Wriothesley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
armwriostle) wrote2026-02-15 07:36 am
armwriostle) wrote2026-02-15 07:36 amI don't need to wait for Sunday to go to church.
Truly, always the quiet ones.
armwriostle) wrote2026-02-15 07:36 am
Wakey, Wakey, Eggs and Bakey
[ His lips quirk into an amused smile. ] Well, you could always look into it now. It's not like it isn't achievable. If you saw what I looked like as a teenager, you wouldn't have thought they'd grow up to be me. [ Skin and bones when meals were far and few between. He doesn't think he really grew bigger until he was properly in prison and stepping into the Pankration Ring match after match.
Once he thinks the tea has steeped long enough, he pours a mug and hands it to Sunday, letting the other fix up their mug as they please. As for Wriothesley, he drops two cubes of sugar into his. The usual. ]
I don't think it's wrong to want to value such things. [ If anything, he thinks it's probably good. Wriothesley has long since figured that his casualness about sex and his somewhat emotional detachment to it wasn't the healthiest. It was merely a mentality born from seeing it as a commodity while in prison and he might find himself wishing that it wasn't always like that.
On the other hand, Sunday's following words is a little worrisome. ] It isn't a matter of the mind. Sex is merely integral for acclimating here. [ Surely, Sunday doesn't think that's somehow debatable...? ]
This is just monster fucking porn.
[ This is more than just a little more. This is another length being pressed into his already tight entrance. He doesn't even know how one manages to even fit more inside him because he thought just the beast's cock is more than what he should be able to take, much another.
Wriothesley prides himself in his stamina, but honestly, there are caveats. A gryphon rutting into him with two phallic objects is more than what he's ever taken. It's overwhelming in every sensation. He hasn't realized the cry that rips from his throat nor the orgasm that ripples through his body. He's too distracted from being stretch wide while having the air pushed out of his lungs with each thrust. He's so focused on the ache while his prostate is honestly thrashed that he hasn't acknowledge the soft noises nor the song that rumbles from Sunday nor the cum that has spilled from his own cock. ]
Please... [ He's not even sure what that please is for. To stop? For more? It's all just sensations and every thought in his head is being fucked out, leaving it wonderfully blank. ]
This is also just porn. Mirror porn.
[ The copper scent lingers in his senses. How many bloody noses and swallowing mouthfuls of blood had he gone through in the Pankration ring. How many matches had he experienced that lead to busted lips and trips to the infirmary.
He keeps his hand firmly around Sunday's as he continues to slide their fingers up and down the shaft, his thumb even teasing the slit on the top as he helps Sunday jerk off. ] You can be loud if you want. No one else is here to hear. If you have to bite down, you can bite down on my shoulder. [ He doesn't want the other to hurt themselves while trying to resist. And maybe he wouldn't be opposed to the sharp sting of a bite. It isn't like he's not affected by this all. He doesn't know if it's the water or just his own hormones, but he knows his cock was hardening. It's hard not to be affected.
Hilarious, because his back is turned to the mirror, so he has no idea what their reflections are getting up to. He's just focused on the man he was crowding against the wall of the bath. ]
Just enjoy yourself. It's okay to let go. [ He doubts it'll be so easy to convince Sunday of that. Maybe it's because he also was a control freak, but enough conversation between them and how Sunday has been makes him know that this man absolutely struggled with the concept. ]
Dove in heat
Oh, you can still bite back. That's good. [He takes the indignance with grace. It isn't so dissimilar to the time in the baths, though at least he thinks Sunday is a little more willing now than the first time. Maybe marginally so at least.
He lets out a low hum. ] Maybe asking that isn't really helpful actually. [ Given Wriothesley's high pain tolerance, he gets the feeling that the numbers are skewed. For them both. He gets the feeling that the actual pain is far higher than what Sunday realizes. They had stubbornly tried resisting before after all.
He shakes his head with a sigh and then a small smile. ] There is no need to apologize. Let's see if we can be quick. Wrap your arms around my neck, would you?
Parking Garage Investigation
Perhaps in other places, but Fontaine's terrain is probably not the most ideal. You'll spend much of your time using the ferries and boats because of all the water. If you're lucky, you might be able to ride an airship, but I don't know if the institute had made them accessible to the public. [ He thinks traveling on a blubberbeast would be more likely than something horse related.
The more laidback and even humorous man way Wriothesley holds himself isn't so apparently right now. Wriothesley knew when there was a time and place. Right now? It was time to be serious. Brows furrow and eyes sharp; there's even a certain carefulness in each of his steps. The usual thud of his boots are quieter as he moves.
The smell in the garage rings reminiscent of the Fortress. That bit of mustiness and the lingering scent of salt that comes from the ocean. He had been here dozens of time to know that the parking garage has never smelled this way. Dust and oil, yes. That lingering pungent smell of saltwater? That's not something familiar. It's not what the resort would normally let slip, given it's want to be nothing less than an opulent and lavish honey trap. He stops when Sunday speaks, turning to look at him. ] Did you see something?
[ For good measure, the usual gauntlets that he keeps on him appears around his hands, both hands tightened into fists. ]