Open RP Post

[wuzzafuzzle]

↪ Pick one of my characters (make sure to specific which version) OR drop any character of yours in and get a random choice.
↪ Find a meme, roll something, idefk
↪ Or cheat and just pick something.
↪ You can also just throw a picture, quote, or whatever kind of prompt you want.
↪ Or just leave a TFLN.

Comments

[withers]

Chase makes a noise of protest as he gets dumped onto his back, but the teeth in his shoulder and the hard dick rubbing up against his own push away any real complaints. His hips roll up clumsily and insistently into the new angle of contact, even as Jack's mouth finds his nipple and his fingers try to undo his jeans, pinning his hand uselessly between them.

Then Chase's fingers twist in Jack's hair again and he laughs, breathless and heated, unable to argue with his point (because it's true.) He uses his grip to pull Jack's head back up and away from his chest so he can kiss him again instead, biting at his bottom lip and then licking his way into Jack's mouth. It's not enough to draw blood, but damn if it doesn't feel like a near thing. "I got it," he promises when he stops to breath again, when the strain of denim trapping his cock against the weight and warmth and friction of Jack above him drives him to distraction. His eyes flash red and gold, a ring of fire from the pupil that burns out the iris and the whites, and suddenly both of them are naked and there's a haphazard pile of pants and shirts strewn about the floor, joining the fallen ring that Chase has already all but forgotten.

The magic in his veins makes him fumble instantly for their dicks, wrapping a hand around both of them together and tugging them as his mouth falls open and his hips jerk up erratically. He lets go of Jack's hair and grabs his bicep, just so he has something solid and steadying to hold onto. "God," he bites out instead of moaning, and this is usually where he'd flip them both over and take what he needs, but like always with Jack, he won't push he prince too far, he won't piss him off more than is amusing but safe. But he will make demands: "Would you just fuck me already?"

[cicatrize]

Sometimes, Jack fucking loves Chase's powers. He wishes he had an easy button for disrobing that fast too, but, whatever, just means he'll have to keep fucking Chase to enjoy it. Not that he's opposed to that. The teenager is writhing around under him, desperate for more friction, more sensation that Jack's keeping from him, because he maybe loves this sort of game. Holding something Chase wants and making him play nice to get it. When the fabric between them is dispelled away, though, Jack's caught a bit off-guard, and that hold slips, with a shuddered gasp, their skin meeting hot skin, and Chase's throbbing cock being pumped against his own.

Chase's tongue pries Jack's lips to part, and there's a surge of heat in him, and roughness that has him kissing him back, head tilting for better access with teeth and tongue both demanding and consuming. By the time Chase starts cursing about not getting what he wants, Jack's got one hand tangled up and pulling in his hair, and the other pressed down on his hip, holding him steady.

"Maybe if you stopped squirming for two seconds, I could." He says, albeit with a smirk, only a second or so before he's pulling up from Chase, using the hand on his hip to flip him, stomach down. Pelvis pressed against the mattress, Jack's knees frame Chase's thigh, and he has one of the witch's arms pinned to the small of his back. Nothing damaging, but enough of a grip that it ought to hurt just the right amount.

"Can magic yourself slick too?" His voice comes rough, impatient, before he bites down on the back of Chase's neck, leaving a mark. As much as Chase is a fan of pain, Jack isn't a fan of trying to do with just spit. And it feels gross. But that's about all the prep Chase is likely to get. As he's waiting for an answer, his hips, lining his dick up perfectly to the seam of Chase's ass, rock, grinding against him.

[withers]

That twinge of pain races up his arm and sings in his veins, and Chase's mouth opens against the sheets, muffling a sharp intake of breath, and a needy little noise besides.

Only-- "What?" Chase almost lifts his head back up to be appropriately indignant over the sheer absurdity of the question because seriously? Can he magic himself slick? But, then the sting of teeth on his neck steals the air out of his lungs, and the feel of a heavy, warm cock sliding up against his ass distracts him.

Fuck. Fuck, okay, he'll... think of something. He has to think of something, because he wants this now, no more waiting, or he might actually come with his dick trapped between his stomach and the mattress, empty. Embarrassing. The fingers of his free hand grip at the sheets tightly, and he lifts up his head enough to look to the side, where the bed meets the wall. Of course he knows where Jack keeps his bottle of lube, because he's a nosy little fuck, and also because it just seemed like it might be pertinent information at the time. Wetting his lips, he only half-considers his sudden plan before deciding to go with it.

His eyes light up again, reds and golds, then black: a pretty show, considering what he's about to do. He's never actually tried anything like this before - aside from not being able to so openly use magic before, he usually also tops, because as much as he enjoys this he's not generally prone to just letting people push him around like he lets Jack - but as always his thinking and his ability to slow his own roll is clouded over by his desires, his needs. He drops his forehead back to the bed, biting down on his lips in concentration and-- oh, there, he teleports a generous portion of the lube straight from the hidden bottle into himself.

He gives a hard jolt as soon as he's finished, his whole body protesting the strangeness of the sudden invasion. God, it's cold; colder than he expected, somehow, but even that gives him a sorta heady rush and he releases the sheets, groping blindly back until he can get a good grip on the muscle of Jack's own ass and pull at it insistently. "Done, come on. Fuck me."

[cicatrize]

Nothing is ever more funny than Chase's indignation, and he can probably feel Jack's lips at the back of his neck pull into a wide grin. Now he definitely wants Chase to do it, if nothing else, just for the absurdity and insult of using such immense power for something like lubing yourself. Look, it's a life skill, okay? It'll make masturbation easier later. He'll tell him that sometime after. When he doesn't have his cock sliding between Chase's cheeks, head bumping against his hole with a want to just spear into him.

He lifts his head, though, as Chase looks to the side, submitting to doing this little trick for Jack, because he wants to see. He loves how his eyes light up, like fire eating away at his iris and shadow swallowing it all up. Menacing, maybe, but Jack thinks it's fucking gorgeous. Not to mention, hot as hell. He's trying it, though, and there's a gleeful kind of self-satisfaction in that. In the fact that Chase will do near anything Jack asks him to, regardless of whatever complaint he makes. There's a kind of dependency in that that Jack gets off on to a shameful degree. That is, if Jack felt shame for having power over people, ever.

Soon enough, the way Jack's grinding himself against Chase's ass becomes much smoother, slicker, and he knows Chase figured it out, dragging a half gasped chuckle from him. "Good boy."

Complete with cute little hair ruffle and all. But Jack's just as impatient to get this thing going as Chase is, moving press his free forearm to the bed near Chase's head, and press the rest of his weight against the arm he still has pinned to the small of his back, as he lifts up his hips. A moment of careful angling, to line himself up, and then, in one smooth, firm, not exactly slow roll of his hips, Jack's cock sinks forward into the hot, clinging, velvet soft channel of Chase's body. So fucking good, without the stretch, going all at once to the hilt, feeling Chase's body throb around him and twitch, adjusting to the intrusion. Jack finds himself lowering, forehead pressing to the back of Chase's shoulderblade, as a stuttered, breathless moan is punched from him.

"Fuck..." So eloquent. Not like he's worried about Chase of all people judging him for it. Already, he's moving, not in fast, punishing strokes that he'll get to later, but near all the way out and all back in, trying to recapture that first moment, savoring it, as his fingers twist tighter on Chase's wrist, pleasure like scalding heat spreading through him just under his skin.

[withers]

Chase makes a choked out sound against the sheets, arching his back first and then forcing himself to relax back onto the mattress. God, but it's different than when he's made it work with spit and a prayer before. There's no drag and burn, just a sudden, pushing fullness, slick and easy and it still hurts. In a different way, though: a better way, more... solid, almost, with the added bonus of less waiting and adjusting. The stinging pain shooting up his arm from his trapped wrist, pinned under Jack's weight, make him dizzy with want - need - and before he knows it he's making a whole litany of noises. Wet gasps and shaky grunts and low, ground out curses every time Jack slides back in as far as he can go. He's never been a particularly quiet person, after all, and he's never had a whole lot of self-control.

Jack really knows how to push his buttons, though.

His free hand flops back up to grip Jack's bicep for purchase, blunt nails digging crescent moons into the skin, a small and petty revenge for the hair-mussing and condescension earlier. It's difficult to rustle up too much anger over that, though, with the heat of Jack's breath against his back and inside him so far that he almost can't tell where Jack ends and he begins.

But it's slow for a few strokes too many and Chase starts to get his breath back, enough to turn his head to the side again with a sharp, unsteady laugh. He's going to have to reach down and grab himself soon, jerk himself off, even though they just started: it's so much, the magic under his skin and the heat pressing down into it. His brain is short-circuiting, just like he likes. Thank god for teenage (lack of) refractory periods.

He shoves back with his hips, as well as he can, pinned like he is. Trying to dictate the pace: trying to speed it up. "That-- all you-- got?"