Golden Peacock TDM Overflow

[bardische]

Original Top Level
Overlfow 2l
Overflow 3

Comments

[massochism]

[He has his word for if it all gets too much—which it won't, of course. Basch will understand... eventually. It'll be a long process.

But the press of fingers pulls more sound from the priest, hips rising up into his hand in little shuddery movements. A sharp groan escapes him at the feeling of nails digging carefully against sensitive skin, teeth against his ass. His body, at the very least, is almost impossible to misread. He's active and sensitive, jolting and pressing roughly back into Basch's movements.

And he manages a brief time, at least, under the onslaught of sensation and want. It's not even all that intentional, but Olivine gets lost in the treatment so easily, until his body feels like an absolute mass of beautiful, awful need. A hand shifts, wanting to touch himself for a little more sensation—pauses instead and finds purchase elsewhere, making way for the shudder that runs through him.]

Hnngh... ah... please... harder, more... Basch...

[that... isn't really related to the role he's in, not in the end. There's no hesitation to it, and almost no shame at all in his pleasure from it; just that little slip with his name, and he hasn't even quite noticed it slipped out.]

[bardische]

[ This is admittedly past where he'd usually tarry, at least as the one in charge, and the more unknown it gets, the more he doubts himself.

But Olivine shows no signs of discomfort. Immense desire, even. He catches that shift and redirect of a hand. Good.

If the name is a slip up, then it is a fortunate one. Something about it grounds him, reminds him that he isn't just this role -- one he isn't particularly good at. It's the delivery, really, not something he thinks about, but something he craves. Being wanted, being good.

Maybe it's not the rules of this game, but he pulls his hand out before discarding his meager undergarment. It's...odd, feeling exposed like this. For a moment he tenses, ears straining for the sound of people in the hall. But he shakes his head to clear it, reaching for the lubricant. They won't be free if they don't finish with this, and it would be rude to leave Olivine in this situation without relief.

He doesn't even notice how his mind skirts around and consideration of his own want or need, even as he lathers his hardened cock in slick oil.

It's too bad, he realizes, that the harness he wears is not on Olivine. It would give him something to pull on and guide. Alas. He'll make do with the leash, pulling it taught so that Olivine's neck is cut into lightly.

He then takes Olivine's hips firmly, lining himself up and easing in. He can be rough in a moment; he isn't going to risk this doing damage, and he wants the other to adjust to him before he moves harder. ]

Will you be able to handle me until I've finished, Olivine?

[ Perhaps the first real question he's asked, though his finishing is no concern to him. Still, he holds the leash taught with one hand, the other digging into Olivine's flesh as he starts to rock, harder, faster. ]

Will you let everyone know how good you feel?

[massochism]

[the mind discomforts Olivine still feels are, quite honestly, thoroughly masked by the situation. It's rather unlike what he's used to with Eiden, softer and gentler but no less hot; absent the tormenting whispers and teases, he can keep Basch better in his focus.

That helps keep his mind from wandering too far, too. It hazes over when the other pulls taut at the leash and his insides twitch, breath exhaled on a warm moan. He likes that just fine, if the way his cock twitches is to be believed.

But then, cock wet with lube, the blond slides in—it's a remarkably easy glide, even for having stretched him. Olivine is definitely tight around his cock, but there's no painful struggle to relax or more.]

Nngh... abso... absolutely. I'll take it all... Basch.

[It feels better, actually, calling him this way. Basch grips the leash and his hip—the latter, digging and rough, draws a particularly pleasant groan from him, hips jolting back into each thrust and head tilted up to keep Basch at least somewhat in view.]

Nngh... I don't think I could... stay quiet even if I wanted to...

[That's probably accurate. Olivine is capable when it's absolutely necessary—this doesn't feel necessary right now.]

[bardische]

[ Basch passingly notices how easily he slides into Olivine. A mystery for later, because he has a task to complete, and someone to keep safe. He tests a few times, getting only moans of pleasure.

So he grunts, pressing Olivine down into the couch, pulling his arms up onto his back. He pauses for a moment, letting the other adjust, giving him time to change his mind. When he doesn’t, Basch holds his wrists tight, the hand with he leash wrapping it taught before going back to his hip, and now, finally, he fucks him hard, over and over, no pause, his own grunts quickly turning to a whine. ]

Sing…for me.

[ Because Basch isn’t going to be able to come until he feels Olivine’s absolute pleasure. And finally, finally he wants to. ]

[massochism]

[there's something that always makes him feel so... alive, in this position. it's easy to forget everything else when Basch presses him into the couch, pulls his arms back in a brief moment of not-quite-alarm. warm insistence fills him instead, heavy and deep.

fabric winds around his wrists and he bears no complaint, already gasping, groaning aloud as hips rock into his, over and over, hard enough to be addictive. his pleasure is obvious in everything he does, every twist of his hands and buck of hips, every sound that escapes him so sweetly, so easily.]

Ah—haah... Ba...sch...

[he's definitely not going to find much in the way of words, but it's easy to fall into a sort of slurred speech, a measure of his name mixed with pleading words, all melted together into a molten, searing mess of pleasure.

and it's not long, then, before his body tenses up, pressed back into the blond's grip as much as he can, the sharp cry signifying his orgasm at least muffled into the couch. ah, it's enough to leave him dizzy and hot, every nerve on fire with sensitivity, and still he pleads for a little more, for Basch to fill him, to give him everything.]

[bardische]

[ It's so clear Olivine enjoys this, and that makes it easy to relax and focus on serving.

The pleading, he does not know what to do with. He knows he enjoys being in a place where it comes from his mouth, but now he has to remind himself he is not hurting, is not failing. This is what he was asked for, and every sign is one of pleasure. He should not stop.

It helps, that the friction is strangely light. He can go harder than he normally would, skin against skin pleasant and slick. Soon enough, Olivine's body is scrunching, his breathing changing before he cries out.

That...does something for him. Even before Olivine begs for more; having served well, his own need grows. Or manifests itself, perhaps, no longer waiting for the other. It's new, and odd, and perhaps the leash fans it on. He finds a deeper reserve, grip tightening as he throws his head back and ruts against Olivine, near bounding him as he chases his own pleasure.

A thing that makes him shameful, and so he masks it. ]

You...have been so good, Olivine. I will...grant this last request.

[ It's the permission he needs, and in another moment he's crying out himself, gasping as his seed fills the other in hot pulses. He has to plant his feet, folding over Olivine, trying not to let both of them collapse. That would be unbecoming, and he's quite certain his role includes ensuring Olivine's comedown and comfort, including seeing him safely back to his room. ]

[massochism]

[he has his safeword if he needs, of course. it's more than enough, when he's enjoying every second of this. and honestly, he'd like to give more encouragement, more reminders that this is good, it's what he wants—but he really can't. it's a good thing Basch continues on the path of intuiting it, probably.

it's notable, at least, the little shifts that get Basch going. a little hard to pull into proper context, but they're things he'll try to remember should anything happen in the future. certainly nothing like this, most likely, but he always wants to help.

much like he would soothe Basch, if he knew the depths of his thoughts, the fact that he finds something like this shameful even when Olivine asked for it. his pleasure is important, after all.

chasing it gives something to Olivine, too, the heat of his orgasm soothing something in him. Basch folds over him in the immediate aftermath, and the priest already regrets not being able to put his arms down to hold them both up. his hands tug lightly at the leash wrapping them behind his back at this regret, but it's still easy to melt into the heady, sweet feeling of afterglow starting to settle in. he's still breathing a little hard, slowly catching up to the time and space again.]

Ah... haaah... thank you... Basch. Mmn...

[bardische]

[ That Basch doesn't trust that safety valve to be used, if needed, is likely something he needs to address. But not today. Nor is today for explaining the shame...is pleasurable, in its own way. If handled right. It's complicated when he's also leading, something he has less familiarity with.

But Olivine is nothing but glowing, and that thanks pulls the last of the concern from him. ]

I hope you are pleased, Olivine.

[ A low, gentle comment, role entirely forgotten. And he sits there for a few moments, dazed by afterglow, trying to catch his breath, straining to hear Olivine's comfortable sighs, before he straightens himself, undoing the tie from his wrists and gently guiding his arms down, pulling out from inside him, easing his body onto the couch as his fingers go to search for the clasp on the collar. He finds it this time. ]

Shall I take this off, or do you wish me to continue until you are returned to your rooms?

[massochism]

[it always takes him a good moment to come down from it all, comforted in the weight of someone against him, warm and real. the gentle statement, role shed completely, earns a soft, vibrant laugh from the priest that probably answers long before he does.]

Immensely... thank you, Basch.

[sliding out of his own space is easier than expected, arms coming to hold himself up with again. fingers slide over the collar and he exhales a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded.]

Mm, you can take it off. We... shouldn't have any need for it anymore.

[once they're past here, it should be much quieter, so there'll be no attention on either of them anymore; all of it seems to have been diverted elsewhere, perhaps for similar acts starting up amid their own. which... he realises rather belatedly exactly what just happened, and how public it was. he'll process that later, from the fact that he actually went through with it to the fact that he didn't dislike it.]

Wrap this one?

[bardische]

[ He's almost startled by the laugh, but it's impossible to deny that Olivine is not in anyway put out by their activities. That helps, even if it leaves him feeling confused in the wake of the leash's pull fading.

At least he has a task, as he works to free the collar and toss it aside. He grabs behind him, handing Olivine the clothing he shed and pulling on his own. It's hard to not stare at the floor, the self-consciousness flooding in as what they've done starts to hit. At least, as Olivine noticed, the crowd has found attention elsewhere. ]

I would walk you to your room, if you like, otherwise I will...see you some other time.

[ He leaves it vague, not asking for a commitment so much as trying to slip away so he can try to calm his erratic nerves. ]

sounds good!

[massochism]

[as he takes his clothes, Olivine offers a small, thankful smile. it's easier than he'd worried, dressing back up, and he pauses only briefly at the offer. really, he'd like the company, but...]

Ah... I won't keep you... but if you'd like, I wouldn't mind the company. We can talk anytime, of course.

[there's a lot he just... did, here, and even if Basch was willing, it still feels wrong to ask him for anything more now. even with the sense of being seen rising, he doesn't feel comfortable asking to lean on the other man for any longer. so he doesn't; reaching out to take the blond's hands lightly in his, squeezing another brief moment of thanks, he offers a warm and gentle smile before breaking away again.

whether Basch walks with him or not, the walk back is quiet, maybe a little lonely. he'll worry about how to apologise later, how to talk to him again. it doesn't really reach his face much anyway, and then... well, then there's his room. he has a lot to think about when he gets there, to be sure.]