[Hades grouses, though in his words there is also something akin to agreement. Sexual intercourse, in all of the times up until this moment, had been quite different. Sweet, yes, but regimented, predictable, and at times painfully dull. Often his partners would content themselves with leaving matters in his own (quite capable - as he was unanimously assured) hands. Rare that anyone grew playful with him during the act and rarer still to hear anything more than impassioned utterances. He cannot even recall the last time in which someone else willingly set the tone and the pace of their own private affair.]
[To find himself, even slightly, at Hythlodaeus's mercy is actually rather exciting. To hear his voice deepen, breathless and wanting - even moreso. Hades's lips skim the delicate flesh of Hythlodaeus's throat, catching at the underside of the man's jaw as he retreats, readjusts, and returns once more. Hades rises again, allowing the length of him to press up into the roll of those hips, chasing the same charged energy that flooded him before - all the while keeping up his end of the conversation as best he can. Hades may not be entirely breathless - yet 'tis clear he is at least slightly winded, his ears and neck, and even part of his chest still the slightlest bit pink.]
...I can assure you I am nothing of the sort. Yet given you have asked nicely, I suppose I'd be willing to humor your request. ...even if being anything else seems the more compelling option.
[True to his word, Hades frees an arm long enough to bring his fingers together into a crisp, clean SNAP! However, the result is perhaps not what Hythlodaeus had expected. When the aether has settled, Hythlodaeus will find that the last remnants of his trousers and the rest of his clothes have dissipated much like the shadow cloak from earlier, leaving him just as immodest as Hades is beneath him.]
[Yet the lubrication is not forgotten either. 'Tis a matter which had taken Hades a moment or three in which to reach a decision, yet if Hythlodaeus were to look carefully, he would find a tiny, unadorned bottle clutched between the two fingers responsible for weaving the magicks in the first place. The bottle is made of clear glass with an equally colorless substance inside - a humble offering, truly, though one of Hades's own concoction. Not...that Hythlodaeus need know that.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Hades grouses, though in his words there is also something akin to agreement. Sexual intercourse, in all of the times up until this moment, had been quite different. Sweet, yes, but regimented, predictable, and at times painfully dull. Often his partners would content themselves with leaving matters in his own (quite capable - as he was unanimously assured) hands. Rare that anyone grew playful with him during the act and rarer still to hear anything more than impassioned utterances. He cannot even recall the last time in which someone else willingly set the tone and the pace of their own private affair.]
[To find himself, even slightly, at Hythlodaeus's mercy is actually rather exciting. To hear his voice deepen, breathless and wanting - even moreso. Hades's lips skim the delicate flesh of Hythlodaeus's throat, catching at the underside of the man's jaw as he retreats, readjusts, and returns once more. Hades rises again, allowing the length of him to press up into the roll of those hips, chasing the same charged energy that flooded him before - all the while keeping up his end of the conversation as best he can. Hades may not be entirely breathless - yet 'tis clear he is at least slightly winded, his ears and neck, and even part of his chest still the slightlest bit pink.]
...I can assure you I am nothing of the sort. Yet given you have asked nicely, I suppose I'd be willing to humor your request. ...even if being anything else seems the more compelling option.
[True to his word, Hades frees an arm long enough to bring his fingers together into a crisp, clean SNAP! However, the result is perhaps not what Hythlodaeus had expected. When the aether has settled, Hythlodaeus will find that the last remnants of his trousers and the rest of his clothes have dissipated much like the shadow cloak from earlier, leaving him just as immodest as Hades is beneath him.]
[Yet the lubrication is not forgotten either. 'Tis a matter which had taken Hades a moment or three in which to reach a decision, yet if Hythlodaeus were to look carefully, he would find a tiny, unadorned bottle clutched between the two fingers responsible for weaving the magicks in the first place. The bottle is made of clear glass with an equally colorless substance inside - a humble offering, truly, though one of Hades's own concoction. Not...that Hythlodaeus need know that.]