crescentview | 🌲 winter catchall 🌲

[ Ooh. Syrlya comes off him, and Trahearne almost pushes his hips forward to get that pressure back, but he sees where this is going. So two will play this game. ]

I think we should.

[ Trahearne opens his eyes and they rest on Syrlya's in the reflection, boring into him. Fingers not presently occupied press gently against his cheek to direct him to look directly at himself in the mirror. ]

Because I'd like to enjoy this view for as long as possible.

[ The other hand drops, so do his eyes to watch, as a finger lightly ghosts up Syrlya's length. ]

[Syrlya allows Trahearne to guide his head to watch the mirror again after the briefest resistance. What he sees is--well. He's used to seeing his face. That doesn't catch him off guard at all.

But his gaze is drawn down to Trahearne's hands, seeing what he's feeling, and his breath hitches. He can already feel the tenseness between his legs grow from arousal.] What--you like what you see?

[ Trahearne chuckles low into Syrlya's ear. ]

Would I have asked you to marry me if I did not?

[ He likes the way his breath hitches. His lips curl into a smile as he runs a finger up Syrlya's cock again, with a little more pressure this time, and sinks his teeth firmly into the tip of his ear. ]

Well I hope so. [If he was indescribably ugly Trahearne better be putting a ring on it.

He yelps when he feels teeth sink into his ear, and the unintentional pull sends a shiver through him. Since Trahearne is being so good as to keep touching his stamen, he slowly sinks back against Trahearne's hips and grinds against them.]

[ Syrlya could be {{randomly generated in character creation}} and Trahearne would still think him the most beautiful thing in the world.

Which is is why he keeps his eyes on him, from the speckled patterns on his skin and the lines of the leaves that make up his body and the scar on his chest and all the slight curves of his chest and waist, as he lazily draws his finger up and down his stamen. Trahearne doesn't grind in turn, letting Syrlya do the work, but it won't be long before the other will start to feel Trahearne grow against his rear.

The little yelp earns a quiet chuckle. ] Colour me curious, Syrlya... [ He pauses, only to drag his tongue up the bottom edge of Syrlya's ear to its tip. ] What is your favourite part of you?

You mean... of my body? [He assumes it's flirting, since they are in the middle of foreplay.

And yet, as his head tilts his expression is earnest as he gives that real consideration and not just the sexiest answer.] Oh, I don't know. I've never thought much about it... maybe my hair?

[He should have gone with the sexy answer.]

[ It isn't the sexy answer, but it is the genuine answer. There's a softness in Trahearne's eyes as the trail up from Syrlya's face in the reflection to the leaves adorning his head.

It is very nice hair. Dark, yet almost iridescent in the way it reflects the light. Dark, yet among the brightest things in the night. ]

Then you may watch as I worship your hair.

[ Perhaps it sounds a little silly, but when does he not?

Trahearne shifts to bury his face into Syrlya's hair, the hand otherwise unoccupied reaching up to thread his fingers through foliage. His touch his gentle. He inhales, taking in the faint scent of lavender--Syrlya's scent--and his eyes flutter, grow lidded, unfocused. He holds the sensation in his chest, locks it away in his heart.

Two fingers, now. One on each side of Syrlya's stem slide up and down, adding more and more pressure as Trahearne feels him growing under his touch. ]

[Syrlya does watch, though his gaze drags down more often than it stays on Trahearne pressing his face to Syrlya's scalp.

He's already erect, by this point, fingers kneading into Trahearne's thighs. He wants him to get aroused a little faster.]

... Is it too late to change my answer?

[ Trahearne's eyes lazily roll back to the reflection. He rubs his nose into Syrlya's hair, his fingers continue to drag up and down in a steady rhythm.

He presses his hips forward slightly, pleased by the fingers on his thighs. ]

No, perhaps not. [ The hand on Syrlya's scalp massages his head gently. ] That may depend on what your new answer is.

My ass.

[He flashes a cheeky smile to the mirror.]

[ What cheek...

A sly smile crosses Trahearne's face at that. ]

Very well.

[ He pulls back, hands dropping to Syrlya's hips to angle him to the side, so that Trahearne is not totally obscured by the smaller sylvari. The condition that he has to watch still stands, it seems.

Without much ceremony or grace, Trahearne drops to his knees. From this angle it's clear that he wasn't quite erect, but he is most certainly getting there. His eyes, lidded, and face lightly flushed, fix on Syrlya's ass as his hands begin to massage his cheeks. Slowly he leans in, placing gentle kisses along the inner curve of his rear; as he does, his massaging hands gently pry his cheeks apart, lips drifting closer and closer to the center. And when he finds Syrlya's entrance, with a heavy exhale he drags his tongue over it.

That's. Different. But he doesn't hate it. ]

[Syrlya looks down as he's turned, peeking over his shoulder to see Trahearne disappear except for the reflection in the mirror. He's just a little disappointed when his stamen is released, but he's molified by Trahearne's hands gripping his rear, lips dragging across it closer to--]

Oh! [His face flushes a deep gold.]

[ It might be hard to see, but Trahearne definitely smiles at that. His own cheeks lift against Syrlya's, well, cheeks. And it does well to fuel his own arousal. How far can he push this?

Fingers dig into his rear, thumb massaging the skin in the crack, as though trying to coax Syrlya open. The other thumb idly draws up and down the edge of one of the many tightly-layered leaves that make up his skin, tip occasionally dipping beneath the fold.

All in the meanwhile, his tongue rolls up and around Syrlya's asshole, massaging the skin around it, wetting it, taking in yet more sensations that make up who he is. The tip dances around the entrance, teasing him; the massaging thumb draws nearer, prying him open ever so slightly, and Trahearne's tongue dips inside for the briefest moment. ]

[There's something about this that Syrlya isn't sure how to describe--how utterly debase and carnal it is Trahearne running his tongue and fingertips around Syrlya's ass, on his knees.

His stamen is starting to drop, wet, but he forgets entirely about touching himself as he watches Trahearne.]

[ It's as Trahearne slowly drags the flat over Syrlya's asshole one last time do his eyes slowly flutter open, lidded and hazy with desire and the knowledge of how dirty it is, and roll to catch Syrlya's look in the mirror.

Oh. His stomach flips. The sight of Syrlya's stamen, dripping, causes his own to pang with pained arousal, and he decides there isn't a lot of time left before he loses his own patience. But he wants to worship him a little longer.

He pulls back to watch as he slowly presses the tip of his thumb in, deeper to the first knuckle, and then to the palm; he kneads his insides, eyes briefly flitting up to Syrlya's. His own cheeks are tinged a deep gold. ]

[Syrlya lets out a throaty moan, head tilting back as a shudder runs through him.] Trahearne...

[His knees are getting weak, and he focuses on remaining standing. It's very hard to resist the urge to rock into Trahearne's finger but things are just slow enough he retains the sense that will.. probably end poorly.]

[ Oh. Syrlya's tone puts Trahearne in a dizzy spell; his eyes flutter, and he inhales. He genuinely loves it when he hears Syrlya say his name like that. What wouldn't he do to hear it over, and over?

Reluctantly, he pulls his thumb out and gets to his feet. It's pretty obvious, both in the reflection and by the sensation running up Syrlya's inner leg, that Trahearne is fully erect by now. His arms come to wrap around Syrlya, pulling him close and turning him so that they face the mirror fully again. He sets his length between Syrlya's cheeks--but not in--and slowly begins to rock his hips, all for the contact, the friction, the slight relief. He exhales, and presses his cheek to Syrlya's. He's quickly coming undone. ]

Syrlya...

[Syrlya staggers as he's shifted around, knees forced to unlock in his reposition. He scrambles for support, one hand gripping an arm around him while his other reaches back and squeezes Trahearne's rear, encouraging the close press of their hips. He rocks with Trahearne, letting his hips be bumped forward with each roll of--] Trahearne, please...

[His head tilts back, a gasp on his lips. He wants Trahearne deep inside him. He's not sure he'll be able to wait any longer.]

[ A quiet groan rolls in Trahearne's throat as Syrlya grabs him, rocks in tandem with him. His mouth falls open, just about to speak when Syrlya himself begs first. He was getting pretty desperate himself, but--well, since he asked so nicely.

Trahearne pauses, if only to press a quick kiss to the corner of Syrlya's mouth, before pulling back from the embrace. One hand presses against the flat of Syrlya's back between his shoulders to push him forward, onto the surface of the mirror, and the other lifts his hips, pulling him up onto his toes. Syrlya is so much shorter than him. So much smaller than him.

Trahearne's eyes rest on Syrlya's face as he shifts his hips forward, and presses his stamen into his tight, wetted asshole-- ]

Ah--

[ His eyes flutter, throaty groan escaping his lips. Holy shit. ]

[Syrlya groans as he's pushed into the mirror, Trahearne pinning him to it the only thing keeping him up. And then Trahearne pushes in, and Syrlya's voice cracks with relief as the pressure hit his tension and buried it under a rolling wave of arousal.

His legs shake up on his toes, and then the shudder runs up his body.]

[ Trahearne sinks all the way in, settling in the feeling and keeping Syrlya's hips up against his for a brief moment. The hand on Syrlya's back slinks upward, tangling in the leaves of his ponytail, and he yanks his face off the surface of the mirror, just far enough away for him to see properly.

He leans forward, just close enough to growl-- ]

Eyes open. Watch.

[ And after a second, he pulls part of the way back...only to quickly slam back in all the way again, a wave of ecstasy washing over him and out of his mouth in a groan. Not only does Syrlya feel good, but he is certainly going to look good, too. ]

[Syrlya yelps, forcing his eyes open with a ragged breath. The sight of himself stuns him for a minute. Aroused, desperate--is that what he looks like when Trahearne is deep inside him?

The train of thought is long as Trahearne thrusts in hard, and Syrlya moans loudly. His eyes roll up as he continued to gape for heavy breaths, and they lock on Trahearne's expression reflected back at him.

Oh. Oh.] Aaah--

[ Their eyes meet. Trahearne's are slightly unfocused, lidded, a swirl of
deep hunger and intense affection coloring them. His lips are slightly parted, face tinged gold, and his shoulders heave slightly with each breath.

Ahh, he loves this sight. And he loves that he gets to share it with Syrlya. ]

You're beautiful.

[ When he says it this time, his voice scrapes with gravel, scarcely containing his arousal.

His eyes flutter as he pulls back again, and thrusts in--over, and over, and over. Each movement he makes inside Syrlya sends a wave after wave of blinding ecstasy through him, and not once do his eyes leave Syrlya. Getting to see him from both sides is such a treat. ]

[Syrlya's breath quickens, punctuated by heavy gasps with each thrust into him. A tremble runs through his legs, and he grabs the edges of the mirror for stability. The tighter his arousal coils, the harder it is to focus on the mirror, and eventually his eyes slip shut when it feels like only blurry shapes reflect back at him.]

[ The mirror shudders under Syrlya's grasp, feet thumping against the floor with each forceful rock of Trahearne's hips into the smaller sylvari.

It feels so good--he's so overcome with pleasure that it takes him a minute to realize Syrlya's eyes have fallen closed. His head tips back again as his movements slow; his fingers forcefully entwine into his hair as he pulls back hard. ]

Eyes. Open.

🌲 winter catchall 🌲

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