[Oddly enough, BJ immediately complies with Rhys' hands, tilting his head into them and giving him a slithery sort of gaze, breathing hard. Up close, his hairline is easy to see where it breaks from the skull, and where the roots are starting to shimmer in that chameleon-like glow.
It's fucked up, but a bit hypnotic]
Uh. Sure thing. Yeah. This is different.
[He holds up his arms so Rhys can get his jacket off. Underneath is the tie and the pit-stained pin-striped shirt, and a pair of suspenders. It's a weird cross between a clown's outfit and a prisoner uniform, complete with patches he clearly did himself]
Careful with the jacket, I have a few pets living in it.
[That coaxes out another laugh, warm and throaty-- and god, it's kind of nice how weird this all is? All the surprises, the jokes, the lighting changes, the un-sexiness of it--]
Yeah, it is pretty different.
[Rhys sits up a little to push the Jacket, off, careful - as instructed - before hanging it over the edge of the couch that they're not currently piled on.
This done, he wraps an arm around the other man's waist, pulling him in close, so that they're chest to chest, and Rhys can reach around to unfasten the suspenders at the small of his back. ]
This okay?
[Just a courtesy check-in for the man who doesn't seem sure about getting undressed.]
[Woof. He presses up against Rhys, getting hard up against him when Rhys goes to unstrap his suspenders. They come off with a slight sprooong]
Like we're dancing cheek to cheek. Fred Astaire? No? Fuck me, I have to figure out what timeline you're in, Rhysball.
[He takes his attention away from the suspenders, more interested in Rhys' hot little body than his own trash heap. If Rhys treats his body like a temple, then this would be the garbage dump beside it, all festering and soft. But he's actually got muscle underneath some of that fat, and uses it to press Rhys up against the armrest of the couch they're on, lavishing both attention and dangerous kisses all down his midsection, before starting to tuck underneath the pants]
Hey, wriggle out of these, would you? I can't get hard to the stare of a million ducks.
[There's a stutter of breath as Betelgeuse moves down his body, then another laugh breaking through his composure at the comment about the ducks.
He does as he's told though, hitching his hips up, and shifting his ass to wriggle out of the soft fabric, and whatever performance anxiety the ducks might have cause Betelgeuse, Rhys has clearly gone uneffected. He's half hard, dick thick and rosy with blood, the tip of it already warm and wet with precum.
He threads his fingers through Betelgeuse's hair, trying uselessly to come up with some-- joke, some bedroom talk or something to say, but he comes up short, just watching the demon's face, tracking his expression, waiting for the reaction.]
[that hair is more loose than you'd think, Rhys, or at least the skull is; don't pull too hard or you'll pop it open.]
He huffs a dark laugh of his own and ducks his head down, disappearing from Rhys' gaze temporarily to let him play with his hair, so that he can wrap that forked tongue around the other inmate's dick]
[Well that gets a response. The sensation is indescribably strange, warm and wet and tight and utterly inhuman, it drags a sharp groan out from the back of Rhys's throat, and his whole body bucks at the contact--]
F--Fuck, what-- what is that?
[His free hand goes to clutch blindly at Betelgeuse's shoulder, misses his shirt, and ends up clutching one of those stray suspenders, like it's the reigns of a horse that he's hoping to get back under control.]
[the scoffing noise of a demon in the middle of a kiler blowjob who is dealing with a mortal human. He glances up, tongue whipping back in like a measuring tape dispenser]
[At least that's when his suspender is grabbed so that when he's jacked back and forth he's at least gently hitting his head against Rhys' stomach and not his entire pelvis]
[Another little sound as the tongue is withdrawn, this time high and whiny, with the hand in his hair giving a rude little shove back down. When he manages to speak, his voice is breathy and rushed.]
I didn't mean stop.
[He gives a little twist under the other man, thrusting his hips just a little. C'mon more weird moves.]
[He rolls his eyes but gets back to what he was doing; namely, wrapping this ridiculous tongue around Rhys' dick.
Meanwhile his hands are preoccupied with trying to cup that ass. Instead of only bobbing his head down, BJ is trying to also bring Rhys' body up to meet him.
Unfortunately that means whatever little gnats were investing in his hair as real estate will start to option vacation houses in Rhys' pubic area]
[God damn it, he is literally going to drag you to the infirmary after this, Rhys is not getting reinfected with nine things every time they fuck.
But at least right now, Rhys is blissfully oblivious. He scrambles for purchase on the couch, tilting his body to follow where he's being pushed, head dropping back as he feels the writhing, coiling warmth surrounding him. It takes about two pushes to get him from half hard, to full mast and aching.]
Fuck, that's so good-- god-- you're so hot for a dead guy.
[He wriggles one leg out from under the Betelgeuse, hooking it around the other man's shoulders to pull him down, keeping him pinned in and close, pressing more firmly, more demandingly into the heat of his mouth.]
[he gives a very low, gutteral growl at the compliment. Rhys tastes clean, and it's always nice to have a warm, wriggling body beneath him, especially one that hasn't begun to age just yet. He ignores the leg for the most part except to drive Rhys further into him.
The hand holding Rhys close is exploring; wandering, even. BJ lifts back to take a breath, popping a finger into his mouth and going back down to slip it into Rhys' ass]
[The growl was good when it was happening through kisses, but god damn does it feel good vibrating right through his cock. His body jolts, thrusting up until he can feel the other man's lips against his pubic hair, precome leaking out of him hot and wet.
He's very slightly too tense for the finger that pushes up between his ass cheeks, the spit leaves him slightly too dry and too tight for comfort, so there's an immediate yelp, and a tightening of his hand in Betelgeuse's hair.]
Wait-- wait, wait, wait-- go slow, okay? I need a minute--
[His chest is heaving with every breath, trying to adjust to the heat and the sudden, stretch of pressure between his legs.]
[He lifts up his head, withdrawing his hand and breaking free of Rhys' grip on his hair to eye him up and down. He leans his head against the other inmate's upper thigh, waiting. Betelgeuse's eyes are yellowish, but whether that's gangrene or the light reflecting back is difficult to say.]
You just made the most beautiful sound. But? Sure.
[He drums his fingers, backing off from that avenue, instead snaking that offending hand down towards his own pants. He's intent on taking care of himself, since Rhys is a little far out of reach while in this position]
[There's another little sound at complaint at the mouth being withdrawn, because Rhys is - apparently - impossible to please. He meets those yellow eyes with his own flushed, heavy lidded gaze for a moment.]
Thanks. You look-- really, really good between my legs.
[He shifts position a little, nudging Betelgeuse off his thigh so that he can sit up, getting into a position where he can see the other man unfastening his pants.]
Can I watch you?
[Another shift, and he reaches down to grab the handful of condoms that he got off Jedao. He drops one between them, before tearing a second one open, wetting his fingers on the lube in the package, ]
[Rhys has a vision of latex shredded on those fangs. He quickly abandons the important work he's doing on his ass, in favour of reaching to snag the condom back from Betelgeuse's teeth--]
You focus on getting your pants off, and when you're ready, I'll put this on for you. Sound good?
cw; grossness. why are you here if you don't have to be
[He looks up, hopeful they'll be able to be rid of these rubber pop tops]
Those are my favorite words.
[He stands up off the couch and drops suspenders and trousers, kicking them off into a corner to stand proudly at half mast. Of course he's been going commando this whole time, and of course he's gangrenous and sagging and chubby, but with the enthusiasm of a drunk frat boy.]
Showing you my dick here, Rhysball.
[pls respond? It's weirdly purple and leaking. As diseased as he is.]
Re: cw; grossness. why are you here if you don't have to be
[Rhys has had a lifetime in Hyperion of controlling his kneejerk reactions to things, and there was no shortage of warning that this was going to be a dramatic reveal.
Rhys, to his enormous credit, does not make any sounds of disgust, or visibly recoil at the sight of it.
What he does do is open the condom immediately]
That looks a little bit tender, dude. It doesn't hurt?
[He drops his hand to very gently caress the discoloured half hard length of it.]
Tomorrow we're definitely taking a group trip to the infirmary.
[His tone is warm though. He knows you're secretly sensitive.]
I'm thinking you might be alive enough to want some antibiotics.
[Rhys doesn't stop touching though, smoothing the lube from his hand over three length of the other man's suffering chick, with an agonizingly light touch.]
That feel okay? I don't want to like-- break it or anything.
I think you've just ignored everything because you've been dead and invisible for a million years. You can be plenty gross and scary save still do a bit of self care, dude.
[He flashes a little smile at the hand in his hair, and tightens his grip fractionally, giving BJ a long, slow stroke.]
Not giving me the most faith in your healing powers, but if you say so.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It's fucked up, but a bit hypnotic]
Uh. Sure thing. Yeah. This is different.
[He holds up his arms so Rhys can get his jacket off. Underneath is the tie and the pit-stained pin-striped shirt, and a pair of suspenders. It's a weird cross between a clown's outfit and a prisoner uniform, complete with patches he clearly did himself]
Careful with the jacket, I have a few pets living in it.
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Yeah, it is pretty different.
[Rhys sits up a little to push the Jacket, off, careful - as instructed - before hanging it over the edge of the couch that they're not currently piled on.
This done, he wraps an arm around the other man's waist, pulling him in close, so that they're chest to chest, and Rhys can reach around to unfasten the suspenders at the small of his back. ]
This okay?
[Just a courtesy check-in for the man who doesn't seem sure about getting undressed.]
no subject
Like we're dancing cheek to cheek. Fred Astaire? No? Fuck me, I have to figure out what timeline you're in, Rhysball.
[He takes his attention away from the suspenders, more interested in Rhys' hot little body than his own trash heap. If Rhys treats his body like a temple, then this would be the garbage dump beside it, all festering and soft. But he's actually got muscle underneath some of that fat, and uses it to press Rhys up against the armrest of the couch they're on, lavishing both attention and dangerous kisses all down his midsection, before starting to tuck underneath the pants]
Hey, wriggle out of these, would you? I can't get hard to the stare of a million ducks.
no subject
He does as he's told though, hitching his hips up, and shifting his ass to wriggle out of the soft fabric, and whatever performance anxiety the ducks might have cause Betelgeuse, Rhys has clearly gone uneffected. He's half hard, dick thick and rosy with blood, the tip of it already warm and wet with precum.
He threads his fingers through Betelgeuse's hair, trying uselessly to come up with some-- joke, some bedroom talk or something to say, but he comes up short, just watching the demon's face, tracking his expression, waiting for the reaction.]
no subject
He huffs a dark laugh of his own and ducks his head down, disappearing from Rhys' gaze temporarily to let him play with his hair, so that he can wrap that forked tongue around the other inmate's dick]
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F--Fuck, what-- what is that?
[His free hand goes to clutch blindly at Betelgeuse's shoulder, misses his shirt, and ends up clutching one of those stray suspenders, like it's the reigns of a horse that he's hoping to get back under control.]
no subject
[At least that's when his suspender is grabbed so that when he's jacked back and forth he's at least gently hitting his head against Rhys' stomach and not his entire pelvis]
Cripes, kind of in the middle of something here!
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I didn't mean stop.
[He gives a little twist under the other man, thrusting his hips just a little. C'mon more weird moves.]
no subject
Meanwhile his hands are preoccupied with trying to cup that ass. Instead of only bobbing his head down, BJ is trying to also bring Rhys' body up to meet him.
Unfortunately that means whatever little gnats were investing in his hair as real estate will start to option vacation houses in Rhys' pubic area]
no subject
But at least right now, Rhys is blissfully oblivious. He scrambles for purchase on the couch, tilting his body to follow where he's being pushed, head dropping back as he feels the writhing, coiling warmth surrounding him. It takes about two pushes to get him from half hard, to full mast and aching.]
Fuck, that's so good-- god-- you're so hot for a dead guy.
[He wriggles one leg out from under the Betelgeuse, hooking it around the other man's shoulders to pull him down, keeping him pinned in and close, pressing more firmly, more demandingly into the heat of his mouth.]
no subject
The hand holding Rhys close is exploring; wandering, even. BJ lifts back to take a breath, popping a finger into his mouth and going back down to slip it into Rhys' ass]
no subject
He's very slightly too tense for the finger that pushes up between his ass cheeks, the spit leaves him slightly too dry and too tight for comfort, so there's an immediate yelp, and a tightening of his hand in Betelgeuse's hair.]
Wait-- wait, wait, wait-- go slow, okay? I need a minute--
[His chest is heaving with every breath, trying to adjust to the heat and the sudden, stretch of pressure between his legs.]
no subject
You just made the most beautiful sound. But? Sure.
[He drums his fingers, backing off from that avenue, instead snaking that offending hand down towards his own pants. He's intent on taking care of himself, since Rhys is a little far out of reach while in this position]
no subject
Thanks. You look-- really, really good between my legs.
[He shifts position a little, nudging Betelgeuse off his thigh so that he can sit up, getting into a position where he can see the other man unfastening his pants.]
Can I watch you?
[Another shift, and he reaches down to grab the handful of condoms that he got off Jedao. He drops one between them, before tearing a second one open, wetting his fingers on the lube in the package, ]
I mean-- while I stretch out a bit?
no subject
You wanna watch me jerk it?
[But the condoms interrupt that thought, as he picks up the second one, curious]
Sure thing, Rhys.
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Yes please.
[He watches Betelgeuse pick up the condom, mapping his expression.]
You worn one before?
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[He bites the wrapper to tear it open. Rhys, please stop this hopeless man]
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Okay, new plan...
[Rhys has a vision of latex shredded on those fangs. He quickly abandons the important work he's doing on his ass, in favour of reaching to snag the condom back from Betelgeuse's teeth--]
You focus on getting your pants off, and when you're ready, I'll put this on for you. Sound good?
cw; grossness. why are you here if you don't have to be
Those are my favorite words.
[He stands up off the couch and drops suspenders and trousers, kicking them off into a corner to stand proudly at half mast. Of course he's been going commando this whole time, and of course he's gangrenous and sagging and chubby, but with the enthusiasm of a drunk frat boy.]
Showing you my dick here, Rhysball.
[pls respond? It's weirdly purple and leaking. As diseased as he is.]
Re: cw; grossness. why are you here if you don't have to be
Rhys, to his enormous credit, does not make any sounds of disgust, or visibly recoil at the sight of it.
What he does do is open the condom immediately]
That looks a little bit tender, dude. It doesn't hurt?
[He drops his hand to very gently caress the discoloured half hard length of it.]
Tomorrow we're definitely taking a group trip to the infirmary.
[His tone is warm though. He knows you're secretly sensitive.]
no subject
[He watches Rhys, shivering as the head bobs up to the stroke Rhys is giving it.]
You thinking three-way with that sideburns doctor? If so, I am in.
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[Rhys doesn't stop touching though, smoothing the lube from his hand over three length of the other man's suffering chick, with an agonizingly light touch.]
That feel okay? I don't want to like-- break it or anything.
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[He watches, perturbed when Rhys doesn't shy away from his penis, and reaches out finally to stroke the other man's hair.]
Relax. If it hurts I'll just kick you. Healing powers, remember?
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[He flashes a little smile at the hand in his hair, and tightens his grip fractionally, giving BJ a long, slow stroke.]
Not giving me the most faith in your healing powers, but if you say so.
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[He shudders, his fingers tightening in Rhys' hair as his dick responds to the attention by rising to the occasion]
Heyyy, keep doing that. And call me daddy while you do it.
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