His worry combats his appreciation, however. That Dirk would even put forth the effort, that he is actively trying, in his own way, to make this work. He could run away. He could try to break this off, to avoid the taxing emotional cost of going against that which one is accustom. The siren song of the familiar, regardless of its potential self-destruction and promise of isolation.
It is a testament to Dirk's own feelings for Emet, feelings he refuses to put to words, but his actions speak loud and clear. He is not so insecure that he requires Dirk to utter such loving thoughts and feelings. He is far too wise and learned of a man to fail to realize that words are merely a shortcut for communication, but they are far from the only means. Little would he deny someone their native tongue, figuratively speaking.
As Dirk mashes into his shoulder, pressed firm to his body with the weight of Hythlodaeus to the mix, he breathes out a relaxed and affectionate sigh, nestling his nose into Dirk's hair. His arms holding them both, firm and warm, as his eyes slip closed for a moment to bask in the adoring gesture. Allowing the three of them this moment of peace and affection.
One beat.
Then another.
An emphatic squeeze of his arms, then he releases them, but not before, "now, what was this about a show, hm?"
One of Hythlodaeus' hands go to Dirk's chest and squeeze as he speaks. His tone as jovial as it usually is.
"I promised to fold him in half and penetrate him, yet he still seems a touch tense for such an activity. Perhaps you could relax him? I can't find it within myself to alter the morning's program. He will need to make do." He carries on jovially, a grin spreading on his features for Hades' benefit. Hades should know well enough what he means with it.
It hardly ends up being a very long show, and show is somewhat less adept of a description unless audience participation is an understood norm. Though, with them, they are into rather eclectic theater. Twenty-five, thirty sweaty minutes later, Hythlodaeus dismounts slowly from his spot behind Dirk and walks out towards the wash room, dressed in daring little before he comes back with warm washcloths in one hand as he combs the rest back into place with his fingers.
Dirk has a moment to appreciate the shelter of Emet's shoulder, protecting any slip of his facial expression from view--a refuge precious enough when Hythlodaeus honks his tit, but vastly moreso as Hythlodaeus details a plan for Emet's involvement and the wrecking Dirk's ass directly over his own head.
And, you know, the little voice in his head (that isn't a voice at all, but an ever-excruciating and ever-present externality of awareness) with its smugly devastating tone. 'You wanted this.'
Thirty minutes does very little to take the attitude out of Dirk's own unceasing self-talk, but now those three words are a rebuttal to his present desire to never move again. Except he has to get up or he this is going to be even more of a mess.
This isn't even his bed. Not that he'd be more willing to contemplate alternatives if it were, but it wouldn't be as much anyone else's problem.... lying (more or less) facedown, he makes a reluctant groaning sound directly into Emet's handsomely scarred chest before lifting his head as Hythlodaeus returns.
"Where the hell did you put my shades?"
It's a general question, but he kinda regrets the eye contact with Emet.
Christ. He just looks so damn hot right now. They both do. This is almost humiliating--yeah, fuck. He's getting up now.
There are plenty of things that speak to Hades' fancy, but none so deeply as an act so intimate as this.
Not merely sex, but the trust and vulnerability of it and whom is involved. To have Dirk flush against his chest, eyes laid bare as he plucked the shaded spectacles from his face so that he might look into their orange depths, giving himself to Hythlodaeus in such a manner... To be earnest in his own way with his desires—not through words, but through deed—there is little more emotionally fulfilling than this.
To feel him, to hold him, to see them—not that his own physical needs were ignored, far from. With each powerful thrust from Hythlodaeus, did both his and Dirk's own aching manhoods enjoy contact as the rest of their bodies did.
Thirty minutes is a laughably short amount of time for someone like Hades and Hythlodaeus, yet it feels simultaneously like it could be stretched on forever, yet passing too quickly with the rise of passion and intimacy. And before long the three of them have found themselves spent, Hythlodaeus pulling away to clean up, and Dirk left panting against his own chest as it rises and falls from their exertions.
It's Dirk's voice that pulls him from being lost in such bliss, and while he still feels the tingling warmth of afterglow, he's capable enough to answer him and meet his gaze. For all Dirk might regret it, Hades never does.
"Do you require them so promptly? Well do I know you must feel rather exposed like this, but I must say you make such a handsome visage as you are." However, as he says this, he does fulfill Dirk's request, reaching over to grab the shades which he placed on the short nightstand besides them before offering the pair to Dirk.
He does offer Hythlodaeus a thankful smile at his return, and while he himself is quite the 'crime scene' so to speak, he makes little effort to get up at the moment.
Hythlodaeus, without warning or consulting, catches Dirk's rear in his washclothed hand. He plops the other one on Hades' stomach with a smile.
"Hades is quite right. It is quite the treat for us, so deprived of our Sight as we are. I imagine your soul is burning quite brightly now."
Nevermind that they would both be averting their gaze slightly to accommodate that patchwork travesty. Even still, he feels that warmth in his chest as he looks down upon them in a heap. Even if Dirk insists upon sitting up and putting his glasses back on.
"Don't they make it harder to see in such a dim room? Though I suppose the sun is nearly up." His hair tickles Dirk's collarbone with how he's situated, and he doesn't seem to be getting ready to move away.
Dirk's experience has been that a lot can happen in thirty minutes--but killing that much time with nothing at stake hardly makes a difference to the course of even a day. This is neither of the two, though, and the intimacy of his position between the two of them is... overwhelmingly addictive. Or maybe that's addictively overwhelming. It's just a lot, emotionally and physically. It's not just the size of him, but the strength--Dirk doesn't want to hope too hard that the degree of himself that Hythlodaeus applies to the act of fucking him speechless reflects some degree of actual feeling for him, but between him and Emet, the feeling of being... wanted between them.... is still real enough to be convincing.
At least it wasn't Hythlodaeus' ear he was making those sounds into this time. Half of them, at least, were words.
In contrast, the sound that he makes when Hythlo presses a damp washcloth to his ass is more like his brain's attempt to produce a keysmash through his mouth than it is any intelligible sound or sentiment.
"I can take care of myself," Dirk's tone is a bit taut, and he relieves him of the warm, wet terrycloth in short order, trying not to sound sore--literally sore--though he already is. Something under his actual back hurts; he knows it's probably muscle, but it's hard to tell when the rest of him is so... well, he didn't take the whole thing but it sure feels like Hythlodaeus tried. Maybe some day he will and Dirk will literally die impaled on that giant cock. Wouldn't that be some kind of karma.
He takes the shades from Emet, too, but now he has two conflicting tasks here and he actually just hands them back after a second of trying and failing to mentally run both processes at once. The speed with which this went from 'slow but self-motivated initiative' to 'entirely too much stimulation and cross-talk'... if he could skip back like two entire minutes to the part where he was laid out on Emet's chest, feeling his own still-racing heartbeat as the rhythm of their breathing mingled and competed, both of them messy with--
"This wouldn't be an issue if you didn't raw me every time."
He is not making eye contact with anyone right now, thank you.
That Dirk does not don the shades right away is it's own blessing, one that Hades will not remark upon, or else it may spoil it utterly. Instead, he accepts the shades back, holding them in one hand as he observes the two. The crude way in which Dirk remarks upon Hythlodaeus' preferred method of lovemaking is not surprising, but it certainly is hypocritical.
What with Dirk's own penchant for "rawing" Hades. In fact, he's fairly certain that Dirk has never once suggested doing otherwise.
"Is it truly such an issue? Or is it merely a matter of being unaccustomed to being on the receiving end?"
How rigid Dirk is certainly suggests as such, but perhaps it's merely his own embarrassment. He certainly wasn't complaining while Hythlodaeus was inside him some few minutes ago, nor when he laid upon Hades' bosom as their breathes wordlessly bantered and heartbeats emphatically synced...
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It is a testament to Dirk's own feelings for Emet, feelings he refuses to put to words, but his actions speak loud and clear. He is not so insecure that he requires Dirk to utter such loving thoughts and feelings. He is far too wise and learned of a man to fail to realize that words are merely a shortcut for communication, but they are far from the only means. Little would he deny someone their native tongue, figuratively speaking.
As Dirk mashes into his shoulder, pressed firm to his body with the weight of Hythlodaeus to the mix, he breathes out a relaxed and affectionate sigh, nestling his nose into Dirk's hair. His arms holding them both, firm and warm, as his eyes slip closed for a moment to bask in the adoring gesture. Allowing the three of them this moment of peace and affection.
One beat.
Then another.
An emphatic squeeze of his arms, then he releases them, but not before, "now, what was this about a show, hm?"
no subject
"I promised to fold him in half and penetrate him, yet he still seems a touch tense for such an activity. Perhaps you could relax him? I can't find it within myself to alter the morning's program. He will need to make do." He carries on jovially, a grin spreading on his features for Hades' benefit. Hades should know well enough what he means with it.
It hardly ends up being a very long show, and show is somewhat less adept of a description unless audience participation is an understood norm. Though, with them, they are into rather eclectic theater. Twenty-five, thirty sweaty minutes later, Hythlodaeus dismounts slowly from his spot behind Dirk and walks out towards the wash room, dressed in daring little before he comes back with warm washcloths in one hand as he combs the rest back into place with his fingers.
The yamask are surely not paid enough for this.
no subject
And, you know, the little voice in his head (that isn't a voice at all, but an ever-excruciating and ever-present externality of awareness) with its smugly devastating tone. 'You wanted this.'
Thirty minutes does very little to take the attitude out of Dirk's own unceasing self-talk, but now those three words are a rebuttal to his present desire to never move again. Except he has to get up or
hethis is going to be even more of a mess.This isn't even his bed. Not that he'd be more willing to contemplate alternatives if it were, but it wouldn't be as much anyone else's problem.... lying (more or less) facedown, he makes a reluctant groaning sound directly into Emet's handsomely scarred chest before lifting his head as Hythlodaeus returns.
"Where the hell did you put my shades?"
It's a general question, but he kinda regrets the eye contact with Emet.
Christ. He just looks so damn hot right now. They both do. This is almost humiliating--yeah, fuck. He's getting up now.
no subject
Not merely sex, but the trust and vulnerability of it and whom is involved. To have Dirk flush against his chest, eyes laid bare as he plucked the shaded spectacles from his face so that he might look into their orange depths, giving himself to Hythlodaeus in such a manner... To be earnest in his own way with his desires—not through words, but through deed—there is little more emotionally fulfilling than this.
To feel him, to hold him, to see them—not that his own physical needs were ignored, far from. With each powerful thrust from Hythlodaeus, did both his and Dirk's own aching manhoods enjoy contact as the rest of their bodies did.
Thirty minutes is a laughably short amount of time for someone like Hades and Hythlodaeus, yet it feels simultaneously like it could be stretched on forever, yet passing too quickly with the rise of passion and intimacy. And before long the three of them have found themselves spent, Hythlodaeus pulling away to clean up, and Dirk left panting against his own chest as it rises and falls from their exertions.
It's Dirk's voice that pulls him from being lost in such bliss, and while he still feels the tingling warmth of afterglow, he's capable enough to answer him and meet his gaze. For all Dirk might regret it, Hades never does.
"Do you require them so promptly? Well do I know you must feel rather exposed like this, but I must say you make such a handsome visage as you are." However, as he says this, he does fulfill Dirk's request, reaching over to grab the shades which he placed on the short nightstand besides them before offering the pair to Dirk.
He does offer Hythlodaeus a thankful smile at his return, and while he himself is quite the 'crime scene' so to speak, he makes little effort to get up at the moment.
no subject
"Hades is quite right. It is quite the treat for us, so deprived of our Sight as we are. I imagine your soul is burning quite brightly now."
Nevermind that they would both be averting their gaze slightly to accommodate that patchwork travesty. Even still, he feels that warmth in his chest as he looks down upon them in a heap. Even if Dirk insists upon sitting up and putting his glasses back on.
"Don't they make it harder to see in such a dim room? Though I suppose the sun is nearly up." His hair tickles Dirk's collarbone with how he's situated, and he doesn't seem to be getting ready to move away.
no subject
At least it wasn't Hythlodaeus' ear he was making those sounds into this time. Half of them, at least, were words.
In contrast, the sound that he makes when Hythlo presses a damp washcloth to his ass is more like his brain's attempt to produce a keysmash through his mouth than it is any intelligible sound or sentiment.
"I can take care of myself," Dirk's tone is a bit taut, and he relieves him of the warm, wet terrycloth in short order, trying not to sound sore--literally sore--though he already is. Something under his actual back hurts; he knows it's probably muscle, but it's hard to tell when the rest of him is so... well, he didn't take the whole thing but it sure feels like Hythlodaeus tried. Maybe some day he will and Dirk will literally die impaled on that giant cock. Wouldn't that be some kind of karma.
He takes the shades from Emet, too, but now he has two conflicting tasks here and he actually just hands them back after a second of trying and failing to mentally run both processes at once. The speed with which this went from 'slow but self-motivated initiative' to 'entirely too much stimulation and cross-talk'... if he could skip back like two entire minutes to the part where he was laid out on Emet's chest, feeling his own still-racing heartbeat as the rhythm of their breathing mingled and competed, both of them messy with--
"This wouldn't be an issue if you didn't raw me every time."
He is not making eye contact with anyone right now, thank you.
no subject
What with Dirk's own penchant for "rawing" Hades. In fact, he's fairly certain that Dirk has never once suggested doing otherwise.
"Is it truly such an issue? Or is it merely a matter of being unaccustomed to being on the receiving end?"
How rigid Dirk is certainly suggests as such, but perhaps it's merely his own embarrassment. He certainly wasn't complaining while Hythlodaeus was inside him some few minutes ago, nor when he laid upon Hades' bosom as their breathes wordlessly bantered and heartbeats emphatically synced...