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peacockstop2024-10-15 09:00 pm
TDM 06
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
On behalf of the house and resort, we would like to advise all Game 52 players to exercise caution around the Golden Peacock for the next few weeks. The veil between 'what is' and 'what has been' grows thin and the threads of fate have tangled in unexpected ways. We are currently observing how these two phenomena behave when they occur simultaneously and act in concert.
We advise that all guests monitor their physical states until the veil thickens once again and the threads of fate return to running parallel. If you find yourself undergoing any strange transformations, please report to the Broken Wing clinic for observation. We will do our utmost to make sure you are comfortable during this time.
You may also notice other strange phenomena around the Golden Peacock while the veil is thin. Please continue to exercise caution. New wayward spirits have joined us during this time. While spirits are crossing, it is possible for guests to get swept along into the ghostly realm.
As always, please let us know if there is anything we can do to improve your stay. 】
HEADS
TAILS
MAIN LOBBY
BACK HALLWAYS & STAIRS
MONSTER MASH
THE VALE
SMOKED EGG
BALANCE RETURNS
OOC NOTES
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's October event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from October 15th - November 3rd. All supernatural phenomenon will increase in strength over time, culminating in peak activity on All Hallows' Eve. The days following Halloween will relax, leading into eventual normalcy. Some locations are spared the supernatural frenzy, so players can play as normal if they wish to avoid these tropes/prompts. Players may assume that the supernatural come and go in the above specifically incorporated locations.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate. This TDM in particular has the potential to get real wild, so we want to emphasize this request!
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Go forth and let your freak flag fly!
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[ Monsters and all.
Pinocchio struggles to comprehend why this is so viscerally satisfying, he has never been thirsty, so he doesn't know the profound relief of slaking it with cool water. He has never starved, so he cannot understand the comfort of a full belly. The connection and warmth of welcome touch and being welcomed in return makes him feel a little like an empty vessel gradually being filled back up.
Months he learned to live like a person and not a puppet, but still he's unused to such offers as take care of each other. Letting out a slow sigh, he nods against his forehead. ] We'll find a way through, we always do.
...I'm cold, [ he confesses in a whisper, barely above the rumble he coaxes. There's a scrape against his scalp where Eiden's claws graze him. That's a different sort of shiver. ] This helps. Nothing else does.
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[ he asks just to be sure, scritching softly again at the base of p's skull, shifting now as though trying to get in even closer. he doesn't feel a need to defend himself now, so he winds himself further and further around him. his voice stays low as he strokes across the other's cheek with a clawed thumb. ]
If you're supposed to keep me safe... then let me keep you warm for a while.
[ p is just as sweet - even if there is something he's perhaps guarding. eiden's tail slows its lashing to a gentle, inquisitive, trailing warmly along p's arm, his side. his face flushes just a little, because even the proximity alone is enough for him, to reassure himself that he's real, to find his eyes with his own, trace the shape of him in memory. ]
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Eiden has always and ever cared about the people he meets, this much must be true, because he has never been anything but. It didn't matter if the atmosphere at the resort was peaceful or tense, his consistency made him reliable in ways Pinocchio wasn't used to.
He believes him. In his offer. Betrayed by any level of intimate relation, even by his own creator and father, he believes in Eiden. In the silence, he sinks into the promise of a thumb drawn affectionately over a cheekbone, in the intimacy of breath shared, the brush of a tail that can't quite keep from touching him. Eiden has always seen him, not whatever he was built to be, and he's still learning how to repay him, still learning what it means to be him and not the more worthy son he was crafted to resemble.
Embracing him wholly, the puppet's arms curl around him, a human hand sinking into his hair--fur, he supposes, though it's as soft as he remembers. Warmth floods to his every extremity, its source the heavy thudding of his clockwork heart. This is right, his Ergo whispers, this is what he needs. ]
You're...
[ He's startled by the sensation that paints a hot path down one freckled cheek. He has cried before, but never in this instance. Grief, for his fath-- for his creator and all that was possible, but never achieved, but never because of... the thing that burns hot in his breast. ]
You're kind, Eiden. [ A word he almost chokes on for its unfamiliarity. He pushes into his brow, the cupid's bow of his mouth turning down against the weight of emotion. ] You're so kind.
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Missed you...
[ tail lifted, shivering a bit as he presses p down onto his back. his eyes go big, as if to drink in as much of him as he possibly can in a handful of heartbeats. ]
And here you are, like a dream.
[ a good one, finally. eiden's been tired of nightmares. clawed fingers trail downwards over p's shirt, nipping at buttons with the tips of his claws under he can trail one over his waistline. his tongue slides out briefly, licking his teeth as he meets the other's eyes. his hands press against his shoulders, down his sides, squeezing with the tips of his claws tapping feather-light. ]
I don't have to wake up yet, right...?
[ this entire experience, being a monster, has already made him wonder if he even woke up from going to sleep the night prior. what is all this but some joke, surely?
he's back he's back he's back. ]
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Pinocchio's breath, an imitation of the basic need of other humans, gusts out of him when his back hits the ground, yet his arms reach up for him, inviting him near, wanting, needing every inch of him that the puppet can still touch.
Missed you. A sentiment that his heart has felt before, but lacked the vocabulary. They open it like the sun opens a flower; he's pressed down into the soft earth, but his chin and shoulders lean up like he means to defy gravity, to cleave to the negligible space between. Pinocchio seeks his mouth with lips parted, invitingly open, all but innocent, humming into the seal formed when he can finally fit his plush lips over Eiden's questing mouth.
He doesn't have to wake from a dream that's all too real. Not when Eiden, exactly as he is, no matter how he's been twisted into anything else, is still the same man that has won a puppet over. His tongue, warm, wet, soft, presses past the sweet-soft barrier of Eiden's lips, the hard shapes of his teeth, seeking something more.
Please. All he has ever wanted is to be real enough for... this. To like. To want. ]
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eiden starts with clothing, pushing p's shirt up from his waist, rucking it up high under his arms so he can pull from the kiss just to look at him heatedly. his tongue slides from his mouth and he licks up the line from navel to the space between his pectorals, to open-mouthed teethe over where his body pistons onward.
in doing so, his hands chase downwards next, push trousers open and down so there's nothing but the chill of the ground beneath them both, the silhouette of eiden's figure almost imposing with how worked up his gotten. ]
I want to hear you... will you let me?
[ use your voice. as he kneads his thighs slowly, leans in to kiss his mouth again, swept up with tongue and teeth and nibbling on his lower lip. ]
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It doesn't escape his notice that this has happened before. Not so much the reunion, but the easy descent into mutual touch and deepening affection. Perhaps the puppet is so hungry for a thing his heart scarcely understands that he grasps for anything resembling its ardor, heedless of its source. That denies Eiden's storied history of influencing and drawing others to his side, denies the very real attachment that has grown between him and a puppet who dared become something more.
He knows what shame is, but it has no shape for him like this, out in the open, scantily lit by the nearby lantern and wreathed in shadow. Eiden pushes up the ruffled shirt with its plunging neckline, extracting its hem from the high waist of his breeches and Pinocchio's eyes seem darker like this, with the way pupils swallow the glassy blue. His lips are not swollen or dark, like the kissbitten should be, he doesn't sweat, but his chest rises and falls in the imitation of desire.
Pinocchio has felt teeth on him before, he's been savaged by them, has endured with stoic agony when they've torn pieces from him. But the sensitive flinch under the scrape of Eiden's sharp teeth, his spit a cooling trail up his belly and chest, is instead chased by the surge of his shoulders up from the grass. Actuators chug and whirr in his prosthesis. It's the more human-seeming hand that cards into his mane, hips nudging at the air and heels digging the earth as he pulls open his breeches, and drags them down from slender thighs.
Compliments to Eiden are abundant; the gentle arc of his not insignificant girth (and that, courtesy of the House's lie-related gift the first time around) is already fattened up with interest. Imposing as Eiden is like this, in the heavy silence between them as they drink in the sight of one another, the puppet's fondness is tinged with hunger. His teeth sink briefly into the plush lower ribbon of his lip.
Like a magnet, he's pulled toward Eiden, craving contact. He leans up to meet Eiden's mouth with his, lips parted and soft, fingers spread over the contours of his chest, following the slope of his waist, seeking the sharps of his hips. His own tongue curls under his, soft, his taste curiously neutral, but the shameless confidence of the hand that searches out the shape of Eiden's cock, to squeeze in invitation, that's as much an affirmative as his nodding reply.
It's emotion, not coercion, that pinches his expression, his pounding heart feeling full. ]
Anything. [ He means that. Eiden could have anything, but Pinocchio's services, his love, have always come stained in blood and oil. ] Anything you want. However you want. I...
[ A terrifying thrill it is to have a voice, to use it to say what he wants, and the rush of validation when it's a receptive audience is a heady one. ] Want you to be all I feel, Eiden.
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as they mingle, he tries to work his own way out of his shirt, already full with the sight of the other. tossing it away he reveals the soft, creamy fluff that spreads down his collarbones and lightly over his pectorals, warm handfuls in p's travels in mapping out his body, and fading out. eiden licks softly at his mouth between his sentences, chasing the sound of his voice, laying hands on him lower, between his thighs, fingers curling around his shaft. Anything. the word capitlizes itself in eiden's head.
he breathes him in, suffuses himself in the other and how it matches up piece for piece in his memory. his hips wiggle a little, betraying both excitement and the uncontainable thrill - he's back. right? the hand between his own thighs certainly says as much and he tips his head back a moment, takes in the feeling, the sound of his every word.
at the familiar syllables of his name, he turns his eyes to look up at him, tooth caught at the edge of his lips like a lone pearl. he nuzzles his cheek softly, stroking down once out of curiosity, then up, thumb caressing the shape of him, tracing, chasing. ]
Then relax for me, okay? I'll take care of you.
[ something entirely eiden, a wink, cheeky and silly before he's overtaken again with the swell of their scents intermingling, of heat blooming in different ways between the both of them. he wets his own lips and it isn't long before he's shifting to slowly crawl his way down the line of his body, nosing and nuzzling on the way down, lips coming to a stop just shy of the base of his cock. ]
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He'd be lying to himself if he claimed he didn't feel some twinge of self-consciousness as he hears Eiden taking his scent; Pinocchio is keenly aware that he smells of machine oil and metal, and without the daily indulgence in a hot shower and fragrant soap, the scent becomes intrusive, obvious.
Eiden lavishes attention on him, so ardent and undeterred; it convinces him it's not a problem.
Relax for him, he asks. I'll take care of you. That sentiment comes for the puppet's throat in a way too many of Eiden's sweet words have; Pinocchio, speechless, answers his cheek with a dive forward to chase down the pearl of a fang with a stamp of his lips. The peck is chaste, but the stare he sends him as he eases back on his elbows, fingers trailing away from Eiden's cock with reluctance, is anything but.
Soft sighs follow Eiden on his way down. Pinocchio's shoulders betray his instinct to chase, to do anything but lie on his back, curling up from the ground and dropping back with a huff when his hot breath curls around every part of him that yearns for his touch. He tickles and tantalizes, winding up the puppet with anticipation. Scarcely touched and yet hard enough that the blunt head of his uncut cock knocks against his belly at the sight of him so close, his left arm chugs as he brings it up and back, gripping the grass behind him, biting his lower lip. ]
I'll be good. For now, [ he adds, a bit of breathless cheek. There's more than a modest mouthful waiting; the first time he came to the Resort, the House had given him a very peculiar gift. Each lie he told, each omission of the truth had made a part of him grow alright, but unlike the famous Kratian tale, it wasn't his nose. At least he figured it out before a present turned into a problem. ]
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[ the last polite conversation he makes before he takes the head of him into his mouth, soft breath leaving him as he swallows the tip and wets it liberally with the softness under his tongue, the velvety sensation of his cheeks. he hums in taking him down, truly seeming to enjoy it as he makes a noise and sinks an inch or two down with a gradual bobbing of his head.
as his eyes flick upwards, eiden can't help but feel a warmth fill his chest, flood his body as he enjoys him with care. a hand keeps steady on the shaft of pinocchio's cock. this damn place is always so hungry and eiden can feel the way it urges him on, makes him insatiable, more so than usual.
pulling off him with a loud pop, lewd and slick-lipped, eiden licks his mouth in true feline fashion, teeth stark in the dark. ]
But you'll find out that it's going to be hard.
[ eiden gives the space between pinocchio's cock and sac rest, nuzzling just a little bit before now beginning to trail messily further down between his thighs towards the cleft of his ass where he spreads him slowly. ]
rimming? it's not even my birthday!
Eiden's glance up catches him unaware, his lips parted, soft, his attention rapt with the delicious distraction of his mouth. He's conflicted in his yearning; he trusts Eiden, and the sweet, wet ministrations of his mouth make him ache to press deeper into him, but my, what sharp teeth he has. It's going to be hard is a double-entendre and when it's caught up to him the puppet's answering laugh is just this side of giddy.
This isn't his first time feeling a man's mouth sink over his cock, but it is the first time anyone has done this. Curiosity pulls him from the haze of pleasure as he feels his hot breath curl around the sack that hugs taut against the base of his cock. The wet sweep of tongue along his perineum is so unfamiliar that he jolts.
He was told to relax, but he wants to know what he's doing. The puppet's prosthesis whirs to life and he curls forward. Wearing his surprise in wide eyes and eyebrows shot up through dark hair, his breath caves in his chest when he huffs: ] Eiden!
[ It's not a protest. None of his posture reads like a refusal — shoulders curled forward, propped up by his steel arm, the other hand fisted at his mouth, halfway to turning on a hip to help by lifting one slender thigh, his blue eyes dark, pupils blown. ]
any day ending in 'y'
a noise leaves him, half-snarl, wet and starving. he's careful, tongue curling against the skin, wet and warm while his hands keep his hips steady.
seeing pinocchio's dark hair fall into his face, the silhouette of his body so dangerously yet beautifully arced forward as his mouth and fist make contact. a blink to commit the pose to memory - like a perfectly contraposto statue in a museum. eiden's claws prick further against pinocchio's thighs as he licks again and again, wadding drool on the tip of his tongue as he presses further on. ]
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He bites at his own fist, grounding himself, lashes sweeping low as he starts to sink into the sensation. It's as though his tongue seeks to smooth out every wrinkle, his leg twitches, his upraised heel swaying in the air, and he hastily grabs at the underside of his thigh with his metal hand. This costs him a way to prop himself up, and his back inevitably unspools to the ground. ]
Ohh, [ pliant and pink, his hole winks against his tongue, and in hearing the shiver in his exhalation, Pinocchio bubbles up another brief laugh. His head rolls to the side, chin tipping down, his hand palming the arc of his cock — because he wants to see Eiden — the half masted droop of his eyelids lends a hazy look to his pleasure. ]
That tickles, a little. It feels really good. [ a sigh caves his chest as another movement of supple tongue makes his spine arch and his thigh twitch under the steely clasp of his fingers. ] Being with you... always feels so good.
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it's an unusual way to say hello, but he doesn't mind it. his mouth shifts upwards briefly to nip at his innermost thigh, washing over it with his tongue and letting out another one of those contented rumbles. he smells good, irresistable even, and all eiden can do is nuzzle in and continue his task, tongue prodding and pressing against him, thumbs splaying him open as he folds said tongue to continue to leave a wetter and wetter trail, striping up his taint, mouthing at his sac with a sweet noise.
he wants to fuck him - that's really what he wants to do - an image of holding him tightly to his chest, hips pistoning into him. he whines as the mere thought makes him drool, makes him wet for it as his nose bumps into p's cock again. insufferably beautiful, both with his tender words and the way his arousal stands proudly. if he leans up to rub his cheeks against the shaft of it, well. ]
Tempting... to finish you off just like that. You taste so good...
[ licking his lips, fingertips drawing over his tongue now before slipping between p's thighs, one prodding his hole, spit slick, the other pulling open the plush cheek of his bottom, exposing him to eiden enough that he just grins and nuzzles right in to kiss against right over that twitching hole. ]
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There, he found betrayal and faith, compassion and cruelty, death upon death upon death. Here, rich experiences beyond compare, the sweetest poison to a heart that yearns to understand what it means to beat. Eiden has every ounce of trust Pinocchio knows to give anyone; his litany rises from sighs and soft noises of pleasure to a full-throated moan at the press of tongue and fingers.
He could come like this, rubbing his cock needily against the soft fur of his cheek, Eiden's finger pulling so deliciously at his rim. The puppet keens, and that's when he thinks of it. How much he needs Eiden's breath, his delight in his ear, the heat of his desire inside him, how good it could be, how much better, if Eiden could feel this good with him. ]
I... can't— won't.
[ Shame isn't what holds his tongue. He doesn't know that particular feeling, what sticks in his throat is past experience: how dare you - you're just a puppet, nothing more! What burns it away... is the heat of Eiden's passion, freely given. His sincere warmth, that has always treated him the same as anyone else.
He reaches for him, pushing his fingers through soft fur, cradling his head in metal and seemingly flesh palms. His legs drop, open, without shame, taut belly tightening as he curls his upper body up off the ground, trying to coax him up. To a point, and then he attempts to roll Eiden onto his back, straddling him, chin tucked and hair a wavy, disheveled veil before his eyes.
It's perilous, exhilarating to say it, and his lip trembles on the end of a breath. ]
Not without you, Eiden, [ He wants, wants so badly he's shaking. ] I want you inside of me.
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his hands lay on his thighs, claws flexing to curl against him, pricking ever so slightly. he's beautiful, hovering over him, the arch of his body with the strength of it in display underneath, it makes his mouth wet. his cock twitches at the same time as his hips push upwards like an offering, an acceptance: both. ]
Then... don't let me stop you. You're right there after all...
[ letting fingers climb further up to hold the other's hips, curling his grip around his ass slowly.
it's true that this place is more of a cage than anything, but the people that eiden has met and come to care deeply about really shakes him to his core: ]
Please...
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[ Pinocchio is no praying man. Kratians kept their faith, some of them took the difficult trek year after year into the inhospitable peaks above the city, and when he made the ascent, he found only monsters and pain. The only time he has ever related to those penitent travelers is now, in the invocation of his name. A prayer on his lips.
He wants to please. Not anyone, just the ones who matter the most to his fledgling heart. ]
Eiden...
[ The puppet has seen a fern unfurl from an appealing, ever-tightening spiral that Gemini had called a "fiddlehead". The night turned into day, and as the feeble sunlight filtered down on the mountainside through rolling clouds, this solitary plant gradually unfurled under the stormy sky, drinking in the faint sunshine. That's how this feels. Like he's blooming under Eiden's touch, stretching and becoming something more.
'Please' is all he needs. Pinocchio's fist pushes up towards Eiden's weeping tip, now kissing the rim that flexes invitingly against his glans. He's wet, and so is Eiden, but Pinocchio is still inexperienced, and the blunted tip of Eiden's cock breaches him slowly, eventually tearing a low groan from his lips. His spine bows over Eiden's supine form, a bestial cock sinking slowly into a willing hole that trembles and spasms as it recalibrates around a larger girth than he expects.
Pinocchio's spine arches, his chest heaving in the moonlight, and dark lashes sweep freckled cheeks. His lips part, a shivery exhale shuddering out of him as he adjusts. Never has he felt this full, this... whole. He can't say a thing, and only presses one palm to his abdomen, low, near the root of his cock, feeling the heat and pressure of being filled, pressing against synthetic skin. ]
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[ the words are the barest peek of eiden's tenderness as his claws threaten to sink further into his prey. as a wholly sensual creature, eiden doesn't want to eat flesh and blood, he doesn't want to rend or tear. instead, he keens and arches up to meet him at that pace, white teeth glinting in wan moonlight.
he's trying to hold back, even as pinocchio bottoms out against him, even as they breath like one intertwined body. eiden's eyes go wide like a cat's, as p places a palm on his own belly. he knows he's tucked inside there, hot and wanting and he can't help but buck upwards.
he wants to make up for the time they've lost. with a growl, a deep rumble, he thrusts up again, bringing meaning to the word "ride" because pinocchio had best hold on. the invigoration of becoming this monster, sleek muscle and power, means that he's pinned, but not incapable of lifting with his heels sunken into the ground and his claws dig into the soft cheeks of his bottom.
his voice getting rougher, a pulled back snarl: ]
I'm going to fill you with everything I have... this place... [ thrusting again, for emphasis, eyes gone sharp again with the conviction of it as his tail wraps itself around one of pinocchio's calves, flicking at his heel. ] ... going to fuck you full, for all the time I missed with you...
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Puppets are not subject to the same experiences as human beings, Pinocchio has never been drunk, but he feels intoxicated by the sound of Eiden's voice, his keen, the rumble that answers Pinocchio's gasp, right on the heels of a thrust that judders the curl of dark hair that curtains one eye. On the sensation, the friction that's just on this side of rough and growing slicker for how Eiden's cock weeps into him. The puppet sways, gripping him by shoulder and chest, leaning forward, thighs seeming to bunch as simulated muscle brings his seat down to meet Eiden's hips in a clap muffled against fur.
This gasp is sharper — he likes that, the latent power in him, the roughening of that voice he cherishes, the bite of his claws — and he doesn't so much nod as his head sags forward, bobbing clumsily as he rides him.
Where he's pushed him open, Pinocchio aches, deep and hot. It's a kind of pain, he supposes, but one of the kinds he likes, the kind that ebbs with familiarity, the kind that will ache with the void in him when it's gone. He's full of him now, and that what he wants, and another smack when Eiden hilts himself in him seems to knock a sound — a huh! — up from his core.
The grip of his body ripples through a tremor. Stars above, the confidence and ease with which Eiden wields his body for pleasure... ]
Big words, ah—
[ The dark curls that bounce around his freckled face have draped his eyes in shadow, but the scant light caught in them still sparkles with mischief. Watching him. Watching Eiden as the round cheeks of his ass judder in his grip every time his hips drop to meet a thrust. A boyish smile lurks in the corner of his mouth, a whisper of something competitive and fond: ] Could, take all night.
[ He's aware of how heavy he is, so there's always some of the strength in his legs devoted to keeping the full brunt of it from crushing Eiden, but when leans back, he plants himself down. Grinding his captive cock, rocking against his hips, the puppet manages a strained taunt around the pleasure pulsing in time. ] Can you keep up?
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We go 'til you're satisfied.
[ a grin blooming out his mouth full of teeth, tongue flicking out to lick over his eyeteeth. ]
Because I know I can keep up... question is how long can you go at the pace you're - [ tilting his head back as he's stroked down with pinocchio's hot, hungry body. clawing a little more for purchase. ] - you're at... hah... nngh...
[ pinocchio has taken the weight on his hands, so eiden uses that to his advantage, forcing his hips closer, grinding him up and down with his claws sunken into him. he has fond memories, blade is enthusiastic, vigorous, brings him to the very brink of his limits and then pushes them. his own body now is far more durable than before - a byproduct of becoming so monstrous, and more still as his desires are fueled, a body pressed against his own so perfectly, their eyes meeting between strands of hair and thin droplets of exertion.
one of his hands slides downwards, fingers curling around pinocchio's generous cock and starting to stroke it. ]
I need to give every part of you it's proper attention, after all.
[ another sweet squeeze of his palm as he works up to his glans, thumb circling against it with dribbling pre and spit. ]
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His eyes have lidded over while doing so, as if he's tasting, in more ways than one, the way Eiden feels — inside him, touching him — and the intoxicating sound of his voice, when their repartee starts to fray under the heat of blazing pleasure. ]
Hhhn— [ he reopens his eyes, shamelessly rutting into Eiden's fist, the rise and fall of the puppet's body around him as inexorable and relentless as a rolling tide. ] You're so good at that.
[ There are those who would shy from this, from the way he leans forward, his torso bridging over Eiden's so that he might slot his mouth to his. It's a kiss that sees teeth clacking against fangs in his blind urgency. He doesn't care. One might suppose he doesn't need to, considering his manufactured origins, licking brazenly into his mouth, all thoughtless passion, thighs pushing hips up only to drop him flush against Eiden's lap again and again.
Eiden's tail is soft and warm, its fur tickles where it touches him, curled around his ankle. It seems strange that it should touch him so, with Eiden hitting so deep as he bounces on his lap, but it does. Sweet, like so many of those personal moments, words that he suspects might be everyday things to Eiden and yet pierce his golden heart.
His more human arm curls behind Eiden's head in an embrace, his questing tongue tracing the point of a fang. For all his challenges, it's Pinocchio who comes first, flesh quivering around his cock while he rides him through the messy drizzle of his spend over Eiden's knuckles. It isn't a thing done quietly, no, how can it be? But he's muffled the keen of Eiden's name into his furred neck, steel fingers carving furrows in the earth above his shoulder. ]
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Keep going - like this... beautiful...
[ eiden tightens his grip ever so slightly as p thrusts into his grip, a smile spreading over his lips as he enjoys the way his cock is taken root to tip over and over again, the ground beneath him slightly damp with dew and soaking into his fur and skin. he laughs as pinocchio pushes up against him again, propping his head up to kiss him.
he treats it slowly, indulgently, giving the other time to traverse the familiar and unfamiliar. eiden purely enjoys it, the tactility, the way p always feels like he means it. as he feels the spasming of his body, the prelude to release, eiden whines into his mouth, almost like he's wishing it wouldn't stop. one hand digs into his back as he holds fast to him as he rides, the other directing his cock to rut right up against his belly.
the resulting spend paints him, over his knuckles; warm, heaving skin, droplets flicked into his fur. eiden rumbles low in his throat in pleasure, his own body isn't far from his own release, breathing uneven as remains hard and hot inside of the other. ]
Fffuck... so close... [ laving warm and wet tongue against his face just before he can tuck it completely into his shoulder - ] You feel incredible.
[ instinct alone has him lifting a hand from the other's cock and licking his fingers clean in the space between them, his eyes heavy, hair slick with sweat as he quivers inside of him. he only comes when he turns to push his cheek against his own, fingers digging into him and thrusting in a steady rhythm, steady as a heartbeat before he spills inside of him, painting him hot white as he whines, thrusting slowly winding down as he gets lost nuzzling into him. ]
Hah... [ semi-hard still, squirming against his body. ] Something about... big words...?
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With Eiden, he feels like he can soar and reach anything, sink, and be safe. Drown, and catch his breath with a laugh in his breast. There is never condemnation. He welcomes his exploration patiently, indulgently. What is he to do? He can't go back to biting his tongue, to yearning in silence. Not after he's learned what it's like to be seen and heard and wanted the way someone real would be.
Incredible, Eiden calls it, and Pinocchio echoes him, an inarticulate shiver of breath, a jagged high note because it's so much, too much, and— ]
Love that, [ he gasps, one eye shut, mouth slack, his fingers digging into the soft and yielding shape of his body, pectoral muscle and fur as he hangs on, as though it's all he can do to keep this moment a little longer, ] I love that—
[ Heat blooms as he comes inside. Eiden wrings himself out, milked dry by the body that persists in riding him well past the point of oversensitivity, only to shudder in shared laughter against his supine frame. He feels syrupy and warm inside, buzzy and electrified without. Eiden squirms. Pinocchio rocks, dew rolling down to the point of his chin, like sweat. ]
Hah... ha ha ha! [ Laughter makes him tighten up, makes him shiver. Pinocchio nuzzles into him, fingers carding through fur and into mane, his chest heaving against him. ] Oh stars. Don't get cocky, [ he begins to push himself up on his chugging prosthesis, dragging the back of his hand across his chin, ] I'm not nearly finished.
[ But first, let him tangle up with him and relish in the warmth, in their connection, bunting into him like their transformations were reversed. ]
You made me come so fast, [ there's a laugh in his throat, his lips press a kiss to his muzzle, ] I'll make it up to you.
Will you let me fill you? My wish on a star.
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he stretches against him, pressing fur to flesh, nuzzling and letting out a similar rumble from when he'd been scritched so dotingly earlier. as the other bunts him, he lets out a soft startled noise as he licks softly along the side of his face. it's an impulse he can't stop, something that happens automatically out of the sheer surge of affection and emotion, his body is driven purely by instinct, by instances of instant action that express every emotional minutiae it can.
the kiss, however, gets him to still, gets him to listen, tail twitching softly as he meets pinocchio's eyes and his fur seems to ripple in response to the inquiry. his stomach falls and in among the bioluminescence of the plants here and there, it's not hard to see that eiden is blushing a bit. with wide, cat-like eyes, he just gives him a quiet and slow meaningful blink.
the words fill him already, swollen with warmth and heat as he lets hands roam the sleek form above him, squeezing his hips, hands finding purchase on the cheeks of his ass and squeezing sweetly. ]
One good turn deserves another... right?
[ licking his lips, tail lashing with excitement. his own body is thrumming with what feels like electrical current, nerves on fire, sensitive through the roof. my wish on a star feels like something he's hardly earned, but more than something he wants to give the other. nibbling against his ear, he murmurs back: ]
I'd let you do anything - question is, how do you want me?
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It's clear that he appreciates that — telegraphed in the flutter of doll-like lashes, the slow and smiling bite to his own lower lip — he always likes the way Eiden touches him, but this? He aches deliciously; Eiden's still hilted in him, warm and sticky. He likes this, too — being full and connected — and if he wasn't so eager to have Eiden shaking himself apart on his own cock, he might have been content to stay like this. ]
Mmh—
[ That thoughtful noise is interrupted by a small shiver of delight; Pinocchio can feel him dripping when he pulls himself up and off of the man's pretty cock, and he relishes that ache as he recalibrates. Brazenly straddling him, he takes the hefty girth of his cock in hand, taking a moment to admire the sight of Eiden, the arc of his cock, the mess Pinocchio made of him, the inert fluid glistening on his fur. ]
Just like this, [ he wobbles a little, as he puts his weight on one knee so that he can nudge apart Eiden's thighs with the other, and in time settles back on both of them between Eiden's legs. As though he can't abide not touching him for longer than a few moments, his hands are on him, on his calves, as he coaxes his knees to bend, bracketing the puppet's flanks, giving the meat of them an indulgent squeeze. ] Laid out for me, debauched and lovely.
[ His hands push up over his knees, then back down to knead into his thighs, touching, just enjoying the pliant give of warm muscle. Pinocchio's gaze drops again, then drops a little more. ] If I open you up with my fingers, will I find you wet again?
[ There's a pragmatic reason for his question... but who doesn't love a little unintentional dirty talk? ]
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