open rp post

[troubleyan]

🏹 texts/epistolary 🏹 prompts 🏹 ota*

* pssst if we've threaded together on bakerstreet, consider this an open invite

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[firstbornstorm]

Daemon almost snarled at her when she took his face and broke their kiss, but he needed to gasp for air himself, and his mouth slanted in a feral little smirk at her exhaled expletive.

"Yeah," he panted along with her. "That's about the jist of it." She kissed him again before he could say anything more, but the next time he managed to use words, he snarled against her mouth, "'m gonna fuck you, Evie. Gonna fuck you good 'n hard." Because she needed it. Had been all but begging for it for weeks.

Her godsdamned smallclothes were still in the way, but it wasn't an immediate problem. Their mouths were still fighting each other for dominance, and Daemon had enough leverage to reach for a handful of Evelyn's hair and give it a sharp yank, pulling back her head to bare her throat for his teeth. They sank into her skin directly over her pulse, and he groaned as his cock surged between her spread thighs.

[troubleyan]

Music to her godsdammed ears, that. She's earned it, her right to get fucked good and hard. The contrast between the promise, heady enough to pull a whimper from her, and that cute little petname on his tongue is maddening.

"Yeah - yes - fuck me," she asks, breathless, between kisses, then lets out a short gasp at his hand tugging on her hair. It shouldn't send that zing of pleasure down her spine, and yet.

His groan is matched with one of her own, his teeth making her arch against him. "Oh, Maker - Daemon..."

She has nothing to peel of him, no clothes left, so her nails dig into his shoulders instead. Leave their mark.

"Please, fuck me already - I swear if you tease me, I'm going to beat you."

[firstbornstorm]

Now those irritating smallclothes were in the way. But a problem easily rectified, since Daemon again reached beneath the water and gave the thin fabric a sharp, abrupt yank. It ripped halfway, earning a snarl, but another abrupt tug proved successful, and the damnable garment was given over to the current because he had better things to do with his hands.

Such as grip bruises into the backs of her thighs when he shoved his rock-hard cock into her, biting back a plethora of approving curses to feel her immediately clench tight around him. "...fucking Maker," was at least legible, growled right into Evelyn's mouth before his tongue again parted her lips to kiss her dizzily.

And though he stood nearly chest deep in the water, that didn't at all hamper him from doing as he said and fucking her right against the rock face, long, powerful thrusts that hilted deep before retreating, only to return with even more vigor. Calloused hands gripped her ass, guiding her lower body to move with his, and Daemon licked at Evelyn's mouth, kissing her as if he'd never have enough.

[troubleyan]

What should be filling her with indignation - he ripped her bloody underwear off! she will need to go bare naked under her trousers until the next post to resupply! - instead is met with a heady little groan. Logic and reason have exited her brain, only instinct - primal need - prevailing.

That primal need needs him - "Inside me, pl- oh yes!" - and gets him. From feeling empty to feeling impossibly full there is only a second, and in her surprise she clamps tight around his cock, letting out a breathless laugh - it's much thicker than she expected, and she's going to have bruises on the inside of her thighs from how hard he slammed in, but it's so devastatingly good.

Her hands find his hair, elbows pressed against his shoulders for balance, and she trusts him to hold her up in the water; he doesn't disappoint. He rarely disappoints.

When she's breathless from all the punishing, delicious kisses, she breaks away to gasp: "You do know what to do with me, then."