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+---- Thread: [SE] it's a hell of a feeling though (/showthread.php?tid=10988)
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Mateo - 04-02-2025
Bad decisions are Mateo's speciality, and though three jewels of snapdragon all at once might well count among them, Vesper in general happens to have been one of his best choices to date. It all evens itself out that way, he thinks, as the other man's fingers tighten in his hair and his hips come bucking up against his own, hard enough to drag an almost inaudible groan from his throat. [say]"If you like that, imagine my mouth in other places,"[/say] Mateo whispers, drawing back just enough to regard the young demigod, the pair of them insatiable and drug addled with their nerves dancing on a knife edge.
But as Vesper's fingers spread at the small of his back like lines of searing flame, any thought of what clever things he might do with his tongue vanish, however momentarily, in lieu of sitting up just enough to grind his hips back against the man beneath him. His cock, already once again in a position to give or take pleasure, throbs impatiently between them, and Mateo braces his hand further against Vesper's chest to sit astride him properly, as if to tease both the view and the feel of him without fully committing to the act. (Yet - they both know, Vesper rather intimately in fact, just how much the botanist wants this).
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Vesper - 04-03-2025
Under the flush of snapdragon, every nerve in Vesper’s body sings with exaggerated clarity. The weight of Mateo’s thighs bracketing his hips is enough to make him dizzy—silken skin flushed with heat, the press of muscle and bone a perfect fit against his own. His hands roam without thought, dragged by sensation more than intention, fingers spreading across the small of the botanist’s back, noting the fine tremor there.
He exhales slowly, like the pressure of the moment is too much for breath to move quickly through. The sharp rise of Mateo’s hips, the teasing heat of his cock trapped between them—it’s maddening. Too much and not enough all at once. Vesper’s head tips back against the pillows as if the weight of the pleasure is physical, dragging him under.
[say]"Fuck,"[/say] he mutters low and reverent, gaze dark and hungry as it skims up over Mateo’s bare chest, drinking in the way he moves. [say]"You feel like silk."[/say] The comment slips out unfiltered, the drugs wrapping his thoughts in velvet and smoke, making it impossible to lie or pretend indifference. He rocks his hips up again, slow and deliberate, the friction making his breath hitch before he's reaching for the hand splayed against his chest, teasing the pads of Mateo's fingertips againt his teeth.
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Mateo - 04-04-2025
[say]"Like silk?"[/say] Mateo echoes, his own voice a low, smiling murmur between them. His body roars with a crackling sense of euphoria that begs to be reckless, and at the next roll of Vesper's hips, it's with a stifled moan that he suddenly shifts to readjust himself, to sink down onto the other man's cock without any further delay or preamble. Sensation explodes like a ball of fire in the pit of his stomach, radiating fingers of pleasure that race up the length of his spine and drag Vesper's name from his lips like a prayer.
Biting at the inside of his cheek as he feels the pads of his fingertips skim across the demigod's teeth, it's with a stuttering inhale that Mateo rocks himself forward, each thrust igniting a fresh wave of heat and need that threatens to burn up into his throat and strangle him. You feel like the sun, he might have said if he were capable of words, but luckily enough for him, the man beneath him is more than able to hear it regardless.
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Vesper - 04-06-2025
Vesper’s breath stutters as Mateo sinks down around him, the sudden heat and pressure drawing a fractured sound from deep in his chest. The pleasure hits like a crashing wave; bright, hot, and all-consuming. Every sensation is heightened by the snapdragon coursing through his system, his body reduced to a nerve-lit map of touch and tension, and Mateo... gods, Mateo is at the centre like a conductor.
[say]"Fuck,"[/say] Vesper gasps, the word little more than a growl as his hands tighten reflexively on the botanist’s hips. He doesn’t thrust—not yet—but the ache to move is nearly unbearable. Mateo feels like molten honey around him, each slow grind of his hips sending a delicious drag of friction that shoots through Vesper’s spine like lightning. His back arches, jaw clenching, and he tries—fails—not to let his head tip back again with the sheer overwhelm of it.
Fingertips dig into skin, greedy and reverent both, tracing the tense ripple of muscle along Mateo’s thighs. His mouth is parted, breath shallow, every nerve singing with the burn of connection. Under the snapdragon’s flush, the colours of sensation shift and bloom behind his eyes—scarlet and gold, opalescent streaks of want that pulse with each roll of Mateo’s hips.
[say]"You feel—"[/say] Vesper tries, but the words fall apart on his tongue, replaced with a groan that escapes unbidden as Mateo grinds down again. His shadows pulse at the edges of the room, curling like smoke from the walls, responding to his frayed control, to the magnetic pull of the man above him. [say]"—gods, Mateo,"[/say] he murmurs finally, voice wrecked with arousal, hands sliding up from Mateo’s hips to his waist, his ribs, mapping every inch like a starving cartographer. One of his palms settles against the botanist’s back, the other tangling again in his hair to draw him down, to take another kiss—this one slow, open-mouthed, drug-slick and devastating.co
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Mateo - 04-08-2025
Mateo's lips part in a soft gasp to feel Vesper's back arch beneath him, his fingers spread in a starburst against his chest as if he might be able to hold him down. His veins sing with the snapdragon pulsing through his blood, the botanist tipping his head back and closing his eyes to better focus his other senses. He misses the shadows ebbing and creeping around the room as a result, not that he'd have complained, his hips rocking forward again just in time for Vesper to topple him further.
Moaning a mix of surprise and approval, he instinctively braces himself over the other man as their lips collide, Mateo leaning into the warm and possessive touches. He urges Vesper, if only in his mind, to touch him more, his aching cock caged between them, and his hips begin to roll more insistently against the demigod, setting a slow pace that nevertheless begs to grow reckless and undone.
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Vesper - 04-13-2025
The rhythm Mateo sets is slow at first, but deep—each roll of his hips grounding Vesper further into the bed, forcing every breath from his lungs in ragged bursts. His hands roam freely now, no longer content with just anchoring the botanist in place. One trails down the elegant line of Mateo’s spine, the other mapping every flex and shift of his stomach, his ribs, the subtle tremble in his thighs as he moves.
Vesper drinks in the heat between them, the slick of sweat beginning to form where their chests press together, the velvety friction of skin against skin. Each drag of Mateo’s cock between them sends a pulse of pleasure through his body like a struck chord—low, vibrating, endless. And beneath it all, the snapdragon continues to blur the edges of his thoughts into a molten haze, every sensation taking on colour, heat, and light. The botanist is everywhere—on top of him, around him, in him—and the intimacy of it is as overwhelming as the physical.
[say]"Mateo,"[/say] Vesper mutters against Mateo’s mouth, the word half groaned, half bitten into the kiss he steals next. It’s messier this time, needier—his tongue sliding against Mateo’s with a desperation that matches the bruising way his hands grip at his hips again, urging him faster now. [say]"Don’t stop."[/say]
His shadows curl with instinctive hunger, snaking around the bedposts and across the floor in wild spirals, reacting to every quickening breath and stuttered moan. One coils again at the base of Mateo’s cock, featherlight but firm, a teasing pressure that mirrors Vesper’s hands as they slide down to cup the other man’s ass, guiding the roll of his hips with increasing urgency. He wants more—wants all of it. The heat, the sweat, the dizzy burn in his lungs, the way Mateo’s hair brushes against his cheek as he leans in again. And gods, he wants to hear him come apart. Wants to feel it. Wants to taste his name when it spills from Mateo’s lips like something broken and divine.
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Mateo - 04-17-2025
Managing to gasp in a breath just before Vesper steals it away again, Mateo is no stranger to messy or needy or desperate, and he matches the other man for it beat for beat. [say]"Non avevo alcuna intenzione di fermarmi,"[/say] he hisses, the words spilling from his lips, the botanist heedless of which language they take. His teeth graze against the sharp curve of the other man's jaw and down towards his neck, where he kisses a dark and obvious mark for the morning.
At the greedy press of shadows all around him - against his skin, along his cock, through his hair even - Mateo is already succumbing to every ounce of pleasure Vesper wants to pry from him, all of it amplified maddeningly by the drugs in his system. Rolling his hips more insistently against him now, guided by the firm hands against his ass and the ragged breathing that promises ecstasy in only a few moments, the botanist's orgasm almost seems to creep up on him this time.
When it grabs him, though, both he and Vesper will know it, Mateo grinding down hard against the demigod, his name spilling roughly from his lips and his fingers grasping desperately at the pillows and the headboard as if it might tether him to the moment for just a little longer. Swearing and riding each wave of pleasure like it might be the last he'll ever feel, he loses himself completely, his mind erupting into swirls of static colour and burning bliss.
RE: it's a hell of a feeling though - Vesper - 04-29-2025
Vesper doesn't stand a chance.
The way Mateo grinds down against him, the way his name rips from the botanist’s throat—it lights a fuse deep inside him, burning through every fraying strand of control he has left. The desperate clutch of Mateo's hands, the wet heat of his body, the raw, unfiltered pleasure in his voice—all of it collides into a breaking point Vesper can't fight.
His fingers dig into Mateo’s hips, dragging him down in a ragged, perfect rhythm, chasing the edge that’s already rushing up to meet him. His breath stutters against Mateo’s skin, his shadows pulsing wildly across the bed like living things, unable to hold their shape through the shuddering pressure building inside him.
When he comes, it hits like a tidal wave—full body, violent, overwhelming. His spine arches off the bed, his mouth dragging open against Mateo’s throat in a broken, gasping moan. Stars burst behind his eyelids, brilliant and searing, and for a few blinding seconds he forgets everything but the wild, searing closeness of them.
After, he collapses back against the sheets, chest heaving, shadows fluttering and gasping around the room like they’re catching their breath too. His hand finds Mateo’s blindly, lacing their fingers together without thought, pulling him down until they’re tangled messily together, skin against skin, heat against heat.
The snapdragon still hums low in his veins, turning every brush of breath, every faint pulse of heartbeat, into something molten and heavy. He lets himself drift there, in the haze of it—drugged, sated, wrecked—and presses a lazy kiss to the crown of Mateo’s hair where it spills against his shoulder. Neither of them moves. Neither of them speaks. They just breathe together, shadows and starlight twined into the early hours, until sleep steals them both under.
~FIN