mortenax bladie and the spider lily on his chest........ imagine more and more of them blooming around him the more overstimulated he gets (written pre-4.3)
neither reader nor blade's anatomy is specified
bladie is the one receiving i don't know how else to tag
laying on his back, legs up, his hole gently stretched out before being pushed into by you. you had him in nothing but the bandages from his new outfit, messily pulled apart and undone, loosely wrapped around his upper body and strewn about the bed. it started off slow, with you cherishing your precious bladie, cooing praises into his ears and pressing kisses over his scarred body, battered and bruised after the big battle. with you slowly thrusting into him, bladie couldn't find the words to beg for more, every plea choked behind his breath as you rub against every spot inside him that makes him feel so good, so blissfully yours.
a few red petals are scattered around the sheets as he nears his orgasm, his body tense and in need of release. when he finally cums, you notice the blooming on his chest, right over his heart, bright red like a burning fire.
enthralled by the sight, you keep gently thrusting into him even as he whines and whimpers, overstimulated so quickly. poor thing is so touched-starved, even the smallest bits of affection from you always have him overwhelmed. a small kiss on his cheek, a hand resting on his waist, petting his head and giving him these cute compliments that he doesn't believe to be true. and now, even as you fuck into him, his breath is shaky as sweat gathers on his face, legs trembling as he wraps them around your waist, his hips held by your hands.
"ah, aghh- ggh- ungh-"
drool slips down his chin as he nearly chokes on his own saliva, desperately trying to compose himself and failing horribly. it isn't long before he cums again, his thighs wet, head thrown back against the pillow as his dark hair splays out around him like a halo. more of those gorgeous spider lilies bloom around him, needing no soil, no sunlight or water. it's like magic, the way he can create such pretty things at his fingertips, the way a man who yearns for death can also be a vessel for so much flourishing life. beautiful. it's beautiful. he's beautiful.
he moans as you speed up your thrusts a little, his insides feeling more and more sensitive with every movement and every bit of pressure. his hands move away from clutching the sheets beneath him, arms draping over your shoulders and wrapping loosely around your neck, clinging to you like he might lose you if he lets go. his lips are a pretty red, swollen and bitten, wet with his own saliva. you lean down, pressing your own lips to his as he moans into your mouth, desperately chasing after your kisses like an eager puppy.
as the night goes on, your thrusts only get faster and faster, though not rougher. rough is for another time. right now, it's all about loving and appreciating your bladie. his husky voice is worn out and breathy from all the noise he's been making, and his throat will definitely be sore tomorrow morning. he's so overstimulated, his body feeling delicate and sensitive, shuddering with every movement or touch, his pretty red eyes rolling back as he cums again and again.
and when you two are finally satisfied, he lies there, still on his back, desperately trying to catch his breath. he lays in a field of his own flowers, red blooming all around him and brushing his sensitive skin. he whines softly as you kiss him once more, basking in your gentle affection.
aeons. you could never let this man die if it meant never being able to savor this beauty again.