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[arkitect]

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