’t hesitate to seek out the snug line of her throat a second time.]
no subject
slow, deep inhale through her nose. difficult. but she... does like to do this for him. pretend at giving him the power, the control. as he slides in, she makes sure to moan for him in the back of her throat—enjoying the muffled quality to it, the whiny twinge. she's not used to hearing herself this way and it isn't... bad.
the Mage Hand strokes at him, curls under and cups him coolly. ]
no subject
Though maybe it is just pretend when it's her magic that intuitively sets the rhythm for him. Once she's sunk inside, to the point where he can feel his tip nudge against the back of her throat—and she provides him with such a lovely moan that he can feel in every nerve ending—his hips move forward again, then ease back to nudge against the cool Mage Hand that cups him. The length of his cock tugs out accordingly, hugged by her in that magnificent way all the while.]
Aha... keep doing that.
no subject
it won't do to be the only one moaning, though. and she knows what a pretty moaner Henry Creel can be, so—she presses her fingers in and lifts and spreads his cheeks, curling her own toes into the sheets as she tries to wriggle on the bed. slow squeeze of the Mage Hand around his balls, never painful, never releasing.
there is so much of him in her mouth it's hard to think. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)