Admissions and truths went hand in hand - so much so that they weren't expecting this evening to go this route, but damned if they were going to stop it. Not when there were truths laid bare, hearts unburdened, and desire unfurled.
Much like their fleece as hands release and find the cloak, undone and pushed away as fluffy wool springs free. They glance up to the triplicate eyes that bore down upon them, taking in all of the sight before Narinder moves and kisses along their throat, along scars of death once given to them. The Lamb gives a heady sound from the sensation, almost wanting to giggle as their second moves down the line of their form and finds their legs.
Their ears go up as they shift onto their elbows to see what Narinder is up to.
Narinder--
Legs slip upward, prompting them to lie back as they bleat a gasp, cheeks darkening before there's tongue and mouth and MORE TONGUE as the sensation overwhelms them. Their hands scrabble for purchase, curling into their fleece as they jerk with pleasure under that deadly mouth.
A-Ah?! Ohh--!
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
The sound of the moans in his head are so sweet. His mouth and tongue continue to work. Muscle memories return to him as his inhibitions have all but fallen away. He makes lewd noises and purrs between those hips as he keeps working to make more of those delicious sounds to come from his Lamb. His Lamb who claims him in return. Something he never thought possible before this moment. Now it is reality. He is going to make up for lost time and hidden desires.
His middle eye looks up at the Lamb while his other two eyes close as he loses himself in the pleasure, the sensations against his tongue, and the taste. Oh lord the taste. He would gladly live forever if he could experience this everyday from now until the end of all things. Claws gently prick and drag across flesh and wool of those thighs. He speaks with his own mind, sure the Lamb will read it.
More. More. Do not hold back. Let me hear you. My Lamb. My everything.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
Their hands twist into their fleece, needing something to stabilize them as they both hear and feel Narinder's purrs against their flesh. The sensation ripples right up their spine, making them want to squirm against his mouth and make sounds impossible to fathom with their broken throat.
They hear Narinder in their mind, unable to do much else as his presence is overwhelming even now. When the roles were switched and they were nothing more than a tiny Vessel, one to worship The One Who Waits, to bring him back to the lands. To want him wholeheartedly through the days of their pilgrimage to bring the flock back.
Gods, Narinder--my lord--
Something that Narinder does makes them near scream in pleasure, this roughened, strangled sound of broken noise as their vocal cords cannot handle it - severed as they were from their original death - slips from them. They know it is not a pleasant noise - it can't be - not with them not being whole with their voice any longer.
They clap their hands against their mouth, shivering in the sensation of Narinder's mouth, but it's very much embarrassment as they just made *that* noise right then and there when they do not speak any longer beyond bleats and baas.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
The sound of a ragged roughed strangled noise of pleasure. The damage that never quite healed, the air forced through a throat that cannot fully form the true sounds of pleasure. To so many it perhaps sounded raw, broken, perhaps even frightening. Not to Narinder.
That is the truth of them to his ears. That is music. A voice broken, unable to be used, yet the pleasure is so great it tries anyway. It releases a sound of jagged harsh reality and yet it sounds so beautiful to him. Because it is their voice. It is what is left of a Lamb he never knew before. It is the voice of his Lamb. The one sent to him by fate and his sibling's foolish cruelty. There is a dark beauty in it that makes Narinder's heart race. His eyes widen, pupils blowing at the sound of it.
His mouth becomes more eager. Lewd slurps and noises ring forth as he practically feasts upon the Lamb's sex. His tongue, lips, and mouth doing everything and anything he can think of to draw another of those noises from his Lamb. His thoughts ringing loudly in his head.
Beautiful. Marvelous. Mine. Your voice rings out for me and me alone. And it's beautiful, my Lamb. All of you is beautiful and soft and dangerous and mine. All mine. Sing for me with your voice for my ears only. Please hide nothing from me now. Let it out. Let me hear it. Let me savor all of you!
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
To them - it is a horrid sound. Something that shows they are broken, a mortal thing of being killed and dead, no longer anything with a voice to speak with. An unpleasant thing that should be quelled to not frighten others.
Not that they ever expected anything more than being simply the God of Death now.
Mortal things typically didn't reside with them any longer - a being of something not quite alive and not quite dead - yet the body remembers sensation even now, especially with the rampant stimuli that they are receiving by their hungry second.
They swear the sound only spurned Narinder with more fervor. They gasp against their palms as that mouth works them over with intensity, as if trying to get them to break their silence once more.
It is only when Narinder's thoughts pierce through their own that belays his wants. He liked hearing it? How? It should be terrible to sensitive ears.
But I--
They try to protest it. There's no way to do so as Narinder's mouth is working them over so much they can't keep their voice at bay, another ragged sound screaming from in between fingers as their eyelids slam shut, back wanting to arch as they swear they're going to break into pieces and fly away.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
Narinder thinks it flatly as he keeps working his god with his mouth. Lust and pleasure is no simply mortal thing. True, to feel it as a god and to feel it as a mortal are different in some respects. As a god, Narinder forgot about the lusts of flesh for so long. Forgotten the thrill of warm flesh, claws, and bodies melting and pressing together. He forgot the joy of pleasured moans and the anticipation of more. He had forgotten so much during his time as The One Who Waits.
Ellipsa has made sure it all has come back to him. The needy mortal desires for pleasure and connection. The desperation for release when it was so few and far between. The taste of another on his tongue, the lingering warmth of a touch, the ecstacy of orgasm when it hits with the force of a tidal wave.
For a god, lust can manifest in another way. Kallamar knew that well. Kallamar and his disciples were more than god and followers. He build them into a harem for himself. An idea Narinder had originally sneered at but now? Now he wishes to try something. To truly give into the idea and pour not only pleasure into the Lamb, but devotion. He pours all of his devotion in through his mouth and claws. He allows the Sin to take hold of him and use it to worship his god.
The same one whose thighs press into his sensitive ears. The same who moans with a broken voice that they cannot control. The one whose taste lingers on his tongue and coats his lips and who he can't stop. Not until they break. Not until that pleasure of orgasm tears through them and they cry out and beg him to keep going. He is glad for his loose robes, else his erection would be confined by dense material of trousers. He knows this won't stop here. Narinder can't stop here but he won't press further.
Not until he has finished worshipping at the alter of the Lamb's sex, filled them with his devotion using pleasure, and felt the release on his tongue in return for his loyalty.
Come undone. Don't hold back. My God. My Lamb. I will catch you. I am here. Surrender to pleasure and my devotion and allow your second to give you all you need and want. Be mine so I may give you all of me, my beautiful blessed Lamb. My mate. Mine.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
The statement makes them rethink the urge to protest the use of their broken voice. They purposely do not use it because it is hard to make words, sounding like a shattered mortal, the last of their kind. They might be a god now but they weren't before - the memories lost to the ether when they were reborn - so they do not remember the sins of the flesh the same as others might.
Especially not until now. Ellipsa was not the Lands of Old Faith - where there was no time - the flock needed them. Followers offered, certainly so, but they declined. Favoritism only led to fights amongst the flock. It was not something that they required either. They were content to keep going on.
This. This was different. They knew Narinder held sinful thoughts - thoughts targeted toward them - but they never pressed beyond helping relieve the overwhelmed condition. They were bound together in ways that others could not fathom and the Lamb was content with that. They would not force when they had already forced hands to keep on living. But when that devotion - true devotion and loyalty - comes from their second, coupled with the words only for them - the link still there despite everything. Words to tip the scales and let them simply be.
They'll remember this. How could they not?
Their body reacts before they can even think an answer - it's too much. Too, too much. But it's so good as well - their thighs quivering against pointed ears as they cannot help themselves. The release comes swiftly, tousled wool shivering as the rest of them tightens, one hand fisting fleece as the other grasps into dark fur. Fingers thread through the scruff, holding on desperately to where a crown used to sit upon their second's brow.
The broken sounds of their voice cry out, starting syllables of Narinder's name, but it is a strangled noise once more as their back arches and they let themselves go.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bleatingdeath) wrote2025-08-14 01:55 pm
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
Much like their fleece as hands release and find the cloak, undone and pushed away as fluffy wool springs free. They glance up to the triplicate eyes that bore down upon them, taking in all of the sight before Narinder moves and kisses along their throat, along scars of death once given to them. The Lamb gives a heady sound from the sensation, almost wanting to giggle as their second moves down the line of their form and finds their legs.
Their ears go up as they shift onto their elbows to see what Narinder is up to.
Narinder--
Legs slip upward, prompting them to lie back as they bleat a gasp, cheeks darkening before there's tongue and mouth and MORE TONGUE as the sensation overwhelms them. Their hands scrabble for purchase, curling into their fleece as they jerk with pleasure under that deadly mouth.
A-Ah?! Ohh--!
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
His middle eye looks up at the Lamb while his other two eyes close as he loses himself in the pleasure, the sensations against his tongue, and the taste. Oh lord the taste. He would gladly live forever if he could experience this everyday from now until the end of all things. Claws gently prick and drag across flesh and wool of those thighs. He speaks with his own mind, sure the Lamb will read it.
More. More. Do not hold back. Let me hear you. My Lamb. My everything.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
They hear Narinder in their mind, unable to do much else as his presence is overwhelming even now. When the roles were switched and they were nothing more than a tiny Vessel, one to worship The One Who Waits, to bring him back to the lands. To want him wholeheartedly through the days of their pilgrimage to bring the flock back.
Gods, Narinder--my lord--
Something that Narinder does makes them near scream in pleasure, this roughened, strangled sound of broken noise as their vocal cords cannot handle it - severed as they were from their original death - slips from them. They know it is not a pleasant noise - it can't be - not with them not being whole with their voice any longer.
They clap their hands against their mouth, shivering in the sensation of Narinder's mouth, but it's very much embarrassment as they just made *that* noise right then and there when they do not speak any longer beyond bleats and baas.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
The sound of a ragged roughed strangled noise of pleasure. The damage that never quite healed, the air forced through a throat that cannot fully form the true sounds of pleasure. To so many it perhaps sounded raw, broken, perhaps even frightening. Not to Narinder.
That is the truth of them to his ears. That is music. A voice broken, unable to be used, yet the pleasure is so great it tries anyway. It releases a sound of jagged harsh reality and yet it sounds so beautiful to him. Because it is their voice. It is what is left of a Lamb he never knew before. It is the voice of his Lamb. The one sent to him by fate and his sibling's foolish cruelty. There is a dark beauty in it that makes Narinder's heart race. His eyes widen, pupils blowing at the sound of it.
His mouth becomes more eager. Lewd slurps and noises ring forth as he practically feasts upon the Lamb's sex. His tongue, lips, and mouth doing everything and anything he can think of to draw another of those noises from his Lamb. His thoughts ringing loudly in his head.
Beautiful. Marvelous. Mine. Your voice rings out for me and me alone. And it's beautiful, my Lamb. All of you is beautiful and soft and dangerous and mine. All mine. Sing for me with your voice for my ears only. Please hide nothing from me now. Let it out. Let me hear it. Let me savor all of you!
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
Not that they ever expected anything more than being simply the God of Death now.
Mortal things typically didn't reside with them any longer - a being of something not quite alive and not quite dead - yet the body remembers sensation even now, especially with the rampant stimuli that they are receiving by their hungry second.
They swear the sound only spurned Narinder with more fervor. They gasp against their palms as that mouth works them over with intensity, as if trying to get them to break their silence once more.
It is only when Narinder's thoughts pierce through their own that belays his wants. He liked hearing it? How? It should be terrible to sensitive ears.
But I--
They try to protest it. There's no way to do so as Narinder's mouth is working them over so much they can't keep their voice at bay, another ragged sound screaming from in between fingers as their eyelids slam shut, back wanting to arch as they swear they're going to break into pieces and fly away.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
Narinder thinks it flatly as he keeps working his god with his mouth. Lust and pleasure is no simply mortal thing. True, to feel it as a god and to feel it as a mortal are different in some respects. As a god, Narinder forgot about the lusts of flesh for so long. Forgotten the thrill of warm flesh, claws, and bodies melting and pressing together. He forgot the joy of pleasured moans and the anticipation of more. He had forgotten so much during his time as The One Who Waits.
Ellipsa has made sure it all has come back to him. The needy mortal desires for pleasure and connection. The desperation for release when it was so few and far between. The taste of another on his tongue, the lingering warmth of a touch, the ecstacy of orgasm when it hits with the force of a tidal wave.
For a god, lust can manifest in another way. Kallamar knew that well. Kallamar and his disciples were more than god and followers. He build them into a harem for himself. An idea Narinder had originally sneered at but now? Now he wishes to try something. To truly give into the idea and pour not only pleasure into the Lamb, but devotion. He pours all of his devotion in through his mouth and claws. He allows the Sin to take hold of him and use it to worship his god.
The same one whose thighs press into his sensitive ears. The same who moans with a broken voice that they cannot control. The one whose taste lingers on his tongue and coats his lips and who he can't stop. Not until they break. Not until that pleasure of orgasm tears through them and they cry out and beg him to keep going. He is glad for his loose robes, else his erection would be confined by dense material of trousers. He knows this won't stop here. Narinder can't stop here but he won't press further.
Not until he has finished worshipping at the alter of the Lamb's sex, filled them with his devotion using pleasure, and felt the release on his tongue in return for his loyalty.
Come undone. Don't hold back. My God. My Lamb. I will catch you. I am here. Surrender to pleasure and my devotion and allow your second to give you all you need and want. Be mine so I may give you all of me, my beautiful blessed Lamb. My mate. Mine.
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
Especially not until now. Ellipsa was not the Lands of Old Faith - where there was no time - the flock needed them. Followers offered, certainly so, but they declined. Favoritism only led to fights amongst the flock. It was not something that they required either. They were content to keep going on.
This. This was different. They knew Narinder held sinful thoughts - thoughts targeted toward them - but they never pressed beyond helping relieve the overwhelmed condition. They were bound together in ways that others could not fathom and the Lamb was content with that. They would not force when they had already forced hands to keep on living. But when that devotion - true devotion and loyalty - comes from their second, coupled with the words only for them - the link still there despite everything. Words to tip the scales and let them simply be.
They'll remember this. How could they not?
Their body reacts before they can even think an answer - it's too much. Too, too much. But it's so good as well - their thighs quivering against pointed ears as they cannot help themselves. The release comes swiftly, tousled wool shivering as the rest of them tightens, one hand fisting fleece as the other grasps into dark fur. Fingers thread through the scruff, holding on desperately to where a crown used to sit upon their second's brow.
The broken sounds of their voice cry out, starting syllables of Narinder's name, but it is a strangled noise once more as their back arches and they let themselves go.