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Legs wrapped around his hips, Holiday couldn’t help but to let out a quiet moan at the devil’s soft and slow pace. Every now and then, Roathe’s tail would carefully slide across her arm, sides and thighs with just the tip of it; edging on her sensitive and delicate form.
She gasped into his mouth when Roathe properly grinded his hips down against her. Fully seated inside of her, his length filled her perfectly. Not like Lyon could; but certainly in a way that would make her yearn for another round, once in a while.
Though all sweet things had to come to an end at some point - both catching their breath. From having been lost in the haze of kisses and mixed saliva, as well as the mutually building pleasure. Dark hands roamed and gripped at his shoulders, scratching and drawing lines not with her nails but with the barest hint of such. All in all, their intimacy could be described as sweet and needy.
Roathe, afterall, wouldn’t be Roathe if he wasn’t a mischievous devil. And this little ray of sunshine deserved payback for a multitude of reasons.
Blue against brown skin, the thrusts kept the rhythm that was neither fast nor slow. Just enough to keep up the wonderful feeling, fueling the knot that was slowly tightening in their lower stomachs. With one hand buried in her dark green, curly hair; he asserted slight pressure to his hold on it, making her throw her head back in delight at the roughness he seemed to test out.
Lips kissed at her throat. Grazing them just slightly with his teeth. His tongue darted out; tracing the lines of her throat, up to her cheek, giving it the faintest kiss he could muster. Holiday whined - Roathe chuckled against her ear, mixed with his hot breath as he kept up the slow grinding.
“Roathe,” the Drifter asked impatiently. Her own breathing was harsh and frantic, showing that she must soon hit her peak.
Of course, he knew what she wanted.
Of course, he wouldn’t give it to her.
“Yes, my sunshine?” he clearly mocked her in such a sweet voice. Normally, they never really talked; and preferred to let their actions speak for what they wanted. But the devil will take his gain out of this.
“Can- can you-” Holiday swallowed, “Could you - hah - bite me? W-with your fangs? Please?” In any other circumstance, he would have been happy to comply. Eager to serve, even. She sounded beautiful and begged him perfectly. But he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.
The grip in her hair tightened; so did her pussy, clamping around his cock inside of her. His position changed just slightly, his lips trailing from her cheek back down to her neck to litter it more with feather-light kisses. “I don’t know, darling - should I?” he tempted her. “Do you think you deserve a reward for how you denied my dear lover? For how you made me beg?”
Holiday’s eyes opened wide. Then, fleeting thoughts and memories of what he could possibly mean entered her mind.
Just a few days ago, Holiday had put Orion into her place. She sat on her face, made the redhaired woman properly work for it and help her to Holly’s orgasm a few times before she even thought about allowing the other the same. A few weeks before that, Holiday and Orion had spoiled Roathe rotten with pleasure and treats alike. There, she had used her power to tease him a bit.
A bit too much, it seems now.
“Roathe- I’m- I’m so close, please,” she tried again with an arch of her back and a buck against his hips. But the protoframe didn’t let himself be hurried, for he was here to collect his payment.
Roathe tutted at her; hushed her even. “Hush now. You will be patient for me, will you not?” his sweet voice betrayed him easily; how cruel he planned to be. “My dear, I will make you suffer in the sweetest way possible. You need to be reminded of who you are dealing with from time to time, don’t you think?” His lips moved upwards, the barest of a touch against hers; but not kissing her quite yet. While he was smiling, her own lips were trembling. From the tight hand buried in her hair, she didn’t have the chance to force the kiss.
Oh, this was good. This was delicious, even. Exactly what he had envisioned, exactly what he had wanted out of this. And she just gave it to him, on a silver platter! Next time, he should really teach her to not just freely hand out everything she had like that. She had nothing to bargain with; nothing to buy herself free with. He could not pass up this opportunity; so greedy for his revenge, he didn’t even think about the possibility of consequences.
She was a sight to behold, a true vision. He never denied such; for he always knew how beautiful she was, on the inside and outside alike. Each whine that came from Holiday made Roathe add a few more minutes to her torment. Maybe in half an hour or so, he would decide that he had enough. Had his fill, so to say.
Maybe.
“Beg. Again, my sweet, sweet Holiday.”
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Roathe moaned out loudly from underneath Lyon, who only grunted in return. As frantic as they were, Lyon couldn’t always hit that spot inside of him. His prostate, that is. There’s only so much he could do at the same time.
He was halfbusy keeping up his balance of thrusting into the devil from behind, his knees spreading the other’s apart perfectly. One of his hands gripped at his hips, the other was stroking off his weeping cock in sync with his thrusts. If he were to keep up the rhythm like this, the devil would surely come undone in just a matter of minutes.
And that just couldn’t be.
A surprised sound mixed itself with a throaty moan, Roathe certainly caught by surprise. His tail had moved and twitched on the bed impatiently; slapping it every now and then with the end of it. Signs that he was very close indeed.
Dark fingertips suddenly stopped all their motion and gripped the base of the blue cock tightly; with enough pressure to not allow the pleasure to rise any higher than it already was. Precum dripped onto the sheets below, though there was no way for Roathe to buck his hips into the bed to finish himself off. In time to that, Lyon’s hips had also stopped moving - firmly seated flush against his prostate inside.
At first, the Orokin had thought of the other protoframe to change positions. Or perhaps even find his balance again. But after he felt his climax slowly getting out of reach, he couldn’t help but to, quite insistingly, try and push his hips against Lyon.
To no use.
Roathe let out a breath he held for far too long and clicked his tongue. “Void be damned, will you move?” he demanded of the other. The end of his sentence ended a little higher and needier than he intended it to be, though he had half a mind left to care about it for now.
His rude demands were met with silence. A gentle laugh came from up above.
Only when his burning high had gone down to a soft simmer did Lyon start moving his hips and hand again; though not as fervently and fast as Roathe would have wanted it. It was enough to make him slowly reach the point of needing to come once more.
Lateron, when Lyon stopped all very pleasurable motions again, Roathe snapped at him. “What- what is it with you today? Indecisive? Restless? What is it!?” he gasped under him. Another set of breathless curses came when he felt the pale protoframe lean over him to put a path of kisses from his shoulder up to his cheek.
“Impatient ce soir? Have you not drawn it out for mon miracle, comme ça?” The priest’s deep voice was outright sinful, just like his actions showed him to be. Lyon usually denied it, but Roathe knew that he was everything but innocent.
A highpitched moan left him – filled with confusion and something close to fear alike. The devil tried to move, tried to turn on him, do anything! Wrestling for control, he wanted to move his transformed hand down to finally make himself cum, but Lyon was faster; smarter than that.
The hand that was used to support himself above the devil stopped him before he could follow his thoughts. It pressed down on it with equal strength - both being protoframes afterall - rendering it uselessly in place. The other blue hand fumbled and scratched uselessly at Lyon’s other arm, trying to bring him to move his hand on his length but there was no hurry inside of the blonde man.
“Mon diable, I do not believe you want this enough,” Lyon whispered into his pointed ear. “Do you think you deserve a reward for how you denied my dear lover?”
Air stuck dead in his lungs, his eyes shot open. Silence filled the room, besides Lyon’s warm breath against his neck. He could feel his cock spreading him open from the inside, pressed against his prostate with soft little grinds while his own length begged for attention. The pleasure was kept on an all-time high, not giving his body a chance to climb down or topple over into a release.
Plainly said: Roathe was, for once, being edged - instead of being made to cum many times.
His tongue wet his lips as he tried to be as careful as possible with his next words. “What - what did she tell you? Surely only how well I was able to satisfy her, my sweet priest?” he asked in such a quiet voice. One rough thrust into him made strangled noises come from him. “Mon coeur praised you indeed; no detail was left unturned. Holiday was very elaborate on how gentle you were with her. I commend you for that. I also commend you for how much you made her ask for it.“
Roathe’s breathing picked up again; absolutely needy and whiny; a rare look for him to wear. “Oh, my! Did- did she use such harsh words? I promise it was all in good jest-” the devil tried to comply with a nervous laugh of his, but Lyon didn’t want any of it.
A synced stroke of his hand along with a single buck of his hips sent short waves of pleasure up the devil’s spine. Giving him another taste of what he could have but won’t - for a very long time. Roathe dropped the act and breathed out harsh and fast now, the need for release started to dangerously cloud his mind. “Lyon, please!”
“I do not think I am pleased yet. What is it that you had said to her? Ce mot - ce mot en particulier?” Lyon hummed into his ear. And he could swear, by everything that he held dear, that he felt him smile against the sensitive tip of it. “Ah, je me souviens.”
There was no other word that Roathe dreaded like this; that he feared, anticipated and wanted to hear, desperately so, at the same time. A secret weapon used against him; a reaction not even his full title could bring out of him. He swallowed thickly at what was to come and a desperate whine came from the depths of his throat. This once, it didn’t mean he would get to come undone again.
The word promised him another climax pulled out of his reach; dangled in front of him like a sweet treat. Brought to the edge once more, but nothing more than that.
He tried to make a last futile attempt at changing the other’s mind, but once Lyon set his mind onto something - he proved himself to be very adamant. “Lyon, please, don’t-!”
“Again, Roathe.”
The priest promised Lua to make the devil properly and absolutely thoroughly repent under his ministrations, before he would grant him mercy. Ensnared and trapped, tangled in white silk under Lyon, Roathe had no choice but to pray to the gods he didn’t believe in; to have pity on him.