@atlastdamn
"Speak up if I hurt you. By the gods, I hope you know what you're getting into..." But Cyrus had been nothing but enthusiastic about Erhardt's strength so far, so why should Erhardt worry? He continued tying Cyrus's feet to the bedposts to try and keep him in place, though he suspected the posts wouldn't last long. Between Winnehild's lust for violence, and Erhardt's, well, plain old lust, he couldn't promise the bed wouldn't be a casualty. He slid a hand up Cyrus's thigh. "Now... beg for me."
His touch is like lightning. They haven’t even started and here Cyrus is, with heavy breath and a heavier fog in his mind. And he flinches as Erhardt’s hand slides so smoothly upwards, in the same direction as the fire in his body. Oh how it pulses, how quickly it excites him. But he shouldn’t give Erhardt satisfaction yet. Not yet.
Through soft, giddy laughter, Cyrus tries his best to speak.
“ Oh, you’ll know if you hurt me. ” Digits find themselves poised near his mouth, tingling with magical energy in anticipation. “ But you’d do well to recall that I enjoy feeling it. And there is no doubt the strength of a deity will be divine... ”
Cyrus sighs in a manner that sounds more like moan, truthfully. He would have liked to make Erhardt work to make him beg, but... alas, they might get nowhere if he did, and that’s the last thing Cyrus wants. His hands fall to his sides, grasping tightly the sheets underneath, and he stares Erhardt in the eyes. Already, he spreads his legs as far as he can on his own without the ache that tends to persist in his weak, stiff body.
(Oh, he cannot wait for blood to enter the equation. He cannot wait to feel the pent up energy in his core rush through his body just as much as the heat will, throbbing and unrelenting. But he wants to make it last. He has to make it last...)
“ I beg of you, Erhardt. ” Words drip from his lips thick as blood. “ Show me the true extent of your might, of your radiance. Treat me however you see fit - all I ask is that you don’t hold back. ”