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[gwyndolence]

Gwyn's hands clutched at Dair's hips, helping guide that slow pace, as meltingly good for the sith as it was likely excruciating for the desperate slave still holding himself back from his need. Each thrust pressed a frisson of heat up his spine, Alasdair's cock stretching his walls open perfectly again and again, Gwyn's every breath escaping hitched and blissful. He laughed, smiling loose and warm at the nephilim's praise. "The choice is yours, my darling," Gwyn sighed, gazing dreamily up at him as he met those pretty, hungry eyes, thumbs rubbing over the peaks of his hipbones, "If it feels this good already, think how good you'll feel if you wait just - just a little longer." His head feel back with a groan as Dair sank deep into him again, baring the pale curve of his neck, hips jerking up to meet his, "Or take it now," He urged, "As hard as you like."

Doing everything he could to control himself, Alasdair just focused on Gwyn beneath him, focused on the way he tasted as they kissed and the movements the sith made. He groaned, soft and desperate as Gwyn told him to keep it slow, his hips staying at the same pace as he slowly fucked in and out of the hybrid's tight hole. The urge to pick up the pace was overwhelming, but he did as he was told, not wanting to reach his own release too soon. Each breath was deep and shaky as he looked down at Gwyn, feeling those nails against his skin and the sith's thighs around his waist. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, soft and low, green eyes dark and heavy with lust as he looked down at Gwyn. With each thrust he pulled almost all the way out, until just the tip of his cock was settled inside the hybrid's hole, and then drove his length back in to the hilt, over and over. "I don't.. don't know how much longer I can last," he whispered, soft and breathless.

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It worked out in Gwyn's favor, really, that being selfish with him was exactly what Noah seemed to want most. He didn't regret teasing the cambion so long, but he'd let his own desire go unfed for so long that the sith felt ravenous now, fucking him greedy and deep with little technique beyond chasing his own bliss with each thrust. That wasn't to say Gwyn wasn't savoring the open, needy look on Noah's face, his chest still glistening red, cock wet and hard against the slave's stomach again. Folded the way he was, thoroughly pinned under Gwyn's weight, there was very little room for Noah to move at all and yet he was still trying, the cambion's moans mingling with the obscene sounds each time their hips connected.

He didn't mean to be so reckless with it, but Gwyn was hardly sober himself now between Noah's blood and the alcohol swimming in it, feeling nearly how he did when he'd gone too long without feeding and caution went to the wind in favor of just taking as much as he could. Noah could handle it, though, seemed to crave that, even when Gwyn tightened his grip around his throat to keep the cambion from being jolted up the leather seats by the force behind his thrusts. Enticing beads of red welled up where his claws pressed into his skin, like a necklace around Noah's throat and Gwyn's cock twitched at the sight, buried deep inside of him. "Come on, sweetheart," He cooed, plenty chatty in the grips of his pleasure even as Noah clearly struggled to keep himself coherent, "This is all you need, isn't it?" Gwyn emphasized his words with another deep grind of his hips, the sith letting out a low, eager moan at the ripple of the cambion's body around him, "Greedy little thing," He panted, almost affectionately, head swimming at the deluge to all of his senses, "I'll keep you underneath me all night, if that's what it takes."

"Yes plea-ah!" Noah was cut off mid word with a rough gasp as Gwyn did exactly that, finally filling him so hard and quick that his head snapped back and a wave of pleasure shuddered through his whole body. His body clenched hard, trying to adjust, but Noah fucking love it, what little pain their was just adding to the whole experience and making it that much better. He nodded wordlessly, eyes fluttering open and clutching at his own legs as Gwyn circled his hips and he rocked and moved with him as best he could. The world seemed to have narrowed to just the two of them as Gwyn hovered over him so close and finally gave him what he wanted. Only to ease back out a moment later and Noah keened at the loss even as his breath stuttered slightly from the hand around his throat though just that act made his cock throb. It wasn't like he really needed to breathe anyway he was just used to it. The squeeze and the rough thrust at the same time soothed him and his whining turned into a low, satisfied moan.

It was hard to focus on the words since Gwyn was fucking him so well finally and he was focused on that feeling and rocking with that rhythm, letting the pleasure sweep him up and blank everything else out just the way he liked it. This was why hard and fast was the best because it didn't leave room for anything else and it was just all the good sensations stacking on top of each other. He did make sense of the word finally though and nodded. "Oh yeah, fuck. Don't-don't fuckin' stop. Wreck me." The words were almost slurred from the booze and the intense pleasure. His blunt nails dug into his legs where he held them but that barely even stung, the angle and position letting Gwyn drive even more deeply into him. Noah loved it and he was sure Gwyn could tell given all the noise he was making and the way he moved against him and because of him.

[gwyndolence]

Gwyn carded his fingers affectionately through the slave's hair as Dair dutifully swallowed what he'd given him, obedient as ever, in the nephilim's own proud way. He was deeply curious how the drug might soften up that pride, when something as simple as a bit of bloodsharing had gotten the other worked up so well before. Gwyn could tell instantly when it hit: feeling the way Dair's body started to move more freely against him, less self-consciousness weighing down the nephilim's limbs. His delighted little laugh was interrupted by that sudden kiss, but Gwyn was far from complaining. His lipstick was probably making a mess of Dair's face, but that was what the bathroom was for. His hands roamed the slave's body again as he met Dair's hunger, tracing the planes of his bare chest appreciatively, rubbing his thumbs down the little grooves on the inside of his hips. "Good?" The sith asked with a crooked grin, teasing between kisses.

Dair's eyes followed the other's movements, watching as he pulled out a little baggie from his costume and took out one of the small pills. Wetting his lips as Gwyn grasped hold of his chin, Alasdair was more than happy to open his mouth. He parted his lips and waited for the kiss, groaning softly when he felt Gwyn's tongue against his own, the pill settling in his mouth. Dair closed his eyes as they danced, swallowing down the pill, waiting for the effects to kick in. It really didn't take that long for it to happen, a heightened sense of euphoria washing over him as he danced, his whole body feeling much more.. free. Without warning, Alasdair caught Gwyn's lips in another kiss, deeper and hungrier this time as he danced against him.

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Now there was no mistaking that Roland had been fooling around, Gwyn deeply satisfied by the visible trail of kisses his lipstick had left up his sire's neck. It was only temporary, but it scratched that itch to mark that healing always seemed to steal away the satisfaction of. Now Roland would have to fix his own makeup to get rid of him again. His smile was broad and delighted as Roland played along with what was really only a half-story, the sith knowing full well that there was more than enough hunger in the elder to justify that lothario label. He dug his fingers into Roland's costume as that hand snuck to the back of his neck, Gwyn's eyes shining with curiosity and excitement. "Nothing at all?" He echoed coyly.

Then there was a swoop in his stomach as Roland bent him back into the open air, the sith's legs squeezing tightly around the other's waist. A startled "-oh!" left Gwyn's lips at the sudden rush of adrenaline and the flush of pleasure at Roland's hips pressing into his own, the tingle that went over his skin at his sire's mouth against his throat. He let his head fall back entirely, basking in the feeling and Roland's attention for a moment, the bright lights of the village around them seeming to dance around his half-shut eyes in a colorful, dizzy sway. Then Roland rolled their hips together again and Gwyn moaned unabashedly into the cold, open air, one hand pulling recklessly at the back of his sire's jacket until he could get a hand at his skin, clutching to him as tightly as if there really was any danger of the sith meeting the cold ground below. "And wh-why should I endanger myself for the sake of your appetite, my noble lord?" Gwyn laughed even as he challenged him, pulling his head up again and pressing close enough to kiss, just barely restraining himself from following through. His voice dropped into a low whisper, Gwyn's lips brushing feather-like at the corner of Roland's mouth, "Why should I let myself be devoured by you?"

Roland loved hearing and feeling the effect he had on a partner and Gwyn was always good for that, from his little shivers to his sighs. It made it so much more fun to tease when he could pull out reactions like that. He only smirked more widely as Gwyn pulled him just that much closer, willing to give there and press his body as tightly against the sith's as his fledgling wanted. "Absolutely." Roland's eyes sparkled at Gwyn's pout. He would feed his ego as much as everyone around him allowed and Gwyn was clearly willing to indulge him. "Go ahead. I do so love hearing about myself." Roland purred right back and tilted his head for Gwyn's kisses. His fledgling certainly didn't disappoint, in actions or in words, and Roland didn't care if none of it was true he soaked up the idea of himself as the lothario Gwyn painted him as. It wasn't too far from the truth whether people talked about him like that or not. His hands slid around to Gwyn's lower back as he soaked up the words and kisses, fingers digging in a little and holding him tightly as he glanced down and caught Gwyn's eye again at the question. "Perhaps nothing for long." He mused, sliding one arm firmly around Gwyn's waist as the other hand trailed up his spine to cup the back of his neck. Roland pressed harder into him, forcing Gwyn to lean back slowly and perilously over the empty air yet cradling him firmly in his arms as if they were dancing and moving into a slow dip. "I'm as insatiable as they say I am." It was his turn for kisses again and he trailed a hot line of them down the column of Gwyn's throat. "But maybe you think you're up to the challenge?" Their hips were pressed so tight together that even the slightest rock of his hips ground their hard, clothed lengths together and he shivered, doing it again a little harder. It jeopardized Gwyn's balance on the banister but the thrill of danger in the position only added to the excitement for them both, Roland was sure.

[gwyndolence]

+

[gwyndolence]

They didn't have too much time before Gwyn needed to get himself ready and collect Alasdair for going down to the village, but the sith was incorrigibly distractable. The only real bit of restraint he was showing in that moment was holding himself back from kissing the boy after spending so much time on his makeup. It would be a pain to do the lips again, no matter how appealing it would be to feel Taliesin's moans instead of just hearing him, to lick into his open mouth while Gwyn played with his chest...

He vented the urge on Taliesin's neck instead, rolling the nipple he'd just made supple with spit steady and relentless between his fingers as he grinded down against his groin more purposefully now. Gwyn's own hardness was obvious through the skimpy underthings that made up his costume, rubbed the bulge of his covered cock against the false smoothness of Taliesin's trapped one with a fluttery sigh of pleasure. "Very good," The praise was soft and syrupy, murmured against the deep pink mark Gwyn had just worried into his skin above Taliesin's rabbiting pulse, "Can you take a little more, darling?"

"Feels... Feels..." Taliesin couldn't concentrate. He was getting glitter all over Gwyn's fingers, not that he supposed that Gwyn minded, seeing as he was the one who'd put it there. His mouth hung open as if it had come off its hinge, the sounds deep and guttural, far more so than Taliesin was usually capable of. At the pinch of Gwyn's fingers, he squealed. His body seemed to want to jack-knife, but couldn't lift itself out of the position that Gwyn had put it in.

More than anything, it was intense, set hot waves of pleasure coursing through Taliesin's body. He closed his eyes, couldn't bare to look at Gwyn as he pressed his mouth against Taliesin's nipple. Taliesin's entire body sparked like a live wire in Gwyn's grasp. "Feels big. Feels so much." He could feel his cock leaking under the tape. It would unstick the glue. He'd have to do it again.

[gwyndolence]

[gwyndolence]

One of Gwyn's hands dropped from his white-knuckled grip on the back of Dmitri's thighs, groping clumsily between his own legs with a needy moan as the slave fucked his mouth readily now. His nose was full of the wolf's scent, buried in his groin, a low and persistent ache throbbing in his throat with each punishing thrust. It was desperately good, that all-consuming messiness that the sith adored when sex made the rest of the outside world disappear completely.

He gasped in air on instinct more than with need as Dmitri pulled himself from from the tight sheathe of his throat, Gwyn's face tipping up automatically even with the tight grip in his hair still forcing his head back and his lips parted eagerly as Dmitri painted his face, the heavy drag of the other's breathing like music to his ears. The heat of his release striped the sith's cool skin and his tongue dragged over his lower lip, already trying to lick up some the mess before those fingers were pushing insistently into his mouth. Gwyn met those sharp eyes with triumph glowing in his own, almost grinning around the slave's fingers as he obediently sucked them clean, squeezing himself through his trousers with a groan. He was flush with his own wanting now, exceedingly curious just how mean Dmitri wanted to be.

Dmitri wasn't shy about fucking Gwyn's throat, grinding his pelvis up against Gwyn's nose. He was a vampire. He didn't need to breathe. Dmitri might have been a little more considerate, if he had. The pace Dmitri built up to was downright brutal. His thumb slipped out of Gwyn's mouth, reached for his curls again to yank at them, pull his neck back in a strained arch. He was pursuing his own orgasm, his abdomenals tightening as it rushed towards him.

Then, all at once, Dmitri pulled out, a thick rope of spit connecting the tip of his cock to Gwyn's open mouth. He stared down at Gwyn as he wrapped a hand around himself, stroking faster and faster until he was cumming thick and hot over Gwyn's face, his fingers twitching in Gwyn's curls. His breathing laboured. He panted through it, keeping unbroken eye contact. "Messy bitch," he said, when his breathing was back under control, swiping a finger through the cum and pushing it into Gwyn's mouth.

[gwyndolence]

Gwyn's eyes hardened but his smile didn't falter, his weight forcing Aneirin back to lie flat against the floor as he planted his boot on him once more. "I didn't tell you to get up. Do you know how to listen or not, Aneirin? So far, I'm not impressed." It was a sweet little pout, that frown on the elder's face. Gwyn wasn't about to let it sway him. The sith didn't play this particular game often, at least not from this position, but the intrigue of it was more than enough to excite him. More and more, Aneirin's prickle and bluster seemed only an act. An invitation, even, to pry and poke his fingers into all the soft places underneath.

Gwyn hummed for a long moment, circling Aneirin on the floor. It had fallen silent in the big room, the sith's sleep magic filling the space like a gentle mist, quieting the birds on their scattered perches. It should be only the two of them, in this little scene. "Where it's supposed to be?" He laughed again, soft and bell-like, "That sounds like an invitation." Gwyn crouched down over Aneirin's body, like some painting of a demon perched on the chest of their slumbering prey, gripping his jaw hard with one clawed hand, "I'll give you a choice, my sweet. You tell me exactly where it is, or I take your full permission to turn this place upside down and find out for myself."

The slap caught Aneirin by surprise. He'd been half-convinced that Gwyn didn't quite understand the game he was getting himself into. Now he knew for certain the he did. Aneirin groaned, was off balance before he could collect himself, staring at the ground only an inch or two from his face, then hen colliding with it, with an only slightly performative ooft, as gravity took hold. Aneirin pushed himself back up onto his hands and knees to the backdrop of Gwyn's laughter.

His head snapped towards Gwyn, gaze fixed on his lithe frame. His eyes wandered, briefly, to take in the entire picture, then settle back on Gwyn's face, a petulant expression on his own. He knew exactly where the cane Gwyn had given him was. It was filed away in his meticulous system that he used for storing his toys, in the draws in his bedroom. He wasn't about to tell Gwyn that. "Exactly where it's supposed to be. If you can't find it that's your own fault. You've never put anything in its proper place in your life."

[gwyndolence]

Gwyn's free hand snapped across Aneirin's face without a moment's hesitation or fear of rebuttal, the sound sharp and crisp as it echoed in the room, his eyes dancing all the while as he watched the pink mark he left on Aneirin's cheek swell up and ebb away again. "You don't give me orders, Aneirin," He said sweetly, "Didn't we establish that?" And Gwyn truly had no intention of forcing him to say anything - not directly, at least. The sith stood abruptly, his foot shifting off the other's groin, and he yanked Aneirin from his seat too quickly to allow him to gain his footing, letting the elder's weight swing him like a pendulum until Gwyn was holding Aneirin up from colliding with the floor by the front of his shirt. His eyes narrowed playfully, the corner of his lips quirking up, and then he dropped him the last few inches onto his back with a trill of laughter.

"I think I know what you need," The sith shrugged his jacket off, tossing it carelessly where Aneirin had been sitting, "What did you do with my gifts, I wonder?" Gwyn's physique was lean and wiry underneath, wearing nothing on top but a black tank top and the tangled mess of his jewelry. One step and he was standing over his newest plaything with a foot on either side of Aneirin's hips, considering his face with that lingering smile, eyes dropping to the guilty bulge in his predecessor's jeans. "I think you might need some help truly appreciating what I picked out for you. Where's that lovely cane, my darling?"

This was the kind of attention that Aneirin always secretly longed for. The only person who ever seemed to want to give it to him was Sophia. Still, there was a shame to it, playing this sort of game with his junior, his younger. He hissed as Gwyn's teeth broke his skin, that sudden rush of blood that was gone again just as quickly. He always found bloodsharing so erotic and wondered what Gwyn's would taste like. It had been some time since he'd drunk from fae.

As Gwyn pulled away, he stared up at Gwyn, his pupils wide and dark, expression pointed, despite the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The hand on his neck was nice, even if he wasn't able to indulge himself with breathplay since he'd been turned, the gesture reduced purely to an aesthetic display of dominance. He licked a fang, hungry. "Make. Me," he insisted, challenging. "I'd have no problem at all extracting an apology from you, if I wanted one."

[gwyndolence]

"Afford you?" Gwyn smirked, waving down the bartender for another round of shots and immediately thrust both of the little glasses into the pamola's hands, "Darling, you haven't seen anything yet." Oh, the many benefits of having a wallet that now extended into someone else's. And speaking of... "The famous Monsieur de Rochefort, of course," The sith grinned at the thought of Roland as always, shaking his head fondly, "You know of him, surely, he's a marvelous old cad. Very indulgent, too, which is one of my favorite things in a man." Gwyn wouldn't of been surprised if Khion was already very personally acquainted with his sire, given how Roland had been carrying on. "What's your impression of him, dove? I simply must know."

"He is as long as you're able to afford me," Khion laughed, though hard to say if he was really joking or not. He squinted at Gwyn over the rim of his drink glass, noting the excessively long pause in his answer. He knew faeries well enough with their inability to lie and those few moments of silence and scanning no doubt were for his old friend to craft some clever half-truth. Where the lie hid, however, Khion couldn't say in his current state of mind. "Is that so? Which council member is that?" he asked curiously. He'd ran into a few, befriended less on the council, particularly Stigr and Gideon he claimed as his favorites. With the council being such global public figures in today's age Khion could easily put a name to the face and the country for about... 75% of them.

[gwyndolence]

Gwyn buried his answering groan in Alasdair's eager mouth as the slave thrust into him, dragging his hands down Dair's back to grab his ass and encourage him to press closer, faster, not satisfied until he could feel himself stretched around the other to the hilt. Between the haze of that celestial blood and his satisfaction from one orgasm already, the sith hardly felt the consequences of being fucked with so little prep, his body quick to accommodate and eager for more. "That's it," Gwyn praised between kisses, the words hitching around a gasp as he arched underneath the other's weight at each purposeful thrust, almost surprised Dair wasn't chasing his peak more aggressively. The pleasure of it was low-burning and delicious and he clenched purposefully tight around Alasdair's cock with a giddy hum, thinking of how desperately the nephilim had been rutting himself against the cushions. ''Nice and slow, sweetness," Gwyn purred, pressing the points of his nails into Dair's skin, squeezing his thighs at the nephilim's waist, "You've already waited this long..."

With his eyes heavy with lust and his breath shaky with need, Dair looked down at the pretty sith beneath him, admiring how fucking beautiful he looked all satisfied and spread for him. He returned the soft, sweet kiss, groaning with need before doing as he was told. Wetting his palm with a little spit, Alasdair gave his cock a few long, slow strokes just to get himself ready before lining the head up with Gwyn's inviting hole. Pressing inside, Dair leant down to capture the sith's lips in another deep, hungry kiss, groaning at the tight heat around his length as he bottomed out completely, his hips flush against the master's. "Fuck," he murmured breathlessly against Gwyn's lips, kissing him again as he started to fuck in and out of the other's ass, starting slow but hard at first, making sure the other could really feel every single thrust.

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There was the reaction Gwyn was looking for. The sith bit back a grin, eyes rapt on the slave's face as those pretty noises escaped from Taliesin's painted lips. He rocked down against the feeling of the human's undeniable arousal beneath him, laughing quietly at the other's question, "Because I'm cold, my sweet." His own arousal was making itself known at the sight, but he pushed it aside for now. There was still more experimenting to do. "Does it feel good?" Gwyn's head tilted as he queried casually, rubbing his fingers over the stiff peaks one more time before he took them more firmly between thumb and forefinger, testing Taliesin's reaction to a gentle tug.

He kept his touch chilled, knowing it would only add to the sensation, then couldn't quite resist the urge to push a little further, "How about this?" The master bent over Taliesin's naked chest, sliding one hand down along his ribs as Gwyn pressed a kiss to the rosy nub, parting his lips to swirl his tongue around it teasingly, his other hand giving the opposite no rest as he did. Just how much would it take to truly overwhelm the boy, he wondered.

Even with just the tease of Gwyn's finger over his chest, Taliesin was aware of his own arousal, the blood pooling in his cock. Vaguely, in the back of his head, he wondered if the tape would hold if Gwyn carried on with this. Having Gwyn sitting over his crotch definitely wasn't helping. Normally he would have tensed up again by now, curled up to shield himself, but he seemed to be incapable of being anything but fully relaxed, his hands up over his head. He looked back at Gwyn, what would ordinarily have been a nervous gaze now only curious.

And then Taliesin short-circuited. His mouth fell open with a moan that only deepened, grew louder, as Gwyn increased the pressure. He shut his eyelids, his eyes rolling up behind them. The frost... Taliesin would have been hard pressed to describe it. His cock jolted. Gwyn must have been able to feel it. "What are you...? Why is it cold?"

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Gwyn's smile grew as Alasdair's arm wrapped around him, the nephilim clearly beginning to relax enough to actually enjoy himself now. "Nothing but the best," He assured him coyly, sneaking a hand inside of his corset without disturbing the flow of their dance. With a practiced flurry of gestures, Gwyn extracted one of his 'treats' for the night from its baggie, grasping Dair's chin with one hand and coaxing the other's lips apart with his thumb as the sith popped a small, round pill into his own mouth. Gwyn gave the slave a little wink, then closed the space between them with a generous kiss, passing the tab onto Alasdair's tongue with a languid caress of his own. Satisfied, he broke away with a teasing little nip, one hand creeping over the nephilim's mouth as his eyes danced with mischief, "Swallow, my lovely. Let's see how long it takes you to feel even better."

In that moment, all Alasdair could focus on was Gwyn, not giving a fuck who else was present on the dancefloor. He grinned in return, wrapping an arm around the master's waist so he could keep him close as they danced together. He really did enjoy the way Gwyn looked at him; it made the Rocky Horror outfit worth it, despite the way he'd protested at first. At the whispered words, Dair's brow lifted a little, the nephilim liking the idea of something to.. make things even more interesting. "I would like nothing more," he answered, giving the other a smirk as his gaze flickered over Gwyn's pretty features, admiring just how much he suited the Frank N Furter look. "What you got for me?" Dair chuckled.

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"Oh, of course," Gwyn tittered, the sound melting into a sigh as Roland stroked over his bare skin, a shiver of pleasure creeping up the sith's spine at the feeling combined with his sire's feather-light kisses. He wanted much more but there was something devilishly good about the tease of it, desire making him pull more greedily at Roland's costume to draw him the tiniest bit closer, if he could. Having Roland's lips so close to the fledgling's own was the biggest tease of all and Gwyn pouted as the elder pulled away, leaning after him. "And feed your ego further?" Well, two could play this game -- and Gwyn had a way to leave his mark this time. "Do you want me to tell me what you already know about yourself, sir?' He purred, pressing a kiss to Roland's jaw in turn and grinning at the imprint that his lipstick left behind, "The way they whisper that you weren't content with every slave in the Undercroft, so you had to go after the other inhabitants of the castle too?" His voice was almost sing-song, Gwyn tucking his face in Roland's neck to leave a crimson trail of his kisses beneath his ear this time, "That neither blasphemy out of angels or prayer out of demons satisfies your hunger?" He nuzzled his nose above the marks, raising his head to catch Roland's eye again with a drunken grin. If the blood in him still ran hot, he'd be flush with it. "I wonder - what does satisfy you, Seigneur de Rochefort?"

Whatever Gwyn might say, he was obviously enjoying the attention so Roland continued to lavish it on him, though his kisses were still light and teasing against his neck and jaw rather than hungry and demanding. There would be time for that and undoubtedly it would happen but there was no rush. He smiled against the other man's skin at the fingers playing with his hair, the way Gwyn pulled him closer with his legs. He chuckled at the comment, nipping playfully with blunt teeth at the corner of Gwyn's jaw in response. "It has its uses depending on the person. And I'm exceedingly popular, of course." Gwyn no doubt already knew that but far be it for Roland to pass up an opportunity to brag a little, especially with Gwyn who he knew would take it well. His wandering hands slid up over the sith's hips and up to his waist where the costume left some skin exposed, pausing there to stroke his thumbs over that skin and smiling as Gwyn nipped at his ear. "Oh?" He finally pulled back from his neck to look at him, eyebrow arched and clearly amused. "And what stories are those? Tell me all the wicked things you've heard about me..." His voice sunk to a low, amused purr, just teasing his lips over Gwyn's before pulling back a little. Roland loved gossip, after all, as did Gwyn and gossip about himself? Even better. Even if there wasn't really anything he trusted Gwyn to make up something amusing.

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"Go on, then," Gwyn grinned against Dair's mouth, eyes half-shut and all but glowing with the aftershocks of his orgasm still sparking warm and heady throughout his whole body, "How could I deny you anything when you beg for it so earnestly?" He gave the nephilim one more sweet kiss before letting himself melt back against the cushions, thighs still splayed wide to invite Dair all that much closer. He didn't let go of his shirt as he went back, tugging the slave over him, "Come on, darling," Gwyn hooked a leg over Alasdair's own encouragingly, biting eagerly at his bottom lip, "I've been pampered enough. Get your pretty cock wet and fuck me already."

Another groan sounded in Alasdair's throat as he felt Gwyn's cock twitch as he came, the sith's warm seed finally spilling against his tongue as he slowly worked the other's length to get every drop of cum that he could. Dair hummed, sucking and swallowing, enjoying the soft, sighed praise, his own length twitching again. When he was pulled up and into a deep kiss, Alasdair moaned into it, thoroughly enjoying himself for the first time in a long time. He was so fucking hard it was borderline painful, and he needed his own release like he'd never needed anything else before.. or at least it felt that way in that moment. "Please, I need.." Dair murmured against Gwyn's lips, his fingers moving down between the sith's spread legs, teasing the other's hole. "Need this."

[gwyndolence]

Gwyn usually was one to love to pry out reactions, but Dmitri didn't seem to want to give one, no matter how clear his prick was on the matter of whether or not he was enjoying what the master was giving him. The touching was very nice though and Gwyn let his eyes flutter shut all the way as Dmitri stroked his face, squeezing gently at the werewitch's thighs in response. This was practically second nature: relaxing his jaw, working the entirely of the other's cock with only his mouth. Gwyn's own arousal was a secondary thing, rising slow and lazy as he moaned his pleasure against that heated skin, savoring the weight of him pulsing over his tongue as he built up the suction around his cock. Dmitri could stay as quiet as he liked, but Gwyn could hear his heart in his chest and feel the rush of blood in the slave's veins. He knew what he was good at.

Dmitri all but wrenched the sith out of his focus as he grabbed at him, Gwyn's eyes flying back open as the other pushed roughly into his mouth. He was glad to be holding onto him then, the whine he let out wet and distorted by Dmitri's demanding thrusts. The jarring shift in pace was exciting enough on its own, Gwyn's pale eyes wide and glassy as he lifted them back to Dmitri's pleadingly. That was a better reaction, the burr of the other's words, and he crowded as encouragingly close as he could get, heedless of the spit dripping down his chin from where Dmitri's thumb tucked into the corner of his mouth. He had no shame for what he wanted and he wanted desperately to see if the slave could keep himself so stoic as he came, letting himself gag around the width of him just knowing how good the clasping of his throat would feel around the other's cock.

For the first time in who knows how many weeks, Dmtiri felt normal. Like himself again. Not the terrorist who'd blown up the Kremlin but the man in the nightclub, picking a pretty boy to head home with. And Gwyn was very pretty, now that he was looking properly. He found it much easier to truly examine someone like this, with them down on their knees for him. His hand stroked almost affectionately through Gwyn's curls, down his cheek, to pinch at Gwyn's chin, watching the motion of his own cock between Gwyn's lips. Gwyn was good at this, clearly very practiced. Good. Dmitri liked that.

He remained silent, breathing deeply from his cigarette until it was down to the butt, which he dropped onto the floorboards and ground out under the toe of his shoe. As Gwyn worked, Dmitri's expression settled into that stereotypical Russian stoicism, more like he was watching what was happening than experiencing it. He cocked his head, observing Gwyn closely, his eyes growing darker every passing moment. Then suddenly he hooked a finger into Gwyn's mouth, pulled his cheek garishly wider, his thrusts picking up as he took a harsh grip on the back of Gwyn's skull. No tricks, Dmitri had every intention of cumming, harsh and hard, down Gwyn's throat. Finally, he said something. "That's it. Da. Like a good slut."