middaeg | Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn

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Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!

It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a ~~horrible~~ beautiful Faun.

Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.

Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.

Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.

Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.

There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes?

[Hector thinks it matters. If they are still just practicing, then they may need to wrap up this exercise.]

It determines if I'm going to find us a quiet room and make you come.

[Flirting is great, but at this point, Hector needs to be direct to figure out what drunken mistakes he's allowed to make with Myr's bonded.]

...ah.

[He fidgets. If casual encounters were something he did at all, he wouldn't be at this point where he feels frustration and arousal on a hair-trigger. Maybe it's just a matter of overcoming a mental block, actually letting someone make him come after months of treating that part of himself like something dead?]

If you're not pretending, then... I'm not.

[He has no interest in a prize if he didn't win in some way.]

[Hector smiles.]

Oh, I'm very serious about my pursuit of knowledge, Linden. Come along, then.

[He stands and offers a hand to Linden. He's not one to overly engage in public displays of affection (faunish flirting aside), but he's cautious of letting L stray to far from him in case he cools down and reconsiders.

But this is a faun party, and it shouldn't take him too long to find somewhere private they can use for a little while.]

[L hesitates just long enough to consider the implications, what others are likely to assume, before reaching out and taking Hector's hand to follow. The contact is good; considering L's dry spell, it practically count as foreplay.

L expects that it won't take them long to find a nook out of others' prying eyes, but he'll still likely be surprised by how quickly it happens.]

[The nook Hector leads them to is decorated with pumpkins-- Myr's handiwork, he's sure-- but it has a perfectly functional chaise lounge chair and enough sheets hung around to make it feel cozy and private.

Hector takes a seat, tugging L along with him. He runs his fingers up L's arm.]

This should do nicely. Tell me, do you like being kissed?

[He circles his fingers around L's wrist and brings it to his lips to press a little kiss against his pulse point.]

[Myr had brought L to this party and showed him, first, an elaborate bower. He said that he'd made it for the detective; it would be ideal for this kind of activity, actually, but L finds he's grateful they're not there, for reasons beyond his somewhat intoxicated understanding.

His willowy body is easy for Hector to pull down, although the position is a little awkward. Were L a little more aggressive or intuitive about such matters, he might crawl into Hector's lap and straddle the faun; perhaps he should, but... no, for the moment he's mushed and snuggled against Hector's soft-pelted side.]

Yes... I do.

[His mind reruns the things the SQUIP taught him about this. A year ago, more than a year ago. He can do this. While Hector is flirting, L has something to prove, and uses the leverage of the faun holding his wrist to pull himself up and push his lips against Hector's with bruising force.

He's a good kisser, just... perhaps a touch out of practice, with a pretty high blood alcohol content judging by his breath.]

[Hector gasps, but it turns into a muffled chuckle as Linden launches his assault. Oh, so maybe the witch isn't so clueless as he thought.

He sneaks an arm around L's body and slips a hand beneath his shirt as he opens his mouth against L's. Enthusiasm should always be matched with enthusiasm.

If Linden doesn't want to climb into his lap, that's fine. Hector will lean back into the couch and urge the witch to follow him down so they can get comfortable and get L back into practice.]

[L is very good at looking clueless; in some ways, he genuinely is naive, but when it comes to sex, well... he's just a bit rusty, with confidence in his own ability to find pleasure in the act shaken. Perhaps he's very driven to prove that he still can, and the fact that Hector is a relative stranger is both wildly uncustomary for him, and offers a type of strange safety. Any unfavorable judgments needn't linger after morning when they're sober, spent, and likely miles apart in their respective beds.

He shivers against the warm press of the faun's hand against his bare (and very bony) back; there's very little of substance to pad out his sparse and spindly frame, just some sinewy muscle over bone. Though he started awkwardly, stiff and uncertain, Hector's kisses are skillfully placed, his recline so natural that L scarcely notices when he follows him down. He ends up draped on top of Hector more or less incidentally, kisses starting to deepen in length and hunger.]

[The faun smiles into the kiss as Linden settles on top of him. ~~Just according to keikaku*.~~ He's pleased with this position, and his hand continues the slide up L's back, feeling each knobby vertebrae.

With the drinking and the flirting and the kissing they've been doing, Hector's interest is already beginning to swell. He slides a leg up so his furry faun thigh is in between Linden's, giving the witch some friction. They're on the same page so far, and Hector's hoping he can keep pushing him just a little bit further.

He reaches up and brushes his other hand through L's dark hair, the way Hector himself likes to be petted.]

*keikaku means plan

[L's never actually been with a monster before this way. He's slept with Myr, of course, nestled chastely into flesh and fur, but this is an altogether different sort of encounter that demands a different way of thinking about the body beneath his. He's only ever thought about humans this way before, or at least human-bodied individuals since the SQUIP was technically a computer. There are enough similarities, though; fauns aren't dissimilar to humans, in the ways that seem to matter for bodies to pair in pleasure.

Habit's memory, more than anything, guide's his palm between them to knead against something he's actually shocked that he could inspire. Then again... while Hector might not be a computer or someone assigning him more glory than he could ever live up to, he's a faun, and fauns have a reputation for being horny. If L is surprised at the extent to which this seems to be true, it's perhaps because in the bed he shares with Myr, they do little else but sleep.

Who, then, is the exception to the rule, in all of this?

His arousal exists; it's only, perhaps, a bit confused. Balancing equations can be hard, just... not usually in this way. Tasting the liquor on both of their tongues as he slides his past Hector's lips, he tries to banish uncertainty and insecurity. With one wiling in his arms, he should be thinking about who wants him this way, and not those who aren't interested. He should be thinking about heat, and the cadence of senses and the building swell of appetite.

Perhaps, in fact, he should be doing less thinking in general.]

[Hector bucks up into Linden's hand, not at all overthinking this. He's probably under-thinking, actually. He knows this is Myr's witch, but is seducing him anyways. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

He breaks the kiss and moves his lips from L's mouth to his neck, licking and nibbling.]

That was a good bluff earlier. That you didn't know what you were doing.

[He murmurs against Linden's skin. His tone is congratulatory. Well played, sir. You fooled Hector into thinking you some shy virgin.]

[Hector's skilled at seduction. That helps; so does L's determination to allow himself to be seduced. He's deliberately trying to be easier than he is, tonight, and yet... incessantly, something just keeps gnawing at his brain stem, in spite of the alcohol he'd meant to silence it.

He'd been drunk last time, too, desperate to forget before they'd even started. But Mello's motives had been different; Mello had something to prove, something to conquer, and Hector is just a faun, like another faun, and that nudges him past a few more of the mental blocks that keep inconveniently cropping up. He threads his fingers through Hector's silver hair, gripping enough to tug if needed, provide him with a grounding sense of control.]

Who says it was a bluff?

[He'd only asked for magic words, a way to ply someone to reconsider, turning a fragile broken-winged sparrow into something amorous and capable. He truly doesn't know how; he truly doesn't know if it's even possible. He pulls Hector's face closer, inspiring more pressure, tilting his chin to expose more of his throat.]

I know my way around some aspects of this quite well, and never meant to insinuate otherwise.

[Hector chuckles against L's pulse point. He begins unbuttoning L's waistcoat as he nips at his pale throat.]

Misdirection... mystery... intrigue... and you wondered why I wanted to get you alone.

[Linden is the most curious thing he's encountered all evening, and that includes him turning into a full fucking sheep.

Buttons undone, Hector opens the waistcoat and begins to untuck the shirt beneath it. Warm fingertips tickle L's belly.]

You wouldn't deny me knowing more, would you?

[L did wonder, in spite of having those things in spades. It's just not what gets most people's motors running, but the way Hector talks about it, he's willing to consider that it might be sincere.

He's darkly amused by the fact that it's not such a rare sentiment, to want to get him alone. It never has been; the reason is just what's different. A good thing, too, since he hasn't had a bodyguard for some time.

As Hector's hands brush a little closer to the sharp ribs and sunken stomach under his shirt, L first impulse is to curl up like a stunned spider. Very deliberately, he manages to resist as much.]

I wouldn't, but...

[It's a body that more frequently denies itself pleasure, than indulges it, and it shows, in every edge and shadow.]

Unfortunately, I'm not hiding any of my gifts or endowments under my clothes.

[Hector slides his way down the couch, bringing his lips to the bumps and sunken planes of Linden's torso. It's not the build he's used to encountering, but novelty keeps things exciting. He presses kisses to down the rib cage, amused that he can basically make a count of them with his tongue.]

You're welcome to illuminate your other endowments, but I think I can find a gift or two down here if I search diligently.

[Want to tell Hector about your hobbies while he starts working the fastenings of your pants, L?]

[L's own position shifts, hesitant and precarious as his knees budge over to allow the fluid motion. He may be positioned on top, but Hector, powerful and confident, seems like the one calling and directing the shots. He shivers at the warmth of the contact, feeling the pucker of gooseflesh responding in kind.]

Do you know...

[Slurred, just a bit. Being a bit drunk does make this easier.]

When I was a child, I wanted to leave Earth. I thought that maybe, someday, I could even go to Mars.

[Does this mean anything to Hector? Are his stars and planets even the same?]

The atmosphere distorts light, you know. Ever so slightly. Can you imagine seeing the sun rise, without all that interference in the way?

[Something else has definitely risen.]

[Hector shifts, encouraging L to move with him to lay side by side so he can move a little more freely.]

Mmmmm, you'd be better suited for clever Mercury than Mars.

[His knowledge of the celestial spheres isn't up to modern snuff, but he is versed on the theories of his day and of antiquity, thanks to Dracula's vast libraries. But the idea of not wanting to be on earth is perfectly normal and reasonable to Hector.

He opens L's pants as he talks, pushing them down. Seeing the witch's reaction is extra gratifying for how much convincing it took to get him here. Hector tugs down Linden's undergarments as well, and wraps a hand around L's shaft.]

But to think a sunrise could get any brighter.... It's no wonder you'd want to see it.

[As beings and bodies go, L is easy to move. His bony body flops next to Hector's, eyes staring first toward the ceiling, then swiveling the faun's direction.]

...yes, so I've heard.

[More or less. If feels easier, somehow, than pointing out how inhospitable to life Mercury is. He likes this; he appreciates the simplicity, the easy confidence Hector moves and acts with. He thinks so, even as his pants are shucked open and his member grasped. It's hard in Hector's hands, but given their activity thus far, that's likely not a surprise to anyone involved.]

I want to see many things...

[And the impulse exists to wrest focus from his own body and reposition it elsewhere. By existing, rigid in the hand of another, L is certain that he's already been idle too long.

Forcefully, even recklessly, he's pressing a hand in turn against Hector's groin, prying himself away from the sweet surrender promised by the other man's palm.]

[Hector gives Linden's cock a long stroke. The witch is eager to return the favor, so Hector reaches with his other hand to undo his own pants. Faun garments are rarely complex, made to be removed with a minimal of time and effort.

He rolls his hips, pressing his cock harder into L's hand.]

Want to see your cock in my mouth?

[He works L's shaft gently, giving him teasing contact but little relief.]

[It's like riding a bike, in some ways. Even if L hasn't slept with a monster before, and even if there's a little extra hair to contend with, it's not so different, is it? Because, he's spent enough time nestled close to Myr in the dark that he knows, tactilely, more or less what to expect.]

I...

[A startling question, to accompany a startling sensation. His breathing deepens; he tries to keep a tremor out of his voice as Hector plies him with teasing strokes. His nod is several jerking movements; as much as he prefers to be in a position that gives him some kind of control, on the rare occasions he finds himself in scenarios like these, Hector's really good at this. Better than L's last partner; safer, somehow, too. Could it all just be the comfort he associates with fauns?]

[Hector leans up and presses a kiss against L's chest.]

Good boy. [He murmurs against L's flushed skin. And then he continues his journey down L's body, kissing and nipping a path toward his prize.

It's a shame to maneuver himself out of reach of L's hand, but needs must. He slides down the couch until he is face to face with Linden's cock.]

You can grab my horns if you want to. [It'll give the witch more control than gripping his hair would... and Hector likes feeling a lover tug on them as they grow more desperate.

He gives the head of L's cock a lick, then looks up to see the witch's reaction.]

[L is bony to the point of being truly pitiful. The skin stretches over a fragile, narrow framework that didn't seem to quite finish the harrowing gauntlet of puberty, and the way he curls in on himself in intimate moments indicates, rather blatantly, that he is well aware of his physical shortcomings.

Kind, of Hector, not to draw attention to them. Kinder still, not to allow them to give him pause in the momentum of their encounter. L is grateful, even as he feels innately that pity must still be a factor.

He reaches, grasping, for Hector's horns. His spindly hands are stronger than they look, and he's glad for the tether. He's sensitive, really, absurdly so, and this was true even when he was being touched and kissed and grasped on a regular basis.

The flesh will have its way. He knows that Hector is willing, and there goes a psychological barrier. He knows that Hector is attractive, and there goes another one. He knows that he, himself, is needy, and aching, and starved, and always thinking fondly of one particular monster built like Hector.

He grips tighter with both hands, fairly bracing into the contact as a gymnast might on a set of parallel bars. He can oblige; he will, in return for this generous favor, performed for a frame so spare and spartan that L holds his own body in contempt. ]

[Hector knows none of L's internal struggle. The witch is delightfully responsive to his touch, and that is all Hector needs to concern himself with at the moment.

If they weren't both so tipsy and Linden didn't seem so eager, Hector might tease more. As it stands, he's impatient, and he doesn't think L will object to him moving quickly.

He grips L's cock by the base and guides the shaft into his mouth. As a faun, he's spent plenty of time on his knees since he arrived here, and he takes it all in without choking. Showing off? A little. But L should know he's in good hands, and there's no better way to convey that than by showing.]

[L doesn't object. Should Hector be more biding, it would give him all too much time to think, and formulate, and overcomplicate. Such things aren't compatible with the sort of encounter they've contrived; it should remain a series of simple pleasures, the sort that faun parties offer bountifully and L deprives himself of in equal measure.

Of course, it's too ridiculously difficult for the detective to keep anything at all simple, regardless of the amount of alcohol he's imbibed.

He grips Hector's horns more tightly. Arching back against the cushions, he presses up into the wet heat of the faun's mouth, which has taken him in wholly. Either a very impressive feat for Hector, or not so much of an impressive endowment for L, but either way, he hasn't felt this sensation since the days he was with the SQUIP, or glanced down to see an impish face past the sparse thicket of dark hair below his navel.

He groans, a low sound that's cautious, even now. Heaven forbid that someone should hear him enjoying himself too fully.]

[That groan is a start, but Hector wants to see what else he can get out of this reticent witch. As he pulls back off of Linden's cock, he sucks hard. His hands sneak up to grip those skinny hips, encouraging them to move and thrust into Hector's mouth.

As he pushes forward again, he hums a long note to add some vibration into the mix. Linden's going to have to focus very hard if he wants to overthink things while Hector's got his lips around L's cock.]

Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

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Throws a CW for making out, here

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Gradually more NSFW

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