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[arkitect]

« thirdseat » TEXT ✦ AUDIO ✦ VIDEO ✦ ACTION Emet-Selch ✦ FFXIV
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[soulsees]

( Hythlodaeus lets Emet-Selch huff and duss until he's settled comfortably again, then strokes a hand down the small of his back, along his tail, and wraps around the end to give it a light pull. )

Surely I know what satisfies me best, don't you think?

( There's a firmer edge to his voice now, a slight shift that better settles him into his role as a result of their new position. To have Emet-Selch bent and exposed before him is all the encouragement he needs when it comes to taking charge more actively, and a smile touches the corners of his lips as he returns both hands to the furred curve of his lover's thighs.

Much as before his transformation, Emet-Selch's hole is a sweet, pink thing that stirs the hottest kind fo desire into Hythlodaeus's blood. He exhales heavily, his fingers gripping briefly at two handfuls of his cheeks, before allowing one hand to drift inward to press his thumb against the tight clench of muscle.He wants to lick, kiss, bite, rub with his fingers, rub with his cock—

But he takes his time, massaging at it almost idly while his other hand reaches around to squeeze at the root of Emet-Selch's cock. )

As well as what best satisfies you.

( And now he begins to stroke him properly, his fist pulling up to the tip for the slick gathered there to help ease the pump of his hand. Hythlodaeus leans forwards, his braid hanging between them as he increases the pressure behind the thumb at his hole: )

I'd like to hear you agree with me, my love.

[arkitect]

[His tail lifts further when Hythlodaeus begins to tease at his entrance, back arched further at the contact-- he manages not to whine, sparing his dignity for the moment, but he wants more just as much as Hyth does. They've established the game they're playing, though, and he knows neither of them means to simply give in to their urges so easily. Not when Hythlodaeus is right-- he surely knows what both of them like, both of them need. One thing he needs is definitely to be touched, hips shifting into the hand stroking him; his cock is thicker at the base, he'll likely notice, moreso than usual, and if he's well versed enough in biology he shouldn't need to guess as to just how far Emet-Selch's transformation extends.

There is, however, one thing that catches him off guard. My love, Hythlodaeus calls him, and it isn't difficult to feel him stiffen further at it.]

...you do.

[It comes out a bit breathier, as Hythlodaeus works him up.]

You do. You always have.

[soulsees]

Good boy.

( Hythlodaeus feels the response ripple through Emet-Selch as he sttrokes and squeezes at his cock; hears the hitch in his breath, the shiver in his voice as he lets himself give into the insttructions. As always, it's a moment of pure, mischievous bliss for Hythlodaeus: to feel this man relax beneath him is a gift he cherishes close to his heart, and he leans down to press a kiss between Emet-Selch's shoulder-blades as a reward for his behaviour.

He feels it on a downstroke — the thicker swelling at the root of Emet's cock as he works him harder still. It takes Hythlodaeus a moment to realise what it is, but when he does?

Gods, but he all but salivates with want. )

Now, there's a surprise ...

( He murmurs, letting his fingers wrap around the hint of his knot as his cock coninues to fill. A shaky exhale leaves him as he forces himself to pull back and focus on his hole; he pulls on a thread of magic to fashion a small bottle of oil into existence, then removes both of his hands from Emet-Selch so that he can slick up a finger and return it to his entrance. )

But we can play with that later. For now, would you tell me how long it's been since you last took a cock?

( It isn't jealousy that drives the question. Hythlodaeus needs to know how much his lover can take; how much preparation he needs, how hard he can fuck him, how to make it as good as it can be for him. Rubbing lazily, Hythlodaeus lets the tip of his finger slip inside to strok hot muscle before drawing it out again: )

And don't make it up — I want the truth.

[arkitect]

[He stifles a soft groan in response to that praise-- it's easier, bit by bit, to accept it with less embarrassment. To allow it and to feel the shiver of pleasure it brings him more keenly, bent further forward as Hythlodaeus works him, the shift of his hips becoming a little more eager as fingers wrap around his base. It feels intolerably good to have that pressure there, instinct reveling at the suggestion of it being sheathed within something, anything--

But then he pulls his fingers back. The unmistakable presence of aether quickly lets Emet-Selch guess at what Hythlodaeus is doing, though, and he doesn't complain at the loss, waiting for him to continue.]

Hythlodaeus-

[Another breathy exhale of his name, punched out of him with the renewed attention, the slick friction.]

...years. I do not recall exactly how many. I rarely bothered with such things.

[Honest enough, despite how badly he wants him to hurry up. Though he does add:]

But I am not fragile. You needn't linger overlong for fear of harming me-- I will be fine.

[soulsees]

( Hythlodaeus merely hums in response: a warm, drawling sound behind him as he continues to rub oil against his entrance. Years? Rarely bothered with such things? All the more reason to make sure this is as good as it could possibly be for him, then, although he can't bite back the soft huff of a chuckle at Emet-Selch's insistence that he isn't fragile.

He isn't fragile, of course. Hythlodaeus knows that much — knows that Emet-Selch would grit his teeth and bear any pain that came his way, as he always has done. )

Mm. You're always fine, aren't you? Always capable, always strong, always there to manage whatever crisis has befallen us.

( The pressure changes against Emet-Selch's hole as Hythlodaeus adjusts his finger to press in: slow, steady, but deep even with that first push. His teeth nip at his lower lip as slick heat surrounds the length of his finger — and gods, but the promise of how good it'll feel around his cock sends a pulse of heat through his own groin. )

... But fragility isn't a weakness, my friend. Not with me.

( He withdraws his finger slowly before pressing it back in, his free hand stroking over the thick fur of Emet's flank as he finds a steady rhythm to loosen up that tight clench of muscle. When he speaks again his voice is soft, warmed-through with the earnestness of his words: )

You can let go of all that when we're together.