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Inbox: Golden Peacock
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▶ ACTION
25 / male / yes / 7♦️
Details
Back home, I'm a noble, the son of a Margrave, but for most of my life I've been a knight and a soldier. I'm mostly just looking for a good time and people who are open-minded enough to enjoy it with me, maybe try out some new things. There's a lot here I've never gotten to experience and I'm interested in changing that.
Outside of that, I'm a connoisseur of fine food and fine teas. I enjoy cooking, gardening, horseback riding, chess, and discussing a wide variety of topics, whether it's art, fiction, theoretical ideals, or more esoteric topics.
Enjoying myself to the fullest here. Making conections and meeting new people. Experiencing all this place has to offer and finding those interested in exploring it with me.
Varied and many. I had a robust interest in pursuing pleasures of all sorts back home and I hope to keep expanding that knowledge and skillset here.
I enjoy books on a variety of topics, but I've never seen a movie. Plays and operas are far more common in my world and a comparible form of entertainment. I like a wide variety of dishes and have a fondness for trying new dishes from distant places. I have a fondness for spices and rich flavors.
I'm very adaptable and tend to adjust to whoever I'm with, making this a very broad category, since I have a varied taste in companions as well, depending on my mood. I find people interesting and like as many varieties here as I do in my favorite dishes.
both, depends on the atmosphere
.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES
neither
.03 SHOWER OR BATH
yes
.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS
what does this even mean??? and what's a nija?
.05 TITS OR ASS
yes
.06 COFFEE OR TEA
tea, although coffee is interesting, i will have to try more of it
.07 SPICY OR SWEET
spicy
.08 SUMMER OR WINTER
both have their fine qualities
.09 LEATHER OR LACE
depends on who's wearing it. some people are just very much one or the other.
10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX
yes
Campaigner: ENFP-A
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Beautiful [ he murmurs. the sound. The sight. The want and surrender. And Basch is aware how skilled the other is, some strange mix of familiarity and delight. Like they were made for this, together. Like Sylvain wants him in a way neither of them fully grasps.
Well, he wants Sylvain too. Wants this shared indulgence.
He tangles fingers in Sylvain's hair, encouraging more than guiding; the other doesn't need much guidance. But it sends fresh heat through him, to keep the other locked onto him, encouraging a pace, holding him where he wants. One leg edges so his foot can brush the other's thigh, wanting all of him in an impossible way. ]
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The sounds he makes are muffled around the cock pressing deep into his mouth, into his throat, as muscles work to accommodate him, swallowing around him. It blocks his airway in short, choking swallows, but he relishes it, revels in it. His mind is blissfully blank and quiet - something he didn't even know was possible. It's a release and a freedom all it's own. To not be him, to be something else, something new. Pliable and molded by the man he leans into, by the steady guiding hand in his hair.
Basch's foot nudges against his thigh and he unconsciously spreads his legs a little wider for him in response, whimpering in need before the sound chokes off around the man's cock again. Skin flushed and trembling, eyes dark and hazy and unfocused. His bound cock jolts in its restraint - so close to that nudge but not close enough to touch, only be teased with the promise of it, when he aches to be touched with a desperation that leaves him breathless and dizzy. ]
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For now, for today, this was good. More than good. He needed it to be. Needed sylvain to yearn for this. He’d just forgotten how much he’d be teaching himself to yearn, too. ]
Oh you are good at this. That’s it. Mmm you’re hungry for more aren’t you? Keep that up, good, yes—
[ he talks them both through it, hand tight and guiding, and he absolutely relishes how little time it takes to coax him to release, choking sylvain with his spend, moaning the others name in approval.
And wanting to kiss and pamper him, wanting to shout to the room how perfect his pet is.
Instead, he holds the other to him until he’s done trembling with aftershock, then tips that face to his. ]
I am going to free your phenomenal mouth, and you are going to tell me how you’d like to be pleased. That performance deserves a reward.
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Even then, Basch holds him in place by his grip on his hair, and there's still no resistance in him. Even if he should probably be horrified. Furious. Rebelling. All those urges are a distant thing, muffled and stuffed down where they can't break through the quiet haze that's wrapped around him. Silenced all his thoughts, all his fears and insecurities. All the other voices and their sharp words that so often circle around inside his head.
Right now? They don't matter. Only Basch's voice fills his ears, his thoughts, and there's something of a relief in that, even when there shouldn't be. But Basch has done nothing but murmur soft praises in his ears and there's some aching, desperate part of him that craves that even more than oxygen.
He's trembling too, but he doesn't try to pull away, merely rests there where Basch holds him in place, his own skin flushed and pulse pounding loudly in his ears. His cock still aching hard against the restraint of the ring that binds him, leaking in such a way that the fabric he wears is now wet with it, making him shift with a quiet whimper. ] ]
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Slowly he pulls back, still holding Sylvain's head in place, guiding it back. And when he drops out, his free hand comes to gently wipe saliva from the other's sex-swollen mouth. ]
You must be aching, pet. Do you want my hand or my mouth for being so perfect?
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Eyes hazy and dazed, he can only blink up at the man leaning over him, head still tipped backwards in an implacable grip. Body trembling as he gasps raggedly for air, feeling flushed and too-hot all over. Feverish as his mind tries to parse that question. He hasn't quite gone completely nonverbal - or at least remained sunken that low - but thinking is opening happening in fits and starts before getting derailed all over again by the cacophony of demands he doesn't even know how to begin to sort through. It's overwhelming. ]
I don't... I need... Please...
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Come, into my lap, back to me.
[ It's an order, but his voice is gentle and coaxing. And he'd rather have use of his hands and mouth to make this as pleasurable as possible. ]
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It shifts the toy within him again, rubbing it against sensitive nerves and making him shudder and cry out, breathless and needy. His cock, still bound and tucked away in the tight restraint of his clothing - as provocative as it is - strains against the ring, against the fabric, leaking copiously now, the fabric soaked around its head.
His hands fly to Basch's shoulders in an attempt to steady himself, clinging to him, even as his hips rock, as if trying to chase some sort of phantom friction, finding nothing. He grinds down against the man's thigh, but that only makes the need worse. ]
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Good. Take your desire [ he murmurs for Sylvain only, his hand going to stroke the other's cock through the fabric, almost cruelly gentle. His lips curl at the wetness there. And he can't resist his other hand going to tug that heavy chain again. Spent as he is, he still feels the twinge of heat in his core, wanting to feel Sylvain pleasure himself against his thigh, or to fill the other and leave him trembling like the last time. ]
Why do you resist it so? [ his fingers, still teasing, start to undo the fastening on his pants. ] I could have bounced you in my lap, had you come on my hand, put my fingers down your tongue and my hand on your cock, mouht on your neck, had every piece of you filled or cupped.
[ He'll do his best now, but not in a hurry. ]
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A side that would come out more and more, with time, with coaxing affection, with unheard of trust the redhead has never before extended. Even now, with this only a spelled mimicry of it, cloaked in magic, he aches for that connection. The magic giving him a taste of something he hadn't even realized he was starved for. Basch's hands on his skin, those softly crooned praises. The heat that envelops him so deeply and thoroughly that it's easy to forget the cold, disdainful distance he's been trapped in for so long.
Of course he resisted it. It's terrifying in its own way, the hold this man already has over him. How easily he can bring those thick, defensive walls smashing down around him, opening up every want and need Sylvain has struggled for so long to keep hidden. How already, they're crumbling faster, easier, and not reforming as strong as they'd once been. Already, this man - and his magic - was creeping below the surface, opening him up while tightening his hold - his resistance barely even mattered at this point, more out of stubborn habit than anything.
Basch's hands on him have him arching into that touch with a whimpered cry. The tug on the chain sending sharp pleasure along his nerves as they pull his piercings taut. And the hand on his cock - Goddess, he needs more, but the brush of fingers through the nearly-sheer material is nowhere near firm enough.
While he would have fought and argued every single one of those options before the heat took hold, washed over him with relentless need, now they sounded like the best thing ever. Things he craved as much as breathing. He wanted nothing more to feel Basch's hands on him, in him. To have every part of him filled or cupped - just as teased. ]
Please...! [ he gasps out again, head falling back as another tug on his chains has him arching with a strained cry, one that chokes off into an almost-sob. ] Please. I'm sorry. I want that...!
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I want to be very clear. I want your cries and your pleas and your beautiful begging-- [ He squeezes the other's cock, leaning in to kiss him hard, to give him a moment of all the stimulation he wants.
And then he draws back, fierce, a white-hot simmering underneath. At whatever has made Sylvain think this would appease. At himself for drawing it out. ]
I do not want your apologies. Ever.
[ This was not a punishment. This was not meant to shame or bully.
His hand makes it through the fastenings and he releases Sylvain's cock, wrapping his hand around the generous length and circling his thumb around the tip, wet and sticky despite the ring. ] There is nothing wrong with you. You do not disappoint me.
[ He kisses his jaw, holding his head in place, sucking hard. His hand slides down his shaft, over the ring, to knead at his sack, strong legs wrapping around the other's to hold him in place and give him something to push against.
He shifts the hand on his jaw, fingers on Sylvain's lips -- and invitation, if he wants them inside. ]
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And then Basch drags him down for a hard, bruising kiss, his hand squeezing tight around his cock in a way that has him crying out, the sound muffled into the kiss as his head spins.
He expects the words to fall like heavy blows - as they have always done. And at first they do. With his walls crumbled, he flinches, unable to hide the instinctive reaction, expecting the anger - or worse - to cut into that vulnerability. But while that white-hot simmers in Basch's eyes, in the firmness of his tone and grip, the words... are not what he expects. And the refusal to hear apologies... just has his eyes widening in confusion, latching onto the other man's face. Completely uncomprehending.
Even the praise just adds to his confusion - not that he has long to focus on that. Not when Basch's fingers find his cock, draw him out and begin to stroke. It drives the icy fear out of him once more as he whimpers into that kiss, his lips bruising, breath catching in his throat, and then the mouth moves to his jaw, sucks sharp, stinging redness into his skin and he shatters all over again as those hands work his cock, his balls. Making it impossible to think, impossible to be afraid, to worry.
He just wants. And when those fingers slide against his lips, there is nothing but eagerness as he parts them, sucks on the fingers hungrily as his hips rock into the stroke of that hand. Chasing it. ]
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No one will hurt his pet again. Himself included.
He slides those fingers in, moaning prettily for Sylvain. He pulls the other back against him, flush and stable and warm, before he begins stroking his ringed cock in earnest, palm interrupted by the bite if it with each stroke. ]
You are beautiful and hungry and pliant and perfect, Sylvain. I will keep you spoiled and safe.
[ And then he’s sucking marks into his neck, hands still working, trusting the toys to do their job. Overstimulation is the goal, and then he will keep the other in his lap, dazed and relaxed, show everyone that this is his and off limits. ]
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But now? Now he has no choice, that control torn from his gasp and flung so far away it might as well not even have existed. Instead, there is only Basch's hands, his mouth. The stinging kisses to his throat, the fingers pressing against his tongue, back to his throat, demanding his utter surrender.
It's the hand stroking his cock, dragging whimpers and desperate cries from him as he rocks into it, chases that heated friction. Its the shift of the toy within him, rubbing against sensitive muscles that clench and shudder, aching to be filled, stretched, aching for more. The pleasure builds, but there's no outlet and he can only cling to the man he straddles and be carried along with it. ]
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His own hips begin to rock, half-hard cock pressing against Sylvain, breath raspy and wanting. Finally his mouth breaks away, knowing words can help push that last bit. ]
Look at you, beauty. Everyone else is. They’re so jealous of you, here on my lap being pampered, and of me getting to do it. You’ve managed these toys so well. I want to hear you crest. Come for me, pet, sing. Grip onto me like you’ll blow away if you don’t. Wear my mark to remind you how beautiful it was.
[ his lips are back, hard on his jaw, and he can tell from the desperate whines and please sylvain is close. ]
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Basch's words are the permission the magic was waiting for - what he was waiting for - and the keen that leaves his lips is wanton and needy and breathless. Muffled around the fingers still pressing against his tongue, Basch's name might slip free in between the whimpered pleas as his body rocks, then tenses, shuddering, as that pleasure crests within him. Spills as he arches into that touch, cock pulsing hotly as he jolts and shudders, swept away by the intensity of it. Especially when those lips and teeth leave even more redness in his flesh. And something in him thrills at being so claimed, so marked. ]
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He works him through it, reveling in every sound and movement, and when the other starts to slump, he twists him in his lap, guiding his head to his shoulder, his arms up around his neck. He doesn't give a thought to the sticky spend between them, just cradles Sylvain to him, fingers still lightly stroking his softening cock while the others comb in his hair. ]
Good boy. Exactly what I wanted. And what you wanted.
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Still gasping for air when the stimulation doesn't end. It softens, and he all but melts into Basch's hands, but the movement - around his cock and in his hair - means that heat keeps simmering. The murmured praises in his ear only have him a moaning, twitching mess in Basch's lap.
But the words sink in all the same. Rouse a rush of pleasure at being a good boy. At pleasing his master. And the cracks widen a little further, a little deeper, as the acknowledgement of I wanted this sinks into his thoughts, tightening their grasp until he forgot that maybe that hadn't been entirely true. Or perhaps just a truth he hadn't been ready to face yet. ]
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And now he can go for what he really wants. ]
How are you doing, pet? Too tired? I promised you one more thing in that fantasy you asked me for so prettily.
[ He turns Sylvain's face out to him, pressing their lips together slow and firm, tongue sweeping out to find the other's before he tugs on his lip, working his mouth with his own. His cock stirs at it, and he moans for Sylvain to feel. ]
I want to take that toy out of your ass-- [ another kiss ] and fill you properly instead. Make sure you can feel me when this dream of a night is over. Make sure everyone knows how thoroughly you are mine, so lead or not, you are safe.
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He shudders against Basch, lips parting into that kiss. Those moans sending little shivers through him, even if some part of him is surprised by it. By how much he wants what the man describes. The words paint a picture so vivid that it’s easy to imagine it, and the next natural step after that is of course, to crave it. To want something more than the shallow toy in his ass. To be claimed by the man who holds him so tenderly, praises and promises sweet in his ears.
Safety. He’s not sure he believes it’s real, but he wants it all the same. ]
Please. [ His voice is a breathless rasp against Basch’s lips as he clings to him. Rocks into the slide of that hand, then down onto the lengthening hardness he can feel caught beneath him. Grinds against it with aching want. ] I want that.
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Good [ he says, closing the space between their lips again. And he just takes a moment to cradle and stroke the other, making good on the promise of safety, and safety to come. ]
Alright [ he murmurs ] Get these off for me. They're too tight for you to straddle me. [ there's a tease in the order, expecting the image will rile Sylvain up now rather than mortify him, but still curious if the other man will balk at half-disrobing in this place. But his point stands. Sylvain needs the added mobility. ]
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He pushes up on his knees, breath still coming in ragged little pants, eyes dark and locked on Basch. His hands fall away from Basch's shoulders to fumble with the fastenings on the side, the strange clothing actually having been a fortuitous choice when they can be removed like this instead of him even having to climb off of the man's lap.
He tugs the all-but-sheer fabric away, leaving him bared from the waist down, nothing left but the ring around the base of his cock and the toy still lodged in his ass. He shivers, self-conscious, even though he's only aware of Basch's gaze on him. But that's enough. ]
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You are exactly my taste [ He says with a warm kiss, guiding Sylvain's arms back around his neck before his own hands venture down to caress Sylvain's back, his ass, then coax the toy out and toss it aside. Leaving the other empty, he begins to massage the backs of his thighs. ]
You'll have to get me hard again, pet.
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Or wants something more. Something that has his gaze dropping hungrily to Basch's half-hard cock once more, licking his lips in memory. ]
Should I...? [ he shifts back uncertainly, unsure what Basch wanted him to do, after he'd drawn his arms back to his neck. Was he meant to get back on his knees? ]
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No, I want you here with me. Kiss me. Grind if you feel so inclined. You make me plenty hard. [ Information he's happy to let slip now, with the state of Sylvain, with how his want is breaking through the fear and the hatred. ]
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