Monere [Mythos] - DoN Trial and Denial
After a long month of enduring field work and tense meetings, Methuselah returns home for a much needed break from hunting those threatening their territory. Having called up a long time partner, they prepare to run him raw; with tendril limbs and a denial charm.
Characters | Trey T'viska and Methuselah the Tvagatra
Content | Shapeshifting, gay elders, tentacles, combigenitalia, magical charms
Length | 5,580w
A tick of keys clicks off the dark car’s frame as it shudders shut – muffling pads making contact as it slams behind them, muted by the trickling rain. Twirling keychain in hand, fishing past the bone-tag for the set that holds the one for entry to the front door, their sight flickers past the dredge of soiled soil, roots crawling over brick tile. The protection’s done a good job… too good of a job as they kneel suit against soiled tile, a ruin further of a once pristine suit dotted with marks of stress tears and specks of blood just as dark. Soil clings to the black fibers as they stand back, upright with case and keys held in one hand, they wipe down the soil over hip as a flickering of tendril joints set back into place – sleek tar toned back to the warm tone that makes their skin.
Through a short inhale, turning back towards the entry way, a quick check is made with the keyfob.
The car’s headlights blink – locked.
Pressing the door open, folding the keychain into its comforting reserve to the side of the hallway, attention turns from surroundings and into themselves – their breath remarked with the flutter of their shape-cast slicken hair, unfolding scalp to spine. It pieces itself back into place as they dismiss the case to the side where kitchen meets the front room, set down as buttons are picked from eyeholes. Head set back, breathing through from head and through torso, the center of their spine rears – unsettled – exhausted and waiting to be free of the binds.
They toss the jacket onto the counter, wet under the low lights as the pieces of their body break again.
Hip against counter surface, they unpiece the dress shirt from their skin, weary well with tear holes and the stains of blood – partly theirs, partly the result of another hunt – another shirt left to ruin and turn into particulate mulch, sighs. Over stomach, up to midsection, the sleek oil-slick skin glistens beneath, and the tendrils that once form hair revert back into tendrils undone. “Need a shower,” garbles a sigh as their voice sits unfocused, disjointed by the mesh of disguises still left to unpack. Slick skin cascades from scalp over spine, freed as the shirt is pulled free from the stretching tangles as lower still the dark shades still reside. Stomach upwards past pecs and throat, hairless humanoid; beyond a stretch of oil-well tones.
Together with the jacket, the shirt is disposed off into a marked bin.
Battle-struck marks begin to heal as they make an assessment in the light of their kitchen, focusing energy down through their body to heal wounds that for others may have been severe; deep lacerations, bullet wounds – the like that came from protecting the area that was the tvagatra’s territory. Bureaucracy is never as direct – their body sighs as the last of the visible marks heal over – body spotted by cracks of dried blood.
That over and done, they pull a phone from the dirtied pants pocket. Tentacle rifted back leaning against the wall, the piece out a number and hold it towards the spot that once made their ear – a tendril keeping their glasses in place.
A soft dial tone awaits – seconds of pause as their golden sight flickers behind the dark shades.
As Methuselah breaths, their body unfurls – pants heaving lax as one after the other shoes are kicked away.
“Selah?”
“Trey”
“Ah, got your call earlier – still archiving this section of manuscript, so I’ll be over once its finished.”
Pulling themselves from the wall – the tendrils follow Selah’s wake, curling and foiling as they step towards the back half of the condo; figure a mere fade in the dimensional translucent that holds the visuals faint in the low light. “Storm clouds are over the city, been fading between downpour and a sparse sprinkle,” their voice sits half distinguished, leaning towards a deeper tone as they push into the bathroom. “Translucent is still a bit heavy, but it’ll be a temporal rift by the time you arrive.” The buckle of their pants clicks undone – and the slick tendril pieces of their legs peel themselves from the cloth restraint.
Half an hour in, another out, Selah pieces together a charm as they sit half bare on their sofa; form laid relaxed, tendril limbs kicked out beneath them to ease into a recline, the ones that make their body hold in place, ones placing their crown held back into a mass of mockery hair. A clamp pressures against the chain that connects the lead to the angled end – pointing downwards as the head of the necklace sits with four pressed plates. They hold it outwards in the tangle that pulls from their wrist, a tendril hold that lets the metal glit in the low room light.
It remains held up as beneath a plaster is placed – stone etched with an encoding sigil.
Old words speak through as the necklace charm hangs unaccompanied in the air before them, a fizzling of smoke made by the tar traces that are marked into the stone placemat.
For a moment, it drifts, and is caught within an awaiting palm.
Its ready.
Setting it aside onto the counter, the tvagatra picks glasses from the cabinet. Next to come, as the coil of tentacles detach from their ribs to set the glasses aside, a rummaging through the sparse refrigerator for drinks to share once Trey arrives. Wines, brandies, and the much lighter to stomach fruit infused sugar waters that wouldn’t cascade them into a bought of gush and pitiful puddle. Just to account for – uncertain what the ossisgari may fancy as for themselves chooses a hinted pomegranate. Just enough for now, still enough for later.
Outside the glass backdoors – movement, a shape landing as water pillows over bricks.
Beyond a certain distance the creature’s limbs seem faint in the rain – clouded by a misting mirage that is dispelled only within the reserves of the condo’s temporal rift. A long gilding tail finally settles in the low light of the kitchen’s glow, pulling backwards as the body shifts; a crowned head shrinking, long neck shifting as quad shifts to stand upright – clothing returning to place as the visitor brushes branches and twigs from their coat and clothing. “Hell of a storm you have,” he sighs as sight meets Methuselah’s – the tvagatra stood in the door way.
“Try finding a dynam in it,” chortles as they step aside, welcoming him inside.
Paws brush against the carpet piece that lies just before the open door, steps repeating backwards to scratch out the soil pickings. “How’d the hunts go?” Asks as a hand holds against hip, ushering Trey in further as the gilded tail still lingers behind.
“Few regretfully needed to be culled,” Selah sighs as they shift to give their partner room, “Still a few rouge alchemists out there – but told the office to just set them on bounties. Let Hunters pick up the pace instead.” An offer is made with an empty glass, “take whatever you fancy,” leaning back against the countertop, serving the rest of their piece.
“I’ll have something light, can go for something heavy hitting later,” the ossisgari laughs, picking out an iced tea. Cap off, poured out, and bottle discarded, Trey leans hip against counter to the older one’s side. Just a few millennia older – and he takes a long drink.
“Still haven’t been able to pin down the source, but we’ve gotten close in the last few months,” Selah’s voice shifts as they speak, tendrils unfurling as they take another pour. “How far along is the current one? Didn’t call at a bad time, did I?”
Head shaken light – the healthy brown curls sway from the cuff of the high collar. “Just hit the last of a passage; about halfway through the deciphering process before another pass for clarity. Honestly, could use the break from so many books. Your eyes get tired after a while.” A look passes between them, a hearty smirk, “getting out of a lot of paperwork this way, huh?”
A sigh emphasizes as the curls of tendrils roll from scalp to back, twisting in the lean. “Don’t remind me – got two stacks of evidence and identification to go through.” A hand motions back; the suitcase still sat. “Photos to go through as well, hope you could help identify some of the sigils afterwards.”
Smirking, Trey sets down the glass. “Figured, you always bunch up so much in the shortest time possible.” The tail coils from behind them, prehensile in its motion as he starts pulling the coat from his person. “You’ve had your hands full; I’ve been busy – it’s a good excuse, Atri,” and meets Selah halfway.
It's a smile exchanged as the gentle coils grasp the other’s chin. “You still don’t look a day over 3 mil, T’viska,” a kiss is laid in the center of the other’s temple. “Still have the wrinkles of a 50 year old homin,” belies a smirk as a hand tipped with golden claws divide through the tendrils that make their crown.
“Not the spry drake from the greeks or the romans, now am I?” A ting of remorse, years that shifted limbs to aspects both man and beast.
“No – you’re better,” and meets into a kiss – chin held in a gentle tilt before it leans against the counter – the ossisgari’s strength pushing back, stronger than the soft muscles beneath masquerading skin. “I missed that,” sighs into the space between them – the glasses set down, pushed aside.
A hand presses at the center of the tvagatra’s chest, holding them their as Trey steps back with a leg wedged between his thighs. “You got the stuff?”
Attention shifts as a wet coil holds around their unoccupied hand – the charm held by one that departs Selah’s spine. “Made just for you,” purrs as the hand removes itself from Selah’s bare chest, still leaning back against the counter with a leg shifting itself in place, pulling around the plated tail where it becomes gentle fur. “Go ahead, put it on.”
There is of course the pause, the rattle of ideas furling through Trey’s head as he holds the charm between them. “A denial charm, huh?” And an exchange of smiles, “got a lot planned for me, don’t you,” and happily drapes the open end around his neck, letting it lay between the opening in his coat and on top of his cardigan.
“Only about as much as you can stand, and break free of it,” Selah growls, a hand pulling finger through the loop in Trey’s slacks. “It’s not yet active – so, lets get you free of that human attire,” and pulls Trey back in, hands pushing the coat past shoulders as he leans against him.
The charm dances between them as another kiss meets; the charm begins to sit heavy around his neck and body, motions adhering to his own as it begins to follow the center frame of Trey’s hips. “Hungry as ever,” Trey whispers, a hand dancing up to the shades that sit over Selah’s sight. Fingers follow skin as they pass to temple, claws clicking against the glasses frame before gently eases them downwards, granting the piercing golden sight into full view.
Taking them from Trey, Selah sets them aside.
“Always for you, can just never enough to sate that hunger,” smiles as the coat is laid upon the counter – Trey working on the buttons of his cardigan as the charm lingers around the region of stomach. “Turning it on,” and takes the charm into their grip.
“Not going to be all at once, is it?”
“You’ll only feel once we’re deep into it,” Selah purrs, pulling it up to their face as they recline back against the countertop, observing as Trey pulls the arms through the sleeves, bare beneath the knitted top. “Don’t think the kitchen will be the best place – not all that comfortable,” and lays a kiss to the charm. A short surge of energy and its properties are brought to life as the chain laid around Trey’s neck holds itself in place, adjusting only for the draw of muscles and throat sighs.
“Oh, you want to be comfortable now,” Trey teases, tossing his cardigan away to the other side of the countertop, a hand catches hold of their furred forearm. It fights it aside, resetting placement as he leans forth against the tendrilled form. “Let’s see how comfortable you’ll be after I pin you down.”
“Just try it,” smirks as they ease into another kiss, “put protective seals on the furniture this time – won’t be a sliming mess. No puddling.”
“Good,” Trey smiles, easing into the grip that pulls around his pants to the crest of his rear – held in place by the fabric strapping over his tufted tail. The charm follows his movements as it moves with his anatomy, always lingering just above the crest between stomach and groin. “More for me.”
A short chuckle, and a grip holds behind Trey’s head, fingers grazing around to tip throat exposed. “You’ll be a right writhing mess once I’m done with you,” and kisses press against throat vent sighs.
Melting into the trailing kisses against the sensitive flesh between the curl of his aged fur, Trey follows Methuselah as they make their way around the frame of the countertop, steps held at ease as the mouth continues to wander, where the hit of plating teeth drag and draw against ever settling breath. Backwards, turning, following the other’s sleek movements, he melts against the hands as they slide beneath the band of his pants – pulling himself up against the tvagatra’s form by hands that make the same exact motions. Despite age, despite the ever-shifting form that lies beneath the oily sheen, they’re still soft as he takes a grip.
Selah does the same, teeth grazing against jaw. “You’ll have to fight for it,” grins.
“I’ve had you before,” Trey leans into the hands that grip his ass, where fingers have already undone the last of the restraint, “so we’ll see.” And, as hands pull back from place, making spot at the edges of the bands. He pushes.
Selah doesn’t move
But – only anchored in place by the tentacles that stretch from their spine, pushing against the sofa just behind. “I’ve gotten much stronger since,” whispers against ear, “have to fight for the city, you know.”
And, as the tendril go lax, they collapse back together.
Trey lies between Methuselah’s thighs as the tufted tail flickers with minor annoyance, a hint of irritation. Momentarily deceived by the swarming prowess of the many limbs that reach from the other’s spine. A shift is made that diverts the crossed brows, his ass popping free of his pants as the hem is held in the grip of tendrils as he moves to lean over the other’s resting form. “You honestly thought that would hold up?” A mouth touches throat once more, breath stifling as touches roam down between his thighs; he returns is attention back to Selah’s pants, undoing the zipper as Selah’s hands pet against the warm breath of rib-bound vents.
“Not really,” kisses against the deep cyan flesh, fingers pressing against the divide of sensitive skin folds. “But it got your attention,” smiles.
Trey rolls his eyes.
Before he can express a protest the grip between his thighs returns once more – tendrils pushing the fabric down his thighs, over his shins, gentle in their guidance to left his feet as its fully rid of at the edge of the couch. Leaning up against the palms that continue to pet, leaning into the hold that settles between his thighs and against the growing attention that begins to bloom – he huffs. “Of course, it did.” One hand on the couch aside the other’s frame, his unaccompanied hand burrows into Selah’s pants, stroking the soft restraint.
Selah shifts as the fingers press against the tendril folds that hold them securely in place; and returns the motion tenfold as tendrils pull around Trey’s tail, gentle in the guidance backwards as tendrils press upwards from the lax of their silhouette. Twenty in total – petting, and stroking between cheek and thighs as Selah takes grasp of Trey’s chin – holding the shivering exhale that rises with a shudder. “Want to take them full on? I can wait,” a brief lie, a print rising against the flap of their slacks.
“Eventually,” the ossisgari shudders, touches diverting his attention backwards as his body is exposed for the tentacle shifts. Slicken shapes rub against the trace of fur and skin between his thighs, tracing towards the sensitive nerves, touching, barely pressing as his body begins to reciprocate. A slight twitch of his bright cyan bares against the grip of further tentacles as they meet into another kiss – the coffee table groans against the floor as its shoved.
Moving back, easing into a kneel, Trey rests around the swarm that continues to press against his body as a grip remains at his chin – eyes laid half-lid as their breathes exchange in the short space between them. Warmth continues to stroke up his thighs as they guide them further open, a grip holding his thighs against shin as he rests in the sitting kneel, legs cushioned by the writhing oily swarm. “There we go, dragon,” Selah whispers as their own form has since shifted to a kneel – the lower leggings of their pants hang loose as from their spine the tendrils continue to form. Not a semblance of a tail – a continuum holding the mockery of legs to a kneel as they hold Trey’s head into an upward tilt. “Open for me,” whispers; a thumb presses between lips.
Trey sighs.
Head guided from his control, watching with a half-gaze as the tvagatra continues to saturate his body between his thighs, soaking him with sliming warmth. He’s held well into the cushioning grip as his hips shift, erection twitching into the coiling tentacle. For a moment, he reaches for the charm – it’s heavy around his neck, and it falls back over his stomach warm.
The grip shifts to his scalp, and his own returns to Selah’s pants.
And he rests into the fray that makes him sway.
It takes a short time for the pants to be discarded, for his hands to find hold against the semblance of the other’s hips as the girth lies flaccid on the furrow of tending tendrils as fingers pull through the curls of his hair; a suggestion.
A hand holds under the soft member, held against the mimicry of balls and thighs; he kisses it, breathes against it as pressure sets against his body, a query of entry as he trails along the dark-tone girth.
Selah holds his head; their breath light.
And Trey’s hitches as the tentacles begin to push inside his receptive body, gentle in their forward thrusts as others continue to tend against rear and genital folds. A flux houses against him as he enamors himself with the other’s member, his mouth pressed against it with a huff as pressure resumes in his rear, filling his body just momentarily to force an exhale.
“Atri,” Selah sighs, fingers pulling through the drake’s crown of two-tone hair, another housing itself behind skull as they lean towards the attention, watching with half-gaze sight as their eyes glow an amber hue. “Tell me,” their breathing whispers, enamored with the other’s face against the twitch of their dick.
“I’m ready,” Trey sighs as his legs shift, giving room for the swarm that continues to press beneath his tail and between his thighs, “I want to feel it deep in my gut.” And a groan roams as their hands placates against the dark oil-slick thigh for stability, a thrust rocking him away. “I want to go by ways, just don’t forget to stroke.” His breathing hitches as again his body is brought to rock, heaved forth by the slick tentacles pushing inside him as the size begins a shift; breath stifled, mouth against girth, “like that,” swallows a sigh, shifting as they twist inside him.
With a momentary gasp, a turn of scalp pressed against thigh, Selah’s hands return to grip against jaw, thumb held against the tremble of open lips. “One at a time,” purrs as they lean, watching the mild bead of stress sweat drip past brow. Bright eyes press into a pleasured squint as the thrusts pervade again, drawing a sweltered sigh. “Want it to go hard?” A mouth pressed, a swallow… a nod. “As you command, dragon,” and a kiss presses to temple as the division induces within body, amplifying the strength through the oil-slick forms as the sizes dynamically shift, filling Trey to shiver and groan.
“More,” shivers from saliva laced lips, arms prying backwards until they’re take by strong tendril grips – held together as his body rocks in place, mouth laid at Selah’s thigh. Through waves they continue to throb, growing in tandem thrusts as his mouth grazes within the other’s palm. Made to bounce; a swarm tangles between his thighs, gripping his firming erection as every shift results in another pleasant bloom as his lips are brought to part. “obsecro,” his voice trembles, impulsive, squirming around the thrusts as he teeters at the edge of an orgasm as his body is pilfered ever upwards.
Yet still, as his body continues to ache, wavering against peak.
It never comes – oh, how much he’s wanted something like this.
Selah kneels before him, a hand wrapping against thigh as another grazes between thighs – and returns with fingers wet, sticky with translucent fluids that is not from the tentacle swarm. “Ready to have them there, too?” A whisper; hand returning from once it came, beneath the hold of a pre-dripping erection, between the sensitive folds that reach up and around the base of the firm girth held upwards against hip and stomach.
Trey strains in the restraints, easing himself against the gentle finger thrusts within his eager body. “What, am I supposed to be dry down there?” he hisses, hip straining to expose him for more, leaning against a palm freed from the tentacle grip. “Of course, I fucking do,” growls, a leg kicking against the floor.
A hand holds against his chin, a thumb pressing into mouth – he tastes himself as the swarm shifts towards the cyan folds.
It begins as gentle strokes as behind inside his rear the thrusts begin to thunder, bringing his thighs into trembles as he leans forward as the pressure begins to surge through his pelvic floor. One become two, becomes four as they glide into his body as he groans against Selah’s hand, becoming like butter as he’s guided back into a full kneel. Once more the tentacles make the cushion for where he sits, letting himself be fully taken by the thrusts that pervade through his guts, drawing his noises into creaks as his senses strain into a nervous burn.
His hands ball against Selah’s tentacles as he arches back, pushing himself down against the swarm with an open wavering outcry. Hands roam down his chest, fingers stroking against the breath of his rib-bound vents as they quest towards his stomach as he pulls hands through his hair, gripping at his own scalp as his teeth gnash.
A palm holds at his stomach; roamed by the pivoting thrusts. “You’ve taken so much, Atri – it’s starting to bulge.”
Hands brought down, fingers spreading over his excited thighs. A huff, a sneer. “Only because I’ve gotten too used to enormous fuckin dicks,” breaths between teeth; he’d be well on his way to a second orgasm by now if it wasn’t for the charm that laid at the side of his stomach – held away by Selah’s hand and the bulging made by the thrusting swarm. “Fuck, it’s strong,” groans, begging his hips backwards as the penetrations curl inside him, writhing in place to churn him to a melding groan. “Field works done a lot for your coordination, huh?” Huffs, bracing himself against the floor as Selah continues to attend to the vents; a hand held around his erection.
He finally looks down to his stomach, where the push of the swarming girth make note on his aged form as it bulges his gut again and again. “Fuck,” oozes between lips as his sight turns back towards Selah’s; unsated and untouched. “Come here, sit on the couch and let me fucking suck your dick.”
Instead of moving from where they lingered, adjusting where Trey is brought to tremble on the floor – Selah moves the couch, yanking it forth to where they can comfortably sit. In tune Trey pushes them back against the cushions, his hands attentive as his mouth presses against the idle twitches.
Hand held into the tangles of tussled hair, Selah’s recline eases them to melt against the furniture, body shifting and defragmenting as the skin of their arm pulses to that of the tendrils that continue to make Trey rock. Fingers groom through the drake’s hair as mouth continues to kiss, to graze, to inhale the mild glow that begins to grow as teeth press at member. A turquoise that eases pronounced as Trey takes it into his mouth, gagging around it as breaths are redirected to the vents that line throat and ribs. “Atri,” Selah’s voice wavers between one and many, pushing hair from the ossisgari’s sight as the fingers for a moment shift to tendril forms.
A breakage in the concentration; a strand guided aside.
“Mhm,” huffs from Trey as he brings the body bobs to guide the pace, mouth filled with the glowing warmth as the swarm holds inside him. His sight laid closed, hips trembling from the sensation of being utterly filled edges him to another possible overspill – the charm weighs him down, catching against the couch as he continues to thrust his mouth. Not only on the part of his canceled orgasms – his erection begs for relief as it remains held in a petal – but the overwhelm of conflicting sensations; the mild pain that aches his body, the slick touches that continue to stroke, the abject distortion of touches that hold within his messed hair as his hands strain to find something to hold onto. Something, anything to bring up to final climax – he gags around the erection, even it has begun to lose form concentration as it nearly fills his throat.
Pulling back, gasping as his saliva drools between erection and lips. He sits up. Pushing the erection aside, “let me, fucking,” he grunts, his legs like jelly. “Hold on, stop it,” exhales.
Selah remains in a haze – their sight bright beneath lazy lids. “Come here,” accompanies a grin.
Trey struggles to stand, gasping as the tentacles pull themselves from his body, leaving him unbearably empty.
But just for a moment – as he pulls himself to straddle Methuselah, his knees pressing against the couch as he directs the erection towards his body – to his ready canal.
Tentacles swarm around them as it catches between agape lips, tentacles pulling around Trey’s hips as their bodies are angled into junction – and yanks them into completion with a kiss.
Their breath exchanges as hands grip towards the other, fingers digging through hair as forearms curl against the sofa backing. Pulls in hair accompanies the roll of hips, the sighs of fleshy projections as a question presses between them – a junction – Trey’s tail flickers behind him, exhaling hazing mist through the gaps towards the ends. Their bodies roll against the other – Trey rubs against Selah’s stomach as the pressure returns beneath, filling him, lifted as the tvagatra lifts him with their hips.
“Atri,” groans
“clausus,” Trey shivers, forcing himself to sit firm, “facio mea.”
“precor,” they grin, a hand roams down between them, thumb pressing erection against stomach. “precor.”
Trey snarls; and snaps himself down around Selah and the questioning perk. It fills him as a swarm, gasping with a shiver as they press a bulge of his stomach once again, Selah’s hand stroking him to buck. His hands falter from the couch, stabilizing him against the tvagatra’s chest as his lips are brought to tremble. Tendrils pull around his thighs, anchoring him around Selah, holding his hips in place to where he’s able to lean further back, watching over himself. Thrusts bounce him, bulging his stomach as a half-tendril grip continues to stroke him – his sight fainting upwards as he watches the other’s flushed features.
His hands divide down his hips, faltering downwards – taken by tendrils that pull them straight.
“facio mea – aio,” he buckles, bouncing as the tentacles pervade into him, “obsecro, Selah.” His senses continue to burn – another dismissal strikes through him. “dimitto, dimitto,” his voice slurs latin, trembling as once again he’s overtaken by the tvagatra’s tendrils, sinking into their domination as his sight screws tight. Drool drips over his chin, his breathing heaves, “obsecro dimittere,” gasps, arm lashing forth to grip Selah’s wrist. It continues to stroke his weary erection – still firm. “compleo!”
Palm pressing aching erection against stomach, Selah’s body heaves breaths as they arch upwards into the drake as the tentacles continue to furl around them. Directionless, they coil around body and limbs, holding them together as the thrusts preform them to waver and groan. Half lid eyes flash golden as bodies hitch – tendrils curl around the drake’s shivering body and grab the charm’s dangling chain.
“obsecro,” pants.
Selah holds them apart – bathing in the sight.
And yanks the chain.
It fractures between the tentacles as the bottom end is cast aside – and Trey finally buckles, pulling himself back against Selah, completely body to body as his body rocks with the overwhelm. Bucking, shouting, he rubs himself around penetrations and stomach, crashing down into gasps as tentacle form arms pull around his spine. Tail thrashing, it cracks against the floor as he continues to buckle, coming completely undone as his legs falter beneath him, pelvic floor squeezing tight as each wave crashes through his nerves, driving his voice hoarse.
Tentacles hold him in place as he eventually comes down; shivering as fluid slimes from his body, the silent mark of the other’s own that fills his body and overspills.
Rocking around the warm sensations, Trey sighs; relief.
Beneath him, the tvagatra looks unamused, static in emotive expression save for the elongated breaths, the temperate glowing sight that remains downcast to where their bodies meet.
They never were one good at facial expressions.
So, Trey knuckles himself to sit around the spent flexes inside his body, hands coming to rest against the couch backing as he leans their temples together. Selah’s hands pull up around his back, roaming to curl around waist as kisses make their place. “Sated?” Trey curls his fingers through the tendril mane.
“Very,” they purr, placing another kiss against lips and towards cheek. “How’re you feeling?”
“Wrecked,” sighs, still coming down from the overblowing shakes, “I’m going to be walking funny for a week, fuck.”
“Want to see how much you fit?” A tease.
Trey groans, head resting against shoulder. “Don’t remind me. Think you can clean up the mess while I lay down?”
“Of course, would be unfair any other way,” smirks, hands shifting back into shape as they roam back over spine and sides. “You’re exhausted, and I got endless limbs, I’ll take care of it, love. We can go over the sigils much later,” and leans into a kiss.
