#//sunday again - more of the peggening

[originemesis]

@deathinfeathers xxx

"Uh-huh? When I fall the fuck to sleep, you mean~? But sure, take your sweet ass time." A condescending click of his teeth is the balm for the ego she's prodding. "You're doing great, sweetie." And a swath of sarcasm- don't forget the sarcasm.

Of course he recognizes that psychotic glint in her gaze; how often has he seen it surface when she's merrily stuffing the mangled bodies of dead critters to display around her room like collectible figurines?

Granted, he doesn't exactly want to envision that process with her knuckle deep, but it's not like she's very generous with giving his mind somewhere else to wander what with her not even taking off her shirt and of course some of the aforementioned figurines perched on the headboard like imp shaped gargoyles watching the show taking place on her mattress with glass eyes matching the muddied shade of his pupils the more he attempts to lose focus on the activity of her talons only to find it's arguably more tolerable than considering the last thoughts of her looming taxidermy victims.

"Y'know..." He keeps up the endurance of half-minded musings with a surprising show of poise, one arm moving to prop under his neck between nape and pillowcase to at least angle his squinted gaze away from the devotedly dead audience in favor of trailing along the meager curve of her chest and the loose strap of a black bandeau with the ever charming message of 'SPREAD'EM, SLUT' in white, bolded impact letters. "I'm sensing a lil hostility here. You're not all bent out of shape because your made in house slosh for the slip and slide has that day old tuna smell, riiiight?" If there were directions on how to not invoke the pressures of a well directed finger pounding, he clearly hadn't read them- but such was the nature of mankind. Maps were merely suggestions and instructions were part of the packaging - to be tossed in the bin with the rest of the plastic and cardboard.

"Ow- BABE! I'm just saying. Somebody's gonna walk in thinking there's s'mores up in here." And with that uncomfortable thought, he wriggled in protest as her talons pinned his hips from their mission to get a little fun of the exchange. Son of a slut- "...you locked the fucking door...right?" The hint of a whine in his restless agitation is entirely rooted in his need to rut against her hip, or at least that's what he's convinced himself of even with the sudden barrage of her fingertips bullying the coiled pressure made tighter by the tensing of his stomach.

"-that's the whole fucking point, though?!" Getting excited, anyways. Or at least turned on enough to thoughtlessly grind on anything remotely reasonable in arm's length - and at the over teased points she often drove him to on a regular basis, he'd heavily consider the company of a cactus if it meant getting off this 'work' sooner.

"...the hell I am." He grumbles at the disgusting degree of coddling in her pecky praises, though the biting edge of the remark did little to lessen the heady glow seeping out of the ethereal freckles between his eyes and staining the rest of his face with golden heat. With the slotted hope that watching her trying to mimic his clearly mastered art of mindless thrusting might get him started on a path to rubbing one out in her pillow later out of petty spite, he shifts with the sudden flinch realization that she wasn't fucking around when she cocked the crook of his leg onto her hip and leaned in to slide her tongue along the twitch of his lips. Though the depth she's afforded opens with the dropped guard of parted teeth once the force of her sliding in to her mounting mission makes it clear that she's going to take all the lessons he'd given her prior and use them to fuck him over.

The tiniest tremble of a bottom lip tucked under a canine tip that he used to pin the low groan of disappointment threatening to escape behind as she withdrew from her preparations. Though it's a short lived reprieve that doesn't give him the chance to ignore her suggestion to give the swell of discomfort lying forgotten on his gut a couple of strokes considering the sudden squeeze of her talons in their task of raking him over top her toy like the devil might adjust souls over a bed of hot coals. Black-painted nails wrenched into the pillow behind him, flexing uncertain as his gaze wandered and failed to find the progress of a manufactured hard on...that she didn't even have to do the work for! And for that size? The fucking nerve of it-

"Augh~ha-?! Fuckin'...really? Just the tip, huh?" He husked after the initial yelp and tightening of his leg around her waist. "Might as well fuck me like you mean it-"