andfire | Open RP Post

Open RP Post

Open RP Post

♦ All characters are allowed to interact, regardless of being in a game with Elsa or not.
♠ This is an IC-spam post; only character journals, please.
♥ Doubles and threadjacking are allowed for maximum derp.
♣ 4th-walling: is allowed; Elsa can take it. She will likely just think you're crazy.
♦ Wank and OOC matters will be deleted.
♠ Crit will be redirected to the HMD

♠♥♣♦

This post has no established setting, to allow for any sort of thread. Voicetesting, smut, derp, violence, angst, crack, memes, any other shenanigans I might be missing are acceptable.

Also backtagging.

Lots of backtagging.

♠♥♣♦

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For the moment he's happy like this, staring down at her and she up at him. It's interrupted by the kiss she gives him and he returns it with one of his own. It was a little more heavy and passionate than hers, his hands, calloused by years of swordsmanship, cupping her face. He doesn't even give her longer than a few seconds to breathe before he kisses her again. He felt like he was drinking in her essence.

Her skin smelled of sweat and sex. Somehow he didn't hate it. It made him feel like he had marked her forever. One hand moves to her braid, tangling in it enough that he might even pull it loose at this rate. The other slips down, over her side and down past her hip, to trace the back of her thigh before tugging her leg by the back of her knee to rest near his hip.

"We should stay in bed today." he mumbles against her lips, closing his eyes as he ghosts them over her chin and jaw. No, he definitely wasn't letting her leave this bed today. Part of him wanted to go again, to find other ways to make her come undone. The other just wanted her to stay close to him and keep making him feel this warmth that had settled into his chest. It was akin to some sort of companionship.

Elsa reaches up to tug the band out of her hair, allowing the braid to come unraveled as he works his fingers into it. Her hair falls in long, loose curls around her face.

It occurs to her, as he brings her leg over his, that she thinks she might want him between her legs again. The thought leaves her making a quiet, affirmative sound against his lips at his suggestion. She tries to chase after him while he works his way to her chin, and then her jaw -- and then soon she's tipping her head back to give him room.

"We should," she agrees, voice a little hazy. Her leg folds over him, and she tangles her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, using it as leverage to guide his mouth down to her neck.

They are a tangled mess of limbs as he indulges her by kissing her throat, his hands dancing up to tease the curve of each breast. He wasn't quite so grabby this time, wanting to torture her just a bit with the anticipation. His nature was more impatient and fleeting but this would be worth it.

"And if we do? Can I make Elsa sing like earlier?" By sing he obviously means another more wanton sound entirely. He wanted to lay her against the bed this time, to be the one in control this time instead of being at her mercy. The thought spurs him into the beginnings of an arousal. He smiles like the devil against her throat, nipping at her soft skin while his hands move to her hips to shift the two of them in bed so that he hovered above her.

While her blonde locks were splayed out over her shoulders and beneath her in the bed, his own hair was slightly mussed from their earlier romp in the sheets. He indulges himself in a languid kiss to her lips while one hand slips between her slick thighs again, teasing her center with more brazen and obvious touches. His thumb finds a small nub that he hadn't paid attention to before and he teases at it while the other fingers curl inward and his knuckles rub against her entrance.

He straddles her hips this time and it's enough that she can feel his arousal pressing insistently back against her skin while he leans forward, grabbing her wrists - one in each hand - to pin her to the bed as he bites down on her lower lip. He had her pinned beneath him, pert breasts, soft curves, and all. That was so terribly arousing to him and almost dangerous in a way. He was forcing her to relinquish herself in a new way.

There's a kind of give and take about this.

"I'm..." He kisses her throat, and she rewards it with a shivery exhale. He teases her breasts, and she arches lightly into his hands. Elsa swallows, laying back into the bed and trying to remember what he'd even asked.

Oh, yes.

(There's a flush of color in her cheeks.)

"I'm not exactly sure you could call that s-inging-o-oh." She knows what he means, of course, but anything she might have added to turn it into a light joke is lost in a soft moan as he teases. His fingers are inside of her, and everything about it is much more sensitive than the first time.

It makes her arch more.

And then he's on top of her, hard and wanting, and once again it's impossible to not be swept up by how beautiful that is. To touch and be touched, to kiss and be kissed.

There's a brief surge of desperately wanting to fight against how he's pinned her wrists down. Elsa doesn't like to relinquish control, not at all. But in spite of it, she doesn't resist. That's the give. The take comes when he bites her lip, and she jerks her head up, chin almost bumping his nose, and fixes him with a frosty sort of look.

Then lifts her head, captures him in another kiss. Slow, soft, almost gentle. As if silently saying, slow down.

He can pin her all he wants, but she's still going to (try to) lead, even in this.

He would frown at the frosty glare he earns but then her lips press against his and his hands loosen their hold on her wrists before moving to frame her face. He wanted to go hard and fast but she found ways of slowing him down, tempering that frenzied need.

He lets out an earnest and needy sound between kisses that could be considered an impatient whine. He knows she wants him to slow down and he obeys - for now - but rebels in little ways like rocking his hips a bit or sucking on her bottom lip.

He had a long way to go in discovering patience and she might just need to show him the benefit in exercising it.

A tension that she wasn't really aware of leaves her body when he reaches for her face, and her own hands come up to cup his cheeks. Her thumbs draw a small arc just under his eyes --- she swears she can feel the brief flutter of eyelashes -- as she holds him in place.

She isn't pinned down, but she doesn't take back control. Not completely, anyway.

Her hands come down to brush at his sides before she reaches between them and lightly wraps her fingers around his cock. He's still slick with her, and it makes it easy to stroke him. Slow, but firm, almost in sync with every rock of his hips.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when her small fingers wrap around his aching cock. It doesn't take long before he is rutting into her palm with a slow roll of his hips. His hands dig into the sheets to avoid his nails digging into her face and he leans in to breathe hotly into her ear. If he thought he was the one in contol then that was now very much lost as she had him both literally and figuratively by the balls.

Turning his head slightly he presses kisses to her throat as he tries to regain some composure. His hand reaches to still hers, his cock already weeping with precum between their fingers, and he shifts back and spreads her legs to rest on either side of his hips. He rubs himself against her slick folds, relaxing more easily now that he felt more ready.

"Can I...?" He asks permission, kissing her forehead as if to seal a promise. He stops rutting to slip two fingers inside, curling and teasing them inside of her. His pace in and out is slow, to encourage her to relax.

He reaches to still her hand and she takes it back a little too quickly, in a gesture that almost reads as someone who feels like they might have done something wrong. Her fingers are sticky, but she unceremoniously fists them in into the sheets as he teases her.

She arches again, angling against the touch, guiding him to where she wants it most. A sound escapes her, something like a withered sigh, and she cants her head so that she can kiss the side of his neck.

"Please," it isn't a plead, but a command.

One hand moves to her hip while the other guides him to her entrance. She is easier to slip into this time, wet inside still with their previous lovemaking. He's just as careful easing into her this time, though instinct makes him want to throw caution to the wind. He knew she could handle it. Once he's comfortable, both hands rest at her hips, almost pinning her there as he sheathes himself inside of her with a few rolls of his hips. his hold loosens again but his hips still cant against hers, rubbing against the hot friction inside of her that made him ache even more.

"Ah-!!" He gasps and curses under his breath, grabbing onto the sheets and angling her hips so that he can hit a little deeper. He wouldn't stop her from moving with him, if anything finding it even more needed if they were to both feel pleasure in this. He digs little half moons into her backside as he finally finds a steady pace he can deal with without coming undone too soon. He wanted to - could already hear the soft schlick sound of flesh meeting a little too vigorously. He didn't want to stop.

"So beautiful..." he whispers, not even realizing he's said it out loud. She was beautiful and she had her thighs wrapped around his waist and her walls undulating around his cock each time he thrust against her as he pressed his weight against her. Hoisting her hip to wedge her between him and the headboard made it so he had something to grab onto while he moved inside of her and above her. He needed the anchor, even if he knew he was capable of breaking it if he wasn't careful to keep his strength in check.

Each movement brought a gasp from his lips. He certainly wouldn't be going another round after this one. He aimed to make this one count. Maybe that was a strange thought to have, given she was the one taking his roughness and his gentleness alike, if he chose to give either one or the other.

It lacks the frenetic, uncontrollable quality of before. And while she thinks she prefers the feeling of throwing all caution to the wind, of fucking him until the headboard cracks against the wall and her insides are almost numb with beautiful pain, there's something inherently special about this. Slow, steady, grounding... it's more like a slow burn than a whipping wildfire.

There's sweat beading along her forehead, above her top lip, along the back of her neck, spreading along her back. She can feel her hair sticking to the skin, and there's something strangely beautiful about it. Primal, almost. Her lips peel back and there's a sound in the air, a withered sort of moan as she twists and turns with him, digging her nails into the small of his back as if to drive him deeper.

Her hands move up and down his sides, fingertips rippling over his ribcage until her hands meet her knees, and back up again. They map his chest, and the column of his throat. Touching, feeling, experiencing. Her fingers curve around the back of his neck.

Even as he thrusts, and her body moves with each movement, the muscles in her stomach tighten as she curls up toward him, using her grip on the back of his neck for leverage, and leaves a kiss against the hollow of his throat. And another at the curve of his shoulder.

He thrusts, and it burns beautifully, and she gasps loudly. Without thinking, her teeth graze sharply against his skin.

Some how, he felt it was unfair how unevenly matched they were. She was making him feel as if he was a boiling pot threatening to bubble over. She was beauty and grace but there was a kinetic energy between them that felt more fierce and precarious than anything he's ever really felt for another person. It made him want to snatch her up like a butterfly in a glass jar and maybe even rip her wings off so that she couldn't fly away from him. That was a dangerous thought to have.

Her fingers and then her mouth on his skin draw shivers and when her teeth scrape the surface he can't help but groan. He worships what inches of her he can touch in such an awkward position he's created. It isn't much for him to decide maybe he will stop being so painful in this and making her curl up cramped between him and the headboard. He presses her into the mess of bedding and pillows, still holding onto the headboard with one hand and groaning into her ear in an attempt to voice his pleasure at their mutual physical needs being met.

His free hand tangles in her messy hair while his own mouth descends on her throat, mimicking the scrape of teeth she had done on his skin earlier. He knows if he isn't careful he could very well wind up sinking his teeth into her throat, that thread of self restraint lost. It was amazing he had any of that left, what with how far he was trying to push her physically.

She can hear the faint slick of body meeting body, and the sound is so primal and arousing that it draws a steady rhythm of wanton sounds from the back of her throat. Heady calls next to his ear and in the air, wordless and yet unmistakable.

Someone has probably heard them. If she had half a mind to think it, she might even suspect someone to take a broom handle to the wall, or maybe the ceiling or floor, to tell them to quiet. Normally, the thought would be enough to make her stifle herself -- and yet she isn't in half a mind to think it.

(To hell with them, she actually thinks, and presses herself back into the pillows and against the headboard as best as she can, as comfortably as she can.)

She reaches for his face, hands splaying out over his cheeks with thumbs caressing just along his cheek bones, and directing him to look directly at her.

If you're going to fuck me, you're going to look at me when you do it.

The thought is incredibly wild, almost uncharacteristic of her. Even moreso that she almost wants to snap it at him between his thrusts and her moans, but instead she draws him down so that his forehead is touched to hers.

And oh. Oh. Whatever he did just now, it's perfect.

She's not sure how to explain this to him, especially in the heat of the moment, and so she just cants her head so that her nose clumsily brushes against his, and she lets out a breathy, "There."

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