The Ninth Trial

[advisories]

Who: everyone
When: Day 18, starting just after dawn
Where: The Hermit's Tent, and all around

[This morning as the sun begins to pour through the train's windows, there's the tremor that signals a Trial.]

Come hither, Heroes. Prove thy worth. Or something like that!

[It's the same older man's voice from the sixth trial, and outside is the same fortune teller's stall. Today the front flap is lifted to show a normal interior -- there's a wooden table, carved with geometric patterns and painted in bright colours, lit by teal-coloured carved candles.

At the table sits a man of indeterminate age, somewhere between 30 and 60. He's wearing what appear to be monk's robes, teal with patterned trimming. In front of him is a crystal ball and a stack of bingo cards, along with a stand-up sign bearing the rules of this Trial.

Across the top in large font, it says:

Icebreaker Bingo

Good luck and have fun!]

Comments

[bad_crowmance]

[ He dips his head towards her, close enough to kiss. ]

You are.

[ He murmurs the words huskily against her lips before he starts kissing her, hot and intense and wanting.
He should get his pants off and he will-- soon. But first thing's first. ]

[voreaciously]

[Her hands hold his face and she is kissing him back fiercely, moaning her need against him and arching up into him. She inhales deeply, catching the ocean brine and him, and she feels her head cloud pleasantly.]

[bad_crowmance]

[ He doesn't break from kissing her even as he moves a hand between the two of them to work his pants off. His other hand moves to stroke at the side of her breast, fondling her through the leotard. Distantly, he remembers the trial still going on-- but he pushes that thought aside to concentrate on the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her underneath him.

This is much more interesting than bingo. ]

[voreaciously]

[they can...use this for the kissing square? it's fine.

it's fine.

She moans softly when he starts to fondle her, drawing back for a moment her lips full and flushed with effort.]

Crow-san...

[Her voice is husky and low and she writhes under him a little.]

[bad_crowmance]

80H...

[ He murmurs the name against her lips, still working at his pants until-- finally! It's a bit harder to manage with just one hand, but he's gotten them undone and he's working them down while still fondling her breast. ]

[voreaciously]

[There's a very slight twist of her lips. Is it wry is it amused, it's difficult to place.]

You could always let go and use both hands, I hope you are aware.

[bad_crowmance]

It's occurred to me!

[ The words come out cheerful and amused even as he makes absolutely no move to stop fondling her. ]

[voreaciously]

[She makes a noise between a scoff and a moan, though she tries to downplay the latter.

Her face grows pink beneath her blindfold.]

They...are not too big?

[bad_crowmance]

"Too big?"

[ He echoes the question, completely mystified. Is that a thing?? ]

I'd say they're just the right size to have fun with.

[voreaciously]

O-oh...if you feel that way, then that is fine. I was just told boys like them smaller...

[bad_crowmance]

Pretty sure that depends on the guy.

[ Are they really having this conversation while getting ready to fuck? It sure looks that way. ]

See me? I like 'em all sizes. Big, small... Breasts are really great. My personal opinion? Bigger means there's more of 'em to enjoy.

[ His cock free at last, he punctuates that sentence by rubbing it between her legs. ]

[voreaciously]

[they are absolutely having this conversation now. she's had it a few times and it's like. marginally clicking, but self-esteem wasn't built in a day.

He says that means there's more of them to enjoy and she's never...really thought of it like that, actually, no one's framed it like that before but then--]

Does that not make them more lewd--ah!

[She starts to rub between her and she jerks at the contact before her hips start to roll, eager and hungry.]

[bad_crowmance]

You know... I don't think size is really gonna affect how lewd breasts are. They're no more or less lewd than how you present them.

[ He rubs the length of himself languidly between her again. ]

And honestly, I think trying to make size a factor in lewdness is kinda dumb.

deep philosophies with crow

[voreaciously]

[She hears him and is listening, but he is making it difficult with the way he is moving. Why won't he just...all he needs to do is push....!

She bites down on the back of a gloved finger and her brow quivers]

C-Crow-san...

[It is something to think about, but it hasn't stopped other people from making their judgements about her. Especially one person in particular.]

he is totes philosophical

[bad_crowmance]

[ All he needs to do is push but he's enjoying teasing the hell out of the both of them. And so he keeps languidly rubbing against her. ]

I like the way you say my name. But you know what I like more?

[ Other people are dumb, listen to Crow instead. ]

fucking socrates of boobs right here

[voreaciously]

[She moves with him, not quite a slave of his ministrations, but hardly free either. She cannot help but want and seek more, her hips finding an undulating rhythm to match, but she is not so far gone as to force him or beg.

She can get as good as she gives or better. She takes a moment to answer and pulls her finger away, her voice husky but clear enough to be heard over the rolling waves.]

W-what is it...?

and don't you forget it

[bad_crowmance]

Hearing you moan it.

[ And with that, he plunges smoothly inside of her. ]

what a good talk

[voreaciously]

Crow-san!

[It's what she wanted and yet it feels like cheating. Because he gets exactly what he wants. She arches up into him and moans his name, deep and rich, each syllable lengthened and dripping in hot desire.

It's not the only thing dripping. The entry is smooth, they always are, because she cannot help wanting him as hard and as much as she does. But she is a tight fit and feels herself squeeze round him without meaning to, but she hardly fights it. It is not as though she want him to leave.]

[bad_crowmance]

Exactly like that.

[ He murmurs the words in satisfaction even as he feels the way she jealously tightens around him, all but demanding he stay inside her. As if he intends to stop! He begins to move inside her, no less languid than when he was rubbing against her even as this clearly has more of an impact on him. His pupils are blown wide with lust as he looks down at her, at the way she arches against him, at the way she moans.

He tweaks at her nipples through the leotard he still never bothered to properly remove-- both of them still partly clothed adds an extra layer to things, another dimension of texture to play with. ]

[voreaciously]

[He can't see her eyes, but she can see him perfectly. The way the rising sun brightens the edges of his silhouette, the way it makes strands of light of his hair, something transcendent and ephemeral and her fingers reach out to thread themselves through it, feeling lightness and the beginnings of warmth. She wonders if she could talk him into doing this again, out here. She wants to see the whole of him kissed by sunlight, bare and unencumbered.

It does not occur to her that this may be some exhibitionism, she's had sex underneath the open sky more times than she can be bothered to count, even if she tries to be discreet.

Her nipples stand pert with arousal and she gasps when he tweaks one. It makes her jerk and the movement only prompts a reminder to roll her hips further. ]

Y-you feel so...

[He moves harder when she makes him stronger, it's simply a product of the process, but it's delicious icing on an already rich, satisfying cake on its own merits: nice to have, not something needed. Not something he's ever needed. The smooth and languid rhythm of his hips feels like the waves rolling by them, and the familiarity makes it easier for her to lose herself in it. Her toes curl and there is a slight crunch as they dig into the sand.]

[bad_crowmance]

[ He can't see her eyes, but he can see the rest of her-- strands of hair splayed into the sand, her mouth slightly open as she gasps. The blindfold adds an air of mystery to her. Do her eyes slide shut in pleasure as she writhes against him? Or does she stare up, wide-eyed and seeing through the material far more easily than the reverse? The thought teases at the edges of his thoughts, tantalizing.

He loves a good mystery. ]

I feel so...?

[ He echoes the words back at her, his voice a heavy mixture of curiousity, amusement, and lust. He knows she enjoys their encounters-- no less than he does-- but he likes to hear it. Goddess knows his ego doesn't need it but it feels great anyway.

He's picking up his pace in increments, a little harder and faster with each thrust inside of her. His thumb brushes against the nipple he'd tweaked, raised and demanding his attention. And Crow is more than happy to oblige it, rubbing it in slow circles. He really does love her breasts, they're great breasts. ]

[voreaciously]

[She is slowly coming to terms with how she needs, and her desire is no less than the other day when he thrust into her again and again so hard she thought the wall would break. It was raw, then, it was desperate, it was unabashed and bold and overtook her senses.

But she likes this, too. Her lust is no less intense it simply takes a different shape. She does not let it cascade over her overwhelmingly, but sharpens it. It's how she can feel, keenly, how he grows faster with every stroke and she marvels and appreciates his timing and sense of subtlety. So versatile. 80H slowly licks her lips and exhales, feeling heat build up inside her and needing to vent it.

She shudders as his thumb circles her and she whimpers lightly. It's exciting and mildly embarrassing to see such obvious peaks in the fabric and her face warms for it. Clothes are meant to hide the body's shame and yet here she is, technically--a generous take on the definition--still dressed, and yet her "shame" could not be more apparent than if she'd been well and truly naked.]

Much too amazing for your own good.

[She tries, minutely, not to sound too affected by him and does not succeed at all, but her words are clipped with her effort. It only makes the breathiness behind her words far more apparent.

She could not care less.]

[bad_crowmance]

[ He understands very well what it's like for your desire to take on many shapes. This time, his is a slow but intense build... the desire to feel, to touch. To experience. Being inside her feels amazing-- she's warm and wet and tight and every stroke inside her is like electricity. His hips roll and undulate as he thrusts into her. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. ]

I could say the same for you.

[ He lowers his head to whisper the words into her ear, his voice soft and low. ]

You feel-- [ Faster. Harder. Harder. ] --so damned good.

[ He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust inside of her, timing it so he starts nibbling on her neck at the exact moment he's buried himself deepest inside of her. ]

[voreaciously]

[She does not breathe when he starts to whisper. They are often so soft and fragile that she does not want to disrupt a single word. It surprises her that he could be capable of something so soft when everything else he's doing decidedly isn't.

It's a pleasant conundrum, only adds to the thrill that travels up her spine alongside the feel of his words, his breath. She suspects he likes being this way. Contrary. Unpredictable. Surprising. Whatever the case, it's fine enough. The words make her arch first--she's always been susceptible to whispers--and the pace of his hips follow very, very closely behind. She rewards him with his name, once again.

Her blood does not pound--it can't--but it thrums harder than usual and she gasps, nearly sings it when those teeth--those clever teeth that are the centre of so many teasing grins--nip at her neck.

Once, twice she whimpers, low in her throat behind closed lips and her legs find themselves at home around his waist. They often do, of late, but it's necessary. She's growing closer and she needs something to hang onto. It isn't that she doesn't want to be swept away she simply doesn't--]

[bad_crowmance]

[ He loves the feeling of her shapely legs wrapping themselves firmly around his waist-- he knows it's a sign she's close, she's almost there. He just needs to push her a little farther and she'll fall down, down, down into that pleasant abyss. Very few things are more complimentary than the sensations of a partner coming completely undone thanks to his own actions.

She'd be right that he likes being unpredictable-- loves it, craves it. It's fine if people think they can guess him-- his thoughts, his actions... But he'd rather surprise people. Not just in sex, to be sure (but also most definitely then... he certainly loves the little gasps she makes, the whimpers and moans he draws out of her when he catches her off-guard.) Being predictable is boring, and Crow would like to think he's anything but.

He's growing closer as well, close enough that his eyes slide shut as he pumps faster and faster inside of her. He's not kidding when he tells her how good she feels. The pressure is building up sweetly inside him, hot and pleasant. Crow's going to fall off that edge himself, but he's determined to bring her down with him. ]