#nsf pyromancy

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sounds — what sounds do they make during sex? do they laugh a lot during sex? are they chatty during sex? - for Laurentius!

Laurentius is a very vocal man during sex; he loves praising and teasing his partner, and makes no effort to restrain how he's feeling, whether that's through groans or growls of his partner's name. He's more prone to chuckling or laughing in the aftermath more than he is during the act.

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[ 2 ] for sender to wake up receiver after having a nightmare and initiate sex as comfort.

Laurentius often dreams of being alone - not just by himself, but rather an irreparable kind of alone, a severed sort of solitude attained by failing to build roads to anyone, time and again. The kind of alone you see when you're too deep in the city and you look up: just the one star, alone in the half-burned bruise of a night sky above too many earthly lights. A small, shivering light in the conquering dark.

Before, this kind of loneliness veered so close to reality that it didn't spark any particular horror; after so much proverbial scar tissue, the same knife in the same place simply stopped producing the same results. There was ache some mornings, certainly, a hollow just under his sternum that felt huge and empty in a way he could never hope to satiate - but that was only some mornings.

Now: now there's Anri. Now there's a flat that he goes to when he's done with his work for the day. Now that's where his mail ends up. It's where he keeps his things. And there's a woman there, bright and perfect and where he had failed to build roads to other people for his entire life, now all roads lead to her - to home.

When he had nothing to lose, the empty hollow and the conquering dark didn't seem all that far away, nor all that different from his current circumstances. Now that he has Anri, they might as well be unencountered horrors, fresh and new monsters that shock and frighten him the way the unknown shocks and frightens anyone.

Tonight, it's enough to make him shiver on the far side of consciousness, and for one hand to go wandering over the sheets in search of her, of home. When he finds the curve of her hip, his palm clasps tight to the cool expanse of her bared skin, and he pulls her insistently closer, trying to bite back the anxious sob threatening to blossom in his chest.

For her part, Anri knows what frightens Laurentius, if only because it would frighten her too. She's seen his night terrors before; when his touch tempts her awake, she turns to face him, to press into his desperate embrace and to nuzzle up under his trembling chin.

"I'm here, love," she murmurs into the curve of his throat. "Don't fret, don't fret."

The brush of her lips against his skin is enough to drag Laurentius into shuddering, confused consciousness; he doesn't gasp and gutter so much as take in a slow, uneasy breath, then tighten his arms around her. He can feel the swell of her bared chest against his own, the heat building between them - and then Anri, still breathing sweet prayers into his collarbone, guides his hand down past her hip, and lower still.

"Here - I'll prove it," she whispers. "See? Do you feel me there, Laurentius?"

"Y-yes," he stammers. It isn't the nervous stuttering of those first tentative nights in her bedroom - just the jagged resumption of his senses, still emerging from the aching shadows of nightmarish sleep.

"And...this?"

Her hand finds the length of him, fingers teasing over stiffening flesh as she gently guides him onto his back to climb atop him. Both of them had always found such comfort in the other's touch and affection - in truth, she would scour herself clean of her fearsome dreams through this heated, loving union.

"Yes," he breathes, more steadily. "Yes, Anri - god..."

"Just me," she giggles, smiling warmly at him. He stares up at her with the sort of naked, unreserved adoration that can only be found in the man's most unguarded hours, before a faint - and sincere - smile tugs at the corners of his own mouth.

Gods, she's perfect. His own star. Satiation for the empty. A light - a blazing one, a searing and radiant one - in the conquering dark.

"Just you," he breathes, taking one of her hands to kiss the palm as her hips roll down and against him. "All the divinity I need, love."

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[ from x with @swordluck ]

She told him to watch her come. He does - he watches her quiver and tremble and moan; he feels her depths grasping at him so greedily, clenching tight around his desperate length. More of those broken pleas go up from him - not words, just a chorus of pleasure between them, of need-softened names and love-thawed devotionals, of promises that he'll watch, he'll watch, he'll watch her come all she wants, whatever she wants. She can have anything. All of him. All -

It's too much. All the effort in the world couldn't stem the tide of elation now.

He aches with it, aches with the pleasure rolling through him, with the euphoria sparking off across his nervous system like lightning down a frayed wire, all glow and heat and intensity; he trembles beneath her, body pulled in a taut arc as his hips desperately press his cock as deep as he can go before he comes, filling her the way she loves to be filled. He floods her, pulsing and twitching with a release stoked to its breaking point by her love-splintered voice, her singing lust.

He can't believe she sang that for him. He loves her for it. She has gotten so much freer around him, so much more gleeful and indulgent in her desires, in pleasing him, pleasing her, pleasing him. It's an intimacy that has seared him right through and left nothing but needy, gleaming pleasure in its heated wake. It is perfect. It will be more perfect still, as each sinks into the other further, as comfort settles deeper in their bones, as they find more and more of their home in one another.

He falls slack against the chair, still buried and softening inside her, watching her hips roll out the last of her pleasure, perched as she is with her hands on his knees. He can see the whole of her body, sweat-shined and heaving with the effort of loving him so thoroughly. He falls in love with her beauty all over again.

"I cannot ever get enough of that," he murmurs. "Of you."

There is a little, gentle laugh that mingles with caught breath as he makes a show of trying to undo the scarves again. It's so easy to slip out of that submissive space with her - back into this gentle love, back into watching

"I'll say - if you want to keep these, you should untie them," he grins. "I'm not sure how much longer I can stand being tied up, with you looking like that on my lap, love."

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[ seeing a few posts about it so i thought it should be noted

laurentius is the king of aftercare

that man will love on you as much as you need after sex ]

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[ answer from here ]

Anri breathes it while atop him, hips rolling desperately against him, and it's all he can do to whisper back, "you too."

He means it, too - the expression of pleasure on her face, the way her body gleams in the firelight of their camp as she rocks and bounces and sways -

He regards her with open worship, his hands wandering over bared skin, finding all the little ways to make her gasp even as they both approach the edge.

"The most beautiful woman, I've...ah...ever...Anri--"

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💘 - Kinks?

Laurentius is relatively vanilla on his own - sex is so much about intimacy for him that it's more the closeness than the actual moment-to-moment practice that he's into. He has an affection for dirty talk and praise, and is a big fan of foreplay and teasing; when he's playing service top he enjoys denial up to a point.

Biting him is usually enough to make his knees weak, and swinging fairly far in either direction - either as a bottom or a service top - turns him on as well. (He considers himself mostly a service top but sufficiently encouraged, he has an aggressive side he'll indulge in bed, as long as he trusts that his partner wants it and trusts him.)

There is also, of course the element of pyromancy - in verses where magic exists, he's a fan of using his pyromancy to heighten sensations, such as warming his hands while massaging his partner to create a sensation akin to hot wax. If prompted and with permission, he'll go as far as to give his partner a little burn, if they're into it.

In settings without pyromancy, hot wax will usually suffice.

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clothing — do they like to have sex fully or partially clothed, or do they prefer having sex naked? would they ever move an article of clothing aside for stimulation/penetration (ex. pulling their panties to the side for penetrative sex)?

Laurentius tends to keep his clothes on - save for removing the necessary barriers by way of button or zipper, of course - for a number of reasons, ranging from passionate impatience to ongoing concerns about the frankly incredible number of burn and cut scars he has across his body.

(Anri seems to be a particular exception; she seems to prefer him naked, and she gets what she wants from Laurentius, whatever it might be.)

He's also not above pulling aside other people's clothes in a fit of need, although he's yet to tear or outright ruin any clothing.