negromanzia | A Debt and a Gift

A Debt and a Gift

The realm of Cocytus was a cold, dark, barren little island in the midst of a river, which made it quite to the taste of the god-thing that owned it and not at all to the taste of anyone else. Cocytus made certain to meet her guest upon the shore, welcoming the senior deity who was not quite her liege.

"Ereuvir," she said, in a voice reminiscent of things that bubbled in the dark depths of caves. Her rags fluttered as she performed a slow bow. The gray, tattered hood that covered her head served also to conceal her face and the elegant, swollen, contorting blisters that her guests found so strangely unpleasant. Cocytus simply could not understand the universe's lack of appreciate for her beauty and wonders. "Welcome. I have such a thing to give you."

A gift that was not quite a gift. Cocytus owed a debt after all, which was not the sort of thing that Cocytus liked, and recently she had come into possession of something else that she did not like. Cocytus liked suicides, and she liked them to be as self-loathing or as depressive as possible. The particular despair that came from those who had turned violence upon themselves was a vintage sweeter than any Cocytus had ever found, and the rest of the gods were happy to let her collect her little tragedies. Except that one of those tragedies, lately, was proving to be such a thorn.

Well enough, then, that Cocytus was expecting a visitor, and one with very different taste. Debt and thorn could be bundled up together and handed over to Ereuvir, and Cocytus could go back to basking in the soothing misery of her precious island.

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Ereuvir makes a pleased noise once Ashley relaxes into the pleasure more, even if he is, paradoxically, working harder for it.

He has had many, many flatterers, many people with pretty words, many people who have offered him something like this in exchange for something else: power, usually, wishes, occasionally. He perhaps likes it as much as anyone would, but he doesn't trust it, and he doesn't trust people wielding it.

But this? This is honest, pleasure for the sake of pleasure, and if there's a little bit of proving oneself, it seems more like it's just that Ashley wants to show off, more than he wants to impress him, specifically. Perhaps he's just fooling himself, but the illusion at least allows him to enjoy it more openly, himself, moaning low in Ashley's ear.

While he's certainly been interested this entire time, he's much more clearly turned on, the less of that doting attention Ashley's giving him and the more he's just grinding in his lap, losing himself in pleasure.

"Give in to it," he purrs, dark in his ear, "Be as loud as you want, give all of them something to gossip about," picking up on that exhibitionist streak isn't particularly difficult.

Ashley shivers and laughs, smiling wide at Ereuvir's encouragement, and he's still laughing a little, breathless and easy, as he comes. Shuddering in Ereuvir's arms, he loses his rhythm but keeps moving, writhing and squirming until he finally sags back against Ereuvir's chest, dizzy and worn out.

Tilting his head back over Ereuvir's shoulder, Ashley gives a little sound of contentment and tilts his head to kiss Ereuvir's throat. "Oh, I do like you," he murmurs, offering the praise as though it was Ereuvir who was trying to win Ashley's favor rather than anything else. Relaxed and content, Ashley doesn't have any intention of moving. This is his lap now, and he's comfortable.

That laugh does more to cement his place in Ereuvir's bed than any single other thing he has done.

His mouth raises bruises across the nape of Ashley's neck, heated, while he finds his pleasure, but he's almost doting, himself, in the aftermath. He's still hard, but he's utterly unconcerned about it, they have all the time in the world and he's in no hurry. He'd much rather toy with the edges of overstimulation, makes Ashley protest it a little before he stops stroking him, or just keeps right on making him squirm if he lets him, and plant warmer, longer kisses over the marks he's left with his teeth.

Ereuvir radiates the same kind of contentment, and he chuckles softly to Ashley's comment,

"It would be rather bad for you at this point if you didn't," he points out, lazily, before withdrawing his hand and wiping it carelessly on Ashley's pants. He lets Ashley bask a moment longer, but then he's picking him up into his arms and standing, effortlessly. He makes no effort to really put Ashely's clothing back to rights before he's moving through the house with him, headed fairly clearly towards his bedroom.

Ashley enjoys the overstimulation shamelessly. He whimpers and trembles in Ereuvir’s lap, enjoying the too-intense pleasure with a hint of masochism.

When Ereuvir lets up, Ashley’s still twitching with aftershocks. He nestles close in Ereuvir’s arms, curling one hand around the side of his throat with his thumb pressed up under Ereuvir’s Adam’s apple, and starts sucking a mark of his own onto the other side of Ereuvir’s throat. He’s in disarray, but doesn’t care who sees. Erotic dishevelment is a far more acceptable state than muddiness, after all.

It is, perhaps, a bit of a bold move, to presume to mark him. But Ereuvir doesn't seem to mind, to the point even that, while he doesn't come close to dropping Ashley or anything, it's clear to feel the shudder that moves through him at the touch, the way it distracts his limbs from what he's doing for a moment.

There certainly are servants that see the two of them but, wisely, they seem to barely look or acknowledge what's happening, mostly just because of how well-trained they are.

Ereuvir's bedroom is not entirely in black, but it certainly dominates, along with dark, old wood. Ashley is deposited on the bed and his clothes pulled off without much ceremony, until he's naked on something exquisitely smooth against his skin. Ereuvir leaves him there, to go start pulling off his own clothes rather more methodically. Ashely could get up and help, fairly obviously, but also fairly obviously, he looks fantastic with the backdrop he's been given to preen and roll around on.

Ereuvir must have done it on purpose, for he looks slightly amused by his handiwork as he slowly reveals a body more suited to a statue than a person, but his eyes never leave the picture he's painted across his bed.

Ashley lounges back against the sheets, stretching out and closing his eyes in pleasure. The physical indulgence of the bed appeals to him very deeply, and the aesthetics of it suit him likewise. Ashley knows very well how pretty he must look, with long red hair spilling out around him and long limbs stretched artfully across the bed. He's a very pale young man, with dark red hair at his groin and beneath his arms. There's almost no hair on his chest, and the hair on his arms and legs is faint and sparse.

Ereuvir criticized him for posing, but Ashley's disinclined to care. His posing is an indulgent, pleasurable thing, because Ashley likes the feeling of it, and if Ereuvir prefers his view a little more sprawling, well, he's welcome to toss Ashley's limbs accordingly.

Lifting his head only once he's thoroughly taken his pleasure of lounging, Ashley smirks a little at the sight of Ereuvir mostly undressed, with a very impressive body to show.

Ereuvir is unmoved by posing for the sake of seduction or coquetry, thinks it's ridiculous and a bit shallow, stupid. But this is art, pale skin and dark sheets and the slash of red hair like a scar across the night sky and he takes great pleasure in art.

It makes at least some amount of sense. He, himself, seems molded out of classical Greek principles, like he's just stepped down from some sculptor's platform. Even his cock seems lovely and well-proportioned to the rest of him. It's almost enough to make one think that maybe his heart is made of marble as well, or that he's somewhat untouchable. But there's a bruise fading on his neck that says otherwise, as well as the predatory way he crosses the room to settle on the bed.

Once he's back in touching distance, he draws Ashley the rest of the way to him and wastes no time pulling him into a deep, heated kiss.

Ashley makes an appreciative noise as he's pulled into a kiss and claimed. He yields to it willingly, squirming closer and winding his arms around Ereuvir's neck. He presses their chests together, a little surprised that Ereuvir is as warm to the touch despite the cold marble appearance of him.

Pleased by his possessive and predatory lover, Ashley tangles one hand into Ereuvir's hair, nails scraping across the scalp and fingers grasping, not caring in the slightest if his musses Ereuvir's dark hair.

Grinning and panting as the kiss breaks for a moment, Ashley keeps from making any glib comments if only because he's too busy breathing, and he kisses Ereuvir again a moment later, greedy for more of those heated kisses.

Although he's certainly busily and thoroughly claiming all of Ashley's mouth for his own, it's very clear Ereuvir appreciates the hand in his hair, moans low into Ashley's mouth at the tug of his fingers. While Ereuvir seems like a man used to wielding power, he also seems like a man with so much power that he ceases to care about things like seeming powerful or people's opinions of him.

There's another low moan when Ashley joins the next kiss and he drags him in a bit more, hands running along skin, exploring a bit while they kiss. He seems in no hurry to go anywhere other than this, like he could just keep up these deep kisses for an eternity and do nothing further, though he does eventually tuck Ashley a bit closer via a squeezing hand to his ass and a bit of a warm chuckle.

Finding him a bit of a humorous lover is probably something of a surprise. Hopefully it is not an unpleasant one.

Ashley giggles in reply, light and unselfconscious, and nips at Ereuvir's lower lip.

"All these great claims you made about my limits and unraveling me." He doesn't remember what Ereuvir actually said. "Turns out you're a rather sweet kisser." Ashley gives him a wicked and playfully taunting smile, wanting to see if he can spur Ereuvir, and to find out what will result if he does. After all, Ashley has never been satisfied with having things safe.

"Hm," he considers that for a moment, "perhaps I just intend to test the limits of how far you'll let me go before you'll whine for more, rather than beg me to stop. I'm so used to being begged to stop," the last is said almost off-handedly. He pushes some hair out of Ashley's face tenderly, his fingers sliding into the strands gently for a moment before his hand tightens and he tugs, leaving a biting, kissed trail down Ashley's neck, but from a new angle from in the chair,

"What would you like to beg for?" he asks, low and sensual. He's not really expecting a straightforward answer, but he's curious what the answer is going to be all the same.

Ashley takes a moment to think it over, leaning his head into Ereuvir's grip and sighing with pleasure at Ereuvir leaves more marks upon his neck. He doesn't want to risk being mundane by asking for some deviant kink that Ereuvir has found boring for a dozen centuries, and he also doesn't want to ask for something that he could receive from any ordinary, human lover.

"I think begging should be a spontaneous thing, don't you?" he says instead, playful and challenging. He knows that he's toying with a predator, and he's enjoying every moment of it. "You're welcome to make me beg."

Ashley's fingers roam over Ereuvir's body, lightly questing with caresses that are skilled enough that an ordinary lover might miss the methodical aspect of them. He's searching for sensitive spots and ticklish areas, curious as to what will make the marble statue squirm or groan.

"What would you like me to beg for?" he asks, calm and conversational because he's not dodging the question, he's only buying time, and he doesn't mind if Ereuvir notices. He wants to know more about the god of the underworld, and his preferences, and he wants to take a little more time to turn over the real question Ereuvir asked of him--what would he like?

Ereuvir chuckles to that, can tell that Ashley is looking for spots to make him moan or writhe. The truth is, there's little of that for him in the way of spots that are overly sensitive or specific, singular things that make his blood quicken. He does not need to have sex, often goes a very long time without even desiring it. He is not designed to procreate or to need to have sex for it's own sake and so he rarely bothers.

What he is designed for is to try to understand humans, all their intimate, dark desires, how to best plumb the darkness of the soul. And, for humans, there is this need or fear, an almost mystical set of rules and thoughts, nearly a religion around sex and sexuality and so, like all things human, it fascinates him. He does not have any specific places Ashley finds, but he's making low, pleased noises just at the touch of his hands, an easy and interested lover, once he decides that he would like to be one.

"Something you don't think you should want," he answers, and it would be, perhaps, easy to see it as some kind of diversion, himself not answering the question, except there's no denying the tone, covetous, almost a little breathless, his own hands more clinging for a moment, "Something it scares you to ask for." The second is hungrier still, the words spun out against his skin, Ereuvir unable to stop himself from tasting him again a moment later.

Ashley moans into his mouth, fingers sliding straight back into Ereuvir’s silken hair and gripping tight as they kiss.

He licks his lips as the kiss breaks, watching Ereuvir with dark, pleased eyes. “Tough question to answer on the spot,” he says, because he doesn’t know if he can think of a good answer quickly enough, and he has just enough self-preservation to be wary of offering that much so quickly. He’s willing to offer it, but needs to ease himself in.

But as he thinks over what he can offer, an impish smile curves his lips. “Do you have...” His fingers shape it in the air a moment before he has the words. “Anal plug.”

"I wouldn't expect you to, not really," he answers back to the first, "but if you're looking for a trajectory, there it is. I can content myself with much less and consider myself well-satisfied. But you do not seem like the sort who would like to leave me merely contented." He does not add that that is a lot of why he had taken him up on the offer. He does not tumble every pretty thing that does.

"Silicone or glass?" he asks, without a moment's hesitation, "Or did you have some other material in mind?" There's zero hint of shame about it, for all that he seems kind of darkly romantic about everything so far. "And what size?"

Ashley kisses him briefly in reward, pleased that Ereuvir understands that they are in agreement in wanting to push Ashley's boundaries and wanting Ereuvir to be more than merely contented with him. He's likewise pleased with the practicality and negotiation in regards to his request. Shame has always seemed like such an unnecessary thing to Ashley.

"Glass," he decides, and his hands flutter to try to describe the shape in the air. It takes a moment and a couple of tries, but his hands are expressive and he manages to generally decide upon and convey the circumference he wants. He's more immediately precise about the length he wants: Ashley knows exactly where his prostate is. "Maddening, but not a strain," he explains, once he's non-verbally described a medium-sized plug of specific proportions.

"How about if you fuck me," Ashley proposes, "and then afterward you can take me on a tour and we'll see how long it takes me to start begging?"

He lifts his eyebrow in playful challenge to see if Ereuvir will make the connection regarding the middle step in this plan and how the anal plug comes into play.

Ashley's reward for thinking of this game is a low, almost sinister chuckle and another bruise on his neck, left slowly and methodically. Afterwards, Ereuvir pulls away, but it's just to reach into a drawer on the bedside table. There's some kind of lubrication first, in a suitably ornate little container for it's surroundings, something viscous and a little bit warm somehow, with a deep, rich kind of smell to it that never quite settles on one thing but is sensuous all on it's own.

The plug is next. Here, in the heart of his domain, there's almost nothing he can't do, if pressed to do it. Creating something precisely suitable to Ashely's dimensions is practically as easy as drawing a breath. He's never liked the flashiness of creation out of thin air, so the thing he's looking for is just somehow in the drawer already. There is a moment, just a moment, where Ereuvir considers making it some hideous shade of pink or glow-in-the-dark green just for the reaction, but ultimately what he pulls out is made of black glass, the color so deep that it cannot be seen through, save for the fact that when the light catches it, it almost seems to glow from within.

Or perhaps that's not a trick of the light after all.

He places it on the nightstand, in clear view, but otherwise doesn't comment on it, moving back to the center of the bed and rolling Ashley easily up on his knees on top of him. Ashley's slender enough that, if he cooperates by moving up just a little, it's an easy matter to reach around his hip and sink the first finger into him. The prep will be relatively shallow and, for someone who didn't seem to know what they were doing, Ereuvir might be more thorough, but there is something to be said for waiting so the first thing that Ashely will feel in deep will be his cock.

"A tour around the house, or around the kingdom?" he asks, and it's both a genuine question, a bit of a humorous tease, and also another surprising bit of proof that Ereuvir isn't just talk, if he's willing to do something like that.

“Guess it depends on how big your house is,” Ashley replies, eagerly rolling his hips into the touch. He whines a little because it’s shallow and he’s impatient, but he knows better than to start begging before he’s really ready for it.

His eyes flick frequently toward the black glass plug waiting for him. It’s beautiful, and that makes Ashley covetous. He’s never been good at savoring anticipation. It’s his, and he wants it.

But there’s another new toy that is his now, so he reaches down to clasp his hand around Ereuvir’s cock, stroking slowly and learning the heft of it. The size pleases him, generous but not intimidating, and Ashley bites his lip with pleasure, watching Ereuvir with dark, lustful eyes.

Ereuvir can't help but smirk a little every time Ashley's attention is diverted by the glass, pleased that he clearly likes it. Here, too, he is perhaps more patient than a human lover would be. He's hardly threatened by the obvious interest in the toy over him. In fact, if Ashley had wanted to just have the toy, he would have given it gladly. But he's stated an intent, and Ereuvir has every intention of giving him what he's asked for. He doesn't usually like spoiled lovers but he does like spoiling them.

For someone who has seemed perhaps a bit indifferent to the actual physical act of sex so far, Ereuvir reacts quite well to having his cock stroked, eyes going half-lidded immediately and murmuring out a low noise of pleasure, hips moving just slightly to help with the motion. He adds another finger in reward, slow but steady. He's quite capable of just doing something like this for a long time, toying with a lover slowly until they can't take it any more. But, again, there's a request on the table and he wants to reward that, so he's perhaps a little more clinical than he might otherwise be, the fingers a means to an end.

Not that he's not still teasing just a bit. They both know it will be worth it in a minute, but right now his fingers are probably starting to feel frustratingly shallow, the more he works Ashley open.

Ashley likes being teased, but that’s certainly not about to stop him whining about it. He whimpers plaintively, nuzzling at Ereuvir’s chest and distractedly kissing Ereuvir’s nipple. He rocks his hips back desperately, instinctively trying to get those fingers deeper, even though he knows Ereuvir is keeping it shallow on purpose.

“Fuck me,” he begs at last, whining and nipping at Ereuvir’s throat between pleas. “Please fuck me.”

"Of course," there's something overly warm about the tone, indulgent, a bit of a hint already of what kind of lover Ereuvir is. One of his favorite games is getting people to ask for something and then giving it to them. It isn't as though this one was a hard one, but there's pleasure in it all the same.

He could tease. He lets Ashley feel that he could tease, gives one more lazy not-quite-deep-enough push of his fingers, just to let him think for a moment that he might but, ultimately, he wants the same thing his "guest" wants and there's little reason to delay.

He does get a bit more of the viscous substance on his cock before he does and Ashley's got leverage on his side if it's a bit too much, but given that Ashley's seemed to know what he was doing and he can move freely, Ereuvir has little problem with pushing in all in one, firm push, pulling Ashley down by the hips a little as he does.

Afterwards, he holds still, letting Ashley determine when they keep going, but also just letting him feel him. There's an almost vicious little grin on his face, better sign of him enjoying himself than any dirty talk or lover's moaning.

Ashley cries out as Ereuvir slides deep and inexorable inside him. Arching up smoothly, he tightens his thighs on either side of Ereuvir's hips, holding him there and discouraging him from moving as Ashley flushes and pants, adjusting to being filled so suddenly.

Shivering with the intensity of the sensation, Ashley splays one hand across Ereuvir's chest, fingers framing one of the nipples. Whimpers and keens bubble from his throat, but they're more updates than anything else: intensity, pleasure. He's already half overwhelmed, but doesn't want to stop until he's well past that.

After a minute, he takes a gulping breath and relaxes his thighs. He's still coping with the sensation too much to be able to coordinate his own movements just yet, but he's willing to let Ereuvir move, if he wants.

They literally have all the time in the world, as far as Ereuvir is concerned. There's no reason to hurry, and so he doesn't, holds himself still while Ashley works through the sensations. He pets his hands over those tense thighs, fingers kneading into the muscles there for a moment before he shifts to running them up Ashley's sides. He strokes him like that, soothingly, until he can feel his muscles start to relax.

Even then, the first bit of motion is small, a drag out and a push in done entirely with his hips. The motion is very slight, has to be from the position they're in, but it's enough for Ashley to feel it, certainly. If there's no protest to that, his hands slide back down to Ashley's hips and the next one he lifts him up just a bit, pulls him down.

"Good?" Perhaps he's fishing just a bit for something like the way he'd begged to be fucked to begin with, but he's also genuinely checking in.

Ashley gives him a grin in response, even though he's still flushed and shaky. "Good," he says, starting to rock his hips into Ereuvir's touches, encouraging the way Ereuvir lifts him. Ashley loves having partners who can lift him, and he starts rising up and dropping down a little quicker, letting Ereuvir's strength help him while Ashley sets the pace.

He likes it just a little bit punishing, so that he gasps and whimpers with every thrust, nails digging into Ereuvir's skin and body undulating to get the best angle, the best friction. "Ah," he moans, entirely focused on his own pleasure and the satisfaction of having Ereuvir beneath him. "Yes, please."

There are few things Ereuvir enjoys more in the bedroom than seeing someone caught up in their own pleasure, either in relentless pursuit or entirely unable to stop themselves. Ashley seems a bit of both, demanding just that slightest bit more than he can really handle and then reveling in it. It has Ereuvir gripping harder at his hips and growling out his pleasure just a bit, meeting him fiercely, noises deepening into low moans whenever Ashley manages to move just right to where things are deep and grinding at the same time.

He lets him set the pace for a time, enough to be sure that he's used to it, but the way Ashley's being rougher about this, the way he pleads, soon has him rolling them over in the bed, so he can hike one of those slender legs up around a hip or, if Ashley's flexible enough, a shoulder, and thrust in deeper, picking up the pace a bit more now that he can move.

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