crescentview | A foreboding feeling fills this place... (Feb

A foreboding feeling fills this place... (Feb - March Closed Threads for He Xuan)

🌊Who: He Xuan, and peeps.
🌊What: Dating, other potential misc. stuff that's coming up.
🌊When: February - March.
🌊Where: Boat, various places on the island.
🌊Warnings: Some NSFW, alcohol. Fun times~

🎃 fall events

childe (tartaglia) | link to trio shenans

mundane/misc. activities
jack vessalius, kaveh, appreciation

⛄ winter time
a talk

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ His ass is so flat, there's nothing to grope? Any flatter and it'll go concave.

But Tartaglia indulges it, haphazardly stumbling on his feet where he's pinned in place. Closer than further apart, his eyes turn ferocious. That's just how it goes when he's saddled with this bottomless hunger, like a sieve that can't be filled. Busy losing the rest of his mind to tugging the zipper down of his volition, he's wrenching out of He Xuan's reach. ]

Rip it and I'll leave wearing nothing. That fine with you?

[ Leveling the flattest retort possible, Tartaglia sinks to his knees. The dress is half-shucked off where he's crouched down, now split down the middle. Back exposed through the tugged-open seam of it, the reflection of it through the mirror is indecent, as hot and flushed as his face. Ungracious and troublesome besides, he glances up from beneath his lashes. ]

I'll suck you off— [ More senseless conviction spills out of his mouth, laughter stretched out and searing his throat. ] —if you'll let me.

Edited 2023-03-08 06:20 (UTC)

[ He Xuan had seen him naked before, though the heat has all but shot any logic in his head at all.

Whenever Mount Tonglu set the ghosts into a frenzy from the disruption, He Xuan merely found a way to sleep away, unaffected. He obviously can't do so here, for better or worse. But with the retort the other male's given, he can't quite find himself able to argue much with it. It isn't like there's any extra set of clothing for Tartaglia here, so he just barely resists reaching out to pull him back, and decides not to grant it no reply.

Besides, with the way Tartaglia sinks to his knees before him, already looking debaucherous enough that a different sort of distraction takes him, and there's that kind of laughter being torn straight from the other male's throat, which does something to him. ]

Then, do it.

[ The words spill out seemingly coldly, but are heated all the same, He Xuan's hands going straight to undo his belt, tossing it to the floor unceremoniously. Followed by him shrugging at least what will be considered one outer layer off—a necessity for him to take out his cock from his pants, a healthy, nice size for someone as tall as him. One other hand reaches out to boldly grasp a hold of that hair, fingers already sinking in, no need to pull just yet with him so close. ]

[ Nice dick, He Xuan.

Running mad in the excess of honesty, he comes up short with reasons to strategically withdraw. In a less effected state, he'd question the circumstances more. At least, his gaze wouldn't sink this badly, the air first stifling and then harsh where it's flung atop him, the heat crawling to blister over his shoulders.

At his own discretion, Tartaglia says what's on his mind, eyes gleaming. ]

You'll find me plenty obliging. [ His teeth sink into his lower lip when he says it, not at all edging away from the attention that he's invited upon himself. ] More enthusiasm would be nice!

[ Is flattery such a curse? It's probably for the best that Tartaglia doesn't acknowledge his own attention-seeking habits when he can't fall back upon taunting to cope. For once, he's wrung out, and doesn't remark on much else, pressing down into whatever new reprimand finds him with his mouth. One hand's loosely fitted around the base of He Xuan's cock, tongue sliding deep down the underside, more soft than not. No attempts to shove it past his lips when he's preoccupied with affixing him with insolence, like he could force captivation with only his mouth. ]

[ Indeed, there is something exceedingly enthralling in regards to the image of the red head on his knees, and in position to go ahead, do something so scandalous, yet in his head all fitting considering the situation. The evident heat, that flush decorating him before he opens his mouth, speaking those daring words without any indication that he will so much as back down. Nor will he falter, finding it all too much.

His eyes are laser-focused on what Tartaglia does or says. But now even moreso, even seeing the way he bites his lip...does it need to be said? An amused huff escapes him nonetheless. ]

You'll find I'm enthusiastic enough...

[ He says plainly, but judging by the way his lips slightly uptick, he is aware the inflection sounds contrary. Even if he draws a harsher breath once Tartaglia moves to make good on what he plans to do in earnest, but daring to do so lightly. Too slowly. He's doing it on purpose, with such a searing look at him.

How delightful. ]

...When you give me more. You've shown an incredible ruthlessness in your pursuit before. Is this the best you have, Tartaglia?

[ He Xuan lacks the patience he normally has, fingers already settled atop that red hair now boldly carding through those lock, and then going back to gripping more firmly. This time when he speaks, there is no hint of coldness, a bottomless greed and demand entering into his tone. ]

Give me more.

[ Is he supposed to say something? He's got dick in his mouth. Talking with a sloppy, fucked-out inflection sounds like a great way to not be taken seriously, and that's the one thing he can't stand, bereft of the praise that he adores or the sore commitment to a promise he didn't actually make.

Very, very briefly, Tartaglia's gaze is overcast and storming from beneath his eyelashes. Patience halfway to eroded, he's somewhat disoriented. Should he give in just this once? There's a moment of intense consideration on his part, gone very still as he reaches back around to the zipper and artlessly peels the dress the rest of the way down, that weird curse placed on him either severed or in shambles.

After that, mind made up, Tartaglia slows to a crawl with his ministrations, slyness marring his stare. If He Xuan's truly wanting, then he ought to know for sure first.

So beg. He'll concede for nothing less, fist loosening even where he's got his hand wrapped around as low as his ballsack, mouth split only wide enough to take about a fourth of dick in his mouth. Not even half, no gesture that truly satisfies. Dangling in that challenge presented by He Xuan's hand, Tartaglia knows full well that he could be yanked up at any time.

But goading comes so easily. He Xuan should've thought some more about the kind of monster that Tartaglia is, depraved enough to stretch out temptation. Flippant with his tongue when it runs down a vein, he's swallowing spit and not the least bit pentient for drawing things out, despite the resultant ache in his jaw. ]

[ Giving in and indicating that he has lost is something that He Xuan doesn't quite make a habit out of. But suffice to say, this sort of behavior doesn't feel out of sorts where Tartaglia is concerned—bold to the point where even the idea of letting this drag on is an idea despite the heat that is easily fraying logic in the mind.

Even with him as sensitive as this, how much Tartaglia takes, how much he is touching is nice, but it's well below the realm of anything remotely satisfying. Given how he has loosened the grip, that only adds to the insult. ]

Tartaglia...

[ This time, he speaks his name—breathless and heated—from vexation more than satisfaction, the latter of which seems to elude him thanks to the other's efforts. Words are almost on the tip of his tongue, trying to find a way to construct them together to urge the red head on, but this is driving him mad enough. And seeing him more exposed? Aching and impatient, He Xuan can't wait. Nor can he give in like this.

He doesn't give any warning to him yanking the other male right off of his cock, one hand moving to ensure that Tartaglia's hand is also pulled away from where it was loosely wrapped, all in one smooth motion. ]

I've let you try to please me and have been found wanting. Let me make good on what I said I'd do to you.

[ He's waited long enough. One of the containers of lube flies straight into one of his hands, without need for any usage of water. Even with the dress still barely on Tartaglia, at this point he will literally fuck him with it still on.

Assuming, of course, he does indicate he's fine with it. ]

[ His appetite is such a crazed, voracious thing. Stranded under the mania of it, desiring a closer touch or to be ripped apart or something between the two, he doesn't protest the fever-tight grip of He Xuan's hand, thinking a bit distantly on how it should be colder. If it were up to him, it'd be frigid enough to melt him all the way through. There's no way that Tartaglia can get rid of this insufferable warmth otherwise, mouth heavy with the taste of deep-throating him, sulking and roughed-up and still wanting more and more than could be feasibly given.

Mostly, those urges are violent. Inside, he's a filthy mess of contradictions, easy to bruise and easier to rile, much too vulgar and far too unsweet for his own good. Maybe he should've been better about showing that before, not waiting until his inhibitions were stripped back and pared down to reveal that he's completely insensible, that it isn't love that overrides all that could exist in his heart but this tendency to run his opponents through.

But He Xuan's hardly an adversary, and Tartaglia licking his lips, his stare so deep and dark. Fingers flexing a little, they crumple together and then hangs limp in someone else's clutches.

Righted, he's yanking off the dress so it drops the rest of the way with the hand that hasn't been caught, unashamed with the nudity. It's fine. It's not ideal, but even if it's ripped to shreds, he'll walk off the ship with his ego intact. Maybe he's a little bit of a masochist, given this proclivity toward harming others, harming himself. ]

At least take your clothes off, if nothing else. How am I supposed to touch you beneath all those layers?

[ Is He Xuan just going to finger him and fuck him out? That's a thought. Here's another, eyes gouging him through, face-to-face and so unbecoming for it. ]

If you're gonna do this to me, then I want you to watch.

[ No looking away. ]

[ It's been more than a couple centuries since He Xuan has found himself sunken so deep that his actions can be comparable to potentially thoughtless or rash for more than a single moment. To allow himself to do things such as this without careful rumination; at least, with the chaotic, haphazard way he's behaved during all of it. But perhaps this is part of him too.

His feelings are more than surface level, making this more complicated than simple—yet, he lets them remain submerged, angling towards allowing only his deep physical need apparent. A deep greed that he has within him is now unleashed, with him unable to keep it at bay, and the time for shame has long since passed.

Letting the bottle float, and letting go of the other's hand, he takes his clothing off in smooth, hurried movements, letting himself stand completely exposed. He then boldly reaches for that hand again in a quick motion, leading them closer to the bed, towards the end, perfectly witnessed in the mirror directly across. ]

Did you think I would look away when I can barely keep my eyes off of you?

[ Golden eyes bare down on Tartaglia, as he dares to reach forward, hand on the male's chest, to try to push him back against the bed so he can climb atop him. And of course, the bottle's already brought back into his other hand, opened, two fingers dipping in. He has full intention of still preparing Tartaglia properly, and will slip two in first, between those legs, movements smooth, impatient, but direct all the same.

Leaving no room for nothing but certainty. ]

[ Reasoning impaired and common sense corroding, Tartaglia's aching less under the pull of aphrodisiac than the imbalance. Unsettled, stepping out of the pool of his clothes, his thoughts smearing like his lack of poise, no restraint in him at all when he falls back into the bed. The landing is soft, but it doesn't take the edge off, glancing sidelong at that weirdly floating bottle and back at He Xuan when it zooms back into his hand.

Kind of unreal, the sight's too dreamlike, more akin to a fantasy; panting into the sheets, he's gulping insensibly with the notion. Too late to ask if they could do it in the shower or something, crank the water at full blast, icy enough to thaw the nerves. Not like he has enough frame of mind to use his Vision either, cast on the floor with everything else.

Less substantial than even these rich sheets is his sudden lapse in control, grasping rather uselessly at the sheets, knuckles so heavy with strain. Never has he harbored the intent to shove his fingers inside his ass and get off that way, so of course it isn't an effortless act to receive any now. Crushing and vice-like even though he's hardly a virgin, he's clenching down around the part of He Xuan's hand that's slid inside. The sensation is unyielding, slick from the lube, but insufferably hot, the air sawing out of his lungs while he's still full of things he can't exorcise. ]

Just a promise from you.

[ Hard to be anything but stupidly honest when Tartaglia's made so vulnerable, breath coming out too shallow and fast, skin suffocated by the heat. Ignoring the fact that his dick's throbbing so angrily between his legs, he's reaching for whatever of He Xuan that he can touch while impaled on his hand. ]

Give me your word.

[ He Xuan isn't so blinded by the moment of it all to be inattentive to the way Tartaglia reacts; impossible not to be affected himself, even with logic taking more of a backseat.

He notices it all. The hands in the sheets, the way he breathes like he's taking his last breath, and the desperate tightness that's all but clutching onto both of the fingers as he dares to move them in a constant motion. He Xuan even will slide them deep, taking more care here when he does, but not coming to a complete stop.

With him so close by still, it'll be a simple matter for his free hand to reach in between them, fingers lightly stroking at that hardness, to provide some more ease, but does it? Tartaglia's hands can very well reach at him like this—his face, his chest, hips, arms—and he will allow him to do so. ]

A promise? Then, you'll have one—consider my word given that I'll never look anywhere else but at you. No reason or desire to do otherwise.

Every single moment of this, from beginning to end, I'll have you within my sights. Nothing else.

[ In the end, He Xuan can't help the fact there's emotion other than simply heat and desire coloring his tone. Impossible for him to be so unaffected in so many ways—that ship has long since sailed.

But, he continues along, undeterred. ]

Are you ready for me, Tartaglia?

You need to ask?

[ So unsweet, there's no subtlety left in him, baring all the terrible greed like the Adam's apple set in his throat. Abject with his stare, Tartaglia's shoving at those fingers tugging around his cock to wrap his own around them, stroking erratically so he doesn't fall right off the sharp precipice of self-control. Anything like discipline in him is halfway to annihilation already, inglorious and brutalizing with his own hand.

Losing it, losing himself in it, he's palming broadly along He Xuan's nape, clutching him down so he's dragged closer. Impatient and prying, Tartaglia's pushing so He Xuan lowers his head for once before him. ]

Do it.

[ He'll fall to pieces if left on his own, well before any vulgarity. Buried into with grinding slowness, he's shuddering, the noises leaving him filthy and shattered. Well out of his own depth, every inch of him glistening in sweat or wreathed in shivers, Tartaglia's nudging himself down so he can take those fingers deeper. The dip in his backbone proves inflexible, even when he's struggling to arch off the bed. ]

Do it already. I'm letting you.

[ Or he'll do it, and he'll be relentless and cruel in wrenching up to overpower He Xuan. ]

[ How just like him.

If it weren't for how far gone he was himself, he might have even laughed. As much as he doesn't consider this a situation deserving of such humor.

Once the demands are finished leaving Tartaglia's lips, He Xuan pulls his fingers out without preamble. Both hands now free, in the heat of the moment, he's had the chance to slather some of that liquid from the bottle—now lying carelessly on the ground after being tossed—on his own cock. He's also already pulled back some in order to do so, nudging away the other's hand from where it had rested against the back of his neck.

No need for saying anything promptly, He Xuan's tugging at—gripping—one hip with one hand and guiding his cock with another, so he's effectively pulling Tartaglia right onto his cock, still kneeling on the bed. Not stopping for anything, He Xuan's slowly sheathing himself inside completely with a sound of pleasure, impatience of his own winning out as he doesn't bother to even bother to take care or hide such a sound.

That's as much as a reprieve that's given.

After all, figuring that neither of them desire to wait for long, He Xuan himself having no wish to do so himself with how much the other is tightly gripping onto him, he will already begin a pace, easing in and outside of Tartaglia. Sliding almost completely out and then, one hand tight on the other's hips, he's thrusted himself all the way back inside, using his grip as leverage all the while. ]

[ It's fine. Look, he'll be the one to tip his head back and laugh, high and mirthless, wishing for more grace under the skin or less smoldering heat. Much too hot to do anything else besides sinking onto He Xuan's dick, anyways, temperature spiking when Tartaglia's running himself too thin. It's like being branded on the inside; he's clumsy about accepting the scalding trespass when punched out of air.

But he's grinding down against it until his body's swallowed more cock, wet from the lube and tenderly opened up. Figures it'd be hard to ride He Xuan's cock when held taut against the mattress. Predicting the pace comes easily enough but it still throws him hard when the full length of it slams inward, filling him too quickly.

He's clenching for all the space it occupies inside of him, throbbing from the overwhelming stretch. Pushed much too deep, the thrusts are overwhelming, and Tartaglia's gripping at He Xuan's wrist before long, fingers gnawing shallow crescents where they've dug in. Not to retreat, though. Even in a compromising position, legs pulled taut on either side of He Xuan's waist, he's ceaseless in his attempts to drag him further down. ]

Come on. [ His voice is so shivery, tremors eating up the clarity it could've carried. ] Come closer. You'd make me wait this long?

[ Why the hell is He Xuan propped up so far away, anyways? Kneeling to fuck him dispassionately is all well and good, but it's nothing proximate, not the soul-sucking closeness that Tartaglia craves so earnestly. ]

[ He Xuan is used to not being bothered by temperature himself, but even like this, he can feel it all, as if he were still in a normal human body—the sensations running through him more intense than ever that he can't be as so unaffected to proceed about as usual. Any control he's hanging onto is just for show, given how he doesn't even bother to ease the other into it—but presumptuously he wonders how wrong is it for him to believe that Tartaglia might enjoy it.

Feeling him clutch so desperately tight around him, He Xuan doesn't bother to hold back how quick his breaths leave him, as if he actually needs to take in air when it's entirely unnecessary, but despite it all he's witness to the way the other reaches—for something. Then, his wrist—and now he attempts to pull him in with those words, so inflected with that heated desire. ]

Maybe I'd make you wait a little longer.

[ He Xuan says, voice not nearly as without heat as he'd prefer it to be. Maybe after this, days later, Tartaglia will forget the man said something like that. ]

How angry would you be if I did?

[ But he is the type of person he can't help but give the one he cares deeply about what he wants, not to mention his own desire to be so much closer. And so, shifting their positions slightly, he leans down. Close enough like this to grab onto, to have those arms encircle, or...for He Xuan to press deeper and harsher still into Tartaglia, but also steal a greedy, heated kiss from the other man. ]

[ No plot-convenient memory loss for him, old man. He's a bit too young for his brain to erode that severely. Being able to forget his time in the Abyss and more would make him saner, anyways, which is a bad thing when normalcy doesn't satiate him.

However, he is perfectly content to be an impertinent child(e) and tauntingly gnaw on He Xuan's mouth when he comes into immediate range. Provoke him when he's sweltering in his own skin and suffer the consequences. His patience has long since run dry. Inflammatory nonsense aside, the position just leaves him utterly defenseless, which is not a state he takes all that well before any loaded remarks. ]

Then I'd have to come onto you, wouldn't I?

[ Oh, he's frustrated now. Nothing to wonder about.

The upheaval is so sudden and sharp when he pushes hard enough to pin He Xuan flat on the bed so he can sit up top and promptly ride the guy into the mattress. Turns out that it's a whole lot easier to handle getting railed when Tartaglia can dictate the pace, splitting himself hilt-deep on that cock. Kisses will only be allowed when this bully deserves it, and until then, he's satisfied chasing his own pleasure. Be nice to him and perhaps he'll forgive the insult to his paper-thin ego. ]

Edited 2023-04-08 19:35 (UTC)

[ ...Such a change would likely be also something He Xuan considers as absolutely concerning, in many respects. Though, if there is one thing he should anticipate (or should have) is the fact that the other male isn't the type to so easily lie and take any words daring at any sort of provocation.

But, is that so bad? Maybe the heat has truly shorted out any proper logic at all. Though that is a foregone conclusion— ]

...No other choice but to.

[ Words uttered with no chance of sounding anything like remotely composed, a grunt escaping him when the other dares to push him down to claim his position atop him. A breathless sound escapes him then—like this, He Xuan is out of reach from even attempting to claim the other's lips against his, and he is left bereft of being able to touch alongside the other male's chest, his face, or anywhere above his hips. A true tragedy. But, that doesn't mean all his avenues have been shut off.

His hands reach out, clutching tightly at the other man's bare thighs to bruising—with half-lidded eyes, and forced to receive pleasure like this. But, still aiming every roll upwards of his own hips for when the other male continues to strike himself brutally down, falling down upon his cock. But, He Xuan is unrepentant like this. ]

Un...unbelievable. I came closer, and still you act like this.

Usually you're stoic, but you can act like this when you're with me. It's kind of cute.

[ Completely full of himself, Tartaglia's laughter stumbles out so unevenly. High off the moment, terrified by nothing, he welcomes the threat of bruises and the bloodless look He Xuan's giving him when those hands come up around his thighs to waver into squeezing. Fair's fair.

Arching to clench up around the cock pounding inside, what catches him off-guard is a feeling that scrapes the nerves, snared and heavy. Slick-hot on the inside from the lube, he bounces on He Xuan's dick so incorrigibly. Even winded, he can't help this cheekiness when roosting on top. Under so much criticism, his smile broadens. ]

Don't be so sore. [ Says the sore, greedy loser. ] ... It's not a bad look on you. Actually, I'm fond of it.

[ Like he's oh-so-special, when he's just undeserving and belligerent. With his dick leaking pre-cum all over He Xuan's abdomen in this confining space, he feigns ignorance. Sinking to cling around the base of the much-lauded ghost king's cock, Tartaglia's gentle for once while kneading along the shaft with his hole. The gesture's partially a taunt, and partially his own insolence. Did he break He Xuan's self-control clean in half yet? Who knows. Keep looking only at him. ]

Can't you treat me just this once? Have your way with me after that.

[ Cute...He Xuan's mind is temporarily short-circuiting at that. Of all the things anyone has said to him, this is what gets him? Yet, if it were anyone else, he'd absolute be completely indignant about hearing that. 'Who does that person think think they are?', Is the expected line of thought.

But it doesn't come. His feelings betray him in his time of need. Much like how his body is, entrapped by a more intense heat, and the tightness constricting around his cock pleasantly with how Tartaglia is moving like this. He prides himself in his own control, to the fullest; but he knows he's already let it fray so much. Tartaglia's words make him unable to hold back a hitched breath, or perhaps it's because even he's spiraling quickly towards something he certainly can't stop. Not that he feels inclined to, his own movements of rolling his hips upwards jerky, uncoordinated. ]

You're ridiculous. But...why don't you enjoy it while you still can—hah—Tartaglia? This look, that is.

[ That arrogance makes him burn even hotter, wanting for a moment to break it in half, and then pick up the pieces. Only him. But isn't the reverse the same as well? Only Tartaglia...he is the only one he'd allow this from. No one else, he decides in a maddened fervor, as his mind is shaken into a frenzy, anything at this point enough to cause tremors, and he's certainly at his limit, even with the man taunting him.

Words can't escape his lips like the sounds that slip through he can't hold down. So in lieu of a proper response to the impertinent, egotistical follow-up, He Xuan takes one hand off one bruised thigh to grab roughly a hold of one of the other's arms, tugging him perhaps uncomfortably a bit down, to see him easier. Even if it's unnecessary.

Let this moment be seared into his memory, because He Xuan isn't going to let him off so easy.

Just as promised, He Xuan doesn't look anywhere else, even with reaching a blinding pleasure that briefly causes those golden eyes of his to glaze over, lips parted open as he spills into the other man still atop him. ]

[ His concentration is completely shot. Waiting for the crash, he's steeling himself so he doesn't cave under the feeling burning him through or it might just break him. Flushed all over, the friction is scathing him even through his nerves. It's too hard to stave off the momentum when he's caught up in the free-fall, pinning He Xuan flat to the sheets.

So many times does Tartaglia pull himself back to try and last, the seconds feverish and prolonged. Held up so unbearably in the sensation, his fingers snap taut around He Xuan's shoulder until he forcibly retracts them. There are bruises shining there, fitted to the shapes made from clutching too hard. As always, he overestimates himself.

Unable to take this slowly, Tartaglia slams himself down on that cock right up to the finish, shuddering when he can't last all the way to the end. Jumpily, he's struggling to escape He Xuan's snaring reach so he can wrap a hand around his own dick and trap the mess of release in his palm alone. But Tartaglia sullies him all the same, swearing just a little as cum leaks out of his loosely-closed fist and pools all over He Xuan's abdomen. ]

... That's the idea. [ Filthy with want, he tips his head down for a kiss. The moment stretches onward until he retreats. Looming over him afterwards, he's smearing a thumb over He Xuan's mouth, besmirching it like everything else. ] Good thing I live to please.

[ Toppling right off, Tartaglia hits the bed and just lies there, an arm slung over his face like that'll keep the restlessness at bay. ]

Want to go another round?

[ Those markings left will stay easily; even if his skin doesn't flush like a normal human's, bruises will still linger.

In the haze, He Xuan can only think that it is certainly nothing less than typical of the other male to brutally continue such movements with such a singular, yet driven, and greedy focus. As if he has any room to judge, when both of them have been so feverous with desire, merciless in their own ways to be fulfilled.

Nevertheless, regardless of where he's positioned, it's so easy for him to lean upwards as much as he can into the kiss despite the fact that both of them have recently reached the culmination of the first round. For a man like himself, He Xuan has usually been relatively patient, though if given the option to immediately capitalize on something he desires, he'll go right for it. And so, he has full intentions of making good on the little exchange between them. When Tartaglia finally pulls away, He Xuan unabashedly licks his lips, where the other male has pressed a thumb just a few moments ago.

It's almost seamless how he pulls himself into a seating position, only to then place himself over the younger man like before. Seeing him cover an arm with his face like that does amuse him a little, considering what he had asked of him. ]

I'd no intentions of allowing this to resolve in just simply one.

[ Words spoken truthfully, He Xuan moving to descend upon him so he can kiss this time at the other's neck, hands moving to slide down those sides, resting at his hips just so, and ensuring that he's going to leave more than his fair share of marks. Not just from having gripped with his hands, but biting here or there that can't be mistaken for anything else. ]

[ First round or second round, whatever. It's the anticipation that he can hardly bear. His arm's sleeping and then it's tingling all over, needles of sensation below the nerves when Tartaglia pulls it back to see. Fingertips dropped to the mattress, they leave streaks as his hand opens, closes, opens again, movements come loose. Legs as slack as his posture, he crumples them back together, knees driven to dig into He Xuan's sides.

Even this tendency to filthy things up can't get away from him; all these urges on the rise, and he gives way to none of them, trying for patience when held so deeply. Hard to stay so motionless when compelled otherwise, thinking largely inconsequential things about He Xuan's hair and how it's like this long, black spill of ink pouring over him, colder than each bite gifted to his neck. ]

Sometimes I wonder. Feels a little premeditated!

[ Looking a bit mangled with these bruises edging into his skin, Tartaglia pulls him down by those dark strands, gently tugging at He Xuan's scalp. All this time has passed and he can't quit being haunted by hubris. A bit hesitant to relinquish control, he still adopts the recreational tone, teasing under a shivery jaw and bared throat. ]

Are you into me?

[ Feeling Tartaglia's knees digging in isn't so much as discomforting as more indication that the other man is very much into the idea. Still, with him having made such an inquiry, it isn't entirely surprising that he'd be so receptive; almost unexpectedly conjuring a little smile from the taller male. He can only imagine even now he's restless—the man is always so full of life. So energetic.

When the comment leaves him about it being premeditated, he huffs lightly. He thinks that the bruises suit him well, given that they are ones left by him. A sign, perhaps, of a sort of possessiveness.

Then, he feels the tug, pulled down by the grip, and perhaps in a different manner—less physical than actually so—with those teasing words, spoken so carefree. He slips one hand from where it lays against a bare hip, only to find a nipple, fingers pinching and squeezing at it. ]

...I do find it hard to resist you. No point in pretending that it isn't true.

[ Still a safe response as any. Even beyond his hidden desire for something more, the red-head is attractive; handsome and captivating. He changes where he's been leaving bites, finishing off one more so that he can shift, and press one against Tartaglia's chest, enveloping the other nipple within his mouth to suck on it. ]

[ Laid out, he loses all sense of his pulse to each caress denting his skin with He Xuan's bare and sprawling touch. It sends him crashing deep into delirium. Held up on the heat crowding its way into his nerves, Tartaglia's knees scrunch up a little further, sloppily locking his legs around that waist. ]

Coming from you, it's just... obvious. Not that I get why.

[ Hardly anything good exists in him, after all. He wasn't made to be loved. No use saving face over that. Seizing He Xuan's fingers, Tartaglia clutches them with a drowning, fever-heavy grip. Feeding into his own bottomless habit for acting up, he mouths over one palm, each kiss smothering and gentle. None of it takes the edge off.

But it does cage his breath as it uselessly spills out of him, feigning calm when he's collapsing into arousal. Any reprieve left between a throbbing dick or stiff nipples has vanished outright. Tartaglia's voice comes out stilted, nestled between the joints and ligaments of He Xuan's hand, as he veers towards distraction. ]

How— nnngh. [ Aghhhhhhhhh, his chest. ] How... how about another kiss?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A foreboding feeling fills this place... (Feb - March Closed Threads for He Xuan)

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