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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[troubleyan]

[It sends blood rushing to her head so fast her ears pop, as though she's taken flight on the back of a dragon and reached the peaks of the Anderfells too fast; he keeps thrusting, using her body for his pleasure, and it feels too complicated to explain why that precisely feels so damned good.

Heat surges again. She hears herself, the little gasps and moans that come out between thrusts, the way her cunt tries to clamp tight enough around his cock to not allow him to draw out.

Not long after, he fills her, and Evelyn lets out another heady, desperate whimper at the sensation of it, another round of begging on the tip of her tongue.

Then released,] Thank you, yes, fill me...perfect, you're perfect...

[naharel]

[ Oh, the games he might play with her - they're laid out in front of him like a bounty, a feast for the taking. She moulds to him so well, gives him what he desires, and he thinks he could take and take and have her wanton and desperate for him every single time.

He would gladly take it, and that is dangerous. If she has a more sinister game to play here, whoever she might be, then he will have to ensure she does not get to play it.

Leaning back, he lets his arms settle around her, holding her gently and letting his cock rest inside her cunt, content to find comfort there until they have recovered. ]

The pleasure was mine, da'len.

[troubleyan]

[She lets out a breathless laugh, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Her chest is still heaving from the intensity of that particular exercise, but rather than crash straight onto the massive mistake she's made, she floats in the ether of pleasure some more.]

Oh, a lot of it was mine, I'm sure...

[naharel]

[ Let her float, he thinks, enjoying the smugness of a good fuck. His hand rubs against her back gently, letting her take her time to come down from the high. ]

And it will continue to be so.

[troubleyan]

[She laughs softly, under her breath, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder like a satisfied cat.] Oh? In general or tonight? You strike me as an elf who'll keep someone in his bed for a few rounds, Fen'Harel, but this isn't a bed...

[naharel]

In general, tonight, tomorrow... You and I will entertain one another until we figure out your problem.

[ He leans in, stealing another kiss, long, slow and deep, humming softly. ]

Are you ready to move?

[troubleyan]

Mmm, sounds like a lush promise.

[ And if it's a threat, she's not seeing it as such. maybe she's taking advantage of the fact that he is interested in her.

Maybe she's just been fucked silly already and wants more of it. A spot in the world where she is neither Herald nor Inquisitor. ]

Where are we moving?

[naharel]

When your legs are prepared to work again.

[ He smirks, leaning close to draw his lips along her jaw, humming softly. ]

Or when you are prepared to allow me to clean you.

[troubleyan]

[She lets out a low laugh, breathless, letting her head drop back.]

Oh, you were so good right there that I'm inclined to let you move me wherever and however you want. I'm ready now.

[naharel]

[ He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close against his chest. ]

To the baths, then, before we rest.

[troubleyan]

Too right - clean the mess you've made. [ One of these days, her clever quips are going to get her in trouble. If not now, when? If not him, who?

The clever remark just slips out of her, even as she wraps her legs dutifully around him so he can pick her up. And how delightful, to be picked up so easily, too.

He's...deliciously tall. Deliciously everything, really.

In her delight of his physical presence, she forgets herself a little. Enough for her tenuous control to slip, and for the mark on her bare hand to glow, sparkles of electricity running up her arm from it - as if it recognises that there is no weakening in the Veil, because there is no Veil.]

[naharel]

Don't tempt me.

[ Fen'Harel would gladly sink to his knees and bathe her with his tongue if she asked it of him, but perhaps today has been enough. Another time, if she requests it.

The spark catches his attention, though, and his walk falters a little as he stares at her hand, his expression one of confusion. ]