[ he doesn't seem to inclined to spend much time properly working him open -- he drags his fingers out of him, dragging emphasized as his fingertips rub up against his walls and presses his cock back against the curve of his ass ]
It would be boring if it were too easy, after all.
[Or perhaps just not easily engaged? He isn't quite in the mindset to make the distinction, especially when Absinthe scrapes incidentally and all too briefly against his prostate and he bites his tongue, breathing in sharply because next thing he feels is the man's cock and he is not going to act impatient for it, much as he feels that way. Though the tight grip he has of Absinthe's shoulder may be a clue.]
[ his tone is rather mild -- it doesn't seem like a peeved accusation per se, more curiosity, even as the tip of his cock presses against Lahabrea's entrance.
-- he pauses, there, as if Politely waiting for a response. ]
I don't believe I would mind hearing them out of you.
[ there's a serious threat to his tone for a moment, like he's really going to wait to hear Lahabrea complain about Absinthe pausing -- but at last he does move, rolling his hips forward enough to press into him, hissing as he tips pushes into his entrance -- it's tight and it's difficult to push that much further with the lack of proper preparation but in itself that's satisfying. ]
[He gasps, biting his tongue and cutting off abruptly, cheeks red as Absinthe pushes in. It hurts quite a bit actually! But right now he's into that, the discomfort making him blush, short of breath, fingers digging hard into Absinthe's arms.]
[ there's a breathless sort of laugh as he watches him react, rocking inches at a time with every thrust - - he's barely giving Lahabrea a moment to adjust, not stopping until he's fully pressed inside of him. ]
I have not even seen... Emet-Selch make such a face. What a privilege.
[ he does rest when he's fully pushed inside of him. it's really almost more for his own sake than for Lahabrea's, sighing as he feels his insides clenched tight and too-dry around his cock still, the friction around him almost feeling like a burn as he gets used to the feeling. it's not entirely unfamiliar, but he still wants to take a moment to linger in it before fucking Lahabrea into the ground. ]
[He sounds exasperated. Which is easier now that Absinthe has stopped moving for a moment. Even if he is enjoying the pain and burn of this it's a lot to try to hold a conversation through.]
Not typically. Rather ... He invited me to do something, then became quite upset when I went ahead and did it.
[ he's not moving quite yet, instead placing his palm down on Lahabrea's chest in between them -- putting pressure where Emet-Selch's own scar would be, dragging nails lightly against the skin. ]
[He hisses. It doesn't escape him where Absinthe is raking, and really this is twisted either way, discussing Emet-Selch in the middle of it is just... He assumes Absinthe trying to get a rise out of him. He huffs, even as his breath hitches.]
[ he is, absolutely, because it's very fun. there's a low shrug of his shoulders, a feigned lack of care, and a shallow roll of his hips -- even to distract. ]
Are you concerned? He -- can very well handle himself, you realize.
[He rakes his nails up, along Absinthe's spine, digging lightly into his scalp and then kneading there at the roll of his hips. He squirms somewhat, but trying to move like this is--difficult. It's not stopping him from trying though.]
Well, I'm not mad about it. If you're cruel to him when he invites it he probably enjoys it on some level. More or less.
Perhaps not physically but I thought his desire to be bullied rather obv--
[Well that sentence gets cut off with a rough noise, curling towards Absinthe with something between a whimper and a moan, nails biting deep into the back of his neck.]
[ he shudders -- both at the sensation and the sound Lahabrea makes, and he doesn't resist the immediate urge to roll his hips back and then forward roughly again. this time he doesn't even tease with the shallow movements anymore, properly setting up a rough, punishing pace with the intent of hardly leaving Lahabrea room to breathe let alone speak. ]
[That's all he can grit out, because the rest of his mind is on--well. The way Absinthe is roughly fucking him and how incredibly amazing it feels to be ravaged like this. It hurts like hell and he is into it, arching and panting and making soft, pained, deeply turned on noises before he grabs one of Absinthe's hands and puts it back on his own neck. Because that's a bright idea]
there's that sharp, pleased grin back on his face as he takes the invitation, one hand settling on Lahabrea's side for leverage as he fucks him and the other settling around his own neck. he doesn't waste any time getting to work -- wrapping his fingers around his neck and squeezing hard, pressure against the bruises that were already there from before. ]
[Do not @ him while he's high on imps. Not that he's not always just... so much
He grins though, as Absinthe follows his prompt, because he wants this--way more than he should reasonably. Which does not matter in the moment when that need is being met; the desire to be absolutely wrecked that Absinthe is so very graciously fulfilling.
He sucks in a gasp when he can and then all he can do is grip Absinthe's hair and shoulders, arching in pain and over-stimulation. He'd gasp or make noise but all that escapes are needy, hungry, stifled noises. More felt against Absinthe's palm and fingers than actually very audible.]
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[He hisses curling forward, the pain delightful. Unable to stop from rocking towards it. ]
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It would be boring if it were too easy, after all.
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[Or perhaps just not easily engaged? He isn't quite in the mindset to make the distinction, especially when Absinthe scrapes incidentally and all too briefly against his prostate and he bites his tongue, breathing in sharply because next thing he feels is the man's cock and he is not going to act impatient for it, much as he feels that way. Though the tight grip he has of Absinthe's shoulder may be a clue.]
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[ his tone is rather mild -- it doesn't seem like a peeved accusation per se, more curiosity, even as the tip of his cock presses against Lahabrea's entrance.
-- he pauses, there, as if Politely waiting for a response. ]
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Perhaps it is. I have more complaints as well if you don't start moving.
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[ there's a serious threat to his tone for a moment, like he's really going to wait to hear Lahabrea complain about Absinthe pausing -- but at last he does move, rolling his hips forward enough to press into him, hissing as he tips pushes into his entrance -- it's tight and it's difficult to push that much further with the lack of proper preparation but in itself that's satisfying. ]
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[He gasps, biting his tongue and cutting off abruptly, cheeks red as Absinthe pushes in. It hurts quite a bit actually! But right now he's into that, the discomfort making him blush, short of breath, fingers digging hard into Absinthe's arms.]
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I have not even seen... Emet-Selch make such a face. What a privilege.
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It is a privilege. And should I--nn--critique you for failing to elicit such reactions from him? Try harder next time.
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[ he does rest when he's fully pushed inside of him. it's really almost more for his own sake than for Lahabrea's, sighing as he feels his insides clenched tight and too-dry around his cock still, the friction around him almost feeling like a burn as he gets used to the feeling. it's not entirely unfamiliar, but he still wants to take a moment to linger in it before fucking Lahabrea into the ground. ]
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Really... is that how you two flirt?
[He sounds exasperated. Which is easier now that Absinthe has stopped moving for a moment. Even if he is enjoying the pain and burn of this it's a lot to try to hold a conversation through.]
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[ he's not moving quite yet, instead placing his palm down on Lahabrea's chest in between them -- putting pressure where Emet-Selch's own scar would be, dragging nails lightly against the skin. ]
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And what did you do?
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Are you concerned? He -- can very well handle himself, you realize.
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[He does gasp, though, eyes closing, trembling a little on the edge of pleasure and pain and annoyance.]
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I touched his scar. I suppose I was a little unkind in how I did it, but -- again, it was invited. He likes to indulge me.
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Well, you are an asshole aren't you? What are you calling unkind?
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Nails and teeth -- nothing more brutal than that.
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[He rakes his nails up, along Absinthe's spine, digging lightly into his scalp and then kneading there at the roll of his hips. He squirms somewhat, but trying to move like this is--difficult. It's not stopping him from trying though.]
Well, I'm not mad about it. If you're cruel to him when he invites it he probably enjoys it on some level. More or less.
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[ he pulls back more fully now -- and then thrusts all the way back in, an abrupt change from his shallow pace before, rough and unwarned ]
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[Well that sentence gets cut off with a rough noise, curling towards Absinthe with something between a whimper and a moan, nails biting deep into the back of his neck.]
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The pot ... calling the kettle black ... hm?
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[That's all he can grit out, because the rest of his mind is on--well. The way Absinthe is roughly fucking him and how incredibly amazing it feels to be ravaged like this. It hurts like hell and he is into it, arching and panting and making soft, pained, deeply turned on noises before he grabs one of Absinthe's hands and puts it back on his own neck. Because that's a bright idea]
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there's that sharp, pleased grin back on his face as he takes the invitation, one hand settling on Lahabrea's side for leverage as he fucks him and the other settling around his own neck. he doesn't waste any time getting to work -- wrapping his fingers around his neck and squeezing hard, pressure against the bruises that were already there from before. ]
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He grins though, as Absinthe follows his prompt, because he wants this--way more than he should reasonably. Which does not matter in the moment when that need is being met; the desire to be absolutely wrecked that Absinthe is so very graciously fulfilling.
He sucks in a gasp when he can and then all he can do is grip Absinthe's hair and shoulders, arching in pain and over-stimulation. He'd gasp or make noise but all that escapes are needy, hungry, stifled noises. More felt against Absinthe's palm and fingers than actually very audible.]
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