[He has never been a man to be grossed out by slimy creatures, but he also has never truly been pinned to the floor and smushed by one so invasively as this, and so he hates everything about it! Hates how thick the pungent the air is, how soft yet unyielding Hythlodaeus' mass is, there is just so much about this that makes him want to scream, but of course he doesn't.
No, no, he squawks.]
Hythlodaeus what did you do!?
[He's trying to squirm out from under him, but he's pitifully failing. Part of him wants to just teleport away, and that'd be the easy solution, but another part of him, the part that just got railed deeply by a dragon and is still into that idea and has not let it go since it happened, makes him stay. It doesn't stop him from pushing on him though, trying to keep that silly looking adorable face out of his own as it contorts with distaste.]
How did you achieve this? You cannot transform, so then—!?
[Of course, he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world.]
The one with the dragon statue.
[He shifts his weight, though continues to pin him. It's fun! He doesn't think he could do this any other way, so the receives quite the thrill up his spine. Buried as it is in thick, padding fat. He nuzzles against his face, leaving warm slime in his wake.]
[The sound is involuntary but he isn't exactly in disagreement with it. The magical pond, he says. As if he has any idea what he's talking about remotely! He'll have to keep an eye out for any ponds with statues of dragons, he supposes, but the true threat is what comes out of that pond, actually. For all his wriggling, he makes no progress in getting out from under him, and he almost doesn't listen to what Hythlodaeus says next, but then it catches him—]
Do I? Hard to tell with the slime you seem keen to slather me with.
[It stands to reason that a beast like a dragon would have a superior sense of a smell, but his mind goes deeper than that. Byleth had been rutting when he came across him, and he had assumed it might have been something to do with a random curse or effect from this place...but perhaps that was from the pond in which Hythlodaeus refers, which means he might likewise be—
Then stop your thrashing, Hades. To fight will only make you more tired, and what's more, you need not move now.
[He sits up to look at him, though his legs are short and shifting his weight thus only serves to continue to pin him. Though at this angle, Hades can actually see something beginning to emerge from somewhere beneath the soft pouch of his stomach.]
[It's soft, though it seems to have an incredibly solid core. The head dribbles a clear fluid, oozing over his new length and against Hades' torso. The fabric is quickly becoming worse to have in its saturated state, perhaps.]
[He pauses as he notices the emergence of his cock, his eyes going straight to it, right as it oozes onto his robes. Somehow, he scowls even more, but he can feel a pulse through him, hot and aroused, at the thought of it pressing inside of him. Yet he is not willing to make it obvious how eager nor interested in that prospect he is.]
At least allow me to undress, you have made a right mess of my robes as it is, but I needn't them be stained beyond recognition or destroyed outright.
[Maybe Hythlodaeus will let him up, but if he's in a heat, maybe...not? He tests the waters with trying to guide him with a push to the side, maybe let the rotund ambystomagon flop off of him for a second, if he should be so lucky as that...]
[Hythlodaeus, right now, has traded much for dexterity. He tries to imagine undressing him with his stubby limbs or large, soft mouth. It would be difficult, and likely to distress Emet-Selch further.]
[His mind is clouded by heat, but a thread of logic still remains. He lifts his haunches, testing, revealing the full size of his hefty cock. Honestly, it looks too big to be inside of anyone at all!]
[Though... If it is as soft and pliant as the rest of him...]
Quickly if you please, or I will be forced to melt them.
[See, now he's presented with the options of trying to scurry out from under him to make an escape or comply. Both end in humiliation, but in markedly different types. Thus does he allow his own body decide, and when he gazes upon the heft of that phallus, he feels himself go rigid. Not in his loins, but in his spine as he thinks about trying to accommodate that ridiculous thing. He knows he can't (and doesn't want to) deny Hythlodaeus, so really it's just a matter of how gentle he wants things to go, and after Byleth...gentle sounds better.
Not that Byleth wasn't gentle in his own way, but heat was certainly a persuasive copilot and he was rather large besides! Thus does Emet-Selch decide to snap his fingers, teleporting his robes to hang on a hook in the bathroom, his podea and small clothes join them in the bathroom. Now fully nude, he looks over Hythlodaeus once more, and all the slime he's leaving on him besides.
Yeugh... He's going to need to wash up again after this.]
Satisfied? Now do you want me on my back like so, or—?
[Hythlodaeus weighs the difference in positions between having him on his knees or taking him on his back. Both are extremely satisfying in different ways. It may be easier on him to lay back, but on his knees, the rut would be just so. He could get all the way in without his legs getting in the way.]
[But. Then again, on his back, the view would be so much better. He goes back and forth, back and forth. How well would be be able to see him at this angle anyway?]
On your knees. Brace yourself.
[He slowly stands onto his hind legs, ready to knock him over again like an overexcited and undertrained dog. His cock flexes and bobs as his mass comes back down on Emet-Selch again. His mouth opens, revealing his large, wet tongue. He licks a stripe up Emet-Selch's neck under his hair before taking his scruff between his tiny, pointed teeth.]
[That enormous hot cock begins to rut against his back with the press of Hythlodeaus' belly before it angles between his legs, searching for his hole. He tries again and again, the massive thing trying to catch and enter him as it knocks against Hades' poor cock and balls.]
[Oh he sees, not even a crumb of dignity spared for him, huh? He barely gets the chance to do as he's told before he's being licked and scruffed like a naughty kitten and then battered with that massive cock like some common whore! Not that he...minds, outside of his general soreness from being mated with already, but the humiliation of being handled like this, and the enormity of Hythlodaeus' aim is honestly killing his soul a little bit.
He does what he can to hold himself steady, but his partner being essentially a blob of blubber and slime, nothing is really helping. When that plush cock slaps him in his own testicles, he cannot help but let out a slight but strangled yelp, followed by a groan of aggravation.]
Oh, really—just stick it in already!
[He attempts to catch the cock between his thighs, trying to direct it in someway so that it might press against him with a bit more finesse and aim than the senseless bashing it was doing moments ago. Using one arm to support himself (Hythlodaeus' scruffing him also helps), he uses the other to attempt to push the cock back past his thighs, closing them so that he might better find his hole.
There's something distressingly hot about the animalistic nature of how he's rutting against him, but he's also impatient. Both for him to press inside of him, and to clean himself up, though as this goes on, being made a mess is less of a problem in his mind, and more a feature.]
[That certainly helps. With nowhere else to go, the massive thing finally catches and presses in. And once it starts going in, it doesn't stop until he's hilted and bulging obscenely inside of him. He lets out a huffing breath between his teeth as his front legs lift up to capture Emet-Selch's thighs in their powerful grip.]
[As he pulls his hips back and presses in again, Emet-Selch may notice something fill his belly and drip from between his legs. Hythlodaeus' massive cock pulses inside of him, warmer than the flesh around it and certainly slimier. In fact, the entirety of his absurd dragon form seems to slicken up in what must be arousal, coating Emet-Selch's bare flesh.]
Or so that's the thought that flashes through his mind as that organ presses into him, spreading him wider than he had anticipated. It's soft, thankfully, and it does mold to his insides almost as much as his insides mold to it, yet the pressure is immense and he's left gasping at the sensation. He can feel himself bending to it, how his stomach bulges from the sheer girth and weight of it, and he desperately grabs at Hythlodaeus (finding basically no purchase with how slick he is) as he tries to physically and mentally adjust to it all.
That his legs would be grabbed and held like so, allowing more depth makes him whine from the overwhelming fullness of it all. Yet he clearly isn't stuffed enough, because right as he thinks his spasming insides are claming down, he feels something fill him, he feels that same substance against his back even, in his hair, and on his legs. He blinks in bleary confusion as he looks up at Hythlodaeus best he can given the position, but as more pulses into him he finds himself entirely taken with the sensation. His eyes squeezing shut as he squeezes around that impossibly large cock, the feeling of that fluid oozing out of him as attractive as it is disgusting.
And yet his hips rock against him, wanting more of him, more of it. As if his gasps and moans weren't encouraging enough already.]
[It's all instinct, now. Even if he wanted to stop, if he had the mind to do it, he doubted he would. Shy of something truly jarring breaking their flow, that is. Hythlodaeus continues to shed his slime, leaving skin tingling where it touches.]
[His paw shifts, finding the curve of his stomach leading into genitals merely to put pressure on them. He feels his mind blank as he begins to thrust, though as he pulls out, Emet-Selch should feel no emptier with all of the goo left in its place, yet also thrust out with each powerful pump of his hips. There's no sign of it stopping as it streams down Emet-Selch's legs and pools beneath him.]
[Hythlodaeus' breaths are hot and frantic as he growls and grinds his teeth. He must be close, at least Emet-Selch can hope.]
[The slime does make for a truly strange sensation, as if he's never empty, yet he can still feel him move in and out of him through the movements he makes. The slime is thick, yet malleable, and he pushes it deeper into him as he thrusts inward, yet he doesn't feel himself collapse where emptiness should be when his cock withdraws. It's maddening, in a way. Being denied that sensation, yet always feeling the sensation of being full, or fuller yet. He can't even decide if he likes it, and he supposes at this point it doesn't matter, because this isn't a time for conscious decisions, but bodily ones, and he's in too deep, and even if he could, he wouldn't want to back out.
His face is red, his shoulders red, ears red. The flush of his body and the heat of this passion igniting him in strange but familiar ways, and each hot breath of Hythlodaeus' and growl against his skin through those sharp teeth leave him tingling and wanting more. He doesn't even know if he's hard, maybe he is, but he's so caught up with everything else in this moment that he can't even keep track of his own dick. His nerves and mind are drowning, but he doesn't want to surface for air.
Though his poor legs are trembling, quivering from the toll this has taken on him, his insides squeezing around him desperately for release. His body begs where he cannot. Only huffs and whines escape him, his mind far too foggy and cloudy to form anything intelligible.]
[Hythlodaeus does not know how long it takes for him to finally come inside of Emet-Selch. There's barely any distinction between the fluid that he was already pumping into him and the ejaculate itself. He finally lets go of Emet-Selch's poor bruised trapezius as he does, huffing and groaning as his hips buck against him until he's finally too soft and slips out of him. The massive creature behind Emet-Selch seems to shrink and morph until it's Hythlodaeus' true hands grasping him around the middle.]
[He draws deep breaths as he steadies himself, head against the middle of his back as he, no longer a slimy creature, becomes truly aware of the slime. And there is so, so much of it. ]
Oh my...
[His legs tremble as he tries to stand, bracing on the hallway bannister for support.]
[Is about all he can really get out between the huffs and gulps of air as he lays there on the floor like a deflated balloon of a man. Though, he's...not exactly deflated, now is he? Though, he is certainly leaking, but it's decidedly not air that's leaving him. His own orgasm had come over him well before Hythlodaeus', but due to the overstimulation of every damn nerve ending it just about felt like, he couldn't even fully grasp when it started or when it ended, leaving him in this hazy mess he is now in.
He's not sure he'll ever recover, really.
Which is also why he's laying there bonelessly, unwilling to move, unwilling to acknowledge much of anything outside of what he must. Even if he's stuck laying in a horrid puddle of slime and ejaculate, he does not want to move, his muscles ache, his bones ache, his hole aches worst of all. So there he lays, eyes closed tightly as he continues to attempt to catch his breath and will consciousness away because he is far, far too tired to do much else.]
[Hythlodaeus is able to stand, at least. He surveys the slime and steadies himself as he begins to evaporate it into thin air. As fun as the slime was, it easily overstays its welcome.]
[There's no way he can actually just lift Emet-Selch with only his own muscles, but if he were to imbue himself with a little magic, he may be able to succeed. He places an arm around his shoulders and under his knees, lifting carefully as he moves his poor, spent lover. They must look absurd, he thinks, as he brings him just a few steps over into their shared bed to set him down. Hythlodaeus falls in after him, noting that all the commands his mind gives his body still feel oddly mapped.]
There we are. All... tucked in. [He sighs as he struggles without the enchantment to pull the bedding out from under him to do as he's saying.]
[As much as he should try to stay limp, part of him automatically attempts to assist Hythlodaeus with this endeavor of moving him. An instinctual response, knowing that Hythlodaeus is less thancapable of moving him on his own most the time.
The thing is, he's much too tired, much too spent, and so what is meant to be assistance is useless, vague movement of his arms and hands that amount to nothing in the end. He's impressed that he finds himself on the bed at all, though a small part of his mind cringes at the fact his messy body (even if Hythlodaeus did dissipate the slime) is touching the fabric.
Too tired to do anything about it, he just lets Hythlodaeus wrestle the blanket free from under him, and settles into trying to fall asleep. Though not before willing a tentative and shaky arm to move so that he might capture Hythlodaeus' hand in his.
He murmurs something against the pillow, something that sounds oddly like:]
Lobe brew...
[Whatever that means! A mystery for another time, because a moment later his breathing has slowed and deepened. He's asleep.]
[Hythlodaeus laughs and grins at that little bid of affection. Of course he knows that they are in good standing, but he always likes to hear it after a particularly vigorous boundary pushing. He finger combs a lock of Emet-Selch's hair as he readies himself to rest as well. ]
[He's pleased with himself, of course. A satisfying end to a messy lay. Surely they will need to change the bedsheets, but that is a last for the morning. Even the small amount of magic he's used has him feeling spent. He curls up and joins Emet-Selch in his dreams soon after.]
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No, no, he squawks.]
Hythlodaeus what did you do!?
[He's trying to squirm out from under him, but he's pitifully failing. Part of him wants to just teleport away, and that'd be the easy solution, but another part of him, the part that just got railed deeply by a dragon and is still into that idea and has not let it go since it happened, makes him stay. It doesn't stop him from pushing on him though, trying to keep that silly looking adorable face out of his own as it contorts with distaste.]
How did you achieve this? You cannot transform, so then—!?
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[Of course, he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world.]
The one with the dragon statue.
[He shifts his weight, though continues to pin him. It's fun! He doesn't think he could do this any other way, so the receives quite the thrill up his spine. Buried as it is in thick, padding fat. He nuzzles against his face, leaving warm slime in his wake.]
You carry an unusual scent.
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[The sound is involuntary but he isn't exactly in disagreement with it. The magical pond, he says. As if he has any idea what he's talking about remotely! He'll have to keep an eye out for any ponds with statues of dragons, he supposes, but the true threat is what comes out of that pond, actually. For all his wriggling, he makes no progress in getting out from under him, and he almost doesn't listen to what Hythlodaeus says next, but then it catches him—]
Do I? Hard to tell with the slime you seem keen to slather me with.
[It stands to reason that a beast like a dragon would have a superior sense of a smell, but his mind goes deeper than that. Byleth had been rutting when he came across him, and he had assumed it might have been something to do with a random curse or effect from this place...but perhaps that was from the pond in which Hythlodaeus refers, which means he might likewise be—
Oh no.]
Hythlodaeus, I am very tired...
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[He sits up to look at him, though his legs are short and shifting his weight thus only serves to continue to pin him. Though at this angle, Hades can actually see something beginning to emerge from somewhere beneath the soft pouch of his stomach.]
[It's soft, though it seems to have an incredibly solid core. The head dribbles a clear fluid, oozing over his new length and against Hades' torso. The fabric is quickly becoming worse to have in its saturated state, perhaps.]
I shouldn't be long.
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[He pauses as he notices the emergence of his cock, his eyes going straight to it, right as it oozes onto his robes. Somehow, he scowls even more, but he can feel a pulse through him, hot and aroused, at the thought of it pressing inside of him. Yet he is not willing to make it obvious how eager nor interested in that prospect he is.]
At least allow me to undress, you have made a right mess of my robes as it is, but I needn't them be stained beyond recognition or destroyed outright.
[Maybe Hythlodaeus will let him up, but if he's in a heat, maybe...not? He tests the waters with trying to guide him with a push to the side, maybe let the rotund ambystomagon flop off of him for a second, if he should be so lucky as that...]
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[His mind is clouded by heat, but a thread of logic still remains. He lifts his haunches, testing, revealing the full size of his hefty cock. Honestly, it looks too big to be inside of anyone at all!]
[Though... If it is as soft and pliant as the rest of him...]
Quickly if you please, or I will be forced to melt them.
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Not that Byleth wasn't gentle in his own way, but heat was certainly a persuasive copilot and he was rather large besides! Thus does Emet-Selch decide to snap his fingers, teleporting his robes to hang on a hook in the bathroom, his podea and small clothes join them in the bathroom. Now fully nude, he looks over Hythlodaeus once more, and all the slime he's leaving on him besides.
Yeugh... He's going to need to wash up again after this.]
Satisfied? Now do you want me on my back like so, or—?
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[But. Then again, on his back, the view would be so much better. He goes back and forth, back and forth. How well would be be able to see him at this angle anyway?]
On your knees. Brace yourself.
[He slowly stands onto his hind legs, ready to knock him over again like an overexcited and undertrained dog. His cock flexes and bobs as his mass comes back down on Emet-Selch again. His mouth opens, revealing his large, wet tongue. He licks a stripe up Emet-Selch's neck under his hair before taking his scruff between his tiny, pointed teeth.]
[That enormous hot cock begins to rut against his back with the press of Hythlodeaus' belly before it angles between his legs, searching for his hole. He tries again and again, the massive thing trying to catch and enter him as it knocks against Hades' poor cock and balls.]
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[Oh he sees, not even a crumb of dignity spared for him, huh? He barely gets the chance to do as he's told before he's being licked and scruffed like a naughty kitten and then battered with that massive cock like some common whore! Not that he...minds, outside of his general soreness from being mated with already, but the humiliation of being handled like this, and the enormity of Hythlodaeus' aim is honestly killing his soul a little bit.
He does what he can to hold himself steady, but his partner being essentially a blob of blubber and slime, nothing is really helping. When that plush cock slaps him in his own testicles, he cannot help but let out a slight but strangled yelp, followed by a groan of aggravation.]
Oh, really—just stick it in already!
[He attempts to catch the cock between his thighs, trying to direct it in someway so that it might press against him with a bit more finesse and aim than the senseless bashing it was doing moments ago. Using one arm to support himself (Hythlodaeus' scruffing him also helps), he uses the other to attempt to push the cock back past his thighs, closing them so that he might better find his hole.
There's something distressingly hot about the animalistic nature of how he's rutting against him, but he's also impatient. Both for him to press inside of him, and to clean himself up, though as this goes on, being made a mess is less of a problem in his mind, and more a feature.]
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[As he pulls his hips back and presses in again, Emet-Selch may notice something fill his belly and drip from between his legs. Hythlodaeus' massive cock pulses inside of him, warmer than the flesh around it and certainly slimier. In fact, the entirety of his absurd dragon form seems to slicken up in what must be arousal, coating Emet-Selch's bare flesh.]
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Or so that's the thought that flashes through his mind as that organ presses into him, spreading him wider than he had anticipated. It's soft, thankfully, and it does mold to his insides almost as much as his insides mold to it, yet the pressure is immense and he's left gasping at the sensation. He can feel himself bending to it, how his stomach bulges from the sheer girth and weight of it, and he desperately grabs at Hythlodaeus (finding basically no purchase with how slick he is) as he tries to physically and mentally adjust to it all.
That his legs would be grabbed and held like so, allowing more depth makes him whine from the overwhelming fullness of it all. Yet he clearly isn't stuffed enough, because right as he thinks his spasming insides are claming down, he feels something fill him, he feels that same substance against his back even, in his hair, and on his legs. He blinks in bleary confusion as he looks up at Hythlodaeus best he can given the position, but as more pulses into him he finds himself entirely taken with the sensation. His eyes squeezing shut as he squeezes around that impossibly large cock, the feeling of that fluid oozing out of him as attractive as it is disgusting.
And yet his hips rock against him, wanting more of him, more of it. As if his gasps and moans weren't encouraging enough already.]
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[His paw shifts, finding the curve of his stomach leading into genitals merely to put pressure on them. He feels his mind blank as he begins to thrust, though as he pulls out, Emet-Selch should feel no emptier with all of the goo left in its place, yet also thrust out with each powerful pump of his hips. There's no sign of it stopping as it streams down Emet-Selch's legs and pools beneath him.]
[Hythlodaeus' breaths are hot and frantic as he growls and grinds his teeth. He must be close, at least Emet-Selch can hope.]
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His face is red, his shoulders red, ears red. The flush of his body and the heat of this passion igniting him in strange but familiar ways, and each hot breath of Hythlodaeus' and growl against his skin through those sharp teeth leave him tingling and wanting more. He doesn't even know if he's hard, maybe he is, but he's so caught up with everything else in this moment that he can't even keep track of his own dick. His nerves and mind are drowning, but he doesn't want to surface for air.
Though his poor legs are trembling, quivering from the toll this has taken on him, his insides squeezing around him desperately for release. His body begs where he cannot. Only huffs and whines escape him, his mind far too foggy and cloudy to form anything intelligible.]
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[He draws deep breaths as he steadies himself, head against the middle of his back as he, no longer a slimy creature, becomes truly aware of the slime. And there is so, so much of it. ]
Oh my...
[His legs tremble as he tries to stand, bracing on the hallway bannister for support.]
There's so much of it.
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[Is about all he can really get out between the huffs and gulps of air as he lays there on the floor like a deflated balloon of a man. Though, he's...not exactly deflated, now is he? Though, he is certainly leaking, but it's decidedly not air that's leaving him. His own orgasm had come over him well before Hythlodaeus', but due to the overstimulation of every damn nerve ending it just about felt like, he couldn't even fully grasp when it started or when it ended, leaving him in this hazy mess he is now in.
He's not sure he'll ever recover, really.
Which is also why he's laying there bonelessly, unwilling to move, unwilling to acknowledge much of anything outside of what he must. Even if he's stuck laying in a horrid puddle of slime and ejaculate, he does not want to move, his muscles ache, his bones ache, his hole aches worst of all. So there he lays, eyes closed tightly as he continues to attempt to catch his breath and will consciousness away because he is far, far too tired to do much else.]
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[There's no way he can actually just lift Emet-Selch with only his own muscles, but if he were to imbue himself with a little magic, he may be able to succeed. He places an arm around his shoulders and under his knees, lifting carefully as he moves his poor, spent lover. They must look absurd, he thinks, as he brings him just a few steps over into their shared bed to set him down. Hythlodaeus falls in after him, noting that all the commands his mind gives his body still feel oddly mapped.]
There we are. All... tucked in. [He sighs as he struggles without the enchantment to pull the bedding out from under him to do as he's saying.]
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The thing is, he's much too tired, much too spent, and so what is meant to be assistance is useless, vague movement of his arms and hands that amount to nothing in the end. He's impressed that he finds himself on the bed at all, though a small part of his mind cringes at the fact his messy body (even if Hythlodaeus did dissipate the slime) is touching the fabric.
Too tired to do anything about it, he just lets Hythlodaeus wrestle the blanket free from under him, and settles into trying to fall asleep. Though not before willing a tentative and shaky arm to move so that he might capture Hythlodaeus' hand in his.
He murmurs something against the pillow, something that sounds oddly like:]
Lobe brew...
[Whatever that means! A mystery for another time, because a moment later his breathing has slowed and deepened. He's asleep.]
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[He's pleased with himself, of course. A satisfying end to a messy lay. Surely they will need to change the bedsheets, but that is a last for the morning. Even the small amount of magic he's used has him feeling spent. He curls up and joins Emet-Selch in his dreams soon after.]