[ 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.]
[ a little disappointing that he doesn't look. she can still see him blush so pretty, but he misses the flash of a contented smile across her lips. ]
And... push!
[ splays her fingers across his spine, at the small of his back, and swivels her hips some more. firmly. the glass length opens him around it and then holds him open.
deeper. deeper. she glances down at the diminishing length not yet buried in him. what a pretty hole, stretched around her so tight. rubs her thumb into his rim where it hugs the glass. ]
[It really is the surprise of it that feels so jarring. The question that always floats to the top of his head, in those sudden sensations: Is this really how it feels for her?
She needn't worry. He will lift his eyes, through the fallen strands of his hair, to catch her expression through the looking glass, just in time for her to push forward.
The stretch is even keener, or feels that way, as the tight rim of his muscle hugs onto the glass with futility. She plunges deeper, and- Ah-... god. All the fainter sensations, her fingers, how she rubs around his rim, really are secondary to all else.
Yeah, she's losing his gaze again, as Henry lowers his forehead to rest against the sheets and just. Moans.]
[ when Henry moans, Sprezzatura moans. perhaps it's mawkish, but she cannot help it; the quality of his voice paired with the rarity of the sound sends a lightning bolt of heat through her. and another, then again. he's bowed forward on the bed already, before she's even truly begun her work. incredible.
gorgeous.
with a little satisfied grunt and a small wriggle of her hips, she hilts herself. ]
There: all of me.
[ using the term loosely. she drapes down across his back and lays her cheek upon his shoulder blade. ]
[For a man who has never been fucked like this before, it feels like nearly too much. Even that little wiggle, when she's snug inside of him, seems to move his very insides.
The warmth of her body, spread against his back, ironically makes him shiver. Pleasantly.
[Oh, he feels it, all right. So foreign a feeling that it seems more amplified than it really is, like his insides are making way for the glass cock shifting inside of him.
He loves her dearly, of course, and appreciates her in equal measure. But that appreciation is rising as he tries to imagine how it might feel to take more. His Sprezzatura is so undeniably... talented.]
she sinks down against his back with a sudden exhale, a heavy sigh, so that their warmed skin presses together and her breath tickles his nape. arms around from behind: wrapping his waist. she is all over him, so small yet so encompassing. that's what she hopes. ]
[Practically enveloped by her. Henry could stay like this forever, Sprezzatura completely encompassing him despite her small frame. It's a comfort, makes his heart beat harder, having nothing to do with the hard glass seated inside of him.
But he breathes out, warm. Straightens himself on his elbows, ever so slightly; not pushing against her body, but simply a gesture of effort.]
I am ready...
[He never said he wanted to pause, despite himself. He pushes his backside... backwards, for what little leeway there is, but even that small millimeter change of position, sinking inside of him, almost wrenches free another groan from his mouth.]
[ such a small movement. practically nothing changes, but she knows for him, it will feel monumental. she hums into the back of his neck; moves both hands to brace in the blankets on either side of him.
she wants... a deep and vulgar fucking. something that will render him the mewling thing he chafes against. ]
So, then—lift your hips.
[ present himself to her, who is already hilted and piggybacking on him. ]
[Oh, well, if that’s what she wants… then she will unravel him before this is all over, and he will be mewling out her name both prettily and pathetically. After all, it already feels so affected that he breathes out steadily even as she adjusts. As though to brace himself for more to come.
And he… listens, obediently. Lowers his head down again as he gently hitches his hips upwards, angling. Presenting, yes, even if she is already inside — which must at least give her a nicer view.]
[ given her bodily drape so close to him she may as well be second skin, the view is irrelevant. it is more the... knowing which does her. he will tilt and angle and spread because she tells him to, and there's no questioning. Henry Creel simply does. it is as though his pride simply disappears.
and yet the brand remains. there on his inner wrist, visible when she glances aside beneath her lashes. ]
Good...
[ as his hindquarters lift and she lifts in turn, having hugged herself to him like she has. she wriggles in place so that once more the length moves in him. her hands, meanwhile, gather up in the sheets. ah. he won't be very easy to take, will he? he's so... tall. ]
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finalflight2024-12-26 07:22 pm
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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!
no subject
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.]
no subject
And... push!
[ splays her fingers across his spine, at the small of his back, and swivels her hips some more. firmly. the glass length opens him around it and then holds him open.
deeper. deeper. she glances down at the diminishing length not yet buried in him. what a pretty hole, stretched around her so tight. rubs her thumb into his rim where it hugs the glass. ]
no subject
She needn't worry. He will lift his eyes, through the fallen strands of his hair, to catch her expression through the looking glass, just in time for her to push forward.
The stretch is even keener, or feels that way, as the tight rim of his muscle hugs onto the glass with futility. She plunges deeper, and- Ah-... god. All the fainter sensations, her fingers, how she rubs around his rim, really are secondary to all else.
Yeah, she's losing his gaze again, as Henry lowers his forehead to rest against the sheets and just. Moans.]
How...
no subject
gorgeous.
with a little satisfied grunt and a small wriggle of her hips, she hilts herself. ]
There: all of me.
[ using the term loosely. she drapes down across his back and lays her cheek upon his shoulder blade. ]
It is not so much, hm?
no subject
The warmth of her body, spread against his back, ironically makes him shiver. Pleasantly.
Muffled against the sheets.]
It's a lot.
[But it's not bad. He doesn't dislike it.]
no subject
I take more than this when you do me. You will not tear in two.
[ wriggles again. she wants him to feel it, that hilted length moving inside. ]
no subject
He loves her dearly, of course, and appreciates her in equal measure. But that appreciation is rising as he tries to imagine how it might feel to take more. His Sprezzatura is so undeniably... talented.]
Then help me... feel used to it.
no subject
she sinks down against his back with a sudden exhale, a heavy sigh, so that their warmed skin presses together and her breath tickles his nape. arms around from behind: wrapping his waist. she is all over him, so small yet so encompassing. that's what she hopes. ]
You move when you are ready.
no subject
But he breathes out, warm. Straightens himself on his elbows, ever so slightly; not pushing against her body, but simply a gesture of effort.]
I am ready...
[He never said he wanted to pause, despite himself. He pushes his backside... backwards, for what little leeway there is, but even that small millimeter change of position, sinking inside of him, almost wrenches free another groan from his mouth.]
no subject
she wants... a deep and vulgar fucking. something that will render him the mewling thing he chafes against. ]
So, then—lift your hips.
[ present himself to her, who is already hilted and piggybacking on him. ]
no subject
And he… listens, obediently. Lowers his head down again as he gently hitches his hips upwards, angling. Presenting, yes, even if she is already inside — which must at least give her a nicer view.]
ignore the blood my paid ran out
and yet the brand remains. there on his inner wrist, visible when she glances aside beneath her lashes. ]
Good...
[ as his hindquarters lift and she lifts in turn, having hugged herself to him like she has. she wriggles in place so that once more the length moves in him. her hands, meanwhile, gather up in the sheets. ah. he won't be very easy to take, will he? he's so... tall. ]