never lay your trust in the narrator

ireland's own conall "con" o'shea, wandering son of hermes, sweet menace

[wanderingcon]

— conall "con" o'shea. seller, charmer, musician. tall and large and sweet. son of hermes?

📌 the brownstone, new york [bio] 🎧 mountains [musings] 📖 the ballad of songbirds and snakes [threads]

bus stops at night 𓂃✍︎ old guitars 𓂃✍︎ dusty books 𓂃✍︎ careful handwriting 𓂃✍︎ thick glasses 𓂃✍︎ foggy mornings 𓂃✍︎ drunk dancing 𓂃✍︎ soft lips 𓂃✍︎ lingering perfume 𓂃✍︎ storytelling 𓂃✍︎ wandering hands 𓂃✍︎ sweet cocktails 𓂃✍︎ warm sheets 𓂃✍︎ lingering in bed 𓂃✍︎ bus tickets 𓂃✍︎ backpacks 𓂃✍︎ missing wallets 𓂃✍︎ mementos

[nouveaurlche]

as soon as he could move, he almost ripped himself out of place, whirling around, hunching forward. arms over his chest, protective. fuming through his nose.

"it's... fine." clearly not. "and that was the only time." even facing away, his eyes did dart to the side. "only a few times." he could hear the way he sounded. he wasn't that bad. it wasn't always like that. but it wasn't, he wasn't. once the walls were put in place, they weren't touched. he just had to... put them there. niko didn't consider much on how things would've gone if he didn't stand up for himself, then.

"which part keeps happening? the memories, or locking someone's fucking face on you?" unkindly said, but hackles were beyond raised. "the memory, it's-- this isn't the first one. probably won't be the last. can't stop or change that." slowly, he did turn around. "get that attention thing under control, if you can." his jaw ticked. "it sucks." slowly, letting himself come down from the heat of it. his posture both melting and cooling.

"niko. you can call me niko. andy's for, you know." his lips purse, then flatten.

[wanderingcon]

he's ashamed of it, of the blood in his hands, of his big eyes catching sight of something not meant for him. altogether too much, and yet... this was their reality now. strangers sharing a little too much.

con has heard that before. a thousand times and one, he was familiar with the white lies one told himself, the half-truths, the defenses. always different when it was you, when you walked into traps with eyes wide open. "okay." he breathed out, a steady wall reflecting what was thrown at him, what he needed to say.

"that--that last part was a first," he admitted, eyes drawn downwards again. it was, right? the weird feeling in his gut. forcing everything but himself away, like whispers in the wind. "it's a fucking nuisance," eager to forget his own misdeed, unsure if it was even his fault. he hadn't asked for any of it, had he?

at least the memories were left at that, if he'd seen all the ways con was held--good, or bad. if the authority awakened the flames started by the only men con let command him...

he swallowed, nodding at his words without making a comment. no use admitting he had no clue how he'd done it.

"niko," he repeated, "you can call me con." conall was not for everyone. especially not when escape plans screamed to be drawn. "i'm not--i've seen too much to take that," he tapped his head, meaning memory, "at face value, if-if you're worried."

"it would be nice if we could stop having intimate moments broadcast, might be asking for much 'round here."

[lawgaultier]

law wasn't exactly avoiding conall.

it was more of a... selective appearance, taking note of where the other tended to linger and wander so he could make sure their paths rarely crossed. they still slept in the same room at night, though, which made it difficult for him not to gravitate toward the large man. no matter how much he tried to deny it, there was something about conall's warmth that soothed him.

but he couldn't. he knew the danger that lay in entanglements, especially when they were meant to work alongside each other. those threads, those connections, made it harder when difficult situations arose. and worse of all, they made severing ties so much more painful than necessary.

so law carefully made his way across the room after he was certain conall had left. opening the door, however, the familiar hulking form of the other greeted him and, god, he was going to kiss him if their bodies made contact, he was–

somewhere else.

paris? that accent instantly transported him back home, rich and unmistakable, the moment he heard it.

he watched from the shadows of a chamber as three bodies entwined before him, sensually so. law’s eyes quickly picked up on the man with grey in his hair, guiding the moment quite deftly like a conductor as a stranger’s face and conall’s rapt features turned towards him as if they were drawn in. intimate, soft-spoken, delicate, the memory felt strangely personal. instantly, he was certain that it had come unprompted, flashing into life without warning.

when it faded into golden filaments, unraveling before his eyes, the scene quickly changed. law's eyes found the real conall beside him, a shoulder taller. “should we pretend i didn't?” he turned his gaze back to the new, unfolding memory before him. “maybe you can do the same with mine.”

they stood in a small bedroom, balcony doors open to the majestic view of the eiffel tower, with two figures sprawled out together on the bed across from them. law and another man, darker-skinned and broad-shouldered. “keizer, keizer,” he heard the law in this memory croon playfully. then, “i must leave paris for a month, darling.”

“another job?” “yes.” “you'll come back? to me?”

the memory of law did not answer.

then the memory changed to more faces, more goodbyes, more brief encounters that truly never led anywhere. men and women left waiting, disappointed, or simply abandoned to the uncertainty of another unanswered goodbye. one after another, the memories blurred together until they eventually faded, returning the pair to the room, face to face and inches apart.

“so,” law said after a brief pause. “what's your choice? pretend we didn't see that, or... can i ask who your two french companions were?” a small smile touched his lips.

[wanderingcon]

"i--" don't know, he would have said, but law seldom allowed him time to think or react. and he did not change his tune that time.

he was out of sudden transported back to paris. always paris, like the center of gravity. like his very own rome, no matter where in the world he went.

eiffel tower stood tall and large, almost complimenting his memory's view as bodies tangled in pristine sheets. dark skin, broad shoulders. large men, was that his type?

come back... the question hung in the room and it hanged over them still, another voice, same words. a letter he would not open hanging in his backpack, perfectly kept, frozen in time and fear.

more faces, more people. left behind. it was not anything new for conall.

coming back seemed unlike law. wasn't unlike con, not for places. people were a different, more complicated story.

law was close when the memory faded, close as his lovers had been and without the cold chill of painful memories. distracting. always distracting. his smell, his smile.

"are you going to tell me who that man was?" he asked, closing the distance between them. easier than speaking. easier than letting gods show cards he would prefer stay hidden.

his nose brushed law's neck, followed by hungry lips. was this a dance now? teasing, withdrawing, coming back together.

unlike lovers past, con understood the need to fly away when it came. he could not fault law for that.

"do we 'ave to say it?" he asked law as much as himself.

[lawgaultier]

oh, this giant was- oh- god, he was coring him out, each stroke of that shaft opening him up with a wet squelch, only to slam back in and make law roll his eyes in utter abandon. “fuck,” slam, “con-“ slam, “right-“ slam, “there!” the words ended in a wail, which slowly morphed and became laughter. breathless, panting laughter as his lips grinned while he took each thrust, accepted their force. surrendered to the loving that other was subjecting upon it.

he didn’t know long it went on. hypnotic was the rhythm con had now set, making his chest bounce from each thrust before a nipple would be ravished by the other again, making him claw at the sheets. their chorus was loud, boisterous even, so much so that law had to silence himself on the other’s lips. kissing him, hungrily, but that didn’t stop their bodies from making their sweet and sinful music.

“supposed to be keeping quie- ooooff-” that one was deep. “wanted to fuck me since the park, hm?” he broke off into another laugh, breathless and strained. “should have asked, big guy.” would he have said yes? probably, all because of those wide blue eyes and that innocent look. even now it lingered behind con’s half-lidded gaze and made him want to give him more, more, and more.

with a grunt, law sat up. keeping that length sheathed in him, he pushed down on the other’s chest to pin him to the bed instead while thick thighs straddled his sides.

“my turn,” said through a ragged breath, right before law’s hips began to rock backwards, graceful but with an equal amount of wild, frenzied need. fucking himself on that hefty cock, back arched, elbows flared out as he failed to silence himself. “gonna milk every last drop out of you-“

[wanderingcon]

another growl, another harsh thrust as he was guided. name moaned out so nicely in that voice, in that accent. shivers ran down his spine hearing it, dangerous fucking thief drawing him in. making him sink deeper into his heat.

con's eyes rolled back, breathing hard as he did as he was told. strokes hitting the right places, reaching deep inside law. hunger, desperation born out of scarcely held control. snapping under the easy temptation the other made.

he would laugh, had he enough mind left for it. instead he could only grunt and clench his jaw, drinking in the pretty sight law made. "rude..." he struggled with the words, "--rude to ask." he did not realize the implications just yet, politeness the only thing keeping him from law when they met. when he covered the thief's body with his own and stayed closer than he should, even later at the hotel.

conall was not prepared for the turn, for the sudden whirlwind on his head as he was taken down and under law. for the way law went from struggling with his thick cock to sitting on it like he was born to ride.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, uncaring for the loudness of his voice or for the snapping of not only the well timed roll of law's hips but also his thrusts up. thick, heavy thighs tensing and pulling him up until he was buried all the way in, until his balls slapped across the perfect cheeks of his pretty arse.

"want it," breathless and hungry, hands holding tight onto his hips, "want it so bad? fucking cover you in it." whining at the end, with how bad he wanted it, how close he was to just cumming inside law. and then roaring, as that tight hole was just too much and he couldn't hold back from filling law with heavy spurts of cum.

[nouveaurlche]

his first few run-ins were somewhat lucky; a glimpse here, a glimpse there, nothing too severe or simultaneous. he's barely made it around the bend, visiting a room he's come to like, when he's face-to-chest with a giant just before the familiar tug.

by the time he's freed from the scene, a single words grabs his focus. narrows his attention. gazing upwards, almost pressed against the larger body, niko's staring upwards with a blank expression towards a face he's only seen in passing. but he can't look away. at least not for long, until the brush of divine against divine strikes again--

tw: implications of dubious consent.

fingers grip his chin. he can't look away. does he want to? his eyes dart from point to point across the older, handsome face. the first time he fucked up. the first time he went against yuri's word. the first time that grip didn't feel safe, didn't feel warm, didn't feel good. "remember. I'm paying you. that means you do what I say. doesn't it?" he swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to move. "have I ever asked for something you didn't want?" breathing through his nose, bare chest rising and falling. "I need you to answer me, andy." pupils like pinpricks as his lips remain still, unable to part. "hm." after a moment that seemed to last forever, the grip relaxes. "I guess we didn't include complete control in the contract." he doesn't move. not even after yuri turns and walks away.

niko's nostrils flare as he breathes, falling back into his body.

"let me fucking go." brown eyes glare, gaze hard.

[wanderingcon]

frozen, stuck in a moment. a memory. not his memory anymore. a stranger. authority, intrigue. a hand, stilling, keeping.

he's been kept too, but not this way. the hands that held too tight, that wounded him never lasted too long on him. never gone though. always another look, another hand, another body.

con trembled for a second, afraid of what memories might surface. what bodies, what set of hands holding him down, pining him in place, taking him apart.

they did not come and he was left looking into brown eyes that glare angrily at him. he wasn't sure how he was keeping him but he could feel the undercurrent of it.

the hesitant beat of held breath, of waiting for something. locked in a gaze until--hand up, air filled the room again. and the angry demigod in front of him was free.

"i--shite," he ran a hand through his hair, pulling it away from his forehead. eyes cast down as he reeled from all the godly fuckery. "sorry. i don't know why that keeps happening."

at least--at least it was not paris. at least it was not cold, dirty streets half remembered and best forgotten.

"i can pretend i did not see it. if you want." whatever--whoever that was, he could feel how intimate it was and the intrusion, however accidental did not leave a good taste in his mouth.

[gildedheir]

conall was one of the faces that stood out mroeso for cedric, he was one of only two people who were as tall as the noble and the irish accent certainly stood out in a sea of americans. how would he feel about cedric once he learned his family name and title? maybe that was a conversation he could have once this new group had a more permanent home somewhere. no point in splintering a group that seemed to be barely tied together, right?

“oh, thank you but it's quite alright.” cedric couldn't hide the posh accent or how polished his manners were, some things were so deeply engrained. "i'm still working on this one." he raised the cup that he had been idly stirring just seconds ago, before bringing the rim to his lips and taking a sip of the hot beverage. 

“no, no you don't have to leave. i'd enjoy the company, actually.” the young man had spent most of his time so far simply observing the others, piecing together how this circle would interact with one another. “that's an understatement.” the brunette said, giving a faint smile and looking at his reflection in the tea. 

“i'm cedric, in case you forgot.” he introduced himself again, his words earlier had been sparse. “conall… right?”

[wanderingcon]

the posh accent was a big tell--the kind of accent that opened doors, and the easy attitude of someone who was not faking it, not leaning into it. the ease of privilege.

con was not one to be bitter, but he took notice. blue eyes following the movement of his cup as he nodded and went back to his own cup, just enough sugar.

he shrugged, "hard finding the right words for what's going on." mused as he stirred his tea. he leaned against the counter, meeting the posh boy's eyes.

"i remember." names, places, sometimes that information was all you had, and all you needed. "that's me..." he wasn't sure who'd given him his full name but word was not likely to spread slowly among them. even less as time went on.

"few of us from across the pond," not the biggest common thread, considering what cedric's background sounds like to him--but he has been around too many people to not expect surprises. "gives some credit to it i reckon, gods could just go... anywhere, right?"

[bloodofarex]

"Oh only when they are up to no good other then that they tend to come up to me ask for my number." There was no causal way to mention that you are a cop but seemed to be the simplest way to do that. "so where did you get pulled from?" a causal question to keep the conversation going. There was no reason to cut it off now that the other seemed more content with staying. As much as he hated what the other said he was right. There might not be any answers to had and if there where who would give them. "I hope that changes soon. Only got so much time off work." "That or they dont want to freak us with a whole room of stangers so starting us off with a few is better."

"Its never been my favorite past time either"

[wanderingcon]

con frowned. eyes tracking the man, the uneasy feeling in his gut deepening until he puts two and two together. it was obvious, in hindsight, like staties in the movies, "you're a cop." his voice void of feeling, despite the racing of his heart before he quiets it down.

does not make him want to say any more about himself, but con has done this dance before more times than he can count.

"england." the word is smooth, sharp, tilting around the edges in an accent that grows fainter before it grows thicker, not so different for an untrained ear. "you don't sound so foreign though..." likely close to home, if he had to guess.

con shrugged, difficult to be sure. nothing about this really made sense, maybe all there was to him this side of the atlantic were rude strangers, overpriced coffee and suspicious coincidences.

"well, i'm not sure if it's better to hope i flew here for nothing or that there's reason for... whatever brought us here in the first place," he shrugged, "i'm used to lost people but this is a bit much..."

[copperveins]

he grunted to answer the question. he knew that feeling but acknowledging it always felt like asking for trouble. better to just keep your head down, do your job, then go home where you can let whatever was coming pass. that's how noah had gone through most of his life, anyway. there was absolutely no way that would work this time around, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. being so far from home was a bit of a setback for that, sadly.

a proper irishman, all the way over here. it'd be funny how he can't go more than two steps without being within spitting's distance from someone who had a home on the other side of the atlantic, if he wasn't one as well. maybe it'd be something of solace or strange comfort as things started to get more and more weird.

"brum." if it wasn't clear from the way the word spilled off his tongue, it definitely was by how he said it. noah's tone was both proud and self-depricating. a level of 'yeah, I know it's a shithole but it's my shithole so I'm allowed to say it' that is normal for that tiny little island. "you plan to be here or did things just... happen to get you here like it did me?"

[wanderingcon]

close to home, if home was back where he started. far from it, if home was any of the places he felt safer, though he missed ireland a great deal whenever he strayed too far.

it was best not lingering, and england was... a lot of things. the english were a lot of things. most people were.

now they were a lot far from home. something in common, if nothing else was shared.

if some sort of comment or snark was expected it did not come, it was not conall's way. he understood defensiveness over one's homeland though, seen more than his fair share of it too. enough to not judge. he nodded instead, simple, short. like his time around england most of the time.

"i can't remember the last time i planned to be somewhere, to be honest," he frowned, there was a time where plans were made but he didn't make them so maybe it wasn't all that different-- "never just... got a feeling quite this strong before though."

"you think... how long until we find out what's really got us all here?" why them, why now? where were the gods if this was truly homecoming for them? with his mom there was always another shoe waiting to drop. no reason to expect his dad to be different.

[coltongray]

That about summed it all up – yeah? Somehow the fact that Con was on the same page managed to reassure Colton to a limited extent. Scary, knowledgable, and withholding – worst breed of rich. 

“I got the same vibe.” Knowing who to trust was an important skill to have, it wasn’t enough to be told that someone could be believed, you had to feel it otherwise it was a leap of faith. Colt wasn’t exactly a pious kid and the extent of his knowledge about the Greek Gods started and ended when he’d watched Disney’s Hercules in one of the homes. While it all felt fantastical – insane maybe – there was something in his gut that believed her. He didn’t spend much on hope, stuff like that was dangerous to try to hang onto for too long. 

But there it was, what if, holding out a candle in what had otherwise been a bleak, miserable fucking existence. Colt followed the other’s gaze, “At least this place doesn’t have bed bugs.” 

[wanderingcon]

while he wasn't sure he could trust her, and he wasn't sure he could trust the others too much he didn't get the sense this one was the kind to lie about his suspicions...

there was a kind of survival instinct one had to develop to make it this far and he got the sense they shared that. that made him more at ease, like he wasn't completely on his own, like there was maybe a smoke alarm to tell him when the house started going up in flames.

"we just got here..." and you don't have a bed, he did not say because that was unkind, and maybe untrue even, "these things get you when you least expect it."

he tapped his glasses, "good eyes though, despite these. i'll let you know if i see them scurrying about." he was speaking of more than bedbugs, though he was never surprised to find something of the sort wherever he happened to go.

[wanderingcon]

@nouveaurlche 📌 library, the brownstone, new york

he was almost asleep, sat with fingers splayed over the desk and the curve of a book he tried making sense of. half tempted to try and pick at the locks of the cabinets.

isolation seemed fine now, best even, than wandering and stumbling into the others with their echoing questions, mirthful gazes or--truthfully, hard to decipher what they might offer. he liked their company, but right now he preferred solitude.

solitude found no favor towards him, no matter how much he sought it. the footsteps a clear indication of someone coming. he got up, intent on getting away while there was time but it was too little too late, books in hand, turning a corner to deliver them to their place only to run into someone he hadn't had the chance to know more than in passing just yet.

he had enough time to grin and raise a hand and then

laughter, the warmth of pub after the cold of rain. crouched over his drink, watching as men drunk and joked and bumped into each other. the drinks kept coming, the men kept laughing, jokes that were overheard as his eyes peered over thick glasses meeting another man's before both turned away.

some jokes he knew, at his expense. he did not react. making himself smaller, giving himself another hour, just for his clothes to dry out fully.

it happened fast. quick fingers over a man's wallet, cash pulled out before he could even notice. a meal for the next morning at least. he should have been more worried about who was watching him instead.

it ended as fast as it began. an accusation, hands on his shirt. a fist on his face. then the ground, someone under him, fists covering them in punches. hands pulling him away, only to fade when he threw his head back and felt his hair wet with more blood from a broken nose.

glasses hidden away, crooked but not broken as he swapped wallets and punched men away fading into the night faster than they could call the cops.

the feeling of blood on his hands was as real as it had been, the pain on the back of his head and the throbbing of his knuckles. "no." he said, loud and frustrated, and watched as the word seemed to suck in the air in the room--like a bar before he started singing, crowd quiet for a second, eyes on him.

everything was still, there was for a moment only him, his voice, his words and the man who had witnessed his memory. the one he wanted to make forget.

[wanderingcon]

@lawgaultier 📌 shared bedroom, the brownstone, new york

the cold morning turns into a still afternoon. restless feet tap against the floors as he moves around the brownstone; after what happened with him and law he ought to get out of there--it is rather fine to make a scene around people you won't see again, he is not used to doing it and then sticking around.

likely neither is law, for the man has been rather absent when once he was almost constant with his pretty face and his deep gaze and his intoxicating smell.

doesn't help the dream con had, the things that were happening as whatever this was settled in their skins and their bones. it took a lot to get comfortable in his own skin, conall doesn't feel too great to feel everything changing with no choice of his own.

he turns to the bedroom for refuge, likely empty at that hour and it is precisely there things unravel further.

french, the words fluctuating around him, a puzzle he tries to piece together while a rich voice course corrects--turning to english with a heavy accent he cares not to hide conall notices.

the man, older, with greying hair on his head on his beard smiles. kind, mischievous, joined it by another with an even more boisterous laughter.

he does not fit in with them, he should not overstay his welcome, but hands keep his larger body in place--easy as it'd be to turn them away, piercing gazes make him unable, unwilling to move away. he wanted to steal from them, now it feels like he is the one being stolen.

sitting on the lap of a man half his size and double his age. guided by another whose hands caress him like he is a thing of wonder--not the first, but the sincerity makes it hard to deal with. to deny.

they whisper sweet words he does not understand but doesn't need to, not when soft lips meet his own and his face is guided from one to the other, until time is lost, until three become one and his unquiet feet get silent for a very long while.

the memory assaults him as he stumbles in, staring wide-eyed into the deep gaze of someone who's voice. soft, luxurious, takes on that same familiar, heart piercing tone.

conall's feet falter, mind reeling. "that..." he cannot find something to say quick enough, to explain, or deny. "that wasn't. did you," he knew so, he wasn't so dim. he knew what was happening around. "you saw it?"

[baratheonpilled]

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms 1.06

[copperveins]

"not in the business of believing something just 'cause someone told me it's true." he answered back rather flatly. that was a lot of information to give out without preamble. and noah doubted someone would just make up all of that to a group of strangers and then welcome them into their home for a while. but every author has a bias and no narration should be taken at face value. why did she emphasize what she did? what could she possibly have downplayed? or omitted altogther? too many unknowns. he wanted to see what was written to compare.

"dunno how good of a thing it'd be if they had been." noah grunted as he closed the current book and reached for another. he'd seen the gods of greek mythos less like normal beings and more like forces of natur personified. of course, now that he knew that he descended from one, he'd need to reevaluate that.

"where you from?" because he could only ignore that telltale accent for so long.

[wanderingcon]

he hummed, a curious glance. every guy around looked like a model, thankfully he'd gotten used to it hanging around some of them. intimidating bunch they made though. "probably for the best, whole thing feels like..." a click of his tongue, "you know how the air gets, before a storm hits?" he'd been unsheltered under a storm many a time to know when taking cover was necessary. except this time there really was nowhere to run.

con shrugged, not one to argue a good point. still, he'd seen parents--bad parents, good parents. being around was hard, especially when things were bad, still better than not being around most times.

"ah," he grinned, "ireland." he tried faking the accent, sometimes, but he could never hold it down for long. he held onto things from so many places, it was good carrying a little piece of home in his own voice.

"you from around as well?" he did not like assuming but english tended to tell on themselves easy enough.

[coltongray]

Colt shrugged dryly, “I’ve had worse, view’s nice anyway.” Best on the property, at least. 

Oh? You don’t say. Amused at the other’s admission about fitting in, Con was reminding Colt of some of his friends from back home, which wasn’t really at all expected but kinda welcome given the circumstances. A thread of continuity to carry him over into whatever was going to happen in this next chapter. 

Colt wanted…  He wasn’t sure, part of that had to be figuring it out. 

“Vancouver. Bounced around a while, but Hastings – mostly.” He wasn’t the sort of guy who spent a lot of time daydreaming, imagining where the grass was greener didn’t do much for him. Only kids thought their shit wasn’t gonna follow them wherever they went. Colt’s first time out of province and here he was sitting on the rooftop of a brownstone in NYC beside a fellow demigod after having met about fourteen others in Central Park just earlier that day. 

Straight up delusional behaviour. “What do you make of the old lady?”

[wanderingcon]

"true, it's a great view..." to be fair he half preferred just flying back home but it was too little too late now, and the view was nice. like london, except nothing like it.

it was easier to relax here, with the breeze and the city lights and this man who was strange but familiar in a way that wasn't as questionable as the others but it would take him some time to be at ease. if he'd even get there.

"more used to sticking around then," he commented, though that was hardly a rarity for him. most people did not wander aimlessly as their feet took them like con did.

he took another drag, wondering how to word it. part of him thought she had ears everywhere, and if so, he was already on thin ice. "scary like," he shrugged, "don't think she's playing us or something of the sort, but i dunno if she's the sort to offer much guidance, much less everything she knows."

con fancied himself a good judge of character, and someone who'd not freely offer information either so he was fairly certain of his assesment--crazy as it might be. gods.

"everything's changed since, you know, and yet..." his shoulders slumped, a distant gaze set on the horizon filled with buildings and too few stars. "still the same, still on our own to figure it out."

[lawgaultier]

god, so- “eager. so, eager-” law gasped.

his body arched up to chase that heat, that eagerness. 

con was indeed eager, voracious, and hungering, every bit of the man devoted to now making a feast out of his rim. that desire, that heat, that want… he could almost feel it in the air the way he could feel con's tongue, now eating him out so utterly well. that desire fueled him. made the wrinkled flesh of his hole turn velvet soft, scented like sweet perfume, making the taste of it addicting.

he couldn't help the hand that reached out to hold the back of con's head, fingers latched onto the hairs there, pulling. “oh, fuck-” the words were a note of music, rising and tingling. his head fell back into the sheets, eyes closed. the darkness intensified the pleasure, made it seem like the only thing anchoring him to this realm was the giant's mouth, his tongue deep in him.

then con pulled away, making him whine. his hand pulled, kept the other's mouth a little longer for a few seconds, before it released. con wasn't done, though. he shivered at the lick to his balls, before gasping louder, thicker, deeper at the fingers now exploring what little space his tongue had carved open. curling, digging, so deft, a thief's fingers- 

“baby-!” he nearly hissed, as his cock shot out a rope of white, splattering onto his chest, matting the hair there. 

that was just the start. law was not done. in fact, his desire felt like a pit without an end. 

he let his body be marked, be stained, praising the other with hushed words and loud groans. no care for others now, it was too late for that. at con's ask, he nodded feverishly, then was beset by another moan as teeth latched onto a sensitive nipple, already reddening. 

but nothing could prepare him for what came next. a sudden stretch, to which he had to grip the pillow for with a gasp, trailed by a roll of his eyes and a loud, chesty goan as the rest of con followed. thick, long, and so- “full. god, i feel fucking full.” eyelids fluttered, delirious. he looked down, only to see that con was only halfway in. 

only when all of the inches pushed forth, did a howl loosen itself from him, thick with pleasure as he was filled to the brim.  

[wanderingcon]

"beautiful," a broken whisper, voice hoarse in need and wonder. mouth open in a panting breath, taste of him lingering, saliva pooling as his own body begged for more of that taste. sated with a lick of his cum, spurted out by the sure movement of deft fingers--surer, quicker than ever inside law.

mouth busy, always busy, one nipple worried, bitten and sucked. face rubbed against it like he's wanted to do since he saw him shirtless. red lines marked his skin as he held the pretty man down and filled him to the brim, feeling his body stretch and adapt. resisting uselessly halfway in only to be overcome by another thrust while con looked up with wide, blue eyes, peaceful in the sucking motion of his mouth and the thrusts of his hips while law's body was overwhelmed by too much cock.

"like you full," said simply as he started moving faster, cock half out before it was rammed back in, one hand on his hip to hold him however felt better the other teasing his wet nipple. he hungered for another taste of his lips, but the gasps and moans sounded fucking beautiful coming from him, louder and louder as he got what he deserved for the teasing. "gonna scream for me law?" he asked, teeth sinking into skin. "gonna squirt for me, pretty thief?"

a hard thrust, lips against stubble, the taste of cum, of law's ass and his skin. the need to claim, to have, to fuck. the world fading away until there was only the loud wet slap of skin on skin, only those pretty brown eyes looking up at him and the perfect body he would fuck into, again and again and again until law's legs refused to hold him and con had to do that for him too.

[baratheonpilled]

Wreck 1.03

[wanderingcon]

for @goldinthroat

conall is used to not being able to pass by unnoticed, for one reason or another. his size, his words, his voice, his actions. but it does feel a tad odd now, to be escaping after a morning shower but still in the house after his moment of--

his many moments of thoughtlessly burying himself into law for all to hear.

now he is here, flushed deep in the narrow stairs. trying to squeeze past the others and into the garden or the roof where he might find some quiet.

"excuse me," he muttered, freedom almost in reach but of course he'd have to be just large and clumsy and bump into one of his fellow demigods in his rush to make it out.

"sorry, sorry." he patted down august's shoulders. "didn't mean to do that, just need a little fresh air..."