John was once a part of an eldritch entity of hedonism, overindulgence, of bohemian ecstasy. If Charlie thinks 'orgies' have not been a part of the King in Yellow's cult, he's got another thing coming. And John's had some of those memories, shadows from behind the flames, dancing in his head. It's only now, here, where he has to sleep, where he dreams, that his mind has taken those pieces and done things with them, processing his emotions.
He can't really complain to the results.
John nods to the question and, after breathing in, closes his eyes again. He'll start stroking himself, slowly, lazily, his cock returning to hardness quickly enough; whether that's the stamina from his Old Bear's blessing or just the result of a supernatural entity in a physically constructed body is anyone's guess. But he's not asleep now, and that means he's going to talk.
"I was imagining you fucking me," he says thoughtfully, "my tentacles coiled around the headboard to keep me in place, your cock inside of me, thick and heavy, striking deep every time, hard enough to feel it in my throat. You had one hand on my horn, at least then. Earlier, you held both, my maw wide open and my tongue wrapped around you, while you fucked my mouth. I don't remember how many times I came in the dream. Or how many times you came, always inside me, warm and thick and distinctly yours.
"You said I was beautiful like that, filled with your seed. You wanted me, took me, touched me everywhere, kissed me so many times. I felt... weak with it, the abundance of pleasure, the pure enjoyment of your affections. Normally, I hate sleep but... when I felt myself being pulled from this dream, I dove back in. I wanted more."
no subject
He can't really complain to the results.
John nods to the question and, after breathing in, closes his eyes again. He'll start stroking himself, slowly, lazily, his cock returning to hardness quickly enough; whether that's the stamina from his Old Bear's blessing or just the result of a supernatural entity in a physically constructed body is anyone's guess. But he's not asleep now, and that means he's going to talk.
"I was imagining you fucking me," he says thoughtfully, "my tentacles coiled around the headboard to keep me in place, your cock inside of me, thick and heavy, striking deep every time, hard enough to feel it in my throat. You had one hand on my horn, at least then. Earlier, you held both, my maw wide open and my tongue wrapped around you, while you fucked my mouth. I don't remember how many times I came in the dream. Or how many times you came, always inside me, warm and thick and distinctly yours.
"You said I was beautiful like that, filled with your seed. You wanted me, took me, touched me everywhere, kissed me so many times. I felt... weak with it, the abundance of pleasure, the pure enjoyment of your affections. Normally, I hate sleep but... when I felt myself being pulled from this dream, I dove back in. I wanted more."