DEDICATED HENRATURRA POST;

[vecna]

(( when the sun sets, we're both the same ))

Comments

[velluminous]

[ sighing, ] I do...

[ 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. ]

[vecna]

[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.]

[velluminous]

[ she pulls the rest of her tail through, so his hand can rub the entire length of it, right down to the tuft. ]

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. ]

[vecna]

[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?

[velluminous]

[ 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. ]

Say "thank you, Ms Vaux".

[vecna]

[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.]

Thank you, Ms Vaux.

[velluminous]

Good boy.

[ bites. his neck. ]

[vecna]

[Oww. (Positive.) (Horny.)

A hiss through his teeth, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat, accordingly.]

More.

[velluminous]

[ 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. ]

[vecna]

[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.]

Just like that. Proof that I belong to you.

[velluminous]

[ 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. ]

[vecna]

[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.]

Ha...

[velluminous]

Good?

[ it goes without saying that it's good. everything she does is good. and now, with an entire expanse bared to her, she makes herself bite down harder: a reward for his pliancy. she feels tender, thin skin pinch between her teeth, how it seems to slip, to want to break under them. she holds, like that, barely able to breathe. it feels as if her heart is in her throat. hard to breathe.

what he does between her thighs barely a blip on her radar. she can narrow her focus incredibly well in that way, to nearly forget about the pleasure she was meant to chase because she is that concentrated on what gives pleasure to him.

even if the thought makes her queasy.

she presses her thumbs against the back of his neck.

and then there's a piercing. she breaks through, and nearly leaps out of his lap at the shock of it. ]

[vecna]

Perfect.

[Every moment and measure of it. Beneath those sharp teeth, his skin’s about the equivalent of vellum, under the mere mercy of every needle point fang. Stretched and pricked, but never punctured. Even that is a thrill—especially that—and Henry’s fingers are idly kneading at her tail, or inside her cunt, all mindless encouragement as he keeps his neck exposed.

And then.

A true sting. A bit of eking warmth beneath her mouth; pain, yes, but it relates so closely to what he’s already experiencing that he can barely differentiate. When his eyes shutter open, it’s not because of the bright sting, but because she’s practically jolted off of him.]

What? What is it? [Repeated uselessly. Those pinpoints at his neck throb with his heartbeat, and with room to investigate, he unwinds his hand from her tail and presses his fingers to his neck. Wet. Could just be saliva but—

When he raises it, he spies red. Blood.

…Oh. His heartbeat kicks up a notch. Oh.]

[velluminous]

No! I did not mean this!

[vecna]

[Bright red on his fingertips. Not even that much, but how stark it is against his skin.]

Sprezzatura...

[velluminous]

[ she collects herself, becoming tense and touchy ] What. You are always asking I bite.

[vecna]

[He is always asking that. And thus she should know that his fixation on his fingers is one of surprise, yes, but a deep, warming one that sends electricity rocketing through his nerves, and his breath hitching in his lungs.

Finally looks at her, eyes darkened with want.]

Yes.

[That's all he has to say, his bloodied fingers reaching out to cup the back of her neck (sorry for the smearing), and bring her down, quite fervently and without warning, for an impatient kiss. Hungry and seeking.]

[velluminous]

[ a deep kiss—yes, she should expect such things from him. even without the factor of her own intent, she's just given him something he has long wanted her to give, and in the most desirable way: through the loss of her own self-restraint. he pulls her to him and she whines into his mouth, every limb tense, her tail tuft puffed out, and her thighs hugging where she couldn't quite pull him out of her.

her mouth has the tang of him on it. ]

[vecna]

[Heated, heated, hungry kiss. He kisses like he’s trying to eat her up, and tasting the iron of his blood on her lips drives this point home. Every muscle of his tense, too, vibrating keenly like she’s injected him with more eagerness than before. He holds her so close, wants to fill every inch of her up. His hand isn’t enough.

He barely pulls away, messy murmurs, but very certain statements-]

Let me fuck you. Right here.

[velluminous]

[ that word in his voice never fails to surprise. ]

Mmh...

[ right here? she already said she didn't want that!

mumbling vaguely into the wet and slippery juncture of their mouths, so much tongue and teeth and saliva. Sprezzatura feels it spinning down from the corner of her mouth and collecting on the edge of her jaw. viscous, quickly cooling. the animal nature of that alone undoes some small margin of her restraint; her tail twitches up invitingly without a thought. they always do seem to feed off one another in this way. he can suggest anything to her and work her down to it eventually. even...

here, she pulls from his mouth and seams her own back to his neck. another bite—another puncture. forgetting to answer, or even to decide a yes or a no for herself. ]

[vecna]

[Right here. She said she didn't want it, but they break each other down all the time, unable to say no. Besides, despite her dislike of being quiet, he's sure he can make her manage...

The noise he makes when she punctures his neck again is stuttering, guttural, incomprehensible, and very, very approving. He nearly tosses his neck back more, would it not pull at his skin harder (though maybe that wouldn't be so bad, either...), and that lightning shock of arousal surges through him. The pain is nice, but it's secondary to the thrill, to the obscenity of it. He wonders how he tastes on her tongue, but he doesn't wonder long enough to ask.

She's not given him an answer, and he doesn't wait for it. She's gotten him too worked up now, and his hand slips from her cunt, wet and slick, and grasps onto her hip. His other does the same.

He flips them over, maybe a little clumsily, but with assuredness enough that she needn't even detach herself from his neck. Him on top, with his knees pressed into the cushions, and her below. If she allows for it, anyway.]

[velluminous]

[ oh—

blood in her mouth and the room moving around her. suddenly she is empty, more than a little dizzy, and being manhandled beneath him. suddenly, she is caged by his legs and body. her heart leaps into her throat and sticks there.

pulls out of his neck with a sickening sensation, to her at least, and tosses her head back on the cushions. ]

Henry—

[vecna]

[She has not bitten fiercely enough to describe his neck, now, as ribboning red. But it does welt where she's pierced him, and it does eke crimson. He can feel his pulse throbbing in each spot, and his nerves sing along to the rhythm.

One hand keeps him propped up against the back of the couch, practically hovering over her. His other is working at undoing his trousers.]

Turn over.

/2

[velluminous]

[ the sheer heat of this response?? ]