🌲 winter catchall 🌲

[pactmarshal]

❄️ WHO: Trahearne & u baby!
❄️ WHAT: closed starters for winter
❄️ WHEN: all throughout winter
❄️ WHERE: all over the island
❄️ WARNINGS: to be added in thread headers (definitely nsfw)

Comments

[chronosynthesis]

[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.]

[pactmarshal]

[ 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...

[chronosynthesis]

[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.]

[pactmarshal]

[ 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. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[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.]

[pactmarshal]

[ 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. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[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--

[pactmarshal]

[ 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. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[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.]

[pactmarshal]

[ 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.