[Was it blood loss in itself that was pleasant, or did vampires add some specific nudge in the direction of pleasure? Emet-Selch wouldn't be surprised in either case. But whatever the cause, it was an arousing result, entirely satisfactory to him.
It feels almost entirely too soon before she's pulled away from her bite, but the trail of her lips felt a fair consolation- and the glide of her hand moreso. Her request, her offer, the feeling of her voice at his ear- gets a soft hum in reply, and a quick tilt of his head to seek out her lips for a moment. A brief kiss, a taste of her mouth as though in search of his own blood, followed by a murmured assent.]
If you'd care to.
[As though she'd be the primary beneficiary of sucking him off, but the risk at least, well- there was something enticing about that, wasn't there? Emet-Selch is decidedly not about to question his lack of concern (and for that matter, the continued increase in his pulse at the prospect) towards the threat of her fangs in this scenario.]
[The kiss surprises her; she was sure he wouldn't want to taste his own blood in her mouth, at least immediately afterward, but here he proves otherwise. It does make her smile as she shifts down onto her knees and parts his thighs, though, the gesture making her happy in ways it probably shouldn't.
Irhya sets right to work, fearlessly as in all things, starting by laying his tip on the bed of her tongue and closing her mouth around it. Her fangs are definitely there, ever-present and probably capable of slicing him if she jerks suddenly, but she moves cautiously, slowly, wrapping her lips around the rest of her teeth as she sinks down even if her incisors are a bit too long and sharp to cover.
She weighs the benefits and drawbacks of making him come like this, wondering if he'll be willing to wait the requisite time to go again afterward. Well... even if not, she'll have gotten her piece, she supposes.]
[The pressure of Irhya's tongue against sensitive flesh has his breathing catch, before letting go of it in a careful exhale as he watches her slight form settle between his legs, and the way her lips close around the tip of his length. A sensation and sight that both serve to send a certain pleasant ache through him, the suggestion of aroused tension that pools in his lower body.
There's the hint of fangs, if not the piercing of them, but it's a reminder to not push forward too suddenly or disrupt the care Irhya was clearly taking for him. Distantly, Emet-Selch also wondered if she intended to finish him like this- and if so, how patient she would be for any recovery. Well, it wasn't as though he couldn't take care of her one way or another, he supposed. For now, the warmth and wetness of her mouth was more than enough to take his attention, fangs not concerning him whatsoever.
Letting one hand rest against the edge of the mattress, the other brushes at the side of her face, pushing her hair back (even if it'll just fall forward again anyway). A gesture that's something like affectionate- and something he can even recognize as such, after a moment, though it doesn't stop him.]
[It must take a lot of willpower to sit so perfectly still and not try to nudge her along, judging by how he fidgets with her hair, but the gesture is much appreciated. She takes in as much of him as she can comfortably fit, which is a little over halfway at first, and then eases back up again, coming off him briefly with a juicy pop. But it's only for a few heartbeats, because soon she's back on him, repeating the motion while adding some strokes of her tongue to the underside.
Once she warms to the motion, to the margin of error she has, she decides to pick up the pace, pushing a little further each time she goes down. Her thumb and forefinger encircle the base, squeezing a little for added stimulation while keeping him steady. The other hand wanders, starting by pulling his trousers to his knees and then gliding up his inner thigh, looking for new areas of skin to touch.]
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no subject
It feels almost entirely too soon before she's pulled away from her bite, but the trail of her lips felt a fair consolation- and the glide of her hand moreso. Her request, her offer, the feeling of her voice at his ear- gets a soft hum in reply, and a quick tilt of his head to seek out her lips for a moment. A brief kiss, a taste of her mouth as though in search of his own blood, followed by a murmured assent.]
If you'd care to.
[As though she'd be the primary beneficiary of sucking him off, but the risk at least, well- there was something enticing about that, wasn't there? Emet-Selch is decidedly not about to question his lack of concern (and for that matter, the continued increase in his pulse at the prospect) towards the threat of her fangs in this scenario.]
no subject
Irhya sets right to work, fearlessly as in all things, starting by laying his tip on the bed of her tongue and closing her mouth around it. Her fangs are definitely there, ever-present and probably capable of slicing him if she jerks suddenly, but she moves cautiously, slowly, wrapping her lips around the rest of her teeth as she sinks down even if her incisors are a bit too long and sharp to cover.
She weighs the benefits and drawbacks of making him come like this, wondering if he'll be willing to wait the requisite time to go again afterward. Well... even if not, she'll have gotten her piece, she supposes.]
no subject
There's the hint of fangs, if not the piercing of them, but it's a reminder to not push forward too suddenly or disrupt the care Irhya was clearly taking for him. Distantly, Emet-Selch also wondered if she intended to finish him like this- and if so, how patient she would be for any recovery. Well, it wasn't as though he couldn't take care of her one way or another, he supposed. For now, the warmth and wetness of her mouth was more than enough to take his attention, fangs not concerning him whatsoever.
Letting one hand rest against the edge of the mattress, the other brushes at the side of her face, pushing her hair back (even if it'll just fall forward again anyway). A gesture that's something like affectionate- and something he can even recognize as such, after a moment, though it doesn't stop him.]
no subject
Once she warms to the motion, to the margin of error she has, she decides to pick up the pace, pushing a little further each time she goes down. Her thumb and forefinger encircle the base, squeezing a little for added stimulation while keeping him steady. The other hand wanders, starting by pulling his trousers to his knees and then gliding up his inner thigh, looking for new areas of skin to touch.]