“That Which Lingers” – Day 40 Interlude (18+)
This section contains explicit 18+ content.
Webb didn’t wait for another invitation before leaning up, winding their arms around Lore and tugging them down into a kiss.
Like the first time, the sensation was both familiar and strange. Webb wasn’t sure they’d ever get used to the feeling of Lore’s mouth, careful and warm and eager, yet so unlike anybody else they’d ever kissed, inhuman in the best kind of way. Lore kept things steady at first, exploring Webb’s mouth in return with tongue and teeth and lips, toying with Webb’s lip piercings and letting out a soft noise of pleasure.
“You’re really cute,” Lore muttered, drawing back slightly, looking down at Webb with a slow grin, lashes heavy. “I like your piercings.” A pause. “I like your face.”
Webb made a disgruntled sort of noise. “Stop that,” they mumbled, running their hands over Lore’s back, feeling them flow around Webb’s fingers like water. “I take compliments like a broken vending machine taking crumpled dollar bills…”
Lore let out a soft laugh. “That’s cute too,” they persisted, sitting back. They framed Webb’s face in their hands, just looking at them, and that was enough to make Webb’s cheeks and ears start to burn. Then Lore had to make it even worse by asking seriously: “Is there anything off-limits? Anything you don’t like?”
Webb squirmed, feet kicking slightly, swallowing and pretending that their breath wasn’t suddenly coming faster. “Nothing that I can think of,” they said. “Except for torturously praising me and being nice to me in ways that I’m supposed to respond to and don’t know how to and ruining the mood because I just wanna fuck—”
Lore blinked, looking genuinely concerned for a moment, hands hovering over Webb. “Ah…”
Damn it all. Webb winced, catching those hands and hastily pressing a kiss to each of Lore’s palms. “Not like that,” they breathed out. “Lore… I like you. I like you so much. I want to do this because it’s you. And I’m not—not worried about it, because it’s you? And you’re so cute, and so considerate, and you want to do things right, but you have to understand that I’m a monstrous little gremlin who tries to ruin my own life all the time so sometimes you just have to take me at my word when I say it’s totally okay to shut me up—”
Webb drew in a breath to continue babbling, but found it abruptly quite full of smoke. Not the kind that dispersed when they closed their lips again or exhaled; their lips closed around something firm and soft, pliant and cool and malleable. It eased its way in and filled up their mouth, pressing against their tongue, rubbing against the piercing there.
Lore leaned down and kissed Webb’s forehead. “Alright,” they said in a soft, polite tone, almost exaggeratedly demure. “How’s that?”
Webb, who couldn’t answer if they wanted to, just let out a rough whine of protest that turned into a loud, shaky moan as Lore started easing the—tentacle? cock? Webb had no appropriate words for this, and didn’t fucking care—in and out of their mouth. At the same time, they felt Lore’s hands starting to caress their hair, toying with the tips of their ears with sharp little pinches.
Webb had no idea what Lore could or couldn’t feel, or what they could or couldn’t do; that complete lack of grounding, of knowing what to expect, made Webb’s heart race. They felt an eagerness to please that rushed through them like fire, swallowing and panting and licking at Lore in their mouth, their eyes pressed dazedly and dizzyingly closed.
“Good,” they heard Lore murmur. A moment later, Webb felt hands at the hem of their sweater, pushing it up to expose their stomach. Lips fluttered just above their navel, then began to make their way up, and oh that was much more tongue than Webb thought Lore had available, slick and wet and hot against their already-feverish skin.
Fairly confident that the laws of physics were merely suggestions to Lore, which was amazing and unsettling, Webb shoved themself up into a sitting position only long enough to yank Ariadne’s sweater off over their head. Lore continued their attentions uninterrupted, though they did pause briefly when Webb’s tank top came off, letting themself ooze out of Webb’s mouth to let Webb catch their breath.
“Oh,” Lore murmured softly, leaning back in to kiss at Webb’s mouth, hands roaming hungrily over them. Two hands. Four hands. Far, far too many hands. “Yes, is this alright? I want to see you. I can touch…?” Their tongue lapped at Webb’s jaw.
Swallowing hard, flushed, Webb groaned again softly and tried to catch Lore’s mouth in a wet, messy kiss, aware of how slick and flushed their own mouth and jaw had become. “Yeah,” they mumbled against Lore’s lips. “Yeah, it’s all good, look at whatever, touch whatever… honestly, with what you’re already doing to me, if this binder doesn’t come off I’m going to have some significant regrets…”
Lore laughed, helpfully easing their hands underneath it and pulling it off over Webb’s head. They settled back after a moment, running their hands up Webb’s sides. “Oh!” they made a noise of delight. “These are pierced, too.”
Webb opened their mouth to respond to that, something breathlessly acerbic on their tongue, but then there was something else on their tongue again and they forgot all about bothering to speak. Lore was touching their chest, toying with their barbells, tugging, and oh, that was a little bit of pain, a squirming sort of sting, but Webb liked it, and Lore knew they liked it, and that just made it worse, better, more—
They fell into a hazy rhythm after that. Webb sank back into Lore’s embrace, letting Lore envelop them, touch them, feel them. On some hazy, distant level, they wondered if they were doing enough for Lore in return, but every time they opened their eyes they just saw Lore’s expression rapt with concentration and fascination, and figured that they were doing alright. Lore wanted to look and touch and explore, and—clearly—to see Webb a squirming, shuddering mess underneath them, and Webb was helplessly obliging.
Lore hadn’t bothered to pull off Webb’s pants or boxers, so feeling a feather-light touch starting to tease at both their lower entrances was enough to send Webb arching roughly off the bed, heels digging into the mattress. Before Lore had a chance to stop or hesitate, Webb let out a hoarse moan, nodding frantically and swallowing down against the tentacle still pulsing and stroking and coaxing its way into their mouth, eager and pleading, trying to communicate yes, please, more with every line of their body.
And maybe Lore understood, or maybe Lore had another way of telling what Webb was feeling at the moment. Either way, they didn’t stop, pressing deeper inside, teasing and coaxing and stroking at Webb and finding little resistance.
Hazily, deliriously, Webb half-wondered how many more places Lore could touch all at once, and found a choked laugh bubbling up in their throat as they panted for breath and squirmed with wanting. There was a mouth on their breast now, or what felt like one, the fluttering of kisses and the scrape of teeth, tugging and toying with the metal there. A hot tongue running over their clit. Hands and tendrils squeezing at their ass. That heavy, malleable thickness still pulsing into their mouth, stretching their lips wide—
They felt feather-light touches on their pointed ears, starting to creep slightly inside, and found themself mortifyingly and immediately tipping over the edge, hips jerking frantically as they started to come, their moans frantic and uncontrolled and just a dizzying rush of relief and heat and releasing tension.
Lore stroked their hair through it, kissing their forehead, their cheeks, their nose; mapping out every freckle like each one, individually, was previous and unique and treasured.
When Webb recovered their senses, frantically blinking away the stinging in their eyes as they stared up at the swimming ceiling, they drew in a shuddering breath as Lore slowly eased out of their mouth.
“… again,” they gasped. “Closer. Harder. Oh, I want to feel you. I want to feel you—”
Lore made a soft noise in return, trembling and sibilant, easing over Webb with heat and weight and longing. “I’d love that,” they sighed out. Then, again, as Webb inhaled, feeling Lore pour down their throat, the voice resonating from inside them this time, warm and intoxicating: Let me experience how good you feel.
Webb, still being stroked and sucked and stretched and utterly overwhelmed, could only deliriously, unreservedly encourage them.