[ Struck matches take fractions of a second to ignite, but Viktor finds himself held at the moment between friction and fire. When Hades closes the ilms-opened window between them, he hasn't the time to be disappointed — not when his name sounds sweet as caramel on Hades's lips, when feeling hangs on the sharp corners of each syllable. Not hero, not creature, not Azem. Viktor, listened to, loved, obeyed.
And engulfed by Hades's indomitable presence, filled by his aether; every shift of muscle, met with gentle, cold resistance, a reminder that he relents physical control, but not his own command. He needs but say a word to receive just what he wants, exacting, enthusiastic. What he settles on is a soft, ecstatic sound, drawn from deep in his lungs by the shadow gathering in tight around him. His nails press crescent divots into his own thighs and he sighs, letting himself disappear into the hypnotic rhythm of moving magic inside and against him, of warm hands savoring skin, of total safety, of trust.
Hades comes closer and Viktor wills a hand free to slide it over the back of the palm pressed between his thighs. As his own cries grow increasingly sharp, he urges Hades fingers on with an eager hand, thighs parting farther as he pushes against resistance to better ride the shadows pressing inside of him.
He cannot recall a time where it had been this easy, this welcome, this desperately wanted. Not just satisfying a physical urge, not just a means to an end, but the gratification of attention, of pleasure, from the one man who feels wholly his equal. He jolts when Hades lips find his own, but it is no unwelcome surprise and he presses forward, hungry, as far as shadow will allow to chase breath, to devour that delicious shiver as it shakes another ecstatic sound out of him. ]
Not so bad, aye? Giving in. [ Viktor slows his fervent rocking only just, head dipping to whisper against Hades's ear as he worships his pulse point. Second stretch as he grapples for his voice, shadow and fingertips and teeth making it near impossible to think clearly- to think of anything at all. ] Oh, Hades. [ His voice drops to a whisper. ] Grab it. Embrace it.
peepaw icon kinda appropriate at least shsjshs
And engulfed by Hades's indomitable presence, filled by his aether; every shift of muscle, met with gentle, cold resistance, a reminder that he relents physical control, but not his own command. He needs but say a word to receive just what he wants, exacting, enthusiastic. What he settles on is a soft, ecstatic sound, drawn from deep in his lungs by the shadow gathering in tight around him. His nails press crescent divots into his own thighs and he sighs, letting himself disappear into the hypnotic rhythm of moving magic inside and against him, of warm hands savoring skin, of total safety, of trust.
Hades comes closer and Viktor wills a hand free to slide it over the back of the palm pressed between his thighs. As his own cries grow increasingly sharp, he urges Hades fingers on with an eager hand, thighs parting farther as he pushes against resistance to better ride the shadows pressing inside of him.
He cannot recall a time where it had been this easy, this welcome, this desperately wanted. Not just satisfying a physical urge, not just a means to an end, but the gratification of attention, of pleasure, from the one man who feels wholly his equal. He jolts when Hades lips find his own, but it is no unwelcome surprise and he presses forward, hungry, as far as shadow will allow to chase breath, to devour that delicious shiver as it shakes another ecstatic sound out of him. ]
Not so bad, aye? Giving in. [ Viktor slows his fervent rocking only just, head dipping to whisper against Hades's ear as he worships his pulse point. Second stretch as he grapples for his voice, shadow and fingertips and teeth making it near impossible to think clearly- to think of anything at all. ] Oh, Hades. [ His voice drops to a whisper. ] Grab it. Embrace it.