OPEN POST.

[soothsighs]

text ☆ action ☆ prose ☆ nsfw + gen friendly
☆ ENDWALKER COMPLIANT ☆

Comments

[soothsighs]

This time, Urianger takes that note of admonishment with grace. It's fairly evident Thancred isn't looking to chastise him into a lecture right now — although that may come later — and so the least he can do is meet his love half-way and acknowledge that his decisions of late have been somewhat reckless. It feels too good to have him close to risk spoiling the moment, and so he simply lets himself be guided down to the bed so that he can look up at Thancred properly.

"... I concede that, upon occasion, I can be somewhat careless with mine own safety," he agrees, his own smile turning a little bashful around the edges as he reaches up to lay his palms against Thancred's waist. The Hyur isn't a small man by any means (for all he likes to tease him) and yet his hands span wide across him — something which privately brings Urianger no small amount of pleasure. The pads of his thumbs stroke against the tight material of his shirt as he lets his imagination run away with him:

"Thy mouth," he replies almost instantly, the gold of his eyes a thing ring around dark pupils as he thinks to the last time Thancred made a meal of him. Urianger had spent long years frowining in disapproval (and yes, perhaps a little jealousy) each time Thancred had sauntered off to an inn room with a woman on his arm, but these days?

He has to admit, the man put in the work and it's Urianger who's reaping the benefits.

"There are many sensations I can recreate on my own if needs must, but that of thy lips and tongue yet eludes me."

One of those hands slides around to squeeze a handful of Thancred's ass as Urianger looks up through his lashes, his expression sultry and his tone low with want:

"After which, I wish to ride thee until the bed groans, the neighbours complain, all else escapes me but the hymn of thy name."

[funbreaker]

"Ah, he admits it," Thancred replies with a flash of his eyes and a smirk, aimed down at a now seated Urianger. That is progress, he'll admit, and he will have to build onto that later, after both of them have sated their desires.

With that all said and done for now, though, Urianger wastes no time in using both his hands and his words to make clear what it is he wants: Thancred's mouth. Yes, it is true that Thancred is quite skilled with his use of it and has made this point to Urianger time and time again. It is not such an easy thing to recreate either, so he can see why Urianger immediately jumped to that.

There is something about the way Urianger's hands feel on him, the sheer size of them given his Elezen proportions, and Thancred could never tire of it. As those hands find his backside and draw him closer, he huffs out a laugh, finding himself pressed up against Urianger.

And then there's that final crass bit of poetry, which brings a deeper shade of red to Thancred's face. Despite thinking that he'd heard it all by now, with the amount of promiscuity he's engaged in for the purpose of gathering intel, Urianger has managed to prove him wrong time and time again.

Not needing to be told more than once, he reaches out for Urianger's shoulders once more and applies pressure to ease him to lay down on the bed, them climbs onto it after him, straddling either side of his thighs. He's about ready to lean down and start using his mouth to great effect, but then he halts, the sight of Urianger's swollen belly giving him pause for a moment.

"Are you quite comfortable like this? Would you prefer to be on your side?" If Urianger won't look out for himself, then Thancred will have to do so.

[soothsighs]

Urianger is ready to protest that no, he's more than fine settled as he is on his back, but then there's a twinge low in his spine and a shifting of everything inside him that reminds him of how he's been having to sleep of late. On his side, with a pillow beneath his belly and another to wedge between his knees; so yes, he probably would do better in a slightly different position.

"There is wisdom in thy words," he says wryly, nodding just the once before patting at Thancred to lift up. When he has enough room to turn Urianger moves carefully onto his side, but not before taking the opportunity to open the fastenings of his skirt and let it fall away from his hips to puddle against the sheets. Bare but for his smalls, Urianger sighs out a breath of relief before adjusting himself so that he's propped up on an elbow:

"Although it may prove more difficult for thee, I fear."

Difficult is probably the wrong word — as if they haven't managed to please each other in far more odd, cramped conditions than this — and he raises the tail-end of a silver eyebrow as he peers down his body to when Thancred is hovering. Still mildly apologetic, he continues:

"Thou wilt manage?"