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