[m] incinerate

Description: tag: Yinsley

Darion Greenstone

  • Inactive Character
  • Prince
  • Magical Cultist-Murdering Hobo
    Traveling Kaeleer
    59 Posts    406 marks
[m] incinerate
« on: December 24, 2017, 11:26:49 AM »
He’d nearly missed it, going so fast… fingertips pressed hard against the delicate pattern of the wallpaper, so close he could feel the trembling humid warmth of his own breath rebound against his face. He closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against the cool flat surface, hands tightening against the wall until his knuckles went pale.

So fast. Too fast. Skin crawling, burning with fever from the inside. Deep below, a torrent of emotion was raging, roaring, and Aeon did not know what to do with it. But he knew he could not slow it; inside of the chaos was a delicate balance, a surety maintained only by the speed, and if he stopped too long to rest he knew, instinctively, that balance would fall apart.

“Yinsley.” No question in his whisper. Only demand. Only need.

He moved away from the wall, steps deliberate but eyes storm-wild. Did he look like he felt? Terrible, aching, hollow? His gaze lingered on his lover, the soft lips, the sharp angle of his jawline. A hard swallow as he imagined the tender flesh beneath the clothes, and then the burning returned to him, desperate and alive.

“I nearly went right through the wall,” he said, with a sad choke of a laugh. And then he was on the bed, pressing his body against Yin’s, greeting him with a sharp nip of teeth on his collarbone.

Yinsley Hollow

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  • Prince
  • Little Terreille Kaeleer
    10 Posts    0 marks
Re: [m] incinerate
« Reply #1 on: December 24, 2017, 12:10:35 PM »

The cold clink of ice against glass. Drowsy eyes watching from the shadows cast by gossamer hangings. Half light filtering from a shrouded lamp, just enough to expose the contours of the room. To limn Aeon’s silhouette as it pressed against the wall, breath glossing the wallpaper. To hint at the figure in the bed. A pale hand reaching through curtains to set the glass at rest.

”Aeon.” No fear, just a stirring of curiosity.  Too Dark to be afraid, even of this different creature who appeared in his bedroom. Jewels to match his own, and a new sort of temper rising to match. Damp fingers pulled the blankets back to make room. Less barriers between himself and the half mad, wild thing stalking his bed.

”You would have just come back through it.” Chin jerking away to give him room. A hissing between his teeth as Aeon’s caught his skin, brushing it against the bone. Long fingers cupping strong shoulders. Brown, he knew, from sun and soil. Had he showered? ”From the other side.” Yinsley finished the thought, distracted from worries about cleanliness.

Who was this Aeon?

Yinsley helped with his shirt, barrier unfurling to drink the lust ridden torrent. Fingers trailing every inch of exposed flesh. Sun warmed skin that smelled of dark earth and darker Jewels. There, a fine grit beneath his thumb, crumbling and falling away as his hands swept over Aeon’s ribcage.

”Filthy,” he murmured against the strong jaw of the prince who straddled him. Filthy fucking peasant. Yinsley yanked the shirt free, casting it over the side of the bed, making the light flare as he tried to brighten it. Too see, better, the body hovering over his. All the dirty skin that made him rock hard.

Aeon liked rocks.

”Kiss me.”

Darion Greenstone

  • Inactive Character
  • Prince
  • Magical Cultist-Murdering Hobo
    Traveling Kaeleer
    59 Posts    406 marks
Re: [m] incinerate
« Reply #2 on: December 24, 2017, 12:44:41 PM »
Aeon threw himself into that Dark, strong and familiar, so lost in his own mind now that the bed and its curtains and blankets were only semi-real, minor hindrances to what he sought: that answering power, the salty tang of lust, the only one in the Realm who could receive him as he truly was. Blood welled up on the soft, milky skin where he’d bitten. He cupped the wound with his mouth, the copper-taste tingling on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes,” murmured Aeon, breath hot against that perfect kiss-wet skin. Yes, he would have come back. He always came back, back to this place and to Yinsley, his significant something-or-other.

“Yes,” he repeated.

Yes, he was filthy. He was always filthy. The shirt ripped away from his shoulders and his body quivered under the touch of those hands, thin and long-fingered and delicate, that never failed to work him to frenzy.

The light caught his eyes; he stared down at Yinsley, gaze dark and heavy, pressing his thigh against the throbbing between those long, sweet legs.

Kiss me. Aeon swallowed the words whole, drank them down and more, lips pressed so firmly against Yin’s that they caught on his teeth.

His shirt was in the way. Aeon grabbed a fistful of fabric and yanked, let loose a flicker of power, sighed out a laugh at the ripping of seams and shower of buttons. It fell away in shreds; he shook it loose from his fingertips and brought them back to rest on the underside of Yinsley’s chin.

“You like it,” he said, “don’t you?” And guided his head forward, forward, until Aeon was standing and he could press Yin’s head into the heat of his own erection, firm and demanding, caressing the soft red hair.

“Don’t you?”

Yinsley Hollow

  • Inactive Character
  • Prince
  • Little Terreille Kaeleer
    10 Posts    0 marks
Re: [m] incinerate
« Reply #3 on: December 24, 2017, 01:36:26 PM »

Like a helpless, untried youth, Yinsley writhed, thrusting himself against the thigh that had settled between his legs. Yes. Yes. Yes again. Rough fabric against rough fabric. The sound grated. The sensation grated. Button catching. Biting. Pressing. A tiny needle of irritation amidst the pleasure.

Hard like Aeon’s kiss. Rock hard. Teeth bruising. Yinsley bucked, a hand at the back of Aeon’s neck, where the skin was darkest. The other jerking his thigh tighter still, nearly crushing his own balls. He didn’t care, soaking up Aeon’s lust as if it were his own. Drinking it down like the wet he slid his tongue against. Giving it back, mingled with his own rising heat.

Filthy, filthy fucker.

Yin’s head fell back with a sigh, licking his upper lip. It tasted of Aeon and his own blood, the ridged wound almost mostly closed. Just enough to crack the skin open. To ooze for just a moment. To flavor the air and their kisses with power. Power. Like the power that licked across his skin. Electric. The hair on his body standing, skin twitching. Cock throbbing against Aeon’s thigh as cool air slid through ruined seams to caress his skin.

”Fuck.” Just a hint of a whine. Petulance. Longing. No fear, but the knowledge that it would have been easy enough for Aeon to split him open too.

Maybe he still would.

Following the fingers hooked beneath his jaw. Hands curling around the backs of Aeon’s thighs. Hard, hard thighs. Strong. Solid. Yinsley squeezed them. Filthy fucking thighs. Crawling through Darkness knew where. With worms and rats and other nasty things.

”Yes.” Yes and yes again. Yinsley nuzzled the hard ridge Aeon pressed him into. Hands sliding up hard thighs to work the trousers loose. Teeth grazing fabric until he’d loosed it. A length of fever hot silk that curved up toward Aeon’s belly button. Yinsley’s kissed the base of it, running his lips up the shaft. Bottom lip catching. Dragging, pulling until the frenum tore. ”Yes.” Blood pooled behind his lip as fit his mouth over the tip.



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