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[OPEN]

WHO: Syrlya and You
WHAT: Syrlya gets cursed, and then has one bad day after another so he runs away to the hotsprings
WHEN: ~few days after the spring dance until last day of spring. Closed prompts through end of Summer
WHERE: The farm, around town, the hotsprings
WARNINGS: There is NSFW in these parts

[Do Not Agitate the Goddess (mute) | Edge of the Woods + His Farm]

[Syrlya gave it a few days, at least didn't confront the Goddess about her questionable habits at the dance itself. It doesn't go terribly well.

He marches away from the pond, his expression is twisted into a scowl and fists balled. Anyone who crosses his path in the immediate aftermath is met with irritation, and then a pointed turn of his face away as he marches down the path.

After a few hours he's had some time to cool off--though he's still sulking, toiling on his farm ripping up weeds and pushing new seeds into the dirt. If they didn't have to do this to eat, he'd let this goddess know right where she can--]

[Twice cursed (blind) | Other people's farms]

[Luckily, going mute only lasts for a day, and then it's back to normal. For a couple days, at least. Until he wakes one morning to the room being strangely dark, like the sun itself was snuffed out--no, but it isn't the sun that's the problem. It's his eyes.

The morning is a panic. A level of fear he doesn't often feel as he's suddenly lost the sense most important to him.

The first trip is a stumble to the clinic... unsurprisingly, when dealing with a talking plant it doesn't offer any answers except that they, at least, don't seem to be injured. Nobody there accuses the goddess, but an errant magical effect... Syrlya can only think of one person who is capable.

So, his option is to wait it out for now, see if it clears up on its own. That is... not optimal. But ultimately Syrlya can't find any better options.

Doesn't mean he can't try and do what he needs to. So, using a glittering sword as a makeshift walking stick (watch your feet) Syrlya strides out of the farmhouse.

Or rather, trips out of it, hitting a few walls along the way. And then he's on a truly blind path, tripping and crawling over other people's fences with no real idea of his orientation. Just where he thinks it is. The warmth of the sun isn't helping him as much as he wishes it did.

Anyway. Sorry if he tramples your flowers.]

[Make That Thrice Cursed (table) | The Town]

[The blidnness clears up after two days as if it never happened. So not a malady after all, it seems. So Syrlya goes into town to finish errands he intended to before the weekend. He's just headed down the street with a bag of groceries more varied than the limited vegetables from their garden... when it hits.

A plastic folding end table drops seemingly from thin air and smacks right onto his head. Syrlya buckles with a startled cry, his bag tumbling out of his arms and spilling to the ground.]

((His plotting post is over here if you want a more custom starter or simply something else!))

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[ The first stuttered answer earns a small quirk of the brow, fingers almost slowing in retaliation before he gets a better, proper response. ]

Being honest is a good look.

[ Ironic coming from a chronic liar, as he digs his nails into Syrlya's hip. He listens, if only for a few more strokes of his fingers, but he does eventually pull them out- to reach over and pick up the bottle he'd discarded earlier. ]

I think a 'please' would suit you even more, however.

[A strangled whine escapes Syrlya's throat despite himself as Adelis pulls his fingers free, his legs slipping as he doesn't have the grip to keep them pressed together. He rolls his head so he can steal a peek at what Adelis is doing through his hazy vision.

For a moment he just catches his breath--if he stops to think about it, most other circumstances he would consider being taken so low a blow to his pride. But the arousal is a much more gripping sensation and he really wants Adelis to work that feeling through him again before it grows too cold.]

Adelis. [Finally something cracks out, expression a blur of lust.] Please.

[ The whine is viscerally pleasing to his ears, similar to the pleading, and his fingers swiftly pop the cap on the bottle again as heat settles in his stomach. This is one of the best parts, despite his businesslike approach to the whole thing.

His fingers are slicked again, and then dip downwards, lightly biting on his tongue as he drags them over himself. Adelis has, after all, paid far too much attention to the other and hardly anything to himself-

But that can change, now, as he casually hooks a hand underneath Syrlya's leg, hitching it up a bit as he shifts himself forward. ]

Good boy.

[ And that is the only answer he gets before the grip on his hip shifts a bit downwards, to match the press of his hips forward. In contrast, the shaky breath as he sinks in is rather quiet, but the red of his face spreads further all the same. ]

[It is... difficult, but Syrlya curls up so that he can keeps his eyes on Adelis as he runs his fingers over himself. A shudder of anticipation runs through him, and as Adelis forward once more Syrlya's gaze travels up to lock with the piercing blue staring back.

He falls still, just a little enamored with the sight (or maybe that's just the arousal) until he feels something thicker than fingers push into him and he gasps on a shuddering breath.

Oh. He falls back with a low, guttural moan, the warmth a stark contrast to his body which can only absorb heat from Adelis' own. Something bursts within him and sends a tingle all the way through his limbs as he struggles against the feeling.] A-ahh. Oh, oh my.

[He had never felt so intense before.]

[ It has been a while, certainly- he hadn't the time for nor the jobs that required laying with someone in quite some time, and it's something that had been at the very back of his mind with all the bullshit going on before. It's why he does have to pause, once he sinks in all the way- just to suck in a low, sharp breath of his own.

It's a bit different, from the warmth of other, more human people, but it's not unpleasant, Adelis finds. Not at all. There's a beat as his grip on the other's hip and leg tightens once more, own legs shifting for a bit of a better angle before he begins actually moving, painfully slow and measured along with the creak of the bed.

Not to be kind, of course not. The noises tempt him to speed up immediately, small grunts of his own escaping, but if Syrlya can beg once, he can do it again- he'll see to that. ]

[His chest heaves as Adelis rocks so slowly, a hard twitch shaking his body every time he sinks all the way in. The flush on his face is so prominent he thinks even he can feel it. His lips hang parted so a breathy whine escapes as he writhes to try and push his hips into Adelis'. His arms chafe between his back and the bed, the ropes staring to rub his leaves bruised.]

That's--[He groans, his legs trying to spread further.] Oh. Please. More.

[More, because he needs this feeling to push him to release. More, because every touch feels so good and he doesn't want this to stop.]

[ At this point, the red has crawled over his features, burning the edge of his ears as the pleasure roils in his gut. Syrlya attempts to meet his thrusts in urgency, but it doesn't push him to hurry up quite yet, despite how the urge to is rising. There's a satisfaction in dragging it out, getting the whines and writhes.

But the plead earns the sharp cut of his gaze narrowing, going quiet for a moment as he lets him sit in fragile silence for the answer. And then- ]

Since you asked so nice.

[ And Adelis cranes a bit further over him, glasses sliding down his nose as he hitches Syrlya's leg closer to his chest with the quickening of his pace. Sweat sticks his hair to his forehead, blond strands falls in his eyes, but he ignores it in favor of chasing the pressure building up. Loud he is not, but his breath comes faster, soft groans escaping his clenched teeth. Fuck. ]

[The pause makes him shiver, a whine of displeasure seeping out as he opens hazy eyes to look at Adelis. For some sort of sign of what he should do, what he needs to do.

It turns out, nothing more. He folds easily, hardly noticing the strain in his hips as Adelis looms over him and thrusts with greater speed. Syrlya's eyes snap open wider, a moment of clarity hitting as he watches Adelis' expression while he fucks him.

He croaks, head falling back as gasps and groans spurt from his throat, never quite able to finish before the next push and wave of arousal chokes them.]

Yess. [He feels like he's scaling so close to the top now--or maybe he's just hoping.] Please, Adelis. Harder. I--need--

[ His grip is slick, sweat sliding down his neck, and the hand on Syrlya's hip slides to grip the sheets instead, watching the edges of his vision whiten as his glasses fog from the heat of his breath. The faint creak of the bed with every move of his hips is only secondary to every noise spilling from Syrlya's mouth. ]

Needy. [ It's a hiss, pushing himself up just the slightest bit further. Since he's learned to ask properly for what he wants-

The angle is better for the way his thrusts grow harsher, relentless. He wanted it harder, so he's getting it. All the better, between the low noises slipping between his lips, to get closer and closer to his own release. It's a sharp coil growing more taut with each thrust, but his hips don't so much as stutter. ]

[Oh.

Syrlya's whole body jerks to meet Adelis when the angle changes, the thrusts coming so hard and fast he can hardly wrap his mind around the feedback from his nerves as just the right spot is hit again and again.

Every breath he takes drags with a loud gasp, his voice punctuating each time: oh, oh, oh, oh. A rhythm that beats heavier in his head as the unrelenting arousal arrests his body, every touch blending together in a bright Starburst of the senses.

His body jerks again, then tenses in an instinctual bracing against intense ecstacy. His back arches further, head thrown back as the pressure squeezes him until--

The moan jumps into a sharp cry as slick syrup spurts from his stem in one, two, three hard twitches as he comes. The orgasm drags, longer than he would have expected, as the release shockwaves through his whole body. As Adelis' thrusts merge with the shudder from deep within him.]

[ It really has been a while since he's last done this, the way the other's body jerks and twitches at his touch helping the heat pooling in his stomach to grow ever hotter. Syrlya is loud, voice resounding in the room, in contrast to the soft noises that slip through Adelis' lips and clenched teeth.

His rhythm doesn't falter, not until Syrlya locks up beneath him, body tensing and clenching down tight on him as his back arches hard, and his fingers coil tighter in the sheets.

The shudder of Syrlya's orgasm just about pushes him over, and all it takes is a few more strokes to up and careen over the edge himself, teeth biting down on his tongue to muffle the moan that escapes....not, of course, before he pulls out, a hard shudder climbing up his spine as white splatters over the sheets and his stomach.

The breath he takes is deep, as he idly pries his harsh grip from the other's leg. Fuck. ]

[Syrlya gasps as he feels Adelis pull out, feels something warm drip over his stomach as he breathes heavily. Just a second, and he cracks open hazy eyes to look up at Adelis: still flushed, still panting as the high winds down. His leg falls limp as it's released-- his whole body feels weak, not totally in his control, but somehow he doesn't mind being this vulnerable right now.]

[ It does not take him long to gather himself, despite the sensation still idly thrumming through him, and a mildly shaky hand lifts to push his hair out of his face. The sensation of sweat sticking to him and the sheets below is, naturally, not very pleasant, but he doesn't speak on it. Rather, he leans over the other again- only to slip a hand underneath him and let his fingers tug and pull at the rope still binding him.

Adelis seems oddly focused, only doing it with one hand, but with only a few prods here and there he finally manages to slip a finger through the knots. With a pull, they loosen, and Syrlya will find them slack enough to pull his arms free once he has the energy to do so. ]

I suggest you rotate your wrists. [ His breath is heavy, the flush still clinging to his ears, but he wouldn't be himself if he was kept out of commission by something like this. ] When you can. I know little of your circulation, but I wager it will do you some good, anyway.

[ Still. It's a nice view, while he has it. ]

[Syrlya... needs a bit longer to gather his wits. Hopefully Adelis anticipated that when he agreed to take his virtue.

He breathes deep for half a minute, before he finds the strength to slowly slides his arms out from under him--very sore, actually. The ropes have cut into the outermost layer of skin, leaving darker, wet bruises where the leaves were crushed and torn with the rope burn. He turns his wrists slowly, letting out a long exhale as he slowly regains control of his arms.

Absently he rubs a wrist as he looks up at Adelis and his more composed but still very flush face. Oh... What does he say?] That's... a good idea.

[ Luckily, he had figured that would be the case. In the meantime, he brushes his hair back over the curve of his shoulders, fixing his glasses so they sit back proper on his face. Putting himself back together is always a priority, but the sweat and flush will likely cling till a proper shower.

Adelis' lets his gaze flicker back as the other slowly frees his hands- the damage is a bit more than he thought, but then again, he's hardly an expert on Sylvari anatomy. He'll have to clean that rope, he reckons, due to the wetness of the other's bruises. Perhaps sap will be easier than blood...

Shifting to the edge of the bed and leaning over, a hand cranes down to pick his pants up from where they sit. They may be alone, but he knows better than to walk around his bloody house compromised. ]

Better that then to have them lock up later. [ He's already pulling them on and getting to his feet, only the faintest of soreness in his own legs. Nothing he hasn't dealt with before, at least. ] Wait here a moment.

Ah--all right. [He blinks slowly as the haze relents, bit by bit. His nerves still burn and his stem feels a bit too sensitive, but he knows adrenaline and expects he'll tire out soon enough.

He doesn't move until Adelis returns, soaking in the softness of the bed. But once he does Syrlya slowly pushes himself to sit up.]

[ Adelis leaves, the sound of his steps retreating into the kitchen, and they return a few minutes later- a wet cloth in one hand and a glass of water in another. He had drank his own briefly and splashed some water on his face in the meantime, so he looks a bit more put-together then he was. ]

Here. [ The cloth, first. ] You may use the shower if you so desire after, but better to get it off sooner than later.

[ Cum is just no fun, my dude... ]

You can have the other when you've the confidence you can hold it and not drop it.

[Oh, right. He is a bit messy, but Adelis' pointed comment as he offers the towel draws Syrlya's gaze down to his stomach and hips, where both of their ejeculation has splattered.]

Thank you. [He takes the towel absently as he regards the cum in particular with a fascination. That's a human body fluid he's never seen before, and he didn't really have a mental picture of what it was like. Thicker, sticky.

He adjusts his sitting position to wipe his front clean, hands only a little shaky. Once it's wiped enough, he carefully folds the towel so that only the clean side is around the perimeter.]

Perhaps a quick rinse if it isn't trouble. [Just so no residue sticks to his clothes when he gets dressed. He takes the glass of water, cradling it with both hands and steadily draining it.]

... I--suppose we should check our cards. I don't imagine it would not have counted. But.

[ Glass taken from his hands, Adelis picks his clothes off the floor, folding his shirt in preparation to put it back on- after his own shower, of course. Syrlya may not sweat (a feat he regards with the slightest bit of jealousy), but he certainly does, and he idly tugs at a strand of sweat-soaked hair off his forehead with a mild grimace.

The downsides... ]

I would not have offered if it was, I assure you.

[ Most of his encounters do not end off on such positive, or at least alive, notes, so might as well not ruin anything.

The request makes him pause, but he mulls it over for a second before leaning to snatch up his garters off the floor with the soft clink of metal. A pop of the clasp and unfolding of the card itself, and he stares at it for a brief second before humming. ]

It seems it did. For me, at least.

[Syrlya sets the glass on the end table once it's empty, then slides off the edge of the bed to stand. His legs are less sore than his arms, with most of it concentrated around his hips. Maybe it's just the heightened sensitivity, though.]

Oh, good. [He glances around for his coat, then drops to one knee to fish through the pocket and pull out his own card.]

It seems these also are enough marks to qualify.

[Not that he would object to a round two, all things considered... but maybe not so immediately after.

He gradually collects his clothes, bundling them haphazardly except for his boots.] These houses seem to be about the same layout, so I believe I can find your shower.]

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