[ It's been a while. Not so long that he has the luxury of claiming an eras-spanning devotion to one (or two) soul(s), unfortunately. Just long enough to be embarrassed by how hotly sensitive his skin is, how he has to stifle another whine when Emet-Selch's fingers press to the skin of his hip, how impossible it is to recall the sense memory of being on the receiving end of such attention, instead of giving, before it happens.
Let it never be said that Viktor cannot roll with the proverbial punches, though. He accepts with some trepidation that he can no longer imagine what to expect, and catches himself approaching the encounter as he might any battle - tense, hyperaware. But even resignation does not adequately prepare him for the feel of lips pressed to his thighs, moving higher as he settles. There is music in his breath when he sighs. ]
If you- If you m-must- [ A little gasp slips out of him, his composure falling to pieces despite his best efforts. Words escape between siezed breaths as Hades's mouth finds its mark, tongue splashing bright, twinkling color across Viktor's senses. ] If you want to complain so- ah- s-so badly, you are only allowed to do so if you- oh.
[ Viktor's fingers curl into the duvet, knuckles clenched near to white around fabric as he leans into the lapping of Hades's tongue. His lack of practice means little when he so diligently responds to each panting whimper that steals from Viktor's lips. ]
Lift our veil if you've more to complain about. Otherwise- [ He means it to sound teasing, flippant, but the intent is swallowed up in a low hum of pleasure. The hand not clinging to the bed for purchase grasps a handful of Emet-Selch's hair as Viktor rocks himself against his mouth, heat between his thighs building, climbing up his spine, until he's forgotten what he'd meant to say at all. ] That. Keep- keep doing-
[ Emet-Selch's muffled moan reaches Viktor's ears, sound wholly unexpected, and they lop back against his curls as lightning zings from his stomach up to his throat. Viktor lasts precisely five seconds more before he shudders, shoulders to feet, toes curling as he chokes out a sound somewhere between a curse and his lover's name. His thighs clench, fingers tightening in platinum hair, and he presses down, buckling over as he comes. He's barely caught his breath, still doubled over, before he urges, ] Keep- k-keep going.
no subject
Let it never be said that Viktor cannot roll with the proverbial punches, though. He accepts with some trepidation that he can no longer imagine what to expect, and catches himself approaching the encounter as he might any battle - tense, hyperaware. But even resignation does not adequately prepare him for the feel of lips pressed to his thighs, moving higher as he settles. There is music in his breath when he sighs. ]
If you- If you m-must- [ A little gasp slips out of him, his composure falling to pieces despite his best efforts. Words escape between siezed breaths as Hades's mouth finds its mark, tongue splashing bright, twinkling color across Viktor's senses. ] If you want to complain so- ah- s-so badly, you are only allowed to do so if you- oh.
[ Viktor's fingers curl into the duvet, knuckles clenched near to white around fabric as he leans into the lapping of Hades's tongue. His lack of practice means little when he so diligently responds to each panting whimper that steals from Viktor's lips. ]
Lift our veil if you've more to complain about. Otherwise- [ He means it to sound teasing, flippant, but the intent is swallowed up in a low hum of pleasure. The hand not clinging to the bed for purchase grasps a handful of Emet-Selch's hair as Viktor rocks himself against his mouth, heat between his thighs building, climbing up his spine, until he's forgotten what he'd meant to say at all. ] That. Keep- keep doing-
[ Emet-Selch's muffled moan reaches Viktor's ears, sound wholly unexpected, and they lop back against his curls as lightning zings from his stomach up to his throat. Viktor lasts precisely five seconds more before he shudders, shoulders to feet, toes curling as he chokes out a sound somewhere between a curse and his lover's name. His thighs clench, fingers tightening in platinum hair, and he presses down, buckling over as he comes. He's barely caught his breath, still doubled over, before he urges, ] Keep- k-keep going.