[ Emet-Selch hides the curve of his lips in the next kiss against Viktor's chest. He didn't expect to make it out of this without at least one little jab at the towel; Emet-Selch hums a vaguely disgruntled noise and scrapes his teeth across Viktor's nipple with a little more intent this time, wanting to leave a sting. Satisfied with the blush of blood risen to the surface from his handiwork, Emet-Selch thumbs over the start of a bruise and thinks they only look so lovely because of the canvas they sits upon. ]
I was plenty happy to keep my mouth busy betwixt your thighs until you couldn't bear it any longer.
[ While the shadows settled around Viktor are woven, in a way, Emet-Selch considers them more akin to webbing; he'd used an iteration of this in Amaurot to track them. With the Warrior's Light as bright as it was, the shadow Emet-Selch had been granted access to made keeping at least a vague awareness of him easier. The shadows curve and weigh Viktor when he tests his range of movement, like gently clenching a fist, but when Vitkor attempts to move, to ride, to demand his pleasure like Emet-Selch wants of him, they do not fight him. Thoughtless bits of magic to make repetitive muscle motions marginally less onerous, the sort he hadn't needed to use since attempting the arduous task of building a city.
Utilizing that little fragment of spellwork like this is preferable. This position, too, is preferable if he is not allowed to keep his mouth busy the way he wishes; from the previous position, he hadn't the easiest look up at Viktor's face. Now, at least, he can settle back into the lush spread of pillows and pay attention, rapturously drinking in sight, the sound, the smell, committing all of it to memory as best as he can.
The hand not nestled between Viktor's thighs begins to explore, tracing freckles up Viktor's belly, as it clenches, needing partway through to remind himself to breathe. The minutest shift of his fingers against Viktor's aether, akin to plucking a string, only the note is less music and very much the potential of another orgasm. He'd wanted to put in the effort with himself the first few at least but that task done, he's more than happy to cheat a little.]
Another? Or have you had your fill for the evening?
no subject
[ Emet-Selch hides the curve of his lips in the next kiss against Viktor's chest. He didn't expect to make it out of this without at least one little jab at the towel; Emet-Selch hums a vaguely disgruntled noise and scrapes his teeth across Viktor's nipple with a little more intent this time, wanting to leave a sting. Satisfied with the blush of blood risen to the surface from his handiwork, Emet-Selch thumbs over the start of a bruise and thinks they only look so lovely because of the canvas they sits upon. ]
I was plenty happy to keep my mouth busy betwixt your thighs until you couldn't bear it any longer.
[ While the shadows settled around Viktor are woven, in a way, Emet-Selch considers them more akin to webbing; he'd used an iteration of this in Amaurot to track them. With the Warrior's Light as bright as it was, the shadow Emet-Selch had been granted access to made keeping at least a vague awareness of him easier. The shadows curve and weigh Viktor when he tests his range of movement, like gently clenching a fist, but when Vitkor attempts to move, to ride, to demand his pleasure like Emet-Selch wants of him, they do not fight him. Thoughtless bits of magic to make repetitive muscle motions marginally less onerous, the sort he hadn't needed to use since attempting the arduous task of building a city.
Utilizing that little fragment of spellwork like this is preferable. This position, too, is preferable if he is not allowed to keep his mouth busy the way he wishes; from the previous position, he hadn't the easiest look up at Viktor's face. Now, at least, he can settle back into the lush spread of pillows and pay attention, rapturously drinking in sight, the sound, the smell, committing all of it to memory as best as he can.
The hand not nestled between Viktor's thighs begins to explore, tracing freckles up Viktor's belly, as it clenches, needing partway through to remind himself to breathe. The minutest shift of his fingers against Viktor's aether, akin to plucking a string, only the note is less music and very much the potential of another orgasm. He'd wanted to put in the effort with himself the first few at least but that task done, he's more than happy to cheat a little.]
Another? Or have you had your fill for the evening?