bakerstreet | I touch myself

( feeling something where shion and her partner face each other while masturbating and get off together. orrr shion straddles and places a vibrator between both of their legs for multiple orgasms. pref for shion leading, as well as her partner being feminine-looking or soft. random additional kinks can be found here. )

[Miu being Miu, she's invented some kind of horrifying double penetration Sybian knockoff designed to overstimulate, and she's either trying to bully your character into trying it or been bullied into using it herself.]

H-hey Miu? ...what the heck is that and why am I afraid of it?

[ It looks like a torture device. It looks like an engine component. Like if they fire it up, it'll just take off on its own. And if it breaks down it'll uh... do some bad stuff to some sensitive body parts. ]

[The real problem is that Aether knows what Childe's hands feel like on his body. They had a few moments of indulgence, back in Liyue — ill-advised moments of indulgence. They had fights that had left them both breathless and keyed-up in a way that was ever only going to end with Aether rocking his hips into Childe's groin and their fingers wrapped around each other as they each sought completion. Other times, they'd met up in the palatial apartment Childe keeps in Liyue and shared nights that ended in groaned pleasure and husky whispers and half-meant promises of more another time.

Then Aether left for Inazuma, and that was it, for a while.

He has been desperately trying to not think of those nights ever since this whole business with Shiki Taishou and the Onmyou Chamber cropped up.

It's part of why he's been so curt and terse with the Harbinger the whole time. There's the fact that Aether's been reminded of why he doesn't like the Fatui, true — Teppei's death still stings a little when he thinks about it — but he understands how large organizations work well enough to know that Childe wasn't personally responsible for that. He knows, in his heart, that Teppei has nothing to do with this. The real reason he's been avoiding Childe's gaze is because he wants to be in Childe's arms again, but he needs Shiki Taishou and Paimon and Xinyan to see him as their shining leader, and he thinks, in the most neurotic way, that he can't possibly do both. That the world where he's perfect and the world where he gets the things he wants can't coexist.

So.

So it's like this: they're camping in the Mystic Onmyou Chamber. There are beasts lurking everywhere in the labyrinth, true, but Shiki Taishou swore up and down that he had erected the proper wards to ensure that the monsters wouldn't disturb the group in their sleep, and it's actually not hard to survive in it, all things considered. The jars and barrels littered throughout the domain hold foodstuffs, and there are lit torches for a fire, and some other resources from the traveler's knapsack had made them two passable bedrolls.

Aether and Paimon usually sleep together, but Xinyan (quite rightly) doesn't seem to trust Childe all that much, so they wind up splitting by genders: Paimon and Xinyan in one sleeping bag, Aether and Childe in another, and Shiki Taishou, well, he's made of paper, so he's fine on the floor. Fair enough. The girls don't know it, but it's not like Aether and Childe haven't shared a bed before.

It's just: when he'd gotten into the makeshift sheets with Childe, close enough to smell him, Aether felt all that latent arousal burst like a dam, and then he couldn't sleep, not even a little bit.

They try to sleep anyway. It's quiet aside from the sound of the domain's eternally-crackling fires. Lying on his side, Aether peers up, but he can't tell if Childe is actually asleep or just pretending to be. He feels like the only one who must be antsy, the only one going stir-crazy inside of his own skin. The sight of Childe's long neck makes him want to bite into the Harbinger's skin, so he looks down instead, but that only brings his attention to Childe's red shirt, the slightly open gap between his buttons, the creamy curve of his chest as it rises and falls.

He can't sleep like this. Maybe if he just rolled over and tried to ignore it, it would eventually go away, but Aether's already half-hard over nothing more than the scent of Childe's hair and the sight of his skin.

Paimon and Xinyan are right there.

He tries to be quiet, that's what he does. Childe is right beside him, but he won't allow himself the satisfaction of touching the Harbinger; he knows they both get too loud. Quietly, he shuffles his trousers a little lower, until the waistband is sitting on his thighs; he wraps a hand around himself and starts slowly pumping his own length. Oh, that feels good. Oh, that's a relief. Maybe after he comes, he'll fall right asleep. Sleeping after masturbating always feels the best.

He lets out a quiet, shaky breath, his hand making furtive movements beneath the covers, and then peers up through his eyelashes at Childe's face again...]

Edited 2022-02-05 05:49 (UTC)

[ And it would be fair, wouldn't it, to allow Aether this little relapse, to allow him to think, however errantly, that he can do something shameful like this, something naughty like this, without a pair of bright blue eyes staring down at him, waiting? It would be the right thing to do--to continue to pretend to sleep, to measure his breaths in their perfect rhythm, in and out, in and out; it would be the kind thing to do, to let Aether have himself in his hands and bring himself to a shaky, quick conclusion. There's no shame in that sort of thing, anyway, actually: no shame that should be brought upon anyone, or at least that's his own belief. It's impossible to ignore those sorts of urges sometimes, impossible to force the body to change into something else--he knows that better than anyone. He doesn't blame Aether for giving into it, just as he wouldn't blame anyone else that found themselves beside him and in desperate need of release.

Well. Maybe that's not entirely true, but he can hope to be that good of a person--where the 'good' here is painfully selective.

So yes, it would be fair, and it would be kind, and it would be understanding of him. The thing is, though, that he's not always any of those things: the thing is, though, that he's spent the weeks without Aether near him annoyed and frustrated, whittling down the time as though he's carving some sort of creature out of wood. Every time he thought that Aether himself might appear, might take shape--well, he had heard plenty of what had happened in Inazuma, and gratefully, he hadn't really been a part of it at all. Not that there weren't certain things he would have loved to see...

And now, this--to have Aether close to him, to be able to smell him, to hear his breath, to know what his whispered words sound like, or what his hands feel like, or what it's like to pin him down to the mattress and fuck them both into oblivion, and to not be able to do anything, for the small amount of modesty that he has, at least around the girls? No, he's not letting Aether get away with it.

So the look, cast up at him, shuttered through lashes, is met with the bright, staring gaze of his own eyes: yes, he's been faking it, and yes, he knows that Aether's pulled his pants down just enough to get inside of them, and yes, he can feel the faint movement in the sleeping bag. And he stares at him, and his lips curl up into a smile--it's so pleased, his mouth parts as though he's about to declare something out loud, and then he thinks better of it.

One of his own hands, lifted from the covers, shows off the slim, gloved fingers to Aether, open-palmed--before he moves that hand to Aether's mouth, curves over it, presses against it to hide it from sight.

His brows lift: go on, they say, with the delighted curve of his smile, I'll keep you quiet. ]

[Childe's fingers close around Aether's mouth, and any other person would rightly feel off-put and fearful of the action — but Aether sinks into it gratefully, pressing his lips against Childe's gloved fingers in a bid to keep quiet. He's caught in the throes of his shameful need, but that almost doesn't matter with the easy way Childe's slid into this dynamic with him; closing his eyes, Aether can almost imagine that he's in Childe's arms, one hand clapped over his mouth to keep him quiet. He can almost imagine that the hand jerking his too-hot, too-hard cock is Childe's, too, and he wouldn't entirely dislike that, some time in the future: he might not protest, if Childe ushered him to some private corner of a public place, clapped one hand over his mouth and used the other hand to milk him dry with absolutely no prompting or warning at all.

The thought gets him hot. Makes his breath come faster and shorter, and it's a lucky thing that Xinyan and Paimon fall asleep quickly, or he'd have a hard time explaining why he sounds so out of breath just sleeping next to Childe. In a way, it's embarrassing how worked up he's gotten when Childe hasn't even done much of anything at all, but isn't that the problem: All their shared memories, and little action to show for it?

Aether tries to keep quiet. When the first soft moan bubbles up from his chest to his throat, he tries to bite his lip, and then when that doesn't quite work, the soft first joint of Childe's ring finger — just a nip, really, just enough to keep the sound of his voice inside of his chest and out of poor Paimon's ears. The slight furrow of Aether's brow as he sinks deeper into his fantasy; does Childe see that? The soft, wet breaths coming hot against his palm; can Childe feel that?

This is all, somehow, both less intimate and more intimate when Childe is the one with his hands around him. And as Aether sinks more properly into the intoxicating haze of unbridled pleasure, his hand moving faster and faster and demanding more from that taut rope of arousal that's knotted in his belly, he finds himself compelled to pull Childe into it, too: taking a long, shuddering breath, he lifts his finger up from the tip of his cock, stretching out a bead of his pre-cum into a relatively long string of sweet need that breaks once it's pulled too far.

Is he satisfied? Hard to tell with half his mouth covered — but he almost seems like he's goading Childe on...]

[ It's provocative enough, when Aether's lips split and for a moment, he thinks that maybe his palm might not be enough--maybe he's about to let out a cry, or a moan, and something like that will surely be loud enough to wake the others, and he's already trying to think of the elaborate bullshit he'll give as an excuse for it. Maybe Aether's having nightmares, that's a pretty failsafe idea; that would give them both time to get more settled, and all he would have to do is look surprised, himself, and jerk his arm back in under the cover of the sleeping bag. But there isn't really a sound that escapes, past the hurried breathing--Aether's teeth nip at his finger, almost longingly, and there's a lance of heat that works its way down, from his arm to his elbow and through his chest, plummeting lower. He gives one cursory glance sidelong, but there's no movement he can detect.

His gaze moves, then, back to Aether's face: where his brows knit together, beneath the curved, hazy blanket of his bangs, where his pale skin fades away to the stark black of his own gloves, where he can practically see the flush starting to build behind it. If it were only this one time, maybe he'd be more restrained--maybe he'd be able to watch and enjoy the sheer awe of it, but he's seen Aether like this plenty of times, so many times that it only makes him hungry. His hand moves, grips tighter over Aether's face--his fingers span out, clutching greedily at his cheek like the more he leans into it, the more he'll be able to feel the reciprocation. Aether's thinking about him, isn't he? No one else?

It's that small movement, down between them, that has his gaze flickering along Aether's body; Aether's hand is working in the near darkness, but there's the telltale glimmer of wet on his skin, a string of it, enough that his own mouth twists into a grin and there's a sound, almost a playful grimace, as he leans forward, drums his fingers against Aether's cheek and then, finally, snaps his wrist back.

It's taking almost all of his exhausted self-control to keep from just reaching between them to finish him off; and maybe he'll hit that point, but he's not quite done teasing yet. ]

Naughty boy. [ --is what he says in a playful whisper, but he doesn't bring his hand back all the way; it's his fingers there instead, pressed pointedly to Aether's lips as though awaiting passage. ] Take this off for me.

[ The glove, he means, and also-- ] Don't stop, either.

[He should be the hero, shouldn't he? He ought to provide witty repartee; he should always have something clever to say back to the story's villain. Except it's so easy, sometimes, to lie back and fall into the flow of whatever mad thing Childe wants him to do or say in the moment, and it's easy now to just do what he's told. To just move forward, lips parted in a way that belies his hunger, and take the fingertip of Childe's glove into his mouth, ever so careful not to bite the tender flesh beneath.

Aether wants, and he thinks he's going insane. Nothing, no one, should be able to make him want like this.]

Couldn't stop e-even if I wanted...

[He doesn't finish; he's mumbling so quietly he can barely be heard, and anyway it's hard to talk with the glove partially in his mouth. But he holds it, tips his head back, pulling the glove up past Childe's knuckles and fingers until it's slipped off, loose, and Aether can see the familiar shape of Childe's surprisingly beautiful fingers past the black leather.

The glove dangles in Aether's mouth, but he doesn't let go of it until he's been told to do so — such a good boy. His hands keep moving, but he's slowed down considerably, maybe because he's close and trying to draw it out, trying to see what else he can get Childe to tell him to do. His golden eyes waver and flicker with equal parts need and uncertainty.

"Well, I nev — ! Nngh..."

For a moment, Xinyan sounds like she's about to say something lucid, but she stops midway through and then only rolls over in her sleep. Apparently she's the type to talk mid-slumber. The sound of her voice made Aether jolt, though, so much so that he's hopelessly avoiding Childe's gaze out of embarrassment. One would think that the more embarrassing thing in this equation is his flushed, reddened cock, obviously, openly quivering with need.

Oops — that made his hands stop.]

Edited 2022-04-01 02:48 (UTC)

[ His fingers flex with interest, as Aether pulls that leather off, leaves it lingering between his teeth, and for a moment, he wonders why--it takes him only a moment to realize it, that the only instructions he's given had been to remove the glove and nothing further; it makes him laugh, a small, tight little chuckle that he presses his lips around, eyes lighting up with amusement as though he wants to say it, to drawl it out in a warm, playful purr--oops. Another furtive glance to the side, but no one is stirring just yet. Aether's hand, moving in the dark between them, has slowed some--he should have expected that, and to be fair, it's not like he's told him to be quick, or to finish himself off, or anything of the sort.

They both would lose interest too quickly, he thinks, if it went that way.

So it's his fingers that reach up, take the glove out from between Aether's teeth and crumple it up into his palm. It won't do to leave it out beyond the sleeping bag, so his arm bends, tucks the thing down somewhere into the fabric of his jacket, as though seeking out a pocket or even just some space to stash it, for now, completely unconcerned. Later, when they rise in the morning, he'll find it one way or another--he's less concerned about it so long as it isn't readily visible, and more concerned about curling his fingers up over Aether's waiting lips, thumbing down against the bottom one to feel his breath.

But for a moment, there's the sound of a voice--hungry and annoyed, his eyes skate, his head tilted up to catch sight of whoever might be awake. It sounds like Xinyan, and the sentence seems to hold weight only long enough for her to shift in her sleep, and roll back over; he's grateful that he won't have to resort to the very clever reins on his temper to keep from lashing out if anyone readily interrupts. Still, though, Aether misbehaves almost immediately--he can feel the sudden cease of movement, between them, and playfully, his eyes roll back in mock dismay to Aether's face. ]

You're not off the hook yet, comrade.

[ --this is whispered, but his voice raises, slightly, with the last word; Aether won't meet his gaze. His first two fingers press down against Aether's lower lip, guiding his mouth open only so that he can slide them both in, curved and hooked around his tongue. ]

Don't stop, we're just getting to the good part.

[Aether realizes he's made a mistake only seconds too late; by the time he realizes he's stopped, Childe has noticed too, and since he's broken the rules, he's earned his punishment. Childe's fingers hook into Aether's mouth, caress his tongue in a way that is both lewd and loving, and it makes Aether shiver in their little bedroll, drawn into Childe's whims.

A part of him, still sane, wonders why he's going along with this so easily, so submissively. But he's already caught in the undertow, and he can't seem to rise against the current; he picks up his pace again, wrist snapping almost in apology, or because he's getting close. He whines softly, mouth open and barely audible for the way he's trying to keep his voice down.]

C-caaan'h....

[Can't, he means to say, but it's almost indistinguishable from the affirmative thanks to Childe's sly, demanding fingers keeping his tongue down.]

Ith I... keep goin'... I can'h... ngh — !

[Well, it was a valiant effort, and isn't that what Childe likes about Aether, the way he always tries so hard? But, in the end, even the traveler has to surrender to the air of tense pleasure that's enraptured them both. The way Childe is looking at him, his gaze razor-sharp and dangerous as the dripping maw of a beast — it's so impossible to not be motivated by that, to not find some sick measure of peace in it. It's so easy to close his eyes and know that all he has to think about is keeping Childe happy, and as he sinks into the deep and offers the Harbinger his sticky seed, tongue caught and toes curled in complete surrender, Aether thinks to himself that maybe it isn't such a bad thing, every once in a while, to lose.]

[ It's not a distant memory, not one that he has to pull up out of nowhere--it's not a memory that he's forgotten, either, or something that isn't played through his mind, routinely, when he's alone, as though he has nothing else to focus on, as though it's the only thing that helps draw something out of him. Just as he remembers, just as he knows, Aether is loud. Even with those fingers he has, pressed to his tongue, stroking against it as though he'll press it between his knuckles and cut the tip, the words garble over the curved shape of his palm and hit the air between them, and all he's thinking about is the look of abject horror that will light up on Paimon's face, the sort of shivering disappointment that Xinyan will vibrate with, and the sort of distance it will put between them and the precious traveler.

And, in some ways, would that be so bad? Would it really be something that he shouldn't want for, would it really be yearning for, to have those pesky nuisances further away from Aether, so that he can take up that space himself?

He's never really considered himself jealous for the attention, and yet: especially now, with the way that they're traveling together, sometimes he thinks that Aether needs that space for himself, too.

It doesn't matter. He can't put his hand over Aether's mouth and muffle it when it's already there; he can't pull his fingers out fast enough to provide any kind of buffer. Instead, there's just the soft, pleased chuckle of his own breath, added to the mix; there's the heat of warmth between them, a sticky mess that he won't be able to do away with, and playfully, he lets his fingers fall, slid from Aether's mouth only by the momentum of his chin and saliva. They fall past his lower lip, dripping went--and rather than wipe them off, he lets his hand fall down between them. ]

Good. [ Another whisper, soft and warm--and, alarmingly, rather than give Aether space, his thumb hooks down at the waist of his pants, pulling at them sharply. He clearly intends to make more room; for what, he isn't saying yet. ] Now my turn.

[What they're lucky with is this: Xinyan and Paimon are both deep sleepers. Well, with Paimon, that's no surprise — the fairy is so trusting, so defenseless, that of course she'd just plunge into the fuzzy bits of cotton-candy fluff in her head and shut out the world around her as she slumbers — and in Xinyan's case, well, maybe she's just tired, or she's too accustomed to raucous yelling and the wail of her guitar even in her sleep. Neither of the girls stir, despite Aether's fairly audible moaning and mumbling around Childe's fingers.

Aether's grateful, though in a way, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad, to have the secret out. Xinyan only knows Childe as an adventurer from Mondstadt, and sometimes — sometimes Aether wants the people around him to know that he's been sullied.

The more important thing, however, is that Childe is promising to sully him now, and as Aether comes down from the frantic peak of the orgasm he couldn't resist, he's too tired to even jolt when he realizes that the Harbinger is pulling his pants down. Instead of expressing surprise, Aether only lifts his hips and wiggles the waistband down himself; his eyes flick upward afterward, openly, coquettishly seeking Childe's guidance. There's something strangely, pleasantly perverse about seeing him like this, sleepy and still decent up top, with only his waist and thighs and the sticky head of his cock exposed.]

Mmm... y-your turn. [Mumbled softly, a little dazedly; he's still hazy from the high.] How do you want me?

[Still beneath the covers, he parts his thighs a little invitingly; he turns his palms towards Childe too, or perhaps the Harbinger will want him to dive under the covers and use his mouth? All of it, it's all available for him. The traveler never refuses a request.]

( ooc: He's got a tail too. Why not incorporate that in the fun too? )

I touch myself

marisa kirisame | the touhou project | f/f

Sherlock Holmes | Moriarty the Patriot | castmates, m/m

felix fraldarius | fe3h | m/m

shion sonozaki | higurashi no naku koro ni

margaery tyrell | asoiaf/got | ota

jyn erso || rogue one || ota

cassian andor || rogue one || ota

rey || star wars || ota

ben solo || star wars || ota

bodhi rook || rogue one || ota

rose tico || star wars || ota

Flash Thompson | The Amazing Spider-Man | M/M

Jean Grey | Earth-616| X-Men

Miu Iruma | Danganronpa V3 | F/F

no subject

fushiguro megumi / jujutsu kaisen / ota

childe | genshin impact | ota

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sylvain / fire emblem three houses / ota

gojo satoru / jujutsu kaisen / ota

Nico Acosta | OC | OTA

Evie Montgomery | OC | OTA

Amelia Atwater | OC | OTA

Lucien 👁 Critical Role

Jyn Erso | Rogue One | OTA

Cassia Andor | Rogue One | OTA

Essa Erso-Andor | Rogue One OC | OTA

Cassian Andor | Rogue One | OTA

Rey | Star Wars | OTA

Ben Solo | Star Wars | OTA

Elia Broch | Star Wars OC | OTA

Isa Trevyal | Star Wars OC | OTA

Charles Desjardins | OC | OTA