[ Said firmly to that question, one which twists his heart in his chest just a little after the laugh with it while he remains entirely serious. The sort of doubt he can understand; a variation of it crossed his own mind seconds before even as affection drowns everything else out.
It's possible it - all of it - sharpens those edges of desire even further even as Sunday couldn't have guessed could happen, were he even thinking about any such things in the first place. His attention is entirely on Hades pressed against him when they could be closer still as that groan from what he knows isn't enough may as well be music to his ears.
Especially when more could follow yet, though his thoughts stall when Hades' hand moves in earnest beyond any tease. The next pass of his hand drags a needy noise from the back of his throat as Sunday tips his head back for a second. It's both relief and another call for more when that wanted touch only gives way to that thought from before. Don't stop, though he'd done that so that even as Sunday refocuses to move his hand along the length of Hades' cock at the same pace in time for another want to be spoken aloud, there's nothing to do but offer a breathless laugh in return. ]
So then wonder no longer and instead find out.
[ For it would be a lie if Sunday said the thought hadn't crossed his mind before now, a thought he's certain they've shared where he holds Hades' gaze deliberately while dipping his head down to lean into those fingertips trailing along his mouth. ]
Take me, Hades. Exactly how you have thought of before.
[ Already, his dove sings for him, little breaths and sounds and sweet, sweet words that are a symphony to his ears. He doesn’t know if his imagination could ever conjure anything as lovely as the real thing, to say nothing of how it’s going to feel to be inside him. Lost, for just a moment, in the way Sunday touches him, Hades forgets himself for a split second and dips down to steal a kiss. All pretense of sweetness has been lost, and there is a simple, ravenous hunger there instead.
This man is going to undo him. He could undo him, and Hades would let it happen.
At last, he seems to remember what lies ahead of them and pulls away, briefly catching Sunday’s lower lip between his teeth. Once he straightens fully, he feels the loss of Sunday’s body against his own like a palpable thing, a pang that resounds through every fiber. It’ll be worth it, he reminds himself. So very worth it.
Hades snaps his fingers, and a crystalline bottle of liquid manifests in his waiting palm. Not as if he’d had time to prepare for this eventuality when it’d been little more than a daydream before, but there are perks to being an almighty sorcerer. He tips some of the contents onto his fingers, warming it with gentle motions, while he sets the bottle on the bedside table and grips Sunday’s thigh with his other hand. ]
Relax for me, my dove.
[ All of this in service of making good on his word, on fulfilling the want they both have, but there is something to be savored here, too. The act of working Sunday open will be a thrilling prelude to all else that follows. Slicked fingers follow the curve of Sunday’s ass to seek out his entrance. Gently, he slips one digit inside, feeling the flex and squeeze of his love’s body. Just thinking about how he’s going to feel makes him hot all over, makes his cock twitch in anticipation. ]
[ That insistent pull within the kiss isn't lost on him as he moves a hand to one side of that beloved face, not to brace himself against it but to embrace it and that current running within it he'd wanted to draw out. Something he'd willingly lose himself in, a tide to be pulled into if it wasn't for already being deep beneath so many others already.
This one steals what little air remains in his lungs so the kiss breaks with another gasp from him. Even before teeth land on his lip and send a little shiver of pleasure down his spine and occupies his thoughts with those teeth elsewhere even as Hades pulls back.
A loss felt equally even as it provides him with yet another view of desire etched into every part of Hades - of them both, Sunday's certain, when there's no reason for any of it to be hidden with a multitude of ways for feeling it when their bond sweeps it back and forth. A wave of endless want with each built upon the last, as happens again at that snap of fingers when Sunday can't quite help another small laugh at what materializes in its wake.
Those few seconds of preparation might as well feel like a year with the pause they bring before a finger slides into him carefully with Sunday's own hands curling briefly into the bedding beneath him at that adjustment which both delivers on and brings more anticipation. Enough and not again at once as he shifts to allow that touch deeper still with that instruction to relax, though - ]
More.
[ Aided by a bit of impatience, possibly, but also that need for as much of Hades as possible in whatever he's willing to give in what will unravel them both if anticipation doesn't do so first. His turn to send a feeling through their bond to make that pleasure felt clear to go with each noise - and a test of doing so for later, if it works. That's less his focus than reaching for the hand on his thigh to squeeze it before continuing. ]
[ Hades’ gaze is hazy as he watches his dove beneath him, adding another finger to continue the blissful work of preparing him. He can feel each beat of pleasure through their bond, making his pulse jump and his body ache for more. More.
Patience, he reminds himself, because it wouldn’t do to move too quickly, and he is quite enjoying the sight as he adds a third finger, gently working in and out of his beloved, curling his digits just so to see how Sunday might react. Oh, his love is is gorgeous laid out like this, Hades following the little cues given by his body, through their bond, in every noise that passes from his lips, mapping out what pleases him and committing it to memory.
For far, far too long, Hades has been a man devoted to his duty. Walking the earth for thousands upon thousands of years in the pursuit of a singular goal, guided by love and loyalty for a people who no longer existed. Those are shackles he has long shed, a freedom found in his demise. And now that he’s been given a second chance to live, he finds himself wanting this instead – a devotion to this man, to his happiness and his pleasure. Sunday will want for nothing so long as Hades is here, he’ll see to it. ]
Sunday… [ His voice is tight with desire, eyes on his beloved’s face, rapt. ] My love. Are you– Do you want me inside you? Tell me… tell me how much you want me.
[ As you wish gets another part laugh, part exhale from Sunday when it seems so easily granted, a bit of patience to temper impatience even as it persists driven purely by want. Difficult for it to not be when that gaze upon him is once again as weighted as any touch when it's no less desirous as everything else between them.
Well-timed, then, to that curl of talented fingers which sends sparks through him and makes Sunday all the more determined that Hades have reactions to watch for each motion or touch as each one builds on the last until what's said feels like a plea.
Another want he attunes to, an answer he would give without hesitation for yet another facet of desire: to leave nothing unsaid both asked for and not, and particularly not now. Not when there's nothing Hades could ask for that he would not grant. ]
I want you, Hades, more than I've ever wanted anyone because of you. It's only you. I want you inside me like how I've imagined, too, so I can feel you. Don't make me wait any longer for you to take me.
[ The train, the market - even longer before that, probably, if he stopped to think about it when this seems to only skim the surface of want. Never mind that their bond provides an underline to each word, each sentence to take them that much farther; there's still more.
Also, maybe a couple seconds of wait he's going to bring about. The bedside table isn't so far though it takes a second attempt before Sunday manages to catch that bottle with his fingertips to bring it back with him. ]
Come here, my heart. [ Said while opening the bottle to tip some of its contents into his palm with the intent of taking Hades' cock in hand once more though he adds with a smile, ] And not for me to tease you this time.
[ This is far better, isn't it? Having everything they want, everything they feel, flowing freely between them. No words held back, no hesitance smothering their bond. It is all here and real and nearly overwhelming in the way it feels him with such utter bliss.
Sunday takes to his request with such aplomb, and every one of those words rockets straight to his groin, tight heat coiling in the pit of his belly like he might snap at any moment. If any man could undo him with words alone, it would surely be his dove, his tongue as gilded as the rest of him. That will be something to explore later, he thinks. His beloved has asked not to be left waiting, and Hades does not have it in him to deny either of them.
When Sunday beats him to the bottle of lube, however, Hades gives him a quizzical look for a second, if only because the thought of Sunday preparing him in return had not occurred to him. Now that it has, oh, the thought makes his stomach swoop in desire. ]
No, certainly not.
[ A bit of a joke, but he knows better. The both of them are walking the knife's edge, patience teetering on the finest line. There's no time left for teasing. He wants, he needs to be inside Sunday, and Sunday needs him there as well.
Gingerly, he withdraws his fingers and edges closer. The first lube-slick touch of Sunday's hand pulls a gasp out of him, and it takes no small amount of effort not to start thrusting into the loose circle of Sunday's fingers. Instead he watches Sunday, his hand, his face, knowing his eyes are on him and no one else. When at last he is sufficiently covered, Hades guides Sunday's hand away, dipping down for one more kiss, murmuring lowly against his beloved's lips, ]
You are mine. Let me show you.
[ And how. Hades resumes his place between Sunday's thighs, bracing one of his legs with one hand and taking his own cock in the other. He guides himself, nudges against Sunday's entrance, but as before, has not the patience to tease, and instead begins the slow push into Sunday's body. It is the most exquisite torture imaginable, taking him ilm by hot, tight ilm, letting his dove acclimate to the stretch as Hades steels his patience for this final push. He bottoms out with a groan, grip tight on Sunday's thigh to keep himself still through sheer will alone. ]
You feel... amazing. Perfect. Stars, Sunday, how I have wanted you.
[ That gasp is more music to his ears, shameless as he is about letting that smile grow ever wider. Another time, there might've been a second where he considered going back ever so briefly on that promise to not tease - but not now. Not with the way Hades watches him and each motion, so that by the time his hand is moved away Sunday's leaning up to meet him for that kiss. Another one he'd be tempted to lose himself into if it wasn't for impatience or what follows.
You are mine - a statement that might as well send another electric current through him, and if Sunday hadn't already been hanging onto each word Hades says, well. That would've done it when anticipation winds ever more around them both as with a nod he steals one more kiss before settling back with one hand temporarily braced against the other man's arm.
Even those talented fingers are no comparison as Hades finally sinks into him with patience enough to test them both. Needed for that adjusting, that stretch as a sensation enjoyed as the start of what will lead to yet more pleasure beyond feeling his beloved seated entirely inside him as that brings out something not quite a moan, nowhere near yet to the singing he'd promised though a prelude to more with this to match Hades for now.
To start with, too, though that bit of praise certainly works well for it too as more fuel on the fire that's never once waned. ]
So do you. You are better than I could have ever imagined.
[ Imagination could've never come anywhere close now that he knows, with Hades above him and in him with one need satisfied and the other to move taking its place. And then there's something almost achingly fond which surfaces amidst all the rest, something not tied to anything in particular or more like too many to name if Sunday wanted to try. All small things which unite into affection and adoration both which drive every answer, including his next.
Sunday hooks a leg over Hades' hip to keep him close as though there was any danger of that changing. Better, too, to lift his hips in another slow roll while tightening around his cock in two very deliberate motions to encourage him on.
Though maybe a brief moment of teasing, too, even as it doesn't last with the latter swapped for the former. ]
You have been patient for long enough. Be patient no longer for us both.
[ There is such a cocktail of feelings swirling through their bond, bright affection and ardent desire mixing together, both of them feeling it all and feeling it so keenly that they can’t help but feed into each other. The pleasure, too, is there, a muted hum almost like it’s lying in wait for more. Anticipating the moment Hades starts to move.
Before he can get there, though, Sunday hooks a leg around his hip and arches into him in a way that makes him see stars, the tight clench of his beloved’s body robbing the air from his lungs. Oh, his dizzy mind oh-so-helpfully supplies, This man is dangerous. The reminder thrills him, makes him glad for this and every moment they can spend together from here on, tangled together night after night and learning what makes the other tick.
He might have missed the moment that Sunday gives him confirmation that he’s ready, if not for the fact that his every sense is fixed Sunday, like he is the north star by which he will chart his every course. Hades gives a low rumble of acknowledgement, hands curling around his dove’s thighs to keep him steady, keep him close. He draws out of Sunday’s body nearly completely before pushing back in. Not slowly, but certainly without urgency – at least the first time or two.
After that, he finds a rhythm, slow exploration giving way to eager thrusts, riding the waves of pleasure spilling through his own body and their bond. This is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, near euphoric straight from the start as the feedback loop of feelings and sensations intensifies. Hells, it feels like utter bliss. He doesn’t want it to stop – he belongs here, joined with Sunday, body and soul. ]
Oh, Sunday… [ How can one person feel this good? ] Sing for me, my dove. I want– I want to hear you.
[ That low rumble is another sound which sets him afire anew, and the more so as Hades takes that permission granted to finally move. Slowly, as each withdrawal threatens to tatter what little remains of his patience even as it's yet more to enjoy leading into a pace met with all eagerness.
Though that isn't enough praise with hands roaming over everywhere of Hades he can reach, nails occasionally digging in without noticing in another unconscious expression of that pleasure rippling between them in an endless doubling over and through each other until it's something far more exponential.
Something all encompassing when the way Hades breathes out his name sounds far more like a prayer than anything he's ever heard what with this being something bright. Cherished, as it will be when even as his mind spins he's quick to carve a space for it into his memories. No mere memory, however, when they have nothing but time to draw this out from each other again and again.
So it is less a specifically chosen thought and far more like an absolute for what follows: that if Hades calls, he'll always answer. A pattern they'd established before and leading up to now into absolute devotion.
Timed well, too, as while that request is being made he's using his leg still wrapped around the other to set a counter rhythm momentarily to drive Hades deeper, to change the angle until one of those thrusts has him arching off the bed again with a cry of Hades' name. Far more than ragged breaths brought about by crests of pleasure alone he doesn't hold back from in their bond or anywhere else while seeking a repeat - and that request, too. ]
Don't stop, Hades. [ From unconscious thought to conscious, voiced earlier but different now when it's praise and plea for more in one with another thrust causing him to need a second to catch his breath. ] Don't stop. I'm yours.
[ The more this goes on, the more he is losing track of what feelings belong to who. It’s as if they’re fraying at the edges, melting together in a way that makes it impossible to tell where Hades stops and Sunday begins. Is that his sense of utter adoration or his beloved’s? He doesn’t know, but he feels it all the same, echoes it.
He loves this man more than he has loved anyone in eons. He will do anything for him, and all Sunday needs to do is ask. To think it. To want it.
That leg around his hip curls, Sunday rocking into him in a way that drives Hades deep, deep into the sweet spot that he’d been seeking. That alone is enough to make his rhythm stutter, startled and near overwhelmed by how he can feel it too, how good it feels. His name tears from Sunday’s throat in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s going mad with want. What a beautiful song it is. ]
Yes, my love. Yes. Yes.
[ He hardly realizes he’s speaking, the words spilling out of him without thought, voice breathless and rough. Hades adjusts his hold on Sunday, hands on his hip to keep that angle so he can drive deep again, and again, and again. His rhythm returns again, but there’s a desperate edge to it, like he’s holding on by the barest of threads.
And oh, is he. What will it feel like, he wonders, to bring Sunday to the brink? To let his lover’s pleasure drag him over the edge with it? There’s nothing he wants more than to find out. ]
[ As Hades shifts to keep that same angle it also drives the air from his lungs momentarily with each thrust landing against and again with one wave of ecstasy after another. A description Sunday might contemplate later when able to actively think about it rather than being in it entirely with that desperation crossing over as they draw each other ever closer to unraveling completely.
A desperation that might be his, or might be from his lover, or maybe it simply belongs to both of them from everything building further and further and winding them ever more together. Even now he still tries to rock with Hades while they teeter on that same edge with those hands on his hips one more thing to relish with all the rest. Want replaces every other thought, even a want for this to last forever though he knows it won't be long now with sparks all but running through him.
Sunday drops a hand down to take his aching cock in hand but it's hardly needed. Maybe he only thinks the word together, or he says it aloud and it gets lost between other cries, or maybe it hardly needs to be said when they're joined in every possible way. The next thrust is the one which pushes him over that brink as Sunday comes undone, this time seeing far more stars with his head thrown back.
His beloved's name is once more on his lips as he comes, tightening around Hades as pleasure sweeps through him. Something to be increased even more as he still seeks as much everything as he can to make it last but more than that, to bring Hades over that edge with him. ]
[ If asked, Hades would not be able to say where that together came from. It could have been a thought, or a feeling, or a word spoken aloud. It could have been all three, echoing through them both with such resonance it ceased to be confined to any one sensation.
He feels it, regardless, along with just how close Sunday teeters, brought closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. He watches, rapt and half mad as Sunday’s slender fingers curl around his own cock to better chase his pleasure – he barely needs it, but oh, it is enough. When his lover reaches his peak, Hades is helpless against it, following after him in nearly the same instant.
“Ecstasy” is entirely inadequate for the way it feels, Sunday’s pleasure searing through his veins as surely as his own. It robs the breath from his lungs, sets his pulse roaring in his ears. Sunday is hot and tight around him, and the moment stretches, infinite and instant all at once as all else but pleasure vacates his body with a groan that rumbles low and ragged in his chest.
It feels like an age before he comes back to himself, blinking to find that at some point he’d nearly fallen on top of Sunday, if not for managing to catch himself with one arm braced against the mattress. It’s a near thing, though. He can feel Sunday’s breath, smell the sweat clinging to his skin. They’re so close, he barely needs to move at all to press a clumsy kiss to the corner of his love’s mouth. ]
Mm. You truly are perfection.
[ Hells. His whole body feels warm and loose and wiggly and… oh, he’d very much like to lie down, now. ]
My dove, relax for me. I need to move, else I might just crush you where you lay.
[ Their bond has one final gift within it as it's impossible to consider consider this being lost in his own pleasure when Hades' rushes in, too, in what's less a ricochet of some shared feeling and more like a rebound with the force of it. Impossible, too, to not be awash in that as much as every other feeling shared back and forth with no end or beginning left to any of them.
If he'd thought himself dizzy from it before, there is no comparison to now when he's already reaching for Hades in the aftermath as they both try to catch their breath and sense slowly returns. Not without a slight chuckle for what Hades says, though more for the second part of it. ]
I rather think that title still belongs to you. [ Not even an attempt to sidestep a compliment as far as Sunday's concerned when it's more like a matter of fact to him, though one he's not inclined to argue much farther in favor of stealing another kiss. ] And I fail to see the problem with any crushing.
[ For now, anyway, considering that might be less so the case in a few moments or longer than that but probably an inevitability. One prevented easily enough so Sunday surrenders his grip on Hades from how they've wound together when none of that was real protest. ]
Don't go far, regardless.
[ He's fully intending on trading one level of closeness for another by reaching out for reaching out for Hades after he settles. ]
[ No, he’s going to stay right by Sunday’s side for as long as he possibly can. Hades dips down again to give Sunday one more kiss before he attempts to move in earnest. A little hiss of breath escapes through his teeth as he slowly pulls out, but once he has, a simple wave of his hand is enough to see the both of them cleaned off without the need to scurry off to the washroom.
Magic really does have its perks.
Hades settles heavily against the mattress, flopping onto his back with a sigh. If the pleasure was doubled, so too is the afterglow. He feels like he might be able to sleep for a week, warm and utterly content. ]
Mm. Come here.
[ They reach out for each other in nearly the same instant, and Hades curls an arm around Sunday’s shoulders to pull him close, letting him rest his head against Hades’ chest.
He presses his lips against the top of Sunday’s head, the kiss giving way to a smile buried in soft silver hair. ]
[ As they reach out for each other at the same time a smile crosses his face, one which only grows wider when there's no hesitation in where he'll settle in tucked into Hades' side with an arm draped across to trail a hand along the other man's chest.
The place he'd thought of as his during the time in the void. Something that'd been all too easy to adjust to without consciously deciding it at first before that realization slowly sank in while they were alone together when it simply felt right. And then the opposite when feeling bereft of that closeness while staring sleeplessly at the other half of his bed in what'd ultimately brought him here tonight, since even if Hades hadn't been in it a too empty space remained.
Not any longer; there's a moment of private marveling over this being the first night of many to come, or what likely isn't all that private with the bond between them. A feeling Sunday couldn't hope to keep to himself even if he tried when a familiar pair of lips find him and he shuts his eyes, letting his hand go still as those words are breathed into his hair. ]
Thank you for everything, too, my heart.
[ For too much to begin to name, but there's more to add which yet another surge of affection all but demands. Even while reluctant to move too much from how comfortable they are, Sunday tilts his head back and lifts the hand resting on Hades' chest up to run the backs of his fingers lightly along his love's jaw. ]
It's good to be home.
[ Because that's what this is, in one more feeling given a name - wherever Hades is, that's home. He's home. ]
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[ Said firmly to that question, one which twists his heart in his chest just a little after the laugh with it while he remains entirely serious. The sort of doubt he can understand; a variation of it crossed his own mind seconds before even as affection drowns everything else out.
It's possible it - all of it - sharpens those edges of desire even further even as Sunday couldn't have guessed could happen, were he even thinking about any such things in the first place. His attention is entirely on Hades pressed against him when they could be closer still as that groan from what he knows isn't enough may as well be music to his ears.
Especially when more could follow yet, though his thoughts stall when Hades' hand moves in earnest beyond any tease. The next pass of his hand drags a needy noise from the back of his throat as Sunday tips his head back for a second. It's both relief and another call for more when that wanted touch only gives way to that thought from before. Don't stop, though he'd done that so that even as Sunday refocuses to move his hand along the length of Hades' cock at the same pace in time for another want to be spoken aloud, there's nothing to do but offer a breathless laugh in return. ]
So then wonder no longer and instead find out.
[ For it would be a lie if Sunday said the thought hadn't crossed his mind before now, a thought he's certain they've shared where he holds Hades' gaze deliberately while dipping his head down to lean into those fingertips trailing along his mouth. ]
Take me, Hades. Exactly how you have thought of before.
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This man is going to undo him. He could undo him, and Hades would let it happen.
At last, he seems to remember what lies ahead of them and pulls away, briefly catching Sunday’s lower lip between his teeth. Once he straightens fully, he feels the loss of Sunday’s body against his own like a palpable thing, a pang that resounds through every fiber. It’ll be worth it, he reminds himself. So very worth it.
Hades snaps his fingers, and a crystalline bottle of liquid manifests in his waiting palm. Not as if he’d had time to prepare for this eventuality when it’d been little more than a daydream before, but there are perks to being an almighty sorcerer. He tips some of the contents onto his fingers, warming it with gentle motions, while he sets the bottle on the bedside table and grips Sunday’s thigh with his other hand. ]
Relax for me, my dove.
[ All of this in service of making good on his word, on fulfilling the want they both have, but there is something to be savored here, too. The act of working Sunday open will be a thrilling prelude to all else that follows. Slicked fingers follow the curve of Sunday’s ass to seek out his entrance. Gently, he slips one digit inside, feeling the flex and squeeze of his love’s body. Just thinking about how he’s going to feel makes him hot all over, makes his cock twitch in anticipation. ]
Tell me when you want more.
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This one steals what little air remains in his lungs so the kiss breaks with another gasp from him. Even before teeth land on his lip and send a little shiver of pleasure down his spine and occupies his thoughts with those teeth elsewhere even as Hades pulls back.
A loss felt equally even as it provides him with yet another view of desire etched into every part of Hades - of them both, Sunday's certain, when there's no reason for any of it to be hidden with a multitude of ways for feeling it when their bond sweeps it back and forth. A wave of endless want with each built upon the last, as happens again at that snap of fingers when Sunday can't quite help another small laugh at what materializes in its wake.
Those few seconds of preparation might as well feel like a year with the pause they bring before a finger slides into him carefully with Sunday's own hands curling briefly into the bedding beneath him at that adjustment which both delivers on and brings more anticipation. Enough and not again at once as he shifts to allow that touch deeper still with that instruction to relax, though - ]
More.
[ Aided by a bit of impatience, possibly, but also that need for as much of Hades as possible in whatever he's willing to give in what will unravel them both if anticipation doesn't do so first. His turn to send a feeling through their bond to make that pleasure felt clear to go with each noise - and a test of doing so for later, if it works. That's less his focus than reaching for the hand on his thigh to squeeze it before continuing. ]
Don't stop. I trust you.
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[ Hades’ gaze is hazy as he watches his dove beneath him, adding another finger to continue the blissful work of preparing him. He can feel each beat of pleasure through their bond, making his pulse jump and his body ache for more. More.
Patience, he reminds himself, because it wouldn’t do to move too quickly, and he is quite enjoying the sight as he adds a third finger, gently working in and out of his beloved, curling his digits just so to see how Sunday might react. Oh, his love is is gorgeous laid out like this, Hades following the little cues given by his body, through their bond, in every noise that passes from his lips, mapping out what pleases him and committing it to memory.
For far, far too long, Hades has been a man devoted to his duty. Walking the earth for thousands upon thousands of years in the pursuit of a singular goal, guided by love and loyalty for a people who no longer existed. Those are shackles he has long shed, a freedom found in his demise. And now that he’s been given a second chance to live, he finds himself wanting this instead – a devotion to this man, to his happiness and his pleasure. Sunday will want for nothing so long as Hades is here, he’ll see to it. ]
Sunday… [ His voice is tight with desire, eyes on his beloved’s face, rapt. ] My love. Are you– Do you want me inside you? Tell me… tell me how much you want me.
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Well-timed, then, to that curl of talented fingers which sends sparks through him and makes Sunday all the more determined that Hades have reactions to watch for each motion or touch as each one builds on the last until what's said feels like a plea.
Another want he attunes to, an answer he would give without hesitation for yet another facet of desire: to leave nothing unsaid both asked for and not, and particularly not now. Not when there's nothing Hades could ask for that he would not grant. ]
I want you, Hades, more than I've ever wanted anyone because of you. It's only you. I want you inside me like how I've imagined, too, so I can feel you. Don't make me wait any longer for you to take me.
[ The train, the market - even longer before that, probably, if he stopped to think about it when this seems to only skim the surface of want. Never mind that their bond provides an underline to each word, each sentence to take them that much farther; there's still more.
Also, maybe a couple seconds of wait he's going to bring about. The bedside table isn't so far though it takes a second attempt before Sunday manages to catch that bottle with his fingertips to bring it back with him. ]
Come here, my heart. [ Said while opening the bottle to tip some of its contents into his palm with the intent of taking Hades' cock in hand once more though he adds with a smile, ] And not for me to tease you this time.
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Sunday takes to his request with such aplomb, and every one of those words rockets straight to his groin, tight heat coiling in the pit of his belly like he might snap at any moment. If any man could undo him with words alone, it would surely be his dove, his tongue as gilded as the rest of him. That will be something to explore later, he thinks. His beloved has asked not to be left waiting, and Hades does not have it in him to deny either of them.
When Sunday beats him to the bottle of lube, however, Hades gives him a quizzical look for a second, if only because the thought of Sunday preparing him in return had not occurred to him. Now that it has, oh, the thought makes his stomach swoop in desire. ]
No, certainly not.
[ A bit of a joke, but he knows better. The both of them are walking the knife's edge, patience teetering on the finest line. There's no time left for teasing. He wants, he needs to be inside Sunday, and Sunday needs him there as well.
Gingerly, he withdraws his fingers and edges closer. The first lube-slick touch of Sunday's hand pulls a gasp out of him, and it takes no small amount of effort not to start thrusting into the loose circle of Sunday's fingers. Instead he watches Sunday, his hand, his face, knowing his eyes are on him and no one else. When at last he is sufficiently covered, Hades guides Sunday's hand away, dipping down for one more kiss, murmuring lowly against his beloved's lips, ]
You are mine. Let me show you.
[ And how. Hades resumes his place between Sunday's thighs, bracing one of his legs with one hand and taking his own cock in the other. He guides himself, nudges against Sunday's entrance, but as before, has not the patience to tease, and instead begins the slow push into Sunday's body. It is the most exquisite torture imaginable, taking him ilm by hot, tight ilm, letting his dove acclimate to the stretch as Hades steels his patience for this final push. He bottoms out with a groan, grip tight on Sunday's thigh to keep himself still through sheer will alone. ]
You feel... amazing. Perfect. Stars, Sunday, how I have wanted you.
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You are mine - a statement that might as well send another electric current through him, and if Sunday hadn't already been hanging onto each word Hades says, well. That would've done it when anticipation winds ever more around them both as with a nod he steals one more kiss before settling back with one hand temporarily braced against the other man's arm.
Even those talented fingers are no comparison as Hades finally sinks into him with patience enough to test them both. Needed for that adjusting, that stretch as a sensation enjoyed as the start of what will lead to yet more pleasure beyond feeling his beloved seated entirely inside him as that brings out something not quite a moan, nowhere near yet to the singing he'd promised though a prelude to more with this to match Hades for now.
To start with, too, though that bit of praise certainly works well for it too as more fuel on the fire that's never once waned. ]
So do you. You are better than I could have ever imagined.
[ Imagination could've never come anywhere close now that he knows, with Hades above him and in him with one need satisfied and the other to move taking its place. And then there's something almost achingly fond which surfaces amidst all the rest, something not tied to anything in particular or more like too many to name if Sunday wanted to try. All small things which unite into affection and adoration both which drive every answer, including his next.
Sunday hooks a leg over Hades' hip to keep him close as though there was any danger of that changing. Better, too, to lift his hips in another slow roll while tightening around his cock in two very deliberate motions to encourage him on.
Though maybe a brief moment of teasing, too, even as it doesn't last with the latter swapped for the former. ]
You have been patient for long enough. Be patient no longer for us both.
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Before he can get there, though, Sunday hooks a leg around his hip and arches into him in a way that makes him see stars, the tight clench of his beloved’s body robbing the air from his lungs. Oh, his dizzy mind oh-so-helpfully supplies, This man is dangerous. The reminder thrills him, makes him glad for this and every moment they can spend together from here on, tangled together night after night and learning what makes the other tick.
He might have missed the moment that Sunday gives him confirmation that he’s ready, if not for the fact that his every sense is fixed Sunday, like he is the north star by which he will chart his every course. Hades gives a low rumble of acknowledgement, hands curling around his dove’s thighs to keep him steady, keep him close. He draws out of Sunday’s body nearly completely before pushing back in. Not slowly, but certainly without urgency – at least the first time or two.
After that, he finds a rhythm, slow exploration giving way to eager thrusts, riding the waves of pleasure spilling through his own body and their bond. This is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, near euphoric straight from the start as the feedback loop of feelings and sensations intensifies. Hells, it feels like utter bliss. He doesn’t want it to stop – he belongs here, joined with Sunday, body and soul. ]
Oh, Sunday… [ How can one person feel this good? ] Sing for me, my dove. I want– I want to hear you.
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Though that isn't enough praise with hands roaming over everywhere of Hades he can reach, nails occasionally digging in without noticing in another unconscious expression of that pleasure rippling between them in an endless doubling over and through each other until it's something far more exponential.
Something all encompassing when the way Hades breathes out his name sounds far more like a prayer than anything he's ever heard what with this being something bright. Cherished, as it will be when even as his mind spins he's quick to carve a space for it into his memories. No mere memory, however, when they have nothing but time to draw this out from each other again and again.
So it is less a specifically chosen thought and far more like an absolute for what follows: that if Hades calls, he'll always answer. A pattern they'd established before and leading up to now into absolute devotion.
Timed well, too, as while that request is being made he's using his leg still wrapped around the other to set a counter rhythm momentarily to drive Hades deeper, to change the angle until one of those thrusts has him arching off the bed again with a cry of Hades' name. Far more than ragged breaths brought about by crests of pleasure alone he doesn't hold back from in their bond or anywhere else while seeking a repeat - and that request, too. ]
Don't stop, Hades. [ From unconscious thought to conscious, voiced earlier but different now when it's praise and plea for more in one with another thrust causing him to need a second to catch his breath. ] Don't stop. I'm yours.
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He loves this man more than he has loved anyone in eons. He will do anything for him, and all Sunday needs to do is ask. To think it. To want it.
That leg around his hip curls, Sunday rocking into him in a way that drives Hades deep, deep into the sweet spot that he’d been seeking. That alone is enough to make his rhythm stutter, startled and near overwhelmed by how he can feel it too, how good it feels. His name tears from Sunday’s throat in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s going mad with want. What a beautiful song it is. ]
Yes, my love. Yes. Yes.
[ He hardly realizes he’s speaking, the words spilling out of him without thought, voice breathless and rough. Hades adjusts his hold on Sunday, hands on his hip to keep that angle so he can drive deep again, and again, and again. His rhythm returns again, but there’s a desperate edge to it, like he’s holding on by the barest of threads.
And oh, is he. What will it feel like, he wonders, to bring Sunday to the brink? To let his lover’s pleasure drag him over the edge with it? There’s nothing he wants more than to find out. ]
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A desperation that might be his, or might be from his lover, or maybe it simply belongs to both of them from everything building further and further and winding them ever more together. Even now he still tries to rock with Hades while they teeter on that same edge with those hands on his hips one more thing to relish with all the rest. Want replaces every other thought, even a want for this to last forever though he knows it won't be long now with sparks all but running through him.
Sunday drops a hand down to take his aching cock in hand but it's hardly needed. Maybe he only thinks the word together, or he says it aloud and it gets lost between other cries, or maybe it hardly needs to be said when they're joined in every possible way. The next thrust is the one which pushes him over that brink as Sunday comes undone, this time seeing far more stars with his head thrown back.
His beloved's name is once more on his lips as he comes, tightening around Hades as pleasure sweeps through him. Something to be increased even more as he still seeks as much everything as he can to make it last but more than that, to bring Hades over that edge with him. ]
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He feels it, regardless, along with just how close Sunday teeters, brought closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. He watches, rapt and half mad as Sunday’s slender fingers curl around his own cock to better chase his pleasure – he barely needs it, but oh, it is enough. When his lover reaches his peak, Hades is helpless against it, following after him in nearly the same instant.
“Ecstasy” is entirely inadequate for the way it feels, Sunday’s pleasure searing through his veins as surely as his own. It robs the breath from his lungs, sets his pulse roaring in his ears. Sunday is hot and tight around him, and the moment stretches, infinite and instant all at once as all else but pleasure vacates his body with a groan that rumbles low and ragged in his chest.
It feels like an age before he comes back to himself, blinking to find that at some point he’d nearly fallen on top of Sunday, if not for managing to catch himself with one arm braced against the mattress. It’s a near thing, though. He can feel Sunday’s breath, smell the sweat clinging to his skin. They’re so close, he barely needs to move at all to press a clumsy kiss to the corner of his love’s mouth. ]
Mm. You truly are perfection.
[ Hells. His whole body feels warm and loose and wiggly and… oh, he’d very much like to lie down, now. ]
My dove, relax for me. I need to move, else I might just crush you where you lay.
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If he'd thought himself dizzy from it before, there is no comparison to now when he's already reaching for Hades in the aftermath as they both try to catch their breath and sense slowly returns. Not without a slight chuckle for what Hades says, though more for the second part of it. ]
I rather think that title still belongs to you. [ Not even an attempt to sidestep a compliment as far as Sunday's concerned when it's more like a matter of fact to him, though one he's not inclined to argue much farther in favor of stealing another kiss. ] And I fail to see the problem with any crushing.
[ For now, anyway, considering that might be less so the case in a few moments or longer than that but probably an inevitability. One prevented easily enough so Sunday surrenders his grip on Hades from how they've wound together when none of that was real protest. ]
Don't go far, regardless.
[ He's fully intending on trading one level of closeness for another by reaching out for reaching out for Hades after he settles. ]
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[ No, he’s going to stay right by Sunday’s side for as long as he possibly can. Hades dips down again to give Sunday one more kiss before he attempts to move in earnest. A little hiss of breath escapes through his teeth as he slowly pulls out, but once he has, a simple wave of his hand is enough to see the both of them cleaned off without the need to scurry off to the washroom.
Magic really does have its perks.
Hades settles heavily against the mattress, flopping onto his back with a sigh. If the pleasure was doubled, so too is the afterglow. He feels like he might be able to sleep for a week, warm and utterly content. ]
Mm. Come here.
[ They reach out for each other in nearly the same instant, and Hades curls an arm around Sunday’s shoulders to pull him close, letting him rest his head against Hades’ chest.
He presses his lips against the top of Sunday’s head, the kiss giving way to a smile buried in soft silver hair. ]
Thank you, my dove. For everything.
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The place he'd thought of as his during the time in the void. Something that'd been all too easy to adjust to without consciously deciding it at first before that realization slowly sank in while they were alone together when it simply felt right. And then the opposite when feeling bereft of that closeness while staring sleeplessly at the other half of his bed in what'd ultimately brought him here tonight, since even if Hades hadn't been in it a too empty space remained.
Not any longer; there's a moment of private marveling over this being the first night of many to come, or what likely isn't all that private with the bond between them. A feeling Sunday couldn't hope to keep to himself even if he tried when a familiar pair of lips find him and he shuts his eyes, letting his hand go still as those words are breathed into his hair. ]
Thank you for everything, too, my heart.
[ For too much to begin to name, but there's more to add which yet another surge of affection all but demands. Even while reluctant to move too much from how comfortable they are, Sunday tilts his head back and lifts the hand resting on Hades' chest up to run the backs of his fingers lightly along his love's jaw. ]
It's good to be home.
[ Because that's what this is, in one more feeling given a name - wherever Hades is, that's home. He's home. ]