SEXUAL SMUT Deliver Me

[wren.]

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RHYDIAN

Halloween has always been Rhydian's favorite holiday. The humans had always been callous to their kind, twisting them into violent, sadistic brutes known as 'demons,' yet once a year, they joined together to dress like them in mockery or celebration. Given these roots, it's understandable to him that some might not enjoy the holiday, but he's always been on the side of turning shame into pride. The Magi might have Hallow's Eve for its magic, but it belongs to the Darklings just as much, if you ask him.

Still, The Lady doesn't seem to care one way or the other about it, and so there is always a disappointing lack of celebration in the cathedrals on Hallow's Eve. Thankfully, they don't have much going on regarding duties during the major national holidays, which allows him to slip away from the cathedral for the first time since he arrived in Julian City a few weeks ago. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration; he's left the cathedral a few times, but only for a few hours at a time or so, and mostly doing charity work for the poor that beg on the streets of such a wealthy city. He hasn't truly had a night to himself yet.

He'd heard some of the priests talking about a big masquerade party happening at the Town Hall, and having no other plans, decided on a whim to attend. He had a suit made for himself for the occasion, consisting of a black shirt and pants with a dark navy vest and tie. His shirt cuffs are emblazoned with the Julian City's cathedral symbol to show his pride, though they're subtle enough to not look gaudy. He had a cape made as well that attaches around his neck to resemble his usual collared robes, and he bought a glittery navy masquerade mask to complete the look. He expects to look quite dashing, though he hasn't even begun getting ready as of yet.

"Wit gwad, vror vexity?"

"Hm? Oh yes," he glances down at the priest kneeling between his legs, eyes staring up at him beseechingly and his mouth stuffed with Rhydian's cock. "Very good, Father, just watch your teeth." He tightens his grip on the other man's dark locks, which seems to satisfy him, as he resumes sucking his length immediately.

It is good, but it pales in comparison to what he experienced last night. Frey, that damned priest... He can't tell if his presence is a blessing or a curse that The Lady has bestowed upon him. Sex is a very normal part of daily life for a Libitine, and their lust is bountiful, but he's never known anyone as hungry for it as Frey. Even during the most innocuous of tasks, Frey's arousal seems ever present, warm and heady like a tangible thing wrapping around Rhydian's cock and stroking it to hardness.

It was evident when he met him, and confirmed by the other priests, that the Libitine has no sense of control over his pheromones. Given his exceptionally high libido, this has proved a problem in trying to be near him for extended periods of time. He also quickly learned that Frey has little social skills, frequently breaching social decorum and boundaries unintentionally. All of this combined has left him the black sheep of the cathedral, shunned by the rest of the priests as weird and intense.

It's a bit pathetic, really, to watch the man walk around with his cock hard as a rock beneath his robes and trying desperately to hide it, no one willing to lend him a hand despite their shared love for intercourse. Apparently, his heats are frequent and intense, and he has to lock himself up in his room to avoid being a nuisance to the rest of the building. It's sad, and as one of The Lady's bishops, he's deemed it his duty to see to pleasing Frey. Perhaps if he can help to fill the aching hole inside him, in more ways than one, Frey will gain better control over himself instead of letting his lust run rampant.

That's a convenient excuse, at least. Perhaps more truthfully, he just finds Frey sexy as hell. Despite his eccentricities, he's beautiful, and seems oh-so-willing to take whatever Rhydian might give to him. He likes the warm tingling that Frey's presence brings him, and he feels no shame in wanting to bend the other man over the nearest surface and fuck the feeling out of them both. Unfortunately, though, Frey seems to mostly keep to himself, barely lifting his head to even meet his eyes. Then there's their duties that often keep them apart. There has yet to be a good opportunity to seduce the man properly, so Rhydian decided to make himself one last night.

Slipping into Frey's dream, he found the man kneeljng before the altar of their Lady under the pale glow of moonlight coming in through the cathedral's large windows, mumbling frantically beneath his breath with hands folded in front of him. Rhydian waited behind him politely, allowing himself to be wrapped up in that warm embrace of the man's desire, until Frey stood. Deciding to make his presence known, he pressed against his back and moved his hands to his shoulders.

"Frey, my dear boy, what has you troubled at this late hour?"

Libitines always smell appealing, it is part of their chemistry, but Frey always smells particularly divine, like light florals and a cinnamon-sweet heat with a touch of something medicinal and unique to him that Rhydian can't place. It makes him want to eat him up.

"My dick," Frey had said so honestly, so casually, that Rhydian had had to hold back laughter.

"Is that so?" he'd purred, amused, hands beginning to kneed the tense muscle of the priest's neck and shoulders. "How is it troubling you?"

Frey had blinked at him owlishly from over his shoulder before shamelessly lifting his robes to reveal his erection, angrily red and already dripping, his Prince Albert piercing glinting in the moonlight. "My desire never cools or fades. I repent, but it remains without control."

"Mm. And why should you have to repent?" He smiled as innocently as he is capable of, guiding the priest to turn toward him so that he can cup his face. He was not just warm, but feverishly so, cheeks flushed attractively and his cock practically burning a hole in his robes where it was pressed against his thigh. "As Libitines, we have been uniquely blessed by the Lady to not only enjoy sex as anyone else might, but to find holiness in it. Healing. Sex strengthens and nurtures our bodies and brings us closer to Her and each other. It is how we thrive and build community with one another. Do not be ashamed of your sexual appetite; it is simply in our nature to want to share our bodies with others." Unable to help himself, he stroked Frey's plush bottom lip with his thumb, savoring his hot breath (already beginning to pant) against the pad of it.

"I would never turn my back on the gifts Our Lady gave us, nor the power of communion through sex... but my body does not relent when it is not time to worship. So I repent." He lamented as much, but his guilt seemed performative with how he'd already begun to sneakily rub his length against his thigh, tongue poking out to wet the digit against his lips. Such a desperate creature. "Are you here to punish me?"

"No, Father," he'd assured, pushing his index and middle fingers into the warm, wet cavern of Frey's mouth where they were greeted with immediate enthusiastic sucking. "I'm here to rebuild you. To milk the tainted semen from your desperate, starving body and replace it with my own holy seed. I shall fill the aching womb inside you to keep you from disturbing the peace of our brothers and sisters."

He was laying it on thick, but it seemed to spur Frey on as much as he'd hoped, his hips quickening against him. He pulled off his fingers with a pop, a lewd string of saliva breaking between them. "Thank you, Your Excellency."

"Now bend over Our Lady's altar. Your sperm, while unworthy, shall be your meager offering for her graciousness."

Frey was ever obedient as he bent over and lifted his robes to reveal his excitedly winking pink hole, his pierced cock and balls quivering against the cold granite of the altar. When Rhydian slipped one of his slick digits inside of him, it sunk down to the knuckle almost immediately, Frey's soft insides pulling him through tight muscle hungrily. "You must touch yourself here often, don't you, Father? You took my finger so easily." It doesn't take long for him to work a second finger in, scissoring him open in between bouts of torturing his prostate, making the man squirm and moan beneath him.

They continued like that for some time, Rhydian's practiced fingers drawing orgasm after orgasm out of the priest, white rivulets running down the altar's side and pooling at their feet. Only once he seemed sufficiently milked did Rhydian remove his fingers and step away, admiring Frey's gaping entrance and his lovely whines of disappointment. He lifted his own robe to let his own neglected erection bounce free, thick and throbbing with need, precum collecting in the sparse dark hair at his base. Frey's disappointment seemed to melt away into near manic glee at the sight, body turning to kneel in front of him immediately, as though he couldn't help himself.

He rubbed his length against his face gently, teasingly, biting down on his lip to keep from moaning. He was so turned on that just the slightest stimulation felt like it could make him cum. "Show me that you are worthy of salvation, Father," he ordered, and Frey devoured him with unmatched enthusiasm as though he were the most delicious thing he ever tasted. "Oh, My Lady," he gasped, steeling himself against the onslaught of Frey's dangerously skilled mouth by gripping onto his hair. Had the others been lying about leaving Frey to his own devices? How could he possibly be so good at sucking cock if he wasn't very experienced?

It was an embarrassingly short time before he was spilling hot and sticky down Frey's throat with a choked moan, and they both likely could have kept going if Rhydian didn't stop Frey by pulling his hair back. "Get back on the altar for me."

He was desperate and panting when he stood behind him again, turning Frey's face so that he could coax him into a bruising kiss while rubbing his still rock hard cock against his entrance teasingly. "Beg me for it," he'd demanded, though the words that came out of Frey's mouth were distant and incomprehensible. "What?" Again, garbled nonsense, more distant.

The dream was slipping away, and fast. "No, fuck —" he growled, thrusting desperately as everything went dark —

He'd awoken in a cold sweat, painfully hard, his sheets stained with ejaculate. Thankfully, one of his admirers was happy to give him a hand.

Just thinking about the whole thing has him throbbing, hips thrusting of their own volition into his current bedmate's mouth. Thankfully, the priest doesn't seem to mind, and with his hands balled in the other man's hair, Rhydian fucks his wet throat while he remembers the feeling of Frey's, the delightfully hypnotizing scent of their sex, and the feeling of his insides lovingly tangling around his fingers. No doubt they would have felt better around his cock while he pressed against his prostate and slammed into his deepest wall.

"Fuuuck," he hisses as he cums, pulling out of the priest's mouth and kissing the top of his head. "Good boy. I'm sure Our Lady would be proud of your progress."

After a reciprocal gift, he sends the priest on his way, cleaning up and slipping his costume on. It's getting late by now, so he really should get a move on if he doesn't wan to be out until the early morning.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

credits

 

[PavellumPendulum]

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FREY

He'd paid the new bishop no mind at first. Visitors to the cathedral came and went and regardless of their importance, it was rare that he remembered them all that well. Sometimes, they were a bitter taste sliding down his throat and a hand gripping his hair and grazing the scalp. Sometimes, they were bite marks that formed a chaotic pattern across his pale skin, lapped clean by a rough tongue. His favourites were sharp pangs of mind-scrambling pain and starry vision, followed by addicting lava in the pit of his stomach and drool slipping out of his gaping mouth. They were sensations to him more than people. After all, he devoted his memory to The Lady and Her scriptures and his deplorable fantasies. He had little need for anything else.

But the night that Bishop Rhydian had appeared in his dreams, when he had shown him a mercy that he had not felt in ages, with practised fingers and a cock heavy with Seed blessed by their Lady, Frey had awoken a changed man. It was rare that he dreamt, even rarer that he remembered any dreams that he possibly had, but this one had been so close to reality that he considered it to be a vision, a prophetic reward wrapped within a command. The bishop would redeem him. The bishop would assure that he was useful to the Lady's cause. The dream had ended before the sweet bliss of being stretched full and given purpose because he was meant to bring it into reality.

He ached for him.

His recent explosion of pheromones had finally supposedly died down to a reasonable level, but he still felt just as hungry, just as empty, just as desperate for salvation as before. Every few hours, he wiped himself down under his robes after making his humble exit from his quarters to fulfill his usual duties. His cock leaked without shame, stood at attention without rest. Frey's head felt like it was full of cotton puffs, his thoughts cloudy and blurred. Sweeping the cathedral with gentle strokes and wiping down the various plaques and frames with care, he kept his gaze low, lashes a heavy sweeping fan over his warm eyes, just atop ruddy, delicate cheeks.

Frey ran his tongue repeatedly over his teeth, counting them in a meditative fashion as his chores led him around the halls, until he heard the footsteps, accompanied by a familiar scent. Immediately, his skin flushed deeper, his dick twitching in his underwear and his salivary glands tripling their workload.

The Bishop. With a shy half-smile, Frey stilled his movements, his draped robe barely disguising the near obvious bulge at his pelvis.

"Your excellency," he could barely say without revealing that his mouth was watering faster than he could swallow, his voice breathless and silken, "May I be of service to you?"

「 🕳 」

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

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RHYDIAN

His costume does look quite fetching, if you ask him. Like a sexy, somehow more flamboyant, version of The Phantom. He's quite cocky as he slinks out of his room and through the winding hallways of their cathedral, exchanging polite nods and the occasional wink with passing staff that bother to make eye contact with him as he passes. Before he reaches the exit, though, that familiar smell of medicinal florals and heat sneaks into his nostrils, grinding him to a halt in an almost Pavlovian manner. Perhaps he should worry about how his intrigue with Frey has possessed his senses, but why examine his obsession when he can just enjoy the carnal pleasure it brings him?

Effectively pulled off-course, he follows the scent to find the man himself standing in front of a painting of a flower and butterfly that looks suggestive of cunnilingus with a microfiber cloth, apparently cleaning. Despite being a priest, he's never seen Frey actually preaching. He hasn't worked here for long, but has he really only ever been delegated to cleaning duty?

Frey notices him before he even opens his mouth to get his attention, a fact that sends a thrill down his spine. Has he been paying enough attention to recognize his footstep pattern? Is he enticed by his smell in the same way Rhydian enjoys his? The flush on Frey's cheeks, the gentle smile, the slight bulge of his erection beneath his robes, the hopeful glimmer in his eye — evidently, Frey remembers their night together as clearly as he does. More importantly, his body seems like it's inviting him for more.

"Good evening, Father," he purrs, "Hard at work as usual, are you?" In more ways than one. He steps closer, resting a (completely friendly, of course) hand on the small of his back and leaning toward the painting as though interested in getting a better look at the artwork. "Such beautiful art in this cathedral. I dare say it's better than what we had in Black City. Look at the brushwork on this; such clever, precise strokes. The way they captured the movement of the probuscus as it glides over and between the folds of the flower, and the realism of the dew drops dripping off the petals… exquisite, don't you think?"

He lets his hand drift down toward his ass for a fleeting moment before pulling it back to his side without breaking his friendly smile. "You know, Father, I don't think I've ever seen you leave this cathedral. I admire your intense devotion and your willingness to serve, but if you don't rest once in a while, you'll exhaust yourself. What use will you be for The Lady then? I'm on my way to a costume party for Halloween right now, myself, you should join me. Oh, but you don't have a costume, do you? I'm sure I have something for you."

Before Frey can protest, he's already wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him back toward his chamber. "You're a bit taller than me, but I'm thicker, so I think my clothes would hang off you a little too much. Thankfully, I have a lot of costumes I once bought for other people, so I'm sure we'll find something that will flatter your delicate shape." Surely, the more he talks and takes initiative, the quicker Frey will get caught up in the whirlwind and submit to his desires?

His room smells of sex when they arrive, though he can't be sure if it's from the sex he'd had minutes ago or if the smell of sweat and semen has just permanently worked its way into the crevices, masked only by the scent of his natural pheromones. He releases Frey at the doorway and opens up his closet, pulling out a couple of clear tubs resting at the bottom and setting them at the other man's feet before removing their lids. Inside are a number of outfits, ranging from traditional lingerie to leather and spandex bodysuits to classics such as "sexy schoolgirl" and "sexy nurse."

"Which of these do you like most?" he prompts, kneeling down to dig through the options for one that looks like it might fit him.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

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[PavellumPendulum]

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FREY

That familiar urge between his legs was one that he'd nursed since the moment he'd been able to recognize what it was. It felt like home, it felt like the only thing that tethered him to his fragile and insidious body, something that he could always rub raw for comfort and come out still feeling like himself. The Bishop's prophetic appearance in his dreams had chained him to it, it had made him more than a faceless entity in the cathedral. He was the blood in the buildings' veins, the ceaseless and merciful moving heart, the sweet, sweet mouth of The Lady. Frey's fingers twitched and crumpled tightly around the cleaning cloth in his hand, his heavy-lashed eyes unable to tear themselves away from Rhydian.

Those dulcet toned words, smooth and lustrous from the tall, unmistakable column of his throat, sent a tingle of pleasure straight up through Frey's spine, up into his empty head. It felt like his heat was reigniting, clouding over his senses all over again in a single second as Rhydian's hand made contact with the small of his back. Immediately, he began to tremble, though he tried his best to listen. It would be heresy not to.

"Only the best for Our Lady." he whispered in response, his voice almost unabashedly heavy with arousal, eyes taking in the exquisite artwork. They fluttered shut briefly when the Bishop's hand brushed over his behind, but opened once more, dreamily. He did not bother resisting when told to come along to a party, mind melted to nothing more than cerebral goo in his skull with Rhydian's arm around him. "Yes, your excellency."

He smelled of incense and sex. Frey breathed deeply with him so close, wishing he could drown himself in that scent.

The Bishop's room, though made from the same bones as his own chambers, sported far more furniture and belongings, but at its core, it came from the same body of the church. Frey reddened even further, taking in deep breaths of the pheromones and sweat and spunk in the air, his body wishing it had contributed. He almost didn't register it when Rhydian pushed the clear tub of costumes over towards him, the options waiting by his callused, bare feet.

Gingerly, Frey knelt down, touching the costumes with a certain reverence, even if only doing so because they were the Bishop's possessions, before he found a set that caught his attention. The tiny crop top and shorts combo barely hid any skin, a near complete reversal of his normal robes, paired with a headband of crude dog ears that were a shade of orange-red similar to his own but pitching a little heavier towards reddish hues. They were secondary to the actual pieces of interest to him though: a matching leash and a fluffy tail attached to a humble butt plug.

He marvelled at it, holding the set up as though it were something irreplaceable and precious.

「 🕳 」

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

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RHYDIAN

Frey finds a favorite quickly; a sexy dog costume. He holds the bag like it's some kind of treasure, his expression like he's struck gold. Admittedly, it's endearing. "Excellent choice, Father," he chuckles, standing back up and offering Frey a hand to pull him to his feet as well. "You'll make a fetching puppy. You certainly have the loyalty of a dog, don't you?"

He turns to take a seat at the edge of his bed, gesturing toward the mirror right across from it. "You can change here, if you'd like. If you're shy, you can use the bathroom." It's a courtesy offer; he already knows Frey will take the opportunity to strip in front of him. Likely not even in an intentional attempt to seduce him, but simply because he's completely unashamed of his nudity. He revels in it, why would he hide it? That shamelessness, while perhaps considered his biggest fault to many, is what has drawn Rhydian to him the most.

He leans back on his hands as Frey disrobes with an attractive amount of eagerness that makes up for his lack of grace. He hasn't actually gotten to see Frey completely nude as of yet, having held him last night with his robe on but bunched up around his middle. He looks… frail. On the verge of being too thin with little muscle, and when he turns toward the mirror, there are a number of scars across his back and limbs. Who did that to him? There are so many, those marks couldn't have been from one encounter. Most of them look like lashing scars, too. Did some inexperienced idiot get carried away while punishing him?

… It's none of his business. What is his business is the stark dick imprint and huge wet spot on the front of his underwear. Even from these six feet away or so, he can smell his arousal and it's starting to make him dizzy, his own cock twitching in his briefs in response. Frey's cock is practically crying out for attention, no his entire body. There's a bright flush along his cheeks, neck, shoulders, and chest, and his perky nipples are standing at attention as though begging for someone to pull on them. He reeks of fertility and need and the instinct to breed him silly is making Rhydian itchy. There's no way Frey's heat has ended, how could this possibly be the strength of his pheromones on an average day?

Like a moth drawn to a flame, his body seems to move on its own, rising from the bed and floating toward the priest, arms wrapping around his bare midriff. He's managed to get most of the costume on, the shorts so thin that it does nothing for hiding his angry erection and the shirt barely stretching past his hard nipples. He steps as close to him as possible, crotch rubbing against the hole in the shorts meant to accommodate the tail.

"I told you this would look good on you," he purrs, taking the bag from him and helping to put the red collar on, pressing a kiss to the pulse point in his neck. He attaches the leash to the heart-shaped latch on the collar, wrapping the long rope around his hand several times to get a strong grip on it. "I like lapdogs. Think you could be mine?" he murmurs in his ear with a wicked grin.

"Oops, we forgot your tail, puppy," he says, grabbing the fake tail and letting the bag flutter to the floor. He meets Frey's eyes in the mirror as he makes a show of licking the plug all over, then wraps his lips around it and sucks with hallowed cheeks. Once it's drenched with slimy saliva, he pulls it out with a satisfying pop. "Bend over, puppy," he whispers, pulling his underwear down enough to push the toy inside him. It goes in easily, Frey's body swallowing it up eagerly. "That's a good boy. You look so pretty like this. Bark for me."

He pushes him back upright with a guiding hand on his abdomen. "Still, we need to do something about this." His hand drifts down to his cock, palming him through the shorts. He can feel the heat of him through the fabric and it's making his own cock twitch. He nuzzles his neck, inhaling his scent deeply, happy to get swept away in the tidal wave of Frey's lust. "There's a time and place for this kind of thing, Frey. You can't go into public all swollen like this."

He hooks a finger around the band of his shorts and underwear, pulling enough to get a good look at the stringy mess he's made inside them. "You're so wet, you've made a complete mess of your panties, you naughty boy." He pulls Frey's cock from its imprisonment and wraps his hand around him, rubbing him from base to tip, pointing him toward the mirror to avoid staining their clothes. Frey's excessive precum makes the task easy, his fingers occasionally slipping off his head from the sheer volume of it. "So hungry, aren't you, Frey? My poor boy. How long has it been since someone has touched you like this?"

He turns his head to whisper in his ear again, eyes still trained on the exciting tableau they are making in the mirror. "I'll make you a deal. If you can be a good boy for me at this party and control yourself, I'll breed you all night long once we get back. Wouldn't that be nice, puppy? To mate with me until the sun comes up?"

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

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[PavellumPendulum]

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FREY

The Bishop's hand in his made the emptiness between his legs feel like an unbearable absence, as though he had been incomplete in every single way one could be and would continue to be so until filled. Frey stood, feet on the cool tiled flooring, his callused fingers brushing over the costume's fabric. His nod was measured and demure, agreeing that he would make the picture perfect puppy. He'd never interacted much with dogs, much less any animals in general, really, but he understood what they signified here. Loyalty, obedience, dependence. He could be all of those things with ease, if Rhydian asked him to.

Frey felt those eyes on him, like flames licking up and down his skin, even without any of it on display. He'd change that soon. He'd burn alive if that was what it took.

Without responding, Frey began to shed his robes. It was easy work, pulling loose a lax knot and separating a fold here and there, until the entire shift fell into a crumpled halo of fabric around him. His skin was an expanse of taut white flesh, pulled tight over bones and nearly devoid of visible muscle. It puckered in places where the scarring was uneven and violent, smoothed over and discoloured where the healing had succeeded to a better degree. Even looking in the mirror, he could see the Bishop's eyes on him, a certain calmness to his demeanour, but like any good, resourceful dog, Frey could smell it on him. He inhaled deeply, pulling on the shorts and the crop top, sucking on his teeth.

The scent grew stronger as Rhydian approached. Frey watched him in the mirror, ruddy cheeks in no way nearer to clearing up. He couldn't tell if he tensed or melted into the arms around his midriff, but he certainly twitched invitingly when searing hot lips pressed against the skin of his neck, soothed by a bandage in the form of a collar. "I'm yours." he whispered breathily without even thinking about it, never looking away. Even if he had been capable of coherent thought in that moment, his answer would not have changed.

The plug became glossy with spit, licked and sucked audibly. Frey heard it, even through the thunderous pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, his dick painfully yet deliciously restricted within the tiny shorts. He whined when eagerly bending over, the plug disappearing past the ring of his anus, swallowed up without needing any coaxing. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. He panted now, shamelessly making soft barking noises the moment Rhydian asked him to, hands outstretching to press against the mirror. They would leave hand prints.

Rhydian guided him back into a standing position. Frey hadn't been sure he could, but all miracles were possible with the help of The Lady and her mouthpiece. His knees nearly buckled at the touch of the hand against his cock but he managed to stay somewhat upright, holding onto the Bishop. "My apologies, your excellence..." he mewled pathetically, moaning wantonly and squirming when grasped and stroked from base to tip, "I... I'll cum, I can't-" The tears sprung to his eyes at the near relief of being touched directly, each breath shuddering and almost excruciating. So soon, yet not soon enough. The Bishop had what he needed.

Rhydian's words were so hard to focus on. The sounds were barely comprehensible to Frey's empty head, but he registered it as a question and a promise, both of which Frey could agree to without needing to fully understand. He wanted to be good, he needed to be good, he would be good.

"Yes, yes, y-yes..." he babbled uselessly, his voice cracking, "All night. I'll be good- So good..."

「 🕳 」

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

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RHYDIAN

Rhydian grins against Frey's cheek, eyes never leaving their reflections and his hand never ceasing in its firm, decisive strokes on the man's twitchy cock. "Go ahead and cum for Master, puppy. Cum as much as you need to be satisfied." His mirror is going to be soaked in semen by the time they finish, but that's the least of his concerns right now. If Frey has any chance of following through on his part of the deal, Rhydian needs to milk him to flaccidity. With anyone else, that would be an effortless task. Frey's sexual stamina is in a league of its own, though. Arousal is practically his natural state.

He keeps his other arm pressed against Frey's torso should his knees buckle entirely, fingers sneaking beneath the hem of the crop top and skating over one of his pebbled areolas. "I hope you'll succeed," he purrs as he pinches his nipple and rolls it gently between his index finger and thumb. "My pretty bitch in heat... I want to breed you so badly. Can't you feel it? Can you feel me throbbing against you?" He rubs his aching erection vigorously between the mounds of his ass, pressing the plug in slightly deeper. "Our bodies are calling out to each other. I need your warm pussy as much as you need my cock rubbing against your walls."

He's starting to get lost in the haze of the moment — his face is flushing, he's panting and moaning against Frey's cheek, hot breath fanning against moist skin while he ruts against him desperately. "I promise I'll scratch that itchy spot inside you that you can't reach. I'll drill your pussy's deepest wall and fill your womb with my thick, fertile seed. Does that sound good? Maybe you'll even have my puppies," he jokes, but he's losing his composure, the layers of his costume leaving him feverish and suffocated. It'll do neither of them good if he ends up unable to remain on his best behavior at the party.

"Fuck it," he growls, at the end of his rope, abandoning Frey's cock and nipples to tug his shorts and underwear down to his ankles in one fell swoop. "Tighten your thighs." He's quick to undo his own fly and release his erection before thrusting it between Frey's wet thighs with a moan, grabbing onto Frey's hips hard enough to bruise. The delicious drag of his cock over and over against the soft plushness of Frey's balls and the velvety flesh of his cock is almost maddening. He wraps a hand around both of them, thrusting wildly into the tight ring he's made with his fingers.

"You look beautiful like this, and you feel so good," he pants before pressing wet kisses along Frey's jawline and neck. It doesn't take long before he's shooting with a loud moan, ropes of white splattering against the mirror. His hips continue to swing practically by themselves, body begging for more. Only once they've both emptied their balls all over their poor reflections does he stop, forehead pressed against Frey's shoulder while he catches his breath.

"Stay here, I'll clean us up," he instructs, pressing a chaste kiss to Frey's cheek before pulling away and hurrying to the bathroom. He washes the juices from his hands and wipes his cock with a moist cloth before returning to Frey's side and gently wiping him off in turn. When he's finished, he tosses the soiled cloth in his hamper and tugs Frey's clothes back into their proper place. "You did so well, puppy." He'll worry about the mirror (and his poor carpet) later. If it weren't likely to turn Frey right back on, he'd order him to lick it up.

He takes a moment to straighten his clothes before taking hold of the leash around Frey's neck, pressing a lingering kiss to the taller man's sweaty forehead before tugging him out the door. He tries to ignore the surprised stares from passersby as he pulls Frey through the cathedral's hallways but he can't seem to control the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. When they pass by the painting they'd been standing in front of minutes ago, it graduates to a slightly manic grin.

His car is parked out back in one of the reserved spaces. It's nothing especially fancy, just a black BMW, but it smells new despite his having owned it for some five years. He doesn't get to use it often, after all.

The wind is a bit biting outside, which is good for helping him regain his senses. He's almost entirely settled back into his bones as he holds the passenger door open for Frey. Afterwards, he climbs into the driver's seat and proceeds toward the city hall. "Do you dance, Frey?"

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

credits

 

[PavellumPendulum]

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FREY

Between the solidity of Rhydian's chest against his back, his coaxing, deep voice against his flush ears and the unyieldingly sweet pumping of his cock in that steady, slick hand, Frey had no chance of holding back his release. It wasn't as though he tried though, so pitifully ready to burst at the slightest stimulation, already putty in the Bishop's hand the moment he'd reached out to touch him. He let himself go, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and body wracked with spasms, an absolute mess undone in under a minute, gasping and choking as Rhydian's hand milked him straight through his orgasm. Immediately, he was lightheaded, breathing heavily and lips gleaming with saliva, feeling the Bishop's thick cock against him, putting pressure against the plug.

"Puh... Puppy n-needs you, I- ugh," his voice was fragile, weak and broken, begging without an ounce of shame and following Rhydian's goading wherever it would take him, "I- ah, need to be f-full, please, Master..." Even the rutting alone was making his dick twitch against the hand that so diligently stroked it, but when abandoned, Frey whimpered, lashes darkened by quickly drying tears.

The cool air brushed against his sweat damp skin when his underwear and shorts met the floor around his ankles, his whining growing louder when Rhydian's cock slid through the space between his thighs. He became jealous of the air underneath his weeping dick, of the ring of the Bishop's fingers, stretched by the sacredness of that thick cock, but it didn't matter. Obediently, he held his scarred thighs together, arms reached back and clinging to Rhydian any way that he could, the feeling of hips flush against ass so good that it made him feel dizzy. The force behind it was so wonderful that he wished it would break something, anything, so that he could keep the wound to remember this moment. The thought was enough to make him cum again, keening sweetly and softly.

The bruises that would soon form on his hips would have to do as souvenirs, since soon enough, Rhydian's seed mixed with his own, spraying forwards and coating both the floor and the mirror. "Thank you, your excellency..." he sighed reverently, his voice tear-stained. Tiredly, eyes half-lidded, he resisted the urge to get down on his hands and knees and lick up the mess they'd made, only because the Bishop had told him to stay, which also meant to wait. With professional ease, he was cleaned up and tugged out of the room by the leash, which he was all too happy to submit to, the erotic haze of his mind cleared for now, at the very least.

The evening sky was dark already, the breeze nipping at his exposed skin. If he didn't naturally run hot, especially after cumming his brain out, it would have perhaps bothered him a touch, but it didn't. Into the car he went, the door held open by the Bishop even though he had moved to tend to it himself (his excellence had already looked after him enough that day). Frey set his eyes on his superior the way a well-trained pet would do, though he avoided his eyes, gazing upon his hands, shoulders and chest while he drove. The Lady had blessed him with a hallowed body, one that brought purity to the world. Frey hoped that he smelled like him.

"I have not, your excellency." he responded diligently, eyes still trained on him instead of the outside world that he so seldom visited, "I will learn tonight if you ask it of me."

The drive took a matter of minutes, the smooth purr of the Bishop's vehicle flowing over them. Frey watched Rhydian drive as though he never needed to blink, running his tongue over his teeth and rubbing his thumb against the back of his hand in meditative, rhythmic circles. City hall's gothic architecture was adorned with the glow of orange and yellow lights, jack'o'lanterns carved and lit at every corner. With the vehicle parked in the admittedly near full parking lot, Frey followed Rhydian to the lavish tented areas on the well-manicured lawn, surrounded by trimmed hedges. Various politicians and the like lounged, clad in costumes as some live band played in a corner, though Frey neither recognized nor paid any attention to any of them, always a step behind Rhy with his eyes lowered reverently.

"Ah, Bishop Davenport, welcome!" he heard the bellow of an older man, liquor dripping from their friendly tone, "I see you've brought a pet! How fun." Frey did not look at him, but he could see the politician's expensive shoes in the grass, shined and free of scuffs as he approached.

「 🕳 」

code by wren.