dermondversteckt | OPEN RP Spot

More than anything, Kronid is hungry...but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy the process. Gray blue eyes watch closely as Bruno bares himself, at the slow, languid way he works himself out of his clothing.

While he's sitting back, he toes off his boots, letting them fall to the floor near the foot of the bed. Standing briefly, he pries off his filthy slacks, then his briefs, kicking them unceremoniously away once he's exposed his own stiffening cock. He could have dragged the stripping out, but...no, he needn't.

Climbing back into the bed, he reaches out to trace his long, filthy nails up the other man's inner thighs, softly enticing his legs open.

He says nothing, humming a haunting tune as he keeps his eyes on the Seer's hands, on his throat, on his cock. He grabs the bottle of oil, pouring some out, slicking his fingers down thoroughly.

Preparing.

His shirt unbuttoned, Bruno languidly works his way free of it, arching his spine. A soft sound accompanies it, and when Kronid's hands slide along his thighs he lets his legs fall to either side. He pants for breath.

The tune winds around his mind, drawing another sound from him as his eyes fall shut. His hands reach out to stroke at whatever part of the other man he can reach. He swallows, adam's apple bobbing, the pulse at his throat almost visible. His throbbing, swollen cock has grown hard, and he can't quite keep his hips still.

Tilting his head back, he lets his thoughts drop away, his mind sinking further and further away with every touch. An almost plaintive sound hums in his throat.

Bruno's warm hands meet cold skin at the vampire's arms, chest, neck, shoulders - he shudders a little at the feel of it, instinctually pressing into the heat like a reptile might.

Ah, those sounds. The man is reactive, both to the touch and to being entranced, and it's music to Kronid's ears. He grins, broadly, showing off that wicked set of pointed teeth one more time as his hand slides up between Bruno's legs.

"That's it...relax."

His voice is a low, rumbling purr as he slips an oiled finger up into the other man, pressing with steady pace and practiced precision until he's all the way inside.

And then he waits, patient, to give Bruno a chance to adjust to the intrusion.

Bruno gasps at that finger entering him--no amount of anticipation had readied him for this when it actually happened. And yet that gasped breath is released raggedly, and the breaths following it aren't much smoother. He never would have thought something that cold sliding into him would be at all pleasant, but it's exciting, jangling his nerves in such a way that he finds himself wanting more, further, deeper, until it brushes against that little bundle of nerves and draws a long, lustful sound from him.

He's tight, yes, but he moves in such a manner that clearly says he's too far gone to care, that he wants more, trembling with desire. Oh, yes, he is very responsive, every touch further unravelling him as his heated fingers try to move lower, try to return even a fraction of the ecstasy rolling through him.

Well. The way this man is responding, eager to relax around his finger, Kronid fully expects the endeavor of preparing him isn't going to take too long. He starts to find and build a rhythm, rocking the finger in and out, in and out, crooking his slender fingertip at the top of each stroke to brush that sensitive spot inside. He presses outward as he does this, encouraging Bruno to relax, to stretch.

It's not long before that second finger follows, pushing the limit all the further.

Bruno's fingers graze along his abdoment, the crest of his hip - the vampire shudders, but rocks his hips back and away. "Not yet," he purrs, low and dangerous.

"Soon."

"Soon..." he echoes, as though hypnotized. Perhaps he is. His eyes fall shut again and he lets himself drop fully into delirium, every maddeningly light stroke against that point deep inside of him unwinding him further, desire growing hotter and hotter. A second finger fills him further and he gives a quiet, breathless cry, fists bunching the coverlet beneath him.

His mind falls into a kind of waking oblivion where he can only moan, thoughts fleeing. The desperate rolling of his hips stops and he lets himself be moved by the other's hand.

He is completely subsumed, now, pliant and defenceless.

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