[ Once, in the cold, dark depths of the First, tumbling over the peak of their mutual hatred, Hades had gleefully promised to spend an eternity breaking his will. Bespoke torment to snuff the resolve of the thing that was not Azem enough, the thing that stood in the way of glorious, promised purpose. Those words flit through Viktor's head just now, the growl of them, the raw fury. His mind tries to match that rage to the soft, wanting sounds that tumble from Hades's mouth as his own slides down to take as much of him as he can. All trembling, ragged breath and tensing muscles, each twitch and sound maddening - funny, the little similarities, turned upside down and made all the more delectable. This, each of them weak for the other, exposed and raw, coaxing sound and feeling, is something Viktor could spend an eternity on.
The weight, the fullness in his mouth is intoxicating, and Viktor cannot help the deep groan of satisfaction that slips out of him when he feels Hades fight the urge to force his cock deeper. Gods, he almost wishes he would. Each sweet, breathy sound, each compliment, makes his ears and tail twitch and perk; embarrassing, how eagerly his own body responds to praise both pointed and implied. Viktor steals a glance as he drags his mouth back up, tongue lathing Hades's shaft and slender fingers chasing after, ghosting over wet skin. Another low sound slips out of him then, catching the intensity of those lantern eyes as Hades gazes, languid, adoring. Electrifying, to see Hades don something like the face of the Emperor, and to know, without reservation, that it is his will, not Viktor's, at risk of crumbling. Under the water, Viktor's hips shift against nothing, thighs clenching at the hot ache rising between them.
He wants. Stars, he wants more, and he knows he will have it if he but asks. It takes only a moment to decide that that desire burns far hotter than any fear could. Viktor does his level best to muffle the lewd slurp of his mouth sliding back over Hades's cock, thinking he won't appreciate such a visceral sound, but success is middling. ]
Tell me more. Tell me how you want me. [ he whispers between indulgent kisses brushed down and then back up Emet-Selch's length. Then, before taking him again, with a faint touch of need, adds, ] Please.
[ Viktor angles his head into the persistent stroke of Hades's hand through his hair, giving in to the heavy red fog that settles over his senses. Each catch of fingers in tangled curls earns a sharpened breath, a throaty little sound of encouragement as he begins to bob up and down in earnest, seeking a rhythm that near matches the pace of Hades's hand petting and righting curls. ]
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The weight, the fullness in his mouth is intoxicating, and Viktor cannot help the deep groan of satisfaction that slips out of him when he feels Hades fight the urge to force his cock deeper. Gods, he almost wishes he would. Each sweet, breathy sound, each compliment, makes his ears and tail twitch and perk; embarrassing, how eagerly his own body responds to praise both pointed and implied. Viktor steals a glance as he drags his mouth back up, tongue lathing Hades's shaft and slender fingers chasing after, ghosting over wet skin. Another low sound slips out of him then, catching the intensity of those lantern eyes as Hades gazes, languid, adoring. Electrifying, to see Hades don something like the face of the Emperor, and to know, without reservation, that it is his will, not Viktor's, at risk of crumbling. Under the water, Viktor's hips shift against nothing, thighs clenching at the hot ache rising between them.
He wants. Stars, he wants more, and he knows he will have it if he but asks. It takes only a moment to decide that that desire burns far hotter than any fear could. Viktor does his level best to muffle the lewd slurp of his mouth sliding back over Hades's cock, thinking he won't appreciate such a visceral sound, but success is middling. ]
Tell me more. Tell me how you want me. [ he whispers between indulgent kisses brushed down and then back up Emet-Selch's length. Then, before taking him again, with a faint touch of need, adds, ] Please.
[ Viktor angles his head into the persistent stroke of Hades's hand through his hair, giving in to the heavy red fog that settles over his senses. Each catch of fingers in tangled curls earns a sharpened breath, a throaty little sound of encouragement as he begins to bob up and down in earnest, seeking a rhythm that near matches the pace of Hades's hand petting and righting curls. ]