[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 subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.]