She settles onto his lap, and without the restriction of her trousers to keep him from touching her, Henry allows himself to be eager. Like before, one hand rests behind her—playing with the base of her tail, wanting it to raise again—and the other slides fingers just below to cup her cunt. For now. Slick, where he touches her, the whole length of a finger traveling forward just to feel.]
Would you please like to ride my fingers this time?
[ mmh. it certainly does feel exposed, doesn't it? and lift her tail does, while the tuft of it loops over his arm and hangs there contentedly. ever the tell. her eyes fall to half-mast; she sags forward and places her cheek upon his shoulder again. arms around his shoulders and the back of his neck again. ]
[Ever the tell, and ever the encouragement. And they both know that Henry simply enjoys playing with her tail, especially when she's so exposed in this way. The way the muscle moves and twitches just at the base... he'll never get tired of it. Forefinger and thumb massage it up and down, up and down, while his other hand seeks her entrance. Easy, for how slick she is, but by now? It's familiar — they've certainly been intimate enough with each other more than enough times since he's begun living with her.
The length of one slender finger pushes in, and Henry barely pauses to wait for another, and in a matter of moments both middle and ring finger are snug within.]
[ this feels very nice. two fingers, hugged and filling, and her tail twitching gently in the pressure of his other hand—it all lends itself towards a rising warmth and contentment. she cradles the back of his head and neck in silent reply to the easy familiarity of his touch. how easily her body opens for him now, when he knows just how to hold it. ]
Keep playing with my tail.
[ murmured into the join of his neck as she mouths at it: another slow love bite. ]
[Every part of him fits perfectly with her — never has this been unproven, and never will it be. His fingers are snug, kept warm and comfortable, her walls moving around him in minuscule ways as she leans forward to mouth at the skin of his neck.
At this rate, she will leave proof of her attentions there, but Henry's far less fussy about that than her. His head tilts accordingly.]
Oh? Are you going to leave a mark if I don't?
[As that gentle grip slides up the length of her tail, as far as the length of his own arm will allow it.]
[Right down to that tuft he likes so much for how soft it is. His thumb plays with it for a moment longer, tickling against his skin.
A-ah. She does sting. He wiggles his fingers inside of her slightly in "retaliation", hissing through his teeth as though it might hurt him, though it's all performative. His pulse quickens in his neck.]
And how am I supposed to explain something like that away?
[ all such retaliation achieves is Sprezzatura rising up on her knees, falling again. does it count as riding his fingers if she's doing it to follow his motions, as ships follow the rocking of the sea? not pressing down, but settling above it. she twitches her tail once and piles it into the space between his legs. ]
[It probably only counts as a technicality, but Henry knows when she's being difficult on purpose. His fingers still, but only long enough for her to slip her tail between his legs. His other hand curls around said tail in a loose fist, just... holding.]
[ oh, but she hates to bite again. it makes her feel—not I powerful or dominant but feral, like those tieflings she hears cruel rumour of yet never seems to actually meet. pressing her forehead hard to his throat, she breathes equally so, deep inhales to steady herself while her claws knead at his shoulders. ]
More?
[ fine. one more bite, with more pressure, laid down over top of the first. but only the one more. ]
[Oh, Sprezzatura. He only asks for more because it's her, and not because he fantasizes about some feral girlfriend leaving him marked for days. There is a differentiating line, partitioned by actual love.
The sting, the pain, the pleasure. It's absolutely coalesced by now. He moans, squirms beneath her, rucks his fingers inside of her deeper, if she doesn't move again.]
[ but when he says it like that, it does feel like he wants the feral girlfriend. she imagines it, sometimes: Henry nude and sprawled, oozing sticky blood from myriad mouth wounds left affectionately across his body. chest, arms, neck, shoulders, legs, hips. would he like that? to bleed with the force of her love?
he seems like the kind of man who would.
unmoving, muscles tensing in her thighs when he thrusts his fingers harder into her. so focused on the act of giving him exactly what he wants without betraying herself—the flat of her tongue presses over the bite marks she leaves behind. soothing the sting. he moans so nicely for her. exactly like she asked of him; more of those pretty sounds. ]
Arch your neck.
[ she moves up and seams her mouth to his throat again. a hard and suckling kiss, like an animal at its mother. ]
[We both know he'd love that. To bleed under the force of her love, to be torn apart by it. What better way to be fully subsumed by her passions?
Maybe someday.
But is this just a microcosm of the same thing? Where she bites him, she will leave pinpricks of teeth marks, a crescent curve. Where she tongues and sucks at him, in that same spot, blood vessels will break and turn dark just beneath his skin. He could wear a high collar and hide it for the days to come, by why would he? Henry wants this. Belonging to someone he actually loves is such a wonderful thing.
So of course he arches his neck. Chin tilted so that the whole line of it is there and exposed, so she can have the biggest canvas to work with. His fingers fuck her with a lazy, almost absent-minded rhythm, sometimes pausing just to cup her, to keep her risen and steady atop him.]
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Sprezzatura, I can't believe you've tricked me.
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[And then, around the band of her trousers, his powers tug.]
Wiggle out of these first.
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"Wiggle"?
[ as Sprezzatura drops trou. there's some wriggling, namely to get them down off her hips and tail. ]
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Gyrate sensually? [He's joking, obviously.]
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[ they fall, and she steps out of them with an aside and downward glance. it's about the least sexual she could be; simply undressing.
for now. ]
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Then come back here and shut me up now.
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[ as she climbs right back into his lap ]
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[Does that help?
She settles onto his lap, and without the restriction of her trousers to keep him from touching her, Henry allows himself to be eager. Like before, one hand rests behind her—playing with the base of her tail, wanting it to raise again—and the other slides fingers just below to cup her cunt. For now. Slick, where he touches her, the whole length of a finger traveling forward just to feel.]
Would you please like to ride my fingers this time?
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Da.
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The length of one slender finger pushes in, and Henry barely pauses to wait for another, and in a matter of moments both middle and ring finger are snug within.]
Mm, you feel nice.
[She always does.]
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[ this feels very nice. two fingers, hugged and filling, and her tail twitching gently in the pressure of his other hand—it all lends itself towards a rising warmth and contentment. she cradles the back of his head and neck in silent reply to the easy familiarity of his touch. how easily her body opens for him now, when he knows just how to hold it. ]
Keep playing with my tail.
[ murmured into the join of his neck as she mouths at it: another slow love bite. ]
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At this rate, she will leave proof of her attentions there, but Henry's far less fussy about that than her. His head tilts accordingly.]
Oh? Are you going to leave a mark if I don't?
[As that gentle grip slides up the length of her tail, as far as the length of his own arm will allow it.]
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I intend to leave mark.
[ one way or another, despite all her loathing for it to be done to her. she nips, slowly. let him savour the sting like she knows he does. ]
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A-ah. She does sting. He wiggles his fingers inside of her slightly in "retaliation", hissing through his teeth as though it might hurt him, though it's all performative. His pulse quickens in his neck.]
And how am I supposed to explain something like that away?
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Say "thank you, Ms Vaux".
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Thank you, Ms Vaux.
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[ bites. his neck. ]
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A hiss through his teeth, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat, accordingly.]
More.
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More?
[ fine. one more bite, with more pressure, laid down over top of the first. but only the one more. ]
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The sting, the pain, the pleasure. It's absolutely coalesced by now. He moans, squirms beneath her, rucks his fingers inside of her deeper, if she doesn't move again.]
Just like that. Proof that I belong to you.
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he seems like the kind of man who would.
unmoving, muscles tensing in her thighs when he thrusts his fingers harder into her. so focused on the act of giving him exactly what he wants without betraying herself—the flat of her tongue presses over the bite marks she leaves behind. soothing the sting. he moans so nicely for her. exactly like she asked of him; more of those pretty sounds. ]
Arch your neck.
[ she moves up and seams her mouth to his throat again. a hard and suckling kiss, like an animal at its mother. ]
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Maybe someday.
But is this just a microcosm of the same thing? Where she bites him, she will leave pinpricks of teeth marks, a crescent curve. Where she tongues and sucks at him, in that same spot, blood vessels will break and turn dark just beneath his skin. He could wear a high collar and hide it for the days to come, by why would he? Henry wants this. Belonging to someone he actually loves is such a wonderful thing.
So of course he arches his neck. Chin tilted so that the whole line of it is there and exposed, so she can have the biggest canvas to work with. His fingers fuck her with a lazy, almost absent-minded rhythm, sometimes pausing just to cup her, to keep her risen and steady atop him.]
Ha...
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