oh my god there was one bed.

[limbical]

[You know how it is. A new location opens up in the City, and then they're off to investigate despite all of the weird shit that's happened in the past. By now, not a lot surprises Daan; not to say he doesn't react to anything, but it's more with exasperation than anything else, and this isn't especially all that different.

The residential district that opened up felt off already. Most of the buildings uniform, some odd loft-like setting inside of them. More like a single room cottage than housing, but it's also the kind of place he wouldn't have minded staying as a kid. Not exactly saying much, but it's a sturdy roof over the head and, presumably, some clean furniture.

The problem is that the door has locked behind them, and there aren't windows, otherwise breaking out would be too easy. Because of fucking course.]

It's about that time that I wish I had any lockpicking skills at all. Then again, I doubt that'd do us much good here...

Anyway. If we go have anything like past patterns to go by, this should be temporary. So we've got that going for us.

[Probably.]

Comments

[limbical]

[What a stupidly tall man, he thinks wryly. Vergilius is so damned big that he can just reach down like it's nothing, gripping onto him, making sure that Daan is snugly fitting inside. Daan shudders at the feeling; despite the difference, here is eager to squeeze more sounds out of the other man, chasing after his mouth with his own fervent kisses.]

No problem. [Daan's voice is rough with need, hungry, just wanting desperately to make him feel good. That feels somehow so much more imperative than the lust burning his skin from the spell, that his heart genuinely wants to show how much he wants Vergilius to bask and feel good. That stiff cock against his stomach is sign enough, but he wants to really hear him.

So he does what Vergilius tells him to: he keeps going.

Daan exhales hotly against him, gazing down at Vergilius' face as he bucks his hips sharply. He might not have the other's sheer, absurd strength, but Daan has enough stamina to keep himself going. Sylvian's gift, he thinks darkly, but he plans to make use of that right now.

So he gladly fucks into the other man, spurred on, wanting to only hear Vergilius gasp and moan as his hips slap at the sheer determination of his thrusting.]

[immortalpoet]

[This is more than he expected. It's like something new comes over Daan - not a skin like that monstrous cat, but something else, like an animal instinct that fiercely courses through his veins. But even so, it isn't as if Daan is completely losing himself. It feels like Daan is taking the sheer force of his lust and laser focusing it on him, on his happiness, on eking out any shred of pleasure he can muster.]

[Daan starts to move, and Vergilius gasps. The man moves again, and again, and every thrust feels like it's piercing through him into the bed below. Vergilius almost swears he can hear the headboard knocking against the wall.]

[The man may not be as strong as him, but something like this? He hasn't ever experienced something like this before, with any lover. It warms and ruins and fills him and puts him back together. The friction and force of it make him grunt, the noises from his throat turning into a crescendo that edges out into eager low moans.]

D-Daan...shit, Daan... [His legs move up to hug the man against him, encourage him to go deeper. His cock spurts, the heat in his groin threatening to tip over and stain them both.] Fuck, Daan, mm...more, m-more...

[limbical]

[For a moment, he truly feels like he's a man possessed, driven to focus primarily on driving everything into the other man. He is utterly consumed right now, overtaken by burning desire that's boiled inside of him. Not just today on account of the spell that's not bending to his will properly, but-- longer. He knows it's been much longer, how long he's yearned and wanted and here it is.

The more he hears Vergilius say his name like that, the more he's incensed, feeling feral. Pleading for more, and the telltale sign of a bit of something wet between them.]

More, he says. [A breathless laugh escapes him, and he reaches down between them, grasping the other's cock, giving it a firm stroke.] How greedy you've gotten, Vergilius.

[But who is he to deny him? Daan's soft hand continues to stroke him, stopping only to palm messily at the head before going back to rhythmic work. The rest of him is less coordinated, still urgently fucking into him.]