PSLs

[bardische]

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[massochism]

[the door opens and Olivine freezes, more out of surprise than anything. after all, people usually don't come here, so he was sure he could just stay a little while and—

and Basch steps into view. relief floods in first, followed by another pang of hunger, heartbeat picking up.]

Basch? [his head tips up to look at him, brows furrowing at those words. to go... it's the last thing he wants, obviously. but for a second he considers it.] What happened...?

[the question is answered as his gaze drifts over the other, down to where his arousal stands, proud and demanding as ever. breath catching, he swallows back the well of saliva on his tongue.]

... don't go. [softer, his cheeks hot as he steps forward.] If it's just that, you don't need to go, Basch. I want it, too. I'm your mate, remember?

[bardische]

[ Hearing Olivine plead so softly makes Basch's throat dry, at once aching for his love and wildly turned on by the thought of being begged -- and then giving what is asked.

Olivine steps closer, and it takes all of Basch's willpower to step back. Because he wants to tear his clothes off, press his teeth to every inch of skin. Claim his mate and care for him and--

His voice is tight, hunger and anguish warring on his face. ] Olivine I -- I want to ruin you. I want to leave you bruised and scabbed and so weak I have to carry you back to our den, and I want you unable to walk until I'm human again.

[ A whine creeps into his voice, apology and wild, firey need and overwhelming onslaught. ]

It was never like this. I -- I should go. [ But there's a question in it this time, eyes meeting Olivine's. If the other gives permission, he will be helpless to resist. ]

[massochism]

[The first thought he has as Basch explains why he thinks he should go is who cares? But he doesn't want to seem blase or reckless, much less make Basch feel foolish, so he bites the words back even as the suggestion sinks in bone deep, kindling the need already burning there.]

Basch.

[He can hear that question, and it means a few things. One, that his need runs just as deep as Olivine's, and two, that he trusts the priest to make this decision and, by extension, trusts himself to not go too far—not beyond his promise, anyway. He doesn't think Basch would hesitate to stop if he actually sounded scared, either.

So he steps forward again, an answer as much as the words he's about to say, as the way his hands rise to cradle his wild wolf's face.]

Any way you want me, I want too. You can already smell how much I do, can't you? It makes me so happy that you want to do so much.

[bardische]

[ His eyes widen, his ears flattening slightly in surprise and restraint as Olivine cradles his face. His nostrils flare at the comment on his smell, and sure enough, Olivine is even more heated than he was before Basch's admission. ]

Yes [ He rasps, barely above a whisper. ] I can smell you. I don't -- It makes me glad and desirous you want but -- I'm frightened.

[ There it was. Frightened it would be too much, that he'd go too far, that he'd hurt or lose Olivine. But the images of tying the other up, of bending him into precarious positions and rutting hard, letting them both pant dazed in the glow of his knot, of pushing his body hard are creeping back in.

He places a padded hand over Olivine's, turning his sunken face to kiss the palm. And then to bite it, a whine vibrating against where his sharp canines just barely pierce skin. ]

[massochism]

[his thumbs stroke Basch's cheek, expression changing very little as he explains. it's more or less what he would have expected—worrying over truly harming him or some such. silly, really, but he does understand.]

You don't need to be frightened. Not with me.

[he can handle anything the other wants, he's sure of it. Basch would never really harm him. and that little bite only goes to show, the scrape of canines against his skin breaking just enough to raise little red marks.

it makes him lean in more, until he's actually able to press against the taller man some.]

People don't usually come here, but... we should probably try to get somewhere a little more secure, if we can.

[not just if Basch can, honestly. they're working against both of their libidos now, and it's not likely to end well.]

[bardische]

[ His eyes meet Olivine's, sad and sullen, much the way they did when they first met. Of course he wasn't frightened of Olivine. He was frightened of himself, and of Olivine's trust and kindness. But nothing had gone wrong thus far, and the truth was, he was helpless to resist what Olivine wanted. It had been true before the bond, but now it was near impossible, an ache deep inside him he could not ignore.

And he knew, without any trace of doubt, that Olivine wanted this. ]

If I take you into the hall, I likely will not get you to our chambers before I fuck you [ he admits quietly, padded hands very lightly grazing the other, letting their bodies touch where Olivine presses into him. ]

And there is more to play with here. [ Breathed out as a question and a promise, waiting for the other's persmission. ]

[massochism]

More to play with...

[Olivine is a little surprised to hear that, as it's not something he'd been thinking about. the idea is plainly intriguing though, and he tries to stop himself from being too overly enthusiastic. after all, a lot of this is for much different uses...]

Then, please show me what you're thinking of.

[he's happy to follow the lead here, already moving to unclasp his clothing and slip it off (or at least down). granted, he wouldn't stop Basch from ripping at it either—something he knows, no doubt, by now.]

[bardische]

[ Some of it is that Basch hasn’t entirely shown his hand yet, as far as how much he knows how to do from home, and some of it is the transformation and mating bond egging him on.

And Basch is trying so hard to be good, to wait for permission and to please, even if all he wants is to shred Olivine’s clothes and rut him into a wall. He watches, still and patient, as Olivine strips, giving himself to Basch in a way that still makes him disbelieving.

He doesn’t move yet, but he can feel his thoughts getting foggier, his restraint wavering with every passing breath. ]

If I restrain you, can your magic still stop me if…?

[ If he goes too far ]

[massochism]

[the mere suggestion gets his blood pumping ever harder, twitching and shifting his legs in a telltale sign that Olivine is having some trouble restraining himself, too.

God, he wants to know everything Basch could do to him, all at once. but they have time, he reminds himself. his whole transformation is ahead of them, and the other has already made it clear he's intending to keep his mate worn out the whole time.

his voice is light and breathy, anticipatory.]

I won't let you do anything you'll regret. Even if I'm restrained.

[it will make some things harder, but the priest has never actually been tied to movement when it comes to weaving magic.]

[bardische]

[ Basch's breath comes shaky. He can feel the way Olivine melts as his suggestion, can smell the other's arousal only increasing.

Finally the fear subsides enough that desire takes over. He crushes Olivine to him, shoving his tongue demandingly into the other's mouth before pulling back to bite his lip. In another moment he's lifted him like he weighs nothing, setting him on a bulky wooden frame that's about waist height and covered in a thick storage cloth. He squeezes the other hard, breath heavy, then parts. ]

Anything you don't want to rip, take off.

[ He steps away, finding rope. It isn't the soft kind for doing this sort of thing, but some part of him is aware Olivine will like the bite of it. He returns, pulling Olivine to the edge of the support, then stepping around the back. He pulls his wrists behind him, starting to weave the rope around them. It's slow going, his padded hands not as capable of fine motor skill, but he dips his head, biting hard into Olivine's shoulder where their first mating bite had been.

He's so hard that it throbs, knees weak with it. Setting Olivine up is teasing himself, and with the other's flesh in his mouth he nearly gives up the fantasy and simply bends him forward to fuck.

Not quite, though. ]

[massochism]

[abruptly, he's pulled in against Basch and his noises are muffled into the taller man's mouth, tongue meeting tongue and urging it further until he pulls back to bite the priest's lip. it has him rocking into the sensation, only to reach up and grasp those broad shoulders as he's lifted up.

the frame is a little cold, even through the thick cloth, but he barely notices when he's too busy moaning in response to that squeeze.]

Alright.

[there isn't much left to remove, at least. and by the time Basch is back with the rope he's slipped out of his underthings and settled on the support. strong hands pull him exactly where he's wanted then, and he gives a soft noise at the comfortable stretch of his arms. rope scrapes gently against his skin as it's woven, thoughts taken away completely when the blond dips in to bite into his shoulder.

the resulting cry is sharp and loud as ever, body trembling as he presses up into that ache, hands and wrists shifting impatiently where they're held. something about not knowing what the other fully intends to do makes this even more arousing, exciting in a way he can't put to words.]

Bas—ch... nngh...

[God, he's sure he's going to start dripping on this cloth soon.]

[bardische]

[ His eyes rake over Olivine, nude and waiting for him, clearly already hungry for whatever Basch is going to give him. It makes him whine with need, but flinch a little too. He's afraid, still, of how much Olivine trusts him. Of how roughly he wants to use the other.

But he has to trust Olivine. The other has never lied to him or overstepped his own limits, and right now Basch has to trust that leash will be good enough, because he can feel his own control slipping. The mate bond is driving him to singlemindedness, even fears of being overheard or leaving a mess going far from his head.

Olivine cries so beautifully into that bite, a mimic of their mate bond, and Basch almost spears him right here. Not yet though. Panting, he guides one length of the rope to Olivine's ankle, keeping his back pulled down and his leg wrapped around the furniture. Then the other, so he's pulled open and held pinned all at once.

Basch is panting by now. He fumbles to get his own clothing off -- hot, so hot he's suffocating -- but snarls in frustrating, shredding it in his claws. And then he's on Olivine, raking his claws down the other's back as he thrusts against his hole, biting hard on the other side of his neck. There's no patience there, and he wants to feel Olivine struggle. Against his bonds, against the sensation. ]

[massochism]

[there's a brief touch of something like terror as Basch guides the ropes to his ankles, pushing him down onto his chest while holding him open. it's embarrassing, something he shouldn't want, shouldn't like, shouldn't—

claws rake down his back and drag away all of that uncertainty, the learned shame. God, it feels so good... pale skin reddens easily and the sting has him squirming impatiently, alongside the thrust of the blond's hips against his hole.]

Nnghaaugh— [his toes curl as he pulls against those ropes, creaking roughly against delicate skin while the bite otherwise keeps him in place, shuddering.] God, I missed you... hurry...

[never mind that they were separated for like, maybe three hours. there's also truth in that he'd missed this roughness, the kind that has only shown itself when Basch is transformed or transforming.]

[bardische]

[ He feels that terror and nearly stops -- it's his worst fear, and he has no idea how he's misread so badly.

But even as it registers, it shifts to pure aching bliss, and it's like it drives him forward, like he knows what Olivine wants without even thinking. He whines into that direction, into that admission of yearning.

He isn't gentle; there's no real ramp up. He holds Olivine hard enough to bruise, claws digging into skin, and fucks him hard and fast, enough that the heavy piece of furniture groans and threatens to inch across the floor.

He's after...something, attention desperately on Olivine even as he lets out a low, choked off howl into the other's shoulder, teeth still tight there. He feels...alive. Hungry. Possessive. Desperate for approval. ]

[massochism]

[His hands shift a of to reach for Basch, to hold him and focus on something that isn't the bone-shaking certainty that he wants nothing less than all of this. Bound, he's unable to get that—and so he just cries out sweetly as teeth dig into delicate skin, a fresh wave of pleasure and need tearingb through him.]

Haagh—ungh...!!

[rope bites into his skin with every thrust, creaking faintly as the set piece lifts just a tiny bit and clacks back against the ground. Claws bite and prickle little droplets of blood over his flesh, wonderful little sensations made more sharp by the way Basch fucks into him. Never, not once in all his years, had Olivine ever thought he could feel this way—that he would want to give everything just to stay with one person, could find himself someone who actually saw him.]

Basch... nnghaah! My—mate... oh, God, more—!

[a bead of saliva pools in his tongue and drips down onto the heavy cover he's bound over, body trembling with want. It always feels like he's perfectly fit to the werewolf, but right now especially, it's like he's molding him into that perfect shape, ruining him for anyone else.]

Nmmph... you're really going to... breed me, one of these days...

[is that actually possible? Who knows, but right now he would be ecstatic if it happened.]

[bardische]

[ He would have known Olivine wanted more even without those pleas, but he still growls at hearing them. He feels, too, the incredulity and bone-deep contentment of wanting to be with Olivine forever, of feeling wanted and seen claimed, and he's determined to please his mate until his last breath.

Hearing Olivine affirm he's doing just that makes him heady, drunk with pleasure, and his eyes trace the saliva on Olivine's chin. He keens, pleased to please, and then Olivine starts talking about breeding.

He practically howls, jerking deep and hard and fast, biting Olivine hard enough to draw blood, a 'yes' growled against him over and over.

There's not much warning, his desire cresting suddenly, spilling hotly. He barely stutters, crying out through his pleasure, sliding easier with the mix of slick. And all he wants is to do it again, and again, until Olivine is so marked with his scent and his bruises and his kisses that no creature could mistake who he belonged to. ]

[massochism]

[truly, they're lucky no one seems to be around to hear the noise they're both making. If they were, the discovery might prove too much for most people... not that it would make Olivine feel any more shame than he does. Basch bites down and blood wells against teeth to drip down, causing the priest to squeeze all the harder around him.

Oh, but that reaction to his comment makes him warm and giddy. Just as suddenly as the taller man's orgasm crests, his does too, a sharp yowl on his lips as the movements practically don't even pause. It sounds so loud in his ears, utterly filthy and exciting and framed wonderfully by the hot mess between his legs.]

Nngh... haah... so thick... and hot... [He's practically purring, weight tipped forward in spite of the rough ropes tugging back at his arms.] I'll swallow... all of it up... just for you... mmngh!

[bardische]

[ Basch shudders, heady from the orgasm, heady from Olivine's delighted cries, heady from the need to keep going. The sounds are incredible. Knowing they could be found is dangerous and delicious. Let someone see; let him growl and chase them away from his mate, proud and possessive. Let them see the marks.

But even so, that promise is something he's never done, never considered. ]

Is that...something you want? [ he pants ] I'd planned to fill you until you were full, then take you back to our bed.

[massochism]

[breathless, boneless, he needs a moment to try and parse which promise he's asking about. Even then, he's not entirely sure he has it right... but it doesn't matter too much.]

Haah... to be bred...? I wouldn't mind at all. [another shift, fingers curling where they're held fast. Add Basch lays out his intentions, he bites his lip.] I definitely... want that. I didn't say... how I'd swallow all of it up... after all.

[Really, sometimes even he wonders about where he gets some of his thoughts. They're no less exciting for that wonder, though.]

[bardische]

[ Basch hadn't understood. His human mind was still too present, and it wasn't a thing he'd ever considered. His wolf mind, though, his body-- both tremble, the moan from him shuddering and wanton.

He has no idea what he's doing, but Olivine is pleased, and so he barrels forward. He doesn't even go soft, not for a moment, his pace still punishing. But he leans forward, crumpling Olivine further, nails biting into his flesh. ]

How much can you take? Will you be full first, or will I be spent first?

[massochism]

[crumpling forward more, Olivine exhales a sharp cry, muscles creaking with the tug against them. A shudder runs through him as Basch continues. Relentless, punishing, it leaves him nearly delirious in spite of the want to respond to those words...]

Ungh—we'll. We'll have to see... won't we?

[both thoughts are their own mind of exciting, really. To drain the werewolf dry, taking all he has to give like a perfect mate, would be sweetly comforting... but taking all he could, having it still pouring out of him while Basch chases his end? God, it would be absolutely intense.]

If I can't take it all, you'll just have to... mmngh... make sure to make me a mess so I know how much practice I need... to be just right for you.♡

[That's also not how that works, but it doesn't matter either. It sounds right, sounds hot, sounds perfect. That's good enough for him.]

[bardische]

You're already just right for me [ Basch growls, chastising more than affectionate. He's...not good at sweet talk, werewolf or man.

But his pace keeps up, the allure of being spent dry or exhausting the other equally alluring.

Except...he hears the whine of the piece of furniture under them. It wasn't built for this. He gives a few more heavy thrusts, but a snap predicts a buckle.

Roaring, he loosens one of the knots, lifting Olivine to him, cock still buried in him, and starts for the door with absolutely no concern for who might see them like this, Olivine still half-tied and both of them flush with need and sweat. ]

[massochism]

Nhaah... I know... 's not how I meant...

[it's so hard to find the words with Basch's continued pace, a touch of alarm in that whine... then the snap and buckle. ah, he'll have to fix that later—

and that's as far as he gets in that thought, crying out again as Basch loosens a knot to pull him up against him, cheeks turning all the darker as every shift makes the werewolf's cock jostle inside him.]

Ba-asch—

[part of him wants to protest, to slow him down before they get outside, but the rest of him doesn't want to even pause in feeling this. if someone actually saw them, there might be some alarm, but... well, he'll cross that bridge if he has to.]

Nngh... haah... please... help me keep quiet...

[because there's no way in hell he's going to manage that on his own, tied up and stretched out and absolutely fucking blissed out for it all... and it's probably still best if his moans don't call attention to them. probably.]

[bardische]

[ There's no hesitation at following a direct order. Anything to take care of Olivine, make him comfortable. So Basch shifts the other, cock still in him, but presses him tight to his body, a massive hand covering the other's mouth.

With no real recognition of how odd a decision this is for both of them, he marches them out of the storage area and toward the hall to their room, his steps jostling him inside Olivine. ]

I'm not going to let you leave our room for days [ he growls, biting the other's ear, keeping his hand clamped tight. ]

[massochism]

[he'd never really thought about how big Basch's hands are. on a normal day, let alone like this. that hand muffles him easily though, and he'll feel the faint vibrations from his cries as he marches off toward their room.

it's hard not to lose himself in the extremely pleasant jostling of each movement, toes curling as his back presses into the werewolf's chest.]

Nnmh— [Basch bites down and Olivine jolts, cheeks deeply red and muscles squeezing in anticipation. does he have things to do? probably... but surely, they'll have a way to excuse it. not that he cares about excusing it right now, when the prospect of being with his lover throughout the entirety of his transformation, taking him in and accepting every bit of him is so strong and so alluring.]