[This is one way to shut him up, even telepathically.
The spank might've made him jolt, and pleasantly, really, but it is the start of something else far more surprising. That finger slips in, wet and cold and all the way up without much warning at all. And IMMEDIATELY, all Henry can do is straighten in surprise, and via instinct he opens his mouth to remark, but...
His mouth is already occupied, and now pushed back down, and the result is that the cock bumps the back of his throat without any mental preparation, and he sputters and coughs on it, shoulders shaking. For what good it does, after all, still having a mouthful.]
[ there, she thinks—not unkindly, necessarily, but with a small tinge of pleasure nonetheless. now he knows a little better what it's like. thumb-strokes at his nape, but she does not pull out, and rather lets him cough around the glass. ]
Shhh-h-h-h-h.
[ all the way in. a slow, downward pressure of the finger pushing at his walls from the inside. alllllll the way out. it circles his hole.
[DON'T YOU SHUSH HIM-- The sensation is so new and so sudden that it's as though she's taken a relentless turn with him, and he cannot even be grateful for the cock plugging up his more embarrassing, surprised sounds. They still spill from the back of his throat, guttural. Somehow, that's almost worse.
He remembers to breathe through his nose, a gust of it exhaling, trying to swallow down the instinct to cough again. She'll not let him raise his head, and clearly she doesn't intend to relent because she's not pulling out, either. A tinge of her pleasure bounces around in his own mind, but all of that is secondary to the feeling of that Mage Hand's cool finger sliding in, stretching his walls, a fullness that he knows would not even compare to that glass cock filling him instead.
His heart thuds. He braces harder against her thigh. And, insanely, replies-]
[ oh. but he is a quick mess, isn't he? from soft smiles to little pretty noises around her cock in the span of just a few gentle... twisting... motions. her mouth curls wider, and as his hand braces and his voice drifts across her mind, she—
leans forward and smacks his backside again. like she means it. ]
[!! Jolts even more, the sting hot across his buttock, fiery and painful. Henry, who has no issue at all acknowledging such, finds it utterly arousing, and it's too bad the cock suddenly deepens against the back of his throat thanks to the movement, interrupting this heat in his belly.
Mentally braces himself against the instinct to cough again. He cannot, however, do much about that strange, utterly exotic feeling of a finger gently twisting in his hole, shifting uselessly on his knees as he's tended to. A-ah... God. Is this what it feels like for her?]
[ pulls her hips back, granting him sweet reprieve. her Hand pulls languidly out, only for the middle finger to unfurl and join index at his rim. they toy with it, nudging at the pucker, slicking the skin, stretching at him without actually entering. and when she does beckon it slide back into Henry, it is only one finger again. but firmly.
[The reprieve is enough to make it feel like his throat isn’t overfull, though his mouth is still sealed around the glass — but comparatively, this is easy, and his tongue massages at the slick underside in this moment of respite.
Which doesn’t last long.
Henry stiffens somewhat when he feels that second finger toy at his entrance. He wonders if she can feel it, the way his hole flutters against it in surprise, simply not used to that stimulation. He stretches with the tautness of a man never really touched there, and his fingers flex in the same rhythm, digging against her thigh.
Do it or don’t, he wants to say. He wants to think it at her. But then she— doesn’t. Only one finger dives in, just like before, but the movement is different. It’s more. Fuck. What a foreign, invasive feeling. Like it’s alive inside, pushing against him in angles previously unknown. He… doesn’t hate it.
He only wishes he could have swallowed down the almost mewling sound that escaped him, inhaling a gasp around the cock still seated in his mouth.]
[ it is alive inside, after a manner of speaking. twisting and hooking, building up a consistent motion of all the way in, nearly all the way out. she has to imagine the flutter.
moves her hips gently up again, hilting in his mouth for but a moment. she relaxes. she pushes up again. she relaxes. it's a steady fucking at both ends; something which might prompt more of those kittenish sounds that go right to her core and tingle there. ]
Now, stretch...
[ on the outstroke, Mage Hand curls index and middle finger together urgh one another, so that middle is hooked above the other; still a narrow tip to seek entry, but as it corkscrews both fingers slowly into Henry's twitching and wet hole, the stacked knuckles will feel almost like a knot forcing its way in. ]
The glass hilts itself in his mouth, then eases back. Continues, repeats, and he finds that is an easy rhythm to fall into. Predictable, and often followed by relief when it seems as though it might have slipped back just a bit too deep.
But whatever the hell he’s doing back there with that Mage Hand… That’s a different matter altogether. She tells him to stretch as though he has any choice. What he suspects must be more than one finger winds in, widening him to an apex in a way that seems forceful — at least to a man who has never experienced this before. It is not quite enough for pain, but certainly nudging on discomfort, and…
Again, he doesn’t hate it.
Though he is keenly aware of the humiliation from both sides.]
You might as well use the glass at this rate.
[The petulance inherent in his telepathic tone does not override the noises he’s making, hands slipping away and onto the sheets on either side of her thighs, clutching hard into them. He sounds pathetic and, despite himself, pleasured — and pushes back slightly on his knees as though to encourage her in further.]
[ a steady rhythm is one of the most important aspects of fucking someone's throat. she takes it more gently, now, as he begins to squirm and clutch the sheets, though it's difficult to—the sight and sound of him gets her heart going so fast in her chest that it hurts. and it makes her face hot. and all her skin tingles. ]
No. You are not ready for it.
[ he pushes back, and the knuckles stretch past his rim. pop!. two fingers seated firmly inside. they twist, with gentle insistence, in a clockwise circle. again, again, again.
to soothe him she strokes through his hair with her fingers. ]
[Again, a response in her head that is so quick it's definitely petulant:]
And what makes you so sure of that?
[He feels like he's on fire, and if he focuses all that energy into his telepathy, maybe his noises won't be quite as needy, even if they keen lower in wayward pleasure.
This hope is completely upended when she stretches past his rim and settles those fingers right inside of him, and he all but moans around the glass. Her fingers in his hair would normally soothe, yes, but there is nothing but the awareness of that movement inside of him, how odd it feels, how invasive, how pleasant in a way he never quite understood, but only trusted that it must feel nice if Sprezzatura deems it so.
Just... clenches a little tighter at her knees, anchoring himself. Henry closes his eyes.]
[ like a child being denied the plaything he so desperately wants. she pets and pets his hair, smoothing it back into perfect place, as his body takes the coupled fingers and jumps all over for it. he is so... cute.
look at him. he's cute. clutching her knees and closing his eyes to accept the treatment. testing, her Mage Hand angles higher, urging his hips up by lifting him at the hole. ]
[That's a noise of surprise, lifting him like that. Moved around like he was little more than a doll being played with, and given the track record with how he's used his powers in the past, it's ironic. His backside angles higher.
He doesn't open his eyes, though, brow still cinched. He cannot deny that when he is under her control, he experiences not indignity but jolts of thrill, over and over. Henry feels it too, in his cock, and his telepathic reply is not one of words, but of feeling: lust, heat, a little bit of vulnerability. And yes, affirmation. He can feel the blood rushing to his length even more than before, at attention between his legs. She cannot see it from this angle.]
[ welcome to how it feels to be posed and played with, Henry. enjoy the stay.
she's already fond of the view—his face nestled close to her, his brow pinched, and his backside slowly moving higher—and has one hand still soothing through his hair. then that feeling hits, or it bleeds out, or fades over, finding its way into her through her pores and her breath and her mind, it's her mind, this sense of desire that is not hers but by virtue of being felt by her is hers. her breath knocks from her. warmth and vibrant colour rise in her face, and how.
the way her heartbeat thumps in her chest is, momentarily, as though there were two pulses thrumming.
Mammon. gods. it's hard to speak. ]
Ah-h-hh—... [ a shaky inhale. more steadily: ] Turn around.
[The sound he makes, wet and messy, is impossible to ignore as he pulls away. His lips are swollen and shining with saliva, and his blue eyes are almost imploring with a simple request.]
[Oh my god. There is no better way to encourage him to move around than by doing that, lifted in a way that he feels he must brace his hands against the sheets and fist his fingers into them.]
Fine.
[DENIED KISSES!! Huffy and flushed and a bit breathless, he turns himself around while still on his knees. There is not much dignity in the effort, but he supposes that is rather the point.]
[ it rather is. yes. she leans back and admires the view while he turns—finally a glimpse at the stiffness between his legs, but also the flush spreading down his back. she touches it, gently. spreads her fingers out.
[A flush spreading down his back in every direction. His complexion is pale enough that any excess blood flow will make his skin a pretty pink, and she has him quite heated by now.
He allows himself a shaky exhale, those fingers pull out, and he feels wanting. A dearth, strange, but not be stimulated at all. But for now, he does as asked, lifting his gaze to look in the mirror.
He is flushed to the point of looking harried if either of them didn't know better. It makes the blue of his eyes seem to shine brighter, almost lost between strands of hair that have fallen out of their coif and hover in his vision, instead. Like this, he is practically aglow.
But none of that matters. His gaze drifts up to her, instead; and she is beautiful and more important than all the rest. As always.]
[ look at him. just look at him. he is so reactionary that it nearly makes her laugh to see how his blush brings out the colour of his eyes. only nearly, though; she doesn't laugh. that would be mean, no?
rather, she crawls to kneel behind him, nearly over him, so that he can both feel the glass cock resting on his backside and her hand as she reaches forward and cups his throat and jaw from behind. ]
[How can he not be reactionary when someone like her is touching him, teasing him? He is the luckiest man in the world, even when she denies him.
The glass resting on his backside isn't even cold—not after how long it had been in his mouth—and yet it still makes him shiver. She will feel him swallow hard from beneath her fingers.]
[ her other hand goes to that length and adjusts the tip to press where he opens. just gently. she pours a little more oil into that tight space between them. not careful about keeping it from drizzling across his back and hips.
her chest is so tight. she flicks her eyes up to the mirror—wants to be looking him in the eye as she swivels her hips forward and breaches him. ]
[He tears his look away from the mirror, not because it is humiliating to see, or some other form of embarrassment, but because it surprises him. Harder, fuller, far more penetrating than what Mage Hand had been. Henry’s brows pinch together tightly, his mouth hangs half-open, a lilting ‘ahhh’ spilling out unbidden from his lips.
His face is tilted down slightly, but she’ll still get a lovely view of it from via the mirror’s reflection, and the way he once more curls his fingers into the sheets, wrinkling them without care.]
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finalflight2024-12-26 07:22 pm
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The spank might've made him jolt, and pleasantly, really, but it is the start of something else far more surprising. That finger slips in, wet and cold and all the way up without much warning at all. And IMMEDIATELY, all Henry can do is straighten in surprise, and via instinct he opens his mouth to remark, but...
His mouth is already occupied, and now pushed back down, and the result is that the cock bumps the back of his throat without any mental preparation, and he sputters and coughs on it, shoulders shaking. For what good it does, after all, still having a mouthful.]
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Shhh-h-h-h-h.
[ all the way in. a slow, downward pressure of the finger pushing at his walls from the inside. alllllll the way out. it circles his hole.
in again. ]
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He remembers to breathe through his nose, a gust of it exhaling, trying to swallow down the instinct to cough again. She'll not let him raise his head, and clearly she doesn't intend to relent because she's not pulling out, either. A tinge of her pleasure bounces around in his own mind, but all of that is secondary to the feeling of that Mage Hand's cool finger sliding in, stretching his walls, a fullness that he knows would not even compare to that glass cock filling him instead.
His heart thuds. He braces harder against her thigh. And, insanely, replies-]
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leans forward and smacks his backside again. like she means it. ]
You are trying to urge me on.
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Mentally braces himself against the instinct to cough again. He cannot, however, do much about that strange, utterly exotic feeling of a finger gently twisting in his hole, shifting uselessly on his knees as he's tended to. A-ah... God. Is this what it feels like for her?]
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[ pulls her hips back, granting him sweet reprieve. her Hand pulls languidly out, only for the middle finger to unfurl and join index at his rim. they toy with it, nudging at the pucker, slicking the skin, stretching at him without actually entering. and when she does beckon it slide back into Henry, it is only one finger again. but firmly.
and it works at him from the inside. ]
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Which doesn’t last long.
Henry stiffens somewhat when he feels that second finger toy at his entrance. He wonders if she can feel it, the way his hole flutters against it in surprise, simply not used to that stimulation. He stretches with the tautness of a man never really touched there, and his fingers flex in the same rhythm, digging against her thigh.
Do it or don’t, he wants to say. He wants to think it at her. But then she— doesn’t. Only one finger dives in, just like before, but the movement is different. It’s more. Fuck. What a foreign, invasive feeling. Like it’s alive inside, pushing against him in angles previously unknown. He… doesn’t hate it.
He only wishes he could have swallowed down the almost mewling sound that escaped him, inhaling a gasp around the cock still seated in his mouth.]
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moves her hips gently up again, hilting in his mouth for but a moment. she relaxes. she pushes up again. she relaxes. it's a steady fucking at both ends; something which might prompt more of those kittenish sounds that go right to her core and tingle there. ]
Now, stretch...
[ on the outstroke, Mage Hand curls index and middle finger together urgh one another, so that middle is hooked above the other; still a narrow tip to seek entry, but as it corkscrews both fingers slowly into Henry's twitching and wet hole, the stacked knuckles will feel almost like a knot forcing its way in. ]
no subject
The glass hilts itself in his mouth, then eases back. Continues, repeats, and he finds that is an easy rhythm to fall into. Predictable, and often followed by relief when it seems as though it might have slipped back just a bit too deep.
But whatever the hell he’s doing back there with that Mage Hand… That’s a different matter altogether. She tells him to stretch as though he has any choice. What he suspects must be more than one finger winds in, widening him to an apex in a way that seems forceful — at least to a man who has never experienced this before. It is not quite enough for pain, but certainly nudging on discomfort, and…
Again, he doesn’t hate it.
Though he is keenly aware of the humiliation from both sides.]
[The petulance inherent in his telepathic tone does not override the noises he’s making, hands slipping away and onto the sheets on either side of her thighs, clutching hard into them. He sounds pathetic and, despite himself, pleasured — and pushes back slightly on his knees as though to encourage her in further.]
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No. You are not ready for it.
[ he pushes back, and the knuckles stretch past his rim. pop!. two fingers seated firmly inside. they twist, with gentle insistence, in a clockwise circle. again, again, again.
to soothe him she strokes through his hair with her fingers. ]
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[He feels like he's on fire, and if he focuses all that energy into his telepathy, maybe his noises won't be quite as needy, even if they keen lower in wayward pleasure.
This hope is completely upended when she stretches past his rim and settles those fingers right inside of him, and he all but moans around the glass. Her fingers in his hair would normally soothe, yes, but there is nothing but the awareness of that movement inside of him, how odd it feels, how invasive, how pleasant in a way he never quite understood, but only trusted that it must feel nice if Sprezzatura deems it so.
Just... clenches a little tighter at her knees, anchoring himself. Henry closes his eyes.]
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look at him. he's cute. clutching her knees and closing his eyes to accept the treatment. testing, her Mage Hand angles higher, urging his hips up by lifting him at the hole. ]
Do you feel it in your pretty little length? Hm?
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[That's a noise of surprise, lifting him like that. Moved around like he was little more than a doll being played with, and given the track record with how he's used his powers in the past, it's ironic. His backside angles higher.
He doesn't open his eyes, though, brow still cinched. He cannot deny that when he is under her control, he experiences not indignity but jolts of thrill, over and over. Henry feels it too, in his cock, and his telepathic reply is not one of words, but of feeling: lust, heat, a little bit of vulnerability. And yes, affirmation. He can feel the blood rushing to his length even more than before, at attention between his legs. She cannot see it from this angle.]
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she's already fond of the view—his face nestled close to her, his brow pinched, and his backside slowly moving higher—and has one hand still soothing through his hair. then that feeling hits, or it bleeds out, or fades over, finding its way into her through her pores and her breath and her mind, it's her mind, this sense of desire that is not hers but by virtue of being felt by her is hers. her breath knocks from her. warmth and vibrant colour rise in her face, and how.
the way her heartbeat thumps in her chest is, momentarily, as though there were two pulses thrumming.
Mammon. gods. it's hard to speak. ]
Ah-h-hh—... [ a shaky inhale. more steadily: ] Turn around.
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Don’t I get a kiss for being good first?
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No. Turn around.
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Sprezzatura… please?
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[ hoists him higher, again by the rim ]
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Fine.
[DENIED KISSES!! Huffy and flushed and a bit breathless, he turns himself around while still on his knees. There is not much dignity in the effort, but he supposes that is rather the point.]
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the fingers inside him recede in tandem. ]
Look in mirror.
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He allows himself a shaky exhale, those fingers pull out, and he feels wanting. A dearth, strange, but not be stimulated at all. But for now, he does as asked, lifting his gaze to look in the mirror.
He is flushed to the point of looking harried if either of them didn't know better. It makes the blue of his eyes seem to shine brighter, almost lost between strands of hair that have fallen out of their coif and hover in his vision, instead. Like this, he is practically aglow.
But none of that matters. His gaze drifts up to her, instead; and she is beautiful and more important than all the rest. As always.]
Hello there, you.
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[ look at him. just look at him. he is so reactionary that it nearly makes her laugh to see how his blush brings out the colour of his eyes. only nearly, though; she doesn't laugh. that would be mean, no?
rather, she crawls to kneel behind him, nearly over him, so that he can both feel the glass cock resting on his backside and her hand as she reaches forward and cups his throat and jaw from behind. ]
You are ready?
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The glass resting on his backside isn't even cold—not after how long it had been in his mouth—and yet it still makes him shiver. She will feel him swallow hard from beneath her fingers.]
Yes.
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[ her other hand goes to that length and adjusts the tip to press where he opens. just gently. she pours a little more oil into that tight space between them. not careful about keeping it from drizzling across his back and hips.
her chest is so tight. she flicks her eyes up to the mirror—wants to be looking him in the eye as she swivels her hips forward and breaches him. ]
Pop!
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His face is tilted down slightly, but she’ll still get a lovely view of it from via the mirror’s reflection, and the way he once more curls his fingers into the sheets, wrinkling them without care.]
Fuck.
[That stretch.]
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ignore the blood my paid ran out