[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. ]
[If she wants a moan, that's more than enough to earn one. The pressure of her magic around his balls is a layered flare of pleasure rolling through him, atop everything else — but once more, it's the coolness that still surprises him, and the sound it wins her is something like a... stuttering gasp, and an exhale that sounds like-]
Ohhh.
[His hands have ceased their kneading and have found more use in keeping himself anchored instead, sliding down to rest at her sides. All the more control as he fucks her, still with a sense of slow conscientiousness compared to the last time, hanging onto enough self-awareness for her own sake. For now, anyway.]
[ it's like her stomach turns upside down at that sound; a chill spreads through her, her belly tugs deep into her groin, goosebumps erupt.
being the one to control his pleasure like this... to bring him to this... intoxicating.
her throat makes filthy sounds as he fucks it. all of them wet and hollow, squelching. she squeezes her eyes closed and arches her head back to give him a smoother line to push into. hard to breathe. every breath hard, itself. and her face is so hot that it leaves her lightheaded—
struggling and squirming to take him even in his gentleness. she gets her hands really set into his backside and squeezes him hard. Mage Hand squeezes its handful again, too, then lets it drop back to cushion on her face so it can resume teasing between his buttocks. ]
A challenge for her, but she accommodates him so well. It becomes borderline ironic, then, how difficult it is for him to remain gentle; he feels as though he'll be lit afire from the inside out, and that flame is stoked fresh once he starts to fuck her with no real interruption this time. The softness of her throat, how she readjusts so that each thrust feels deeper than the last — even the cool squeeze of her magic, a contrast that throws every sensation into sharp relief.
She's squirming beneath him. How long can she do this for him? Will she choke on him when he comes, no matter how careful he tries to be? Does he even care to try for gentleness now? He's already been riding close to the edge for a while now, he could just let himself go, spill down her throat-
Another moan gutters out from him, just at the very thought. His fingers flex a little harder at her sides.]
Fuck, if I came right now...
[Is that a suggestion, a warning, a gauge for permission (since we know who's still in control here)? It could be all of the above.]
[ she makes a sound in the hard affirmative—what else could she do? an enthused, muffled, throaty moan in direct response to Henry's own.
he never gets like this. selfish and uncouth... this is the closest he gets that she's allowed to see. his soft voice saying those things. his hands gripping her like this. of course she likes the idea of encouraging that when it's all at her mercy whether he gets his reward at the end or not.
her palms finally gentle and slide back around his thighs to hug him closer to her. laboured breathing, but her tail keeps squirming and so does she. ]
[Up in the air whether or not her urging drifts him over the edge faster, but the end result is the same. "Gentleness" is a passing fancy at this point; still present in Henry's rhythm, but certainly not in his enthusiasm. Hilting in fully on each stroke, as though her mouth is just a hole she's so kind enough to let him fuck, like her wiggling beneath him might provide him a different angle of friction each time he slides in.
She knows the signs by now. The tightening of his abdominal muscles, the way his nails practically dig into her skin, a sharp exhale of air and the halting of his hips... and, of course, how his cock stutters and twitches in her throat and along her tongue.
His heart is pounding in his head. Henry will simply spill down her throat, making no effort to pull out; no awareness other than the bliss of orgasm careening through his body.]
[ it is work, holding her coughing deep inside when he's taking up all that space. her shoulders shake once, very hard, because it hurts and her throat burns—but the rest? his weight, his blissful silence? she wants not to ruin that a second time.
don't give up. be better than everyone else. she holds his length in her tongue, swallowing and working painfully around it as he spills. so much heat directly down her throat... like a hot drink. breathing hard and muffled, Sprezzatura clings onto his thighs, her entire lower half writhing on the mattress. ]
But she does do better this time, and the fact that she'll do this at all for him is not a gesture so easily forgotten. The way her throat tugs around his length as it twitches inside of her is divine, adding to the waves of post-orgasm pleasure, and he isn't keen to pull away from that immediately; though he tells himself he should. For her sake, his beautiful tiefling who's trying so hard to make this perfect for him.
Blessedly, she doesn't have to endure it for terribly long. Henry crosses the threshold into oversensitiveness quickly, given how much they've already done today, and it's with one more rumbling gasp that he rises up on his knees (as much as her grip allows), and eases his hips back to drag himself out of her.
[ ahh. what's the point? she rolls over and begins to hack and cough, wetly, feeling her nose begin to run and her throat catch with the taste and viscosity of semen.
While she's busy coughing and hacking, Henry is left still sitting on his knees beside her, the sound of her recovery a stark contrast to the warm, almost-shivery way he feels.
He glances at her, at least, and offers uselessly-]
[ wipes her streaming eyes, still coughing. this is, and always will be, the most detestable way to end a lovely encounter. undignified and ripping them both out of the satisfaction of the afterglow. what is the point? it's only humiliating.
she lays her forehead on the bed and breathes. it is mostly silent, save for the wheeze. ]
[Inelegant as these moments might be, it doesn’t ruin the experience for Henry. Granted, he’s not the one coughing and wheezing, but it’s not like he feels embarrassment or thinks their intimacy has been indelibly dispelled.
Next time, he thinks, he’ll just… pull out. But that’s for future Henry to consider.
[ her cheeks all the hotter. that did not feel much better—maybe slightly less hacking. what will it take to be a woman who swallows his cock as it spills in her throat, to feel it tugging with every pulse, to hold him there until his shivering is done and then have him languidly pull out? surely she can be. or maybe she needs to fall back on regular blowjobs and never swallowing at all...
one more cough. she slumps and rolls her face to the side to look up at him. ]
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vecna) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2024-12-26 07:22 pm
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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.)]
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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. ]
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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.
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Should I?
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Another way of being touched by you? Why wouldn't I want that?
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Come back into my mouth.
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Then open up for me again, so nicely like before.
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warm, open-mouthed exhale. ]
Ahh.
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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Ohhh.
[His hands have ceased their kneading and have found more use in keeping himself anchored instead, sliding down to rest at her sides. All the more control as he fucks her, still with a sense of slow conscientiousness compared to the last time, hanging onto enough self-awareness for her own sake. For now, anyway.]
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being the one to control his pleasure like this...
to bring him to this...
intoxicating.
her throat makes filthy sounds as he fucks it. all of them wet and hollow, squelching. she squeezes her eyes closed and arches her head back to give him a smoother line to push into. hard to breathe. every breath hard, itself. and her face is so hot that it leaves her lightheaded—
struggling and squirming to take him even in his gentleness. she gets her hands really set into his backside and squeezes him hard. Mage Hand squeezes its handful again, too, then lets it drop back to cushion on her face so it can resume teasing between his buttocks. ]
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A challenge for her, but she accommodates him so well. It becomes borderline ironic, then, how difficult it is for him to remain gentle; he feels as though he'll be lit afire from the inside out, and that flame is stoked fresh once he starts to fuck her with no real interruption this time. The softness of her throat, how she readjusts so that each thrust feels deeper than the last — even the cool squeeze of her magic, a contrast that throws every sensation into sharp relief.
She's squirming beneath him. How long can she do this for him? Will she choke on him when he comes, no matter how careful he tries to be? Does he even care to try for gentleness now? He's already been riding close to the edge for a while now, he could just let himself go, spill down her throat-
Another moan gutters out from him, just at the very thought. His fingers flex a little harder at her sides.]
Fuck, if I came right now...
[Is that a suggestion, a warning, a gauge for permission (since we know who's still in control here)? It could be all of the above.]
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he never gets like this. selfish and uncouth... this is the closest he gets that she's allowed to see. his soft voice saying those things. his hands gripping her like this. of course she likes the idea of encouraging that when it's all at her mercy whether he gets his reward at the end or not.
her palms finally gentle and slide back around his thighs to hug him closer to her. laboured breathing, but her tail keeps squirming and so does she. ]
Mmmhm—!
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She knows the signs by now. The tightening of his abdominal muscles, the way his nails practically dig into her skin, a sharp exhale of air and the halting of his hips... and, of course, how his cock stutters and twitches in her throat and along her tongue.
His heart is pounding in his head. Henry will simply spill down her throat, making no effort to pull out; no awareness other than the bliss of orgasm careening through his body.]
/2
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don't give up. be better than everyone else. she holds his length in her tongue, swallowing and working painfully around it as he spills. so much heat directly down her throat... like a hot drink. breathing hard and muffled, Sprezzatura clings onto his thighs, her entire lower half writhing on the mattress. ]
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But she does do better this time, and the fact that she'll do this at all for him is not a gesture so easily forgotten. The way her throat tugs around his length as it twitches inside of her is divine, adding to the waves of post-orgasm pleasure, and he isn't keen to pull away from that immediately; though he tells himself he should. For her sake, his beautiful tiefling who's trying so hard to make this perfect for him.
Blessedly, she doesn't have to endure it for terribly long. Henry crosses the threshold into oversensitiveness quickly, given how much they've already done today, and it's with one more rumbling gasp that he rises up on his knees (as much as her grip allows), and eases his hips back to drag himself out of her.
breathe girl!!]
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gack. ]
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While she's busy coughing and hacking, Henry is left still sitting on his knees beside her, the sound of her recovery a stark contrast to the warm, almost-shivery way he feels.
He glances at her, at least, and offers uselessly-]
Are you okay?
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she lays her forehead on the bed and breathes. it is mostly silent, save for the wheeze. ]
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Next time, he thinks, he’ll just… pull out. But that’s for future Henry to consider.
Hand on her back, rubbing little circles.]
Better than last time, still.
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[ her cheeks all the hotter. that did not feel much better—maybe slightly less hacking. what will it take to be a woman who swallows his cock as it spills in her throat, to feel it tugging with every pulse, to hold him there until his shivering is done and then have him languidly pull out? surely she can be. or maybe she needs to fall back on regular blowjobs and never swallowing at all...
one more cough. she slumps and rolls her face to the side to look up at him. ]
It is feeling nice?
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