open rp post

[troubleyan]

🏹 texts/epistolary 🏹 prompts 🏹 ota*

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

Comments

[firstbornstorm]

His chuckle was pure velvet and sin, slithering from quirked lips. Feeling her getting even closer, Daemon lifted his knee, shoving Evelyn even higher astride his thigh. His other arm slid around her waist, arching her back, and he added a third finger to the two working inside of her, and scraped his thumbnail roughly across her clit.

Then, "--come for me," left his mouth, a guttural command that brooked absolutely no disobedience. "Right-fucking-now, Evie."

He was hard as a foundation rock in his own trousers, but nothing was more important than making her reach that peak with just his hands and his voice. He'd have her screaming, by all the gods.

[troubleyan]

Screaming is exactly how he has her. Her hands grabbing desperately at his shoulders, one leg coming up over his hip to open herself more - to make easier the range of movement his hand has inside her trousers - and it all couldn't be better timed. Her breath catches when the third finger fills and stretches her, then releases with a sharp cry.

Right-fucking-now -- she lets out a keening sound and arches into it, head thrown back as much as the wall behind her will allow it, her slickness dripping around his fingers as she squeezes him tight and comes and comes and comes.

On command. Fuck, she's not hearing the end of that one.

[firstbornstorm]

She won't hear the end of it, and he'd take it as a personal point of pride just how responsive she was to him. Daemon continued to fuck her through her climax, whispering all sorts of naughty things in her ear, just to prolong her pleasure. Watching her in the throes of orgasm was delicious; it seemed to honestly be the only time the poor woman didn't have to wear some sort of mask.

Daemon relinquished his hold on Evelyn's neck and fisted his hand in her thick hair instead, tugging a little sharply as she continued to spasm around his fingers and astride his thigh. Despite his own aching desire, tight and thick behind his trousers, he nevertheless grinned a sly roguish grin, a low sinful chuckle rumbling deep in his chest as she at last began to come down.

[troubleyan]

Leave it to him to prolong the pleasure as long as he can - and he can, he absolutely can. Her teeth sink into her lower lip to keep her lewd, needy little sounds as silent (or subdued) as she can, but her body is anything but subtle about how much she enjoys this.

Later, spent and loose-limbed, her heartbeat thunderous in her ears, she hears him chuckle and lets out a groan, slumping forward against him.

"You asshole," she whispers, making the word sound like high praise. "Oh, Maker, everything tingles, Daemon - you have no right being so good at that..."

[firstbornstorm]

Daemon cradled her close, chuckling soft and dark at her ear. "Blame it on my upbringing," he joked, the wry humor hiding years of torture, mistreatment, and pain. But at least he'd learned from his imprisonment and refused to let it break him. If anything, he'd come through it strong as a mountain and with his will as indomitable as the tides.

To Thedas' benefit, apparently.

Holding her with one arm, the smarmy assassin slipped his hand from the Inquisitor's trousers, lifting it to his lips and, making sure to catch Evelyn's eye, cheekily sucked his fingers clean one by one, savoring her sweet, heady flavor with a few sinful moans.

"Mmm..." he purred afterwards, rake enough to even wink at her, "...delicious."

[troubleyan]

Absolutely he is a rake. It does something to her to watch him suck his fingers clean of her arousal, one by one. Her pussy still throbs from the way he pounded it, from the way she came.

When he purrs his delight later, she lets out a soft growl and yanks him closer by the front of his leather armor, kissing him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue.

She needs to stop. He needs to stop winding her up, too. But it's hard to let go and leave, almost as hard as she can tell now he is.

[firstbornstorm]

His amused chuckle swallowed by her mouth, Daemon nevertheless wound both arms around Evelyn's waist and pulled her close and tight, kissing her back with just as much ferocity as she. They were fire and lightning, two blazing elements crashing against the other as often as possible, and leaving forest fires in their wake. He'd have it no other way.

An eternity later, the need for air broke them apart, and he slacked his hold just enough for her feet to slide back to the floor, then he finally let go entirely and took a single step back.

"Halamshiral," he stated, referring to the reason she'd come up here in the first place. ...or so she said. "Who else did you choose for this suicide run, other than me?"