Why is he the favorite? Well, not being hurried is one of the reasons. Any beast can pounce a mate and rut to completion. A lover is someone who has a care and a hand in their partner's pleasure. Perhaps another reason the incubus' spell is so irksome. Ah, but it's a pleasant spell, isn't it? Beginning warm and growing in temperature with each passing moment. Making the world around Vena blur softly and leaving only him in sharpest focus.
Him and sound of black silk slithering over his skin as gravity pulls it to the ground. As beautiful as the sight of it, the revelation of now bared skin that was barely hidden before. That's more than enough to get a noticeable response from the elf. Feurian isn't quite as scantily clad as Vena, but a thin layer of silk does little to hide the way his cock is filling out just beneath it.
For now, at least, two can play the touching game. Feurian reaches between them, the back of his hands brushing against that impossibly soft skin (is it really or is that part of the spell? Does is dull some senses while heightening others? Will Feurian eve truly know?). With a practiced move, the sash holding his robe barely closed tumbles to the floor. A roll of his shoulders and all that pale blue follows, fluttering as it goes.
Without another word (what more words are needed?), Feurian reaches out, fingers tracing Vena's jaw, tiling his head back to the tall elf can lean in for the first touch of those luscious lips. So inviting, it's as if the first taste of them makes him feel starved, as if Vena's mouth is all he's ever craved. Any beast can rut, he reminds himself. The incubus asked something of him: show him why Feurian is Nagare's favorite, why he has his loyal clients. He can't do that if he lets his mind cease to function in favor of a sloppy fuck.
So the kiss, while heated, is soft. It's slow, utterly exploratory. It lets Feurian map the shape of them with his own lips and tongue before slipping into the wet heat of that wanton mouth. One hand remains cupped against Vena's jaw, but the other goes wandering. Across the incubus' chest, fingers dallying too briefly to toy at his nipples before moving on. Down his sternum to the soft spot where the rib give way. Lower still until his hand trails to one side. His fingers follow the hollow inside his hip, up over the iliac crest, along his side, before slipping to the small of his back to tug the slight creature closer.
no subject
Him and sound of black silk slithering over his skin as gravity pulls it to the ground. As beautiful as the sight of it, the revelation of now bared skin that was barely hidden before. That's more than enough to get a noticeable response from the elf. Feurian isn't quite as scantily clad as Vena, but a thin layer of silk does little to hide the way his cock is filling out just beneath it.
For now, at least, two can play the touching game. Feurian reaches between them, the back of his hands brushing against that impossibly soft skin (is it really or is that part of the spell? Does is dull some senses while heightening others? Will Feurian eve truly know?). With a practiced move, the sash holding his robe barely closed tumbles to the floor. A roll of his shoulders and all that pale blue follows, fluttering as it goes.
Without another word (what more words are needed?), Feurian reaches out, fingers tracing Vena's jaw, tiling his head back to the tall elf can lean in for the first touch of those luscious lips. So inviting, it's as if the first taste of them makes him feel starved, as if Vena's mouth is all he's ever craved. Any beast can rut, he reminds himself. The incubus asked something of him: show him why Feurian is Nagare's favorite, why he has his loyal clients. He can't do that if he lets his mind cease to function in favor of a sloppy fuck.
So the kiss, while heated, is soft. It's slow, utterly exploratory. It lets Feurian map the shape of them with his own lips and tongue before slipping into the wet heat of that wanton mouth. One hand remains cupped against Vena's jaw, but the other goes wandering. Across the incubus' chest, fingers dallying too briefly to toy at his nipples before moving on. Down his sternum to the soft spot where the rib give way. Lower still until his hand trails to one side. His fingers follow the hollow inside his hip, up over the iliac crest, along his side, before slipping to the small of his back to tug the slight creature closer.