Fucking you within an inch of your life-- what else?
[This is cause and effect at its most gratifying, Hector clamping down on his finger with every raw current of magic he jacks into him, those desperate little moans they're dragging from his throat making something in Isaac's chest tighten. There's no harm, as he sees it, in manipulating the sacrilegious magic already surging through his body to further an equally sacrilegious pleasure - what's another sin to the damned?
He channels more of it into his hand, as though moving through the process of calling up a tortured soul for the shaping, daring to advance from experimental little twinges to sending a more powerful jolt through him. Maybe someday, Isaac thinks, he'd find a way to manipulate the unbroken flow of Hector's own magic and have it pump aggressively where he wants it to -- but for now that remains a foggy, wine-dream and they have to make do with what they have.]
I shall hold you to your word. [He says with a crooked, knowing smirk, easing a second slickened finger inside and sawing them both in and out; as for when he'd come and collect, his smile will never say.]
[Hector has no more words, and little enough breath to gasp them out even if he had. He can only cling to the bed and writhe beneath Isaac's fingers. He has never before been so passive during sex, but Isaac leaves him no room to do aught but accept.
The amplification of the tingling magic, the second finger filling and stretching...Hector is shoved forcefully over the edge of his pleasure with a cry. His cock spurts seed onto the bunched-up pelts, his vision goes white. His body shudders, then goes slack. The only sound he can hear is the drumming of his own heart, a heady, rapid beat that soon begins to slow into exhaustion.]
[Isaac breathes a theatrical sigh, sounding both disappointed and entirely unsurprised:]
...Finished already?
[With Hector's release also comes the release of magic he feels needling the bare skin of his arms and chest and neck up to his scalp, the still-damp roots of his hair tingling. He can only wonder how much more restless the creatures outside are now, all but helpless to resist a forgemaster's gravitational pull.
The sadist in him urges him to keep at Hector while he's raw-nerved, driven to discover how many fingers on both his hands he's able to accommodate. But the rest of him is content to leave a few avenues of pleasures unexplored for now. He sets Hector down, contemplating the gentling heaving of his ribs as his pulse settles. Exhaustion flatters him, the fuck-me eyes and softness to his face pulling at something inside him. Snorting, Isaac looks back to his bottle and swings his head back for another gulp.]
[Hector sags into the mattress, boneless and content. Isaac’s taunts can’t pierce his post-coital armor.
He reaches out and brushes his fingers against Isaac’s side, almost in disbelief as he murmurs.]
If I’d known you could do that, I’d have been fucking you the entire time we were generals.
[He wants Isaac to stay, so that Hector can offer himself up for whatever encore there could be in the morrow when the wine no longer dampens Isaac. Asking might drive him away, though. Better to let Isaac claim a place here than to offer it to him.
Hector nestled into the blankets, burrowing to the side so that a length of bed remains for Isaac’s taking.]
[He doesn't pull away or bristle like a wounded animal, scoffing instead, his edginess and all his internal alarms dampened.]
You must forgive me for having my doubts. [He says in a sleepy, slurring tone, both of Hector fucking him and the idea of them fucking each other in the castle.] ...Had you made to lie on top of me then, you would have been most fortunate indeed to leave with all parts of you intact. [With a humourless smile, he knuckles away some wine dripping down his chin, licking it off his finger.]
Well... I don't suppose much has changed.
[The mattress dips and bobs as Hector shifts, but Isaac doesn't turn or lie back in the space he has made, humming to himself while staring blearily through the shadows at the wall in front of him.]
Semantics. [Hector huffs, settling himself more comfortably in the cocoon of blankets.] 'Begged to be fucked by you,' then. To the detriment of my work and studies.
[He's in a fine mood, made bleary by sleepiness. Isaac has a free pass from wrong-doing for at least a few hours in Hector's reckoning. That orgasm had shaken him.]
I think much has changed, for us to be here. Did it work? Are you more relaxed?
[Hector is, though that was not the goal. Isaac isn't lying down, but at least he hasn't risen to leave yet. That must mean something.]
['Hardly', he says, disagreeing with it being a simple matter of semantics. But he doesn't put up a fight, likely too muzzy-headed and spacey for it. He idly rubs his oily fingers together, looking away from them only when Hector begins to ask questions.] Relaxed...?
[He latches onto the word, both puzzled and vaguely amused.] ...for what?
Do you think you'll sleep through the night? [Hector clarifies. He hopes so, not only out of goodwill that Isaac be free of his nightmares for a night; if this works, then theoretically, they could repeat this.]
Hmmm, don't worry about it. Morning will tell.
[That is easier than keeping up the questioning when they are both tired and content. Hector gives the fairy a silent order to snuff the candle, leaving them in darkness. If it makes it harder for Isaac to return to his room, Hector doesn't mind it.]
[Isaac regards him in the half-dark a touch too long for a casual glance, as though waiting for something, the whites of his eyes gleaming dully. He blinks, finally, and slowly turns back.]
We shall see. [He answers, emotionless, skimming his hand over the bottle with a quiet reverence as though its smooth shape is an extension of Hector's body. When the light goes out and the bedroom blackens, he has already made his choice as to whether to stay and obnoxiously monopolize the bed or leave; he eases off the mattress and takes the wine with him, a little unsteady on his feet but as determined to see his way out on his own as he came in, a wisp of firelight leading him to echo chamber his tower has become. It's quieter tonight, for once. And for just long enough for him to sink into his own furred bed, where a mercifully dreamless sleep is waiting.]
[Hector sighs as Isaac's silhouette disappears down the hallway, but it was a long shot anyways. There's only so far can be come in a day. Hector's work may never be over.
He sleeps, curling up away from the wet spot left by his peak, and wakes with the dawn. Hector washes, dresses, and pads quietly down the hallway to the kitchens to make breakfast. He's no chef, but he can manage enough to keep himself fed. Slices of bread and cured meat, a porridge sweetened with a few foraged berries from the forest, a couple of hard-boiled eggs. Hector eats, and as he has done since he came to the castle, he leaves a portion for Isaac, which the other forgemaster may or may not eat. If not for the locks on his tower door, Hector would be tempted to send it up to him via devil.
With that task done, he takes his forging work outside with him once more, though this time he doesn't put himself directly under Isaac's window. He'd never been able to forge in sunlight back in Dracula's day, and he finds he likes it. That his latest projects have been plant-based gives him even more reason to venture outside of the castle walls to find a place to forge.]
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[This is cause and effect at its most gratifying, Hector clamping down on his finger with every raw current of magic he jacks into him, those desperate little moans they're dragging from his throat making something in Isaac's chest tighten. There's no harm, as he sees it, in manipulating the sacrilegious magic already surging through his body to further an equally sacrilegious pleasure - what's another sin to the damned?
He channels more of it into his hand, as though moving through the process of calling up a tortured soul for the shaping, daring to advance from experimental little twinges to sending a more powerful jolt through him. Maybe someday, Isaac thinks, he'd find a way to manipulate the unbroken flow of Hector's own magic and have it pump aggressively where he wants it to -- but for now that remains a foggy, wine-dream and they have to make do with what they have.]
I shall hold you to your word. [He says with a crooked, knowing smirk, easing a second slickened finger inside and sawing them both in and out; as for when he'd come and collect, his smile will never say.]
no subject
The amplification of the tingling magic, the second finger filling and stretching...Hector is shoved forcefully over the edge of his pleasure with a cry. His cock spurts seed onto the bunched-up pelts, his vision goes white. His body shudders, then goes slack. The only sound he can hear is the drumming of his own heart, a heady, rapid beat that soon begins to slow into exhaustion.]
no subject
...Finished already?
[With Hector's release also comes the release of magic he feels needling the bare skin of his arms and chest and neck up to his scalp, the still-damp roots of his hair tingling. He can only wonder how much more restless the creatures outside are now, all but helpless to resist a forgemaster's gravitational pull.
The sadist in him urges him to keep at Hector while he's raw-nerved, driven to discover how many fingers on both his hands he's able to accommodate. But the rest of him is content to leave a few avenues of pleasures unexplored for now. He sets Hector down, contemplating the gentling heaving of his ribs as his pulse settles. Exhaustion flatters him, the fuck-me eyes and softness to his face pulling at something inside him. Snorting, Isaac looks back to his bottle and swings his head back for another gulp.]
no subject
He reaches out and brushes his fingers against Isaac’s side, almost in disbelief as he murmurs.]
If I’d known you could do that, I’d have been fucking you the entire time we were generals.
[He wants Isaac to stay, so that Hector can offer himself up for whatever encore there could be in the morrow when the wine no longer dampens Isaac. Asking might drive him away, though. Better to let Isaac claim a place here than to offer it to him.
Hector nestled into the blankets, burrowing to the side so that a length of bed remains for Isaac’s taking.]
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You must forgive me for having my doubts. [He says in a sleepy, slurring tone, both of Hector fucking him and the idea of them fucking each other in the castle.] ...Had you made to lie on top of me then, you would have been most fortunate indeed to leave with all parts of you intact. [With a humourless smile, he knuckles away some wine dripping down his chin, licking it off his finger.]
Well... I don't suppose much has changed.
[The mattress dips and bobs as Hector shifts, but Isaac doesn't turn or lie back in the space he has made, humming to himself while staring blearily through the shadows at the wall in front of him.]
no subject
[He's in a fine mood, made bleary by sleepiness. Isaac has a free pass from wrong-doing for at least a few hours in Hector's reckoning. That orgasm had shaken him.]
I think much has changed, for us to be here. Did it work? Are you more relaxed?
[Hector is, though that was not the goal. Isaac isn't lying down, but at least he hasn't risen to leave yet. That must mean something.]
no subject
[He latches onto the word, both puzzled and vaguely amused.] ...for what?
no subject
Hmmm, don't worry about it. Morning will tell.
[That is easier than keeping up the questioning when they are both tired and content. Hector gives the fairy a silent order to snuff the candle, leaving them in darkness. If it makes it harder for Isaac to return to his room, Hector doesn't mind it.]
no subject
We shall see. [He answers, emotionless, skimming his hand over the bottle with a quiet reverence as though its smooth shape is an extension of Hector's body. When the light goes out and the bedroom blackens, he has already made his choice as to whether to stay and obnoxiously monopolize the bed or leave; he eases off the mattress and takes the wine with him, a little unsteady on his feet but as determined to see his way out on his own as he came in, a wisp of firelight leading him to echo chamber his tower has become. It's quieter tonight, for once. And for just long enough for him to sink into his own furred bed, where a mercifully dreamless sleep is waiting.]
no subject
He sleeps, curling up away from the wet spot left by his peak, and wakes with the dawn. Hector washes, dresses, and pads quietly down the hallway to the kitchens to make breakfast. He's no chef, but he can manage enough to keep himself fed. Slices of bread and cured meat, a porridge sweetened with a few foraged berries from the forest, a couple of hard-boiled eggs. Hector eats, and as he has done since he came to the castle, he leaves a portion for Isaac, which the other forgemaster may or may not eat. If not for the locks on his tower door, Hector would be tempted to send it up to him via devil.
With that task done, he takes his forging work outside with him once more, though this time he doesn't put himself directly under Isaac's window. He'd never been able to forge in sunlight back in Dracula's day, and he finds he likes it. That his latest projects have been plant-based gives him even more reason to venture outside of the castle walls to find a place to forge.]