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[bardische]

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[massochism]

Nnh... yes. Very.

[he doesn't feel like Basch needs the answer, but it still feels good to give it. better still when the taller man leans in to kiss his neck, tongue brushing the heated skin of his neck before biting down. the sound he makes then is absolutely unmistakable, body pressing up into the bite and fingers finding their way to wind into the blond's hair.

ah, ah, that there—]

Mmnh... more... of that...

[it is, in this moment, as much a strange surge of wanting to be possessed as it is his normal masochism, finally given an outlet to claw its way through and blossom to the surface. careful not to push too much, but he's so enthusiastic about it that it's hard to misread anything.

the idea of being claimed, of being something more than his position at the church, an eternal face for a God he both loves and cannot help but hate (to his own horror)... it still feels impossible. but here they are.]

[bardische]

[ Oh, gods that's a beautiful reaction. He's tempted to palm that pec again, bite Olivine harder until he's gasping and then fill him roughly.

But that's too much too fast. His restraint holds, stroking his own arousal.

He does move a hand back to Olivine's chest, nuzzling against his jaw as he whispers ]

You tell me if it's too much. You won't disappoint me.

[ Because he's more concerned about going to far than not going far enough. Still, he puts his mouth back on Olivine, moving down to a fleshier part of the shoulder where it meets the neck, and he bites again, growling lowly as he does, palm tightening on his pec as the other keeps him balanced and close.

The desire to tell Olivine that he's Basch's threatens his tongue, and he bites harder, some remaining piece of his human mind telling him that's too much this early. Overwhelming. But it makes his entire body tense with want. ]

[massochism]

[lashes flutter low as teeth bite harder, chest rising and falling against his hand. Those whispered words earn a breathy laugh though, because they're really worrying about the opposites...]

I'll tell you—nngh! But I don't think... you will...

[not that he won't keep it on mind, though. He just... knows himself. Basch bites again and he's practically making every attempt to become one with him, warm whines on his lips as he rocks into that hand, those lips, the press of his cock stirring beneath him.

if nothing else, his body certainly begs for more, faster, harder. shifting, the priest can't help but press himself harder against that length, cheeks hot.]

Sorry... I just want more, ah...

[to think this began just to get him out here so he could change peacefully... but God, this is so nice. worth it all.]

[bardische]

[ It escapes his notice that it may be better they did this like this, the first time. His human self would be so much more hesitant, but now it's easy to listen to the combination of Olivine's reassurance and his body. Every moan and heave of his chest says he likes this, in particular, and that's stirring Basch's blood again, something like aggression, but only for things that lead to that sweet sound.

His own cock lurches in want, squarely under Olivine, and he's trying to think if there's any oil in their supplies, because that's a different kind of hurt and he isn't leaving Olivine sore and alone when this transformation finishes.

The thought is gone as he whines into the feeling of Olivine squarely pressing on his cock. The hand on his ass tightens, claws digging into soft flesh, and he bites down harder with another growl. ]

There's -- nothing to be sorry for [ He pants. ] I want you to enjoy this. Do you want me to bite somewhere else?

[massochism]

[claws dig and Basch is treated to a sweet whine in turn, hips wiggling all the more. He can tell how affected he already is, after all—and the blond's words stir that feeling all the more.]

I—yes. Everywhere, truthfully... [He exhales a breathy laugh.] I'll enjoy it—whatever you do, I think. Because it's you. I'm already so wet...

[It's so quietly earnest, as Olivine so often is.]

[bardische]

[ Because it’s him.

He bites harder, hands tightening too. It sends a different sort of heat through him. And before he can untangle why that means so much, he’s struggling to process the next sentence.

He’s heard of this, but never met anyone himself. ]

You’re someone who doesn’t need lubricant?

[ He needs to be very sure of this. But his body is already reacting, mind spinning fantasies ]

Do you want to stay in my lap? Or would you prefer I put down a bedroll and lay you on your back?

[ because he wants to be able to kiss him, and see his face. Even if some other part of him wants to put him on all fours and make him struggle to stay up right. That would be better on a bed. And not for someone’s first time. ]

[massochism]

[oh. Basch bites harder and Olivine can't help but cry out again, sweet and warm and needy. Trying not to melt is taking up almost all of his reason, so much so that he almost doesn't answer the question right away.]

Haah... ah... yes. Most from Klein are—this way.

[what does he want? God, he wants everything. If they just stayed here for the whole night—]

... like this. [cheeks heating up, he presses his lips to the corner of Basch's.] I don't want to wait too much longer.

[certainly not long enough to find their bedrolls and lay one out.]

[bardische]

[ Basch draws back to cup Olivine's face, chuckling lightly even as his own need becomes more insistent. The other's face is warm, that kiss to the corner of his own mouth making him full in ways he doesn't know how to express. ]

I was worried about rushing you and here I've made you wait. Go slowly. We ca go more quickly once you're adjusted.

[ He squeezes Olivine's face, then puts on hand on his ass to help guide him, the other coming to his own cock to line them up.

It's an odd, beautiful sensation, that tightness with slickness already in it. He doesn't push hard, just letting Olivine feel him. He's not particularly large or small, something he's always been thankful for in the bedroom. ]

How's that feel?

[ Because Olivine seems to have a lot to say, if Basch asks him first. ]

[massochism]

Ah—I'll try. Sorry. I've just been thinking about it for—a while.

[There's a sheepish little huff there that says he's probably not that sorry, though. A touch more embarrassed maybe. Besides, there's nothing scolding about Basch's tone, nor does he seem apt to forcibly slow the matter. Warm padded hands squeeze his face before one moves down to his ass, and his toes are almost already curling before he's even positioned himself.

He's always been a little selfish—well, he's always wanted to be. It just wasn't possible, wasn't right with his station. But this—this feels so perfect, and he can't find it in him to even want to confess. Not when he presses in lightly and Olivine has to remind himself not to just sink down on it like his mind wants to. Another time. This time, he wants to feel every inch.

Definitely sizeable enough to fill him up nicely, he thinks. Perfect and hot and—]

Mmnh... it's amazing. It's so hot—I feel like I'm going to lose my mind. [That's not a complaint, clearly, especially as his hips rock impatiently against him, lashes fluttering.] It's so much better than I imagined... haah...

[bardische]

[ His eyes widen, hands freezing for a moment. He'd repressed his own interest so well, it hadn't even occurred to him it might be mutual, let alone something Olivine had actively fantasized about. His breath hitches, but his smile is warm and breathless. ]

I'm glad [ he murmurs, nuzzling against Olivine's neck. Whatever fear he had that he'd been taking advantage somehow or that the curse was doing this both evaporate. It does occur to him Olivine may have just meant...intimacy in general, but that doesn't dull the warmth. If the other has wanted this, and trusts him to be the first, that's something he'll cherish long after today.

Then Olivine is on him, and reacting and he can't think about anything except keeping himself from flipping the other on his back and shoving too hard. His breath goes even weaker, hips rocking just enough to ease a little farther in. Strange, and exciting, with no preparation but slick heat still ready to take him. ]

You are...so hot, Olivine [ he pants. Literally, yes, but Basch can hardly believe how attracted he is. And something deeper. ] I want to make you feel good...as often as you like... [ He rocks his hips again, sinking a good inch into the other. He gasps, eyes closing, then leans forward, one hand back on Olivine's nipple, and his teeth going for the flesh of his other pec. ]

[massochism]

[those words are so simple, but they draw his smile wider still. his fingers continue their absent brushes through blond hair as Basch nuzzles into his neck, eyes lilting closed lightly. ah, it's so nice.

and well, he needn't think it was just intimacy in general—that will come in time, no doubt, when Olivine can no longer leash his libido like he usually does. for now, it's all about this moment, this feeling, the other's words and actions—]

You—nnghaah! Y-you too... Basch...

[his breath hitches again even before those hips jolt and sink him another inch in, heartbeat picking up to nigh thunderous at the confession. offer. whatever it is. is he afraid of that? maybe... maybe a little. only because this is just their first time, so what if he actually is too much?

but... does he have any reason to think he should be? not yet, he supposes.]

Ah... haah... then—stay with me... [obviously, he can stay somewhere away from Basch if it turns out to be a matter of safety (even though he would much rather not), but other than that... well, his thoughts on the matter are interrupted immediately by the press of a hand against his nipple alongside the texture of soft padded skin, a sharp, pleasant yowl escaping his lips as teeth find the other pec.] Nngh... you're so... so good... I want to do this so much more... I want to... nngh. To take all of you... no matter what.

[it should scare him, he's sure, just how broad that statement is when he's dealing with a werewolf. certainly doesn't though, as the idea of being taken in any form really only makes him clench a little harder, squirm a little more.]

[bardische]

[ Basch has had plenty of sex in his life, but the amount of affection in Olivine's touch to his hair, dazed smile, and trusting openness is wildly new. That and the idea that he's attractive. Not his type, not his station, not the power play or taboo between them.

Though this certainly feels like it should be taboo. He's a monster, and a volatile one, and Olivine is a virgin. It's some fairy story. He does't care though. Olivine wants him here, and he knows he isn't in danger of hurting him right now, and that's all he needs.

Even before Olivine gives that order. Before he implies...that any form would be alright. Welcome. The sound Basch makes is as much whimper as anything else, ears back as he feels Olivine blench hard around him. There's no way these are empty words, and he doesn't know how to take that in.

Especially not being called good, something that makes his tail thump and his whole being ache to live up to that. ]

If you ask... [ He murmurs, low and grumbling, hips slowly rocking into Olivine again, watching his beautiful face twist in want and pleasure as he takes Basch in. ] I won't be able to deny you anything. That I resisted this long [ Another thrust, one hand steady Olivine's hip, the other squeezing his pec again as he pauses to bite and kiss. ] is only because I worried for your safety. If you'll let me serve you, then I want to serve you.

[ Another bite, and he rocks up harder than he means, a good half his shaft in Olivine now, sliding with ease, tempting him to just bury himself on the next thrust. But he brushes the other's hair aside, cupping his face again. ]

Still good?

[massochism]

[Olivine couldn't be much worse of a liar, and it's really clear in his expressions indeed. now that Basch has seen his platitudes (levied, of course, on people other than him) it'll probably be impossible for him to misinterpret them again.

really, he's just glad he's here, that this... happened, even if it's been painful for the blond, even if there is of course a necessary worry for Olivine's safety. how can he care about any of that when he's rocking into him again, slowly easing him open as he speaks.]

That... of course... I do... [his hand comes to rest on the one over his hip, panting breaths ghosting against Basch's other shoulder. God, he can hardly believe how good it is.

and then he rocks up harder still, sinking halfway into the priest and making him cry out all the more sweetly. his head leans to nuzzle into the hand moving to cup his face, his hazy, lust-filled gaze just absolutely full of fondness.]

Nngh... haah... still good. I... I've used toys... so I'm not completely unused to this... it's so much better though.

[bardische]

[ He may not normally be particularly good at reading people, but he’s seen enough of Olivine around others versus around him to trust all of this is true. That, and the other is so soft and warm and dazed. No one can fake that. It just makes him want to protect the priest all the more. That he gives Basch such a firm answer on wanting him to stay — it’s not something he let himself imagine, and the force of it hits him harder than he’s prepared for.

Just as Olivine starts to crumple against him. He chuckles again, a low rumble, stroking the other’s hair. Toys. Good. This isn’t as much of a shock. Even if he’s glad it’s better.

He repositions his grip, kissing Olivine’s hair before tilting his head up to take his lips. Then, he rocks again, chasing that delighted, whimpering groan as he thrusts once, twice, and once more, head to base buried inside at last. He groans against the other, pulling back just enough to murmur. ]

You feel incredible. When you’re ready, hold onto me.

[ because his voice is husky, his own gaze heavy with adoration, and his hips are pulsing of their own accord. There’s only so much restraint can do to tame the wolf’s need, and now that he’s seen how easily Olivine has taken him, he’s less afraid of breaking him. Which is good. Because he wants to take him faster, harder. ]

[massochism]

[lips capture his own and Olivine leans in, tongue brushing lips as he whines with each thrust in, in, in. their hips meet and he groans right into the kiss, reluctantly pulling back when Basch moves to murmur.]

You... you too. I'm ready.

[there's a little laugh there, as he shifts his weight to lock his arms around broad shoulders, thighs tight against hips and his own hips rolling to feel that cock shifting inside him. God, he can't wait much longer... it already feels perfect and they've barely begun.]

[bardische]

[ Maybe he we won't check so much the next time, but it feels important this time. It's something he can ask when they aren't in the heat of the moment. For now, he manages not to remind Olivine again to tell him if they need to stop. He can feel how eager the other is, his body rolling, grip tight around his shoulders.

Basch dips his own lips to Olivine's neck again, teeth scraping the exposed skin as he holds Olivine's hips firmly, beginning a slow but steady rhythm, easing out of the other and thrusting back into him. He groans each time he does, shuddering at how tight and hot Olivine is, and yet how smoothly he glides against him. His padded hands tighten on those hips, nails digging in to flesh. ]

[massochism]

[he'll just be ecstatic to hear there's a next time in mind. right now he can barely think past the current moment, the press of lips and teeth once more at his neck. slow and steady, and as impatient as it makes him feel, it's so perfect. his breath ghosts against Basch's skin, groans rising up to his changed ears as that grip keeps up.

and naturally, there's every effort made to match the blond's pace, all while not taking over completely. if his impatience shines through that's more than enough, and shivers slide through him as claws dig into the thick flesh of his hips.]

Haah... ah... [nuzzling into his cheek, Olivine makes no effort to bite back his moans anymore.] I feel so... full... you feel perfect.

[there's no need for the words; his body echoes the truth of them beautifully, squeezing tight as though trying to milk Basch for everything he has. but he speaks them and they feel so important to him, an underpinning to assure that it isn't just his body, just the circumstance. this isn't something he could get just anywhere from anyone, even if he were willing.]

[bardische]

[ Every sound drives the remaining thought from Basch's mind. All there is is Olivine's heat, and his breath on Basch's skin, and his moans as he nuzzles into him, trusting Basch entirely even as his body asks for more.

He wants to be perfect. He wants Olivine to feel as certain as he is that they fit together like no one else could. It's a dangerous want, but he's powerless to stop it from coming through.

Instead, he lets his body leave, moaning back against Olivine between kisses, gently increasing the pace of their rocking, savoring the way Olivine clings to him as he does. ]

So do you [ He admits, voice a strained growl, but there's deep, tender affection when he says ] Olivine.

[massochism]

[his cheeks heat up at the sound of his name, spoken in such a strained growl and filled with affection. oh, it's so—he doesn't even have the words. so he doesn't try, instead just holding onto Basch and letting their bodies and mouths share what they need.

after all, what more is there? as affection and want meet and meld, there certainly doesn't seem like more. the fact of why they're here is equally shelved, any worry about his transformation distant at best. it feels too fast, too, but he can't help the way he shifts as impatience grows.]

I'm... ah...

[he's so close. honestly, he's not sure if he just hopes Basch is too or if he thinks he can feel that edge approaching for him in turn. either way, he knows he won't last much longer.]

[bardische]

[ He can feel how eager Olivine is, and honestly, he isn't far behind. ]

You're perfect [ he rumbles. ] Come for me, Olivine. [ He speeds up, just a little, not really letting go, but his eyes going dark with the desire. He doesn't need it, though. The moment Olivine starts to arch in release, his own body zings with the heat of impending orgasm. ]

[massochism]

As if... I could do anything less... Basch.

[it's such a small thing, and it's a little frightening how much it matters. just hearing his name, even in such a private affair... he hadn't realised just how pervasive his title had become until that moment. that's the last thing he wants to think about right now though, so he doesn't.

instead he just focuses on the way it feels, the sound of Basch's voice, the shift in pace more than enough to do him in. his fingers dig in where they're curled, trembling as the rest of him arches in orgasm, squeezing down as if to beg for the taller man's release in turn.]

[bardische]

[ Basch is a moment behind him, gasping and clinging back. It's surprising how strong the orgasm is, threatening to take his balance. He breathes through it, shuddering and focusing to keep from toppling both of them.

And then it's just their ragged breathing. He pulls Olivine flush against him, just breathing in the other's scent. There's an odd sadness as his orgasm disperses, one he doesn't want to dwell on and worry Olivine. But somehow, even inside of him, holding him this close, he feels...emptiness. A need to be closer. Like somehow something didn't quite go as far as it was meant.

But he'll worry about it later, because the rest of him is dazed and elated. ]

Why don't we clean up, and then I can go back to holding you? [ Because he doesn't know how much time he has before the transformation fully takes over. ]

[massochism]

[It's... God, it's impossible to describe in that moment. Actually feeling it, holding and being held in the gasping, ragged aftermath of their orgasms—he could do easily very lost in it all.

For a moment, he just allows that too. Breathing in their individual scents, relishing in the comfort and the closeness that is somehow still not quite enough.

That empty feeling is mutual, though. There's no upset over what's happened, the closeness they have or being still entwined—but he can sort of sense it too. Like there's further they can go, despite being practically melded into one.]

... right, that's probably best. [His laugh is actually, truly shy in that moment, leaning up to press their lips together in a gentle kiss.] There should be water nearby. Will you... hold me until you feel the transformation coming?

[a shy request, but he's feeling just bold enough to ask. His legs are a touch wobbly when he moves to pull himself off of Basch too, but that probably can't be helped, really. It's a miracle he can stand at all, after all that being his first time with an actual person.]

[bardische]

[ It's not Basch's first time, not by a long shot, but it still feels...different. Good. He can feel the warmth and reverence from Olivine. Some old part of him wants to clamp it down, remind him not to get ahead of himself, but the wolf portion just growls contentedly, nuzzling against Olivine's neck.

The other's laugh surprises him, and he lifts his head to search Olivine's face for discomfort only to smile into a gentle kiss. Yes. Sometimes the sex was easier than the after part. He knows that well.

Oh but-- it was the request making him nervous. Basch's heart skips, and he pulls back only enough to meet Olivine's gaze, cupping his face in the padded hand he would have worried just hours ago was repulsive. ]

I would like that very much [ he assures the other, squeezing him one more time before releasing him, though his hands stay close, pressing gently on hips as Olivine wobbles. He was as gentle as possible, and he isn't a huge man, but it's still a lot, the first time. ]

You alright? I can carry you, or bring back a damp cloth.

[massochism]

[It's funny. They've stumbled no small number of times, in words and actions, but he feels more comfortable speaking to Basch than ever. Like he... actually understands him a little. He's not acting this way because of position or piety, but just because he's here with Olivine.

It's a little scary. It makes him want to reach for freedom again, to lament his position and its endless bonds around his heart.

The guilt fades with the press of a padded hand to his face, his own gently resting over it. That's right. This... this is something he did. He has. It's not something the church can take away, and out here in the quiet, in a small cave with just them, he doesn't need to be so afraid. Not yet.]

Ah... sorry. I'm not used to being upright during that. [sheepish, he lets his hands drift to the ones in his hips, brushing over them gently.] I think I can walk alright... I wouldn't want to trouble you to carry me or anything. You were so gentle...

[He's not hurting, at least, just wobbly. Of course, that isn't a denial, if Basch wanted to—the way he glances away suggests he wouldn't mind it. It's just not appropriate for a priest—never mind that none of this is appropriate for a priest, some is just harder to ignore than others.]