ic; salt inbox

[ingeniar]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME: STARK

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note: this inbox is a choose not to warn experience and may contain nsfw threads

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cw getting nsfw in here

[ingeniar]

Right. Where would I be of use?

[ As if he doesn't know, with the phantom throb of her needy cunt between his legs. ]

nsfw all the way down now

[nightsung]

Kneeling, with your tongue inside me.

Deep enough Stephen can feel it too. Is he with you?

[ingeniar]

Within reach.

[ It's the truth; he can't offer anything else. He doesn't want to. Why would he lie? ]

Feels like you're the one who should be here. Or are you enjoying the anticipation?

[nightsung]

Some of the villagers need my healing. But I got--

[ Distracted, by the swell of a pretty girl's tits under her blouse. And now her own skirts are bunched around her waist, and the pretty girl's fingers aren't as skilled as she needs, fumbling at her folds instead of knuckle deep. ]

Tell him I told him to touch you.

[ingeniar]

He says, and I quote, "nice try". I think you're going to have to provide more carrot than stick here.

[nightsung]

He won't be able to do much else with his hands in the meantime, will he?

[ingeniar]

He just poked himself with a needle. Did you do that?

[nightsung]

Unless he's using the needle to get you off, I suppose I did.

Has he ever touched you before? Without me there?

[ingeniar]

Yeah, but that was different.

Are you going to go back to your bad boy?

[nightsung]

Different how?

[ And then, a little petty, a little hurt-- ]

Do you want me to?

[ingeniar]

Slower.

No, I don't want you to. But you're going to. He's going to take your heart out and eat it.

[nightsung]

[ Delayed, while Shadowheart extricates herself from the girl who's giving her nothing, leaving her only with a slow build of frustration. ]

Maybe he already has.

Maybe you're chained to a heartless girl who just wants to use your mouth and your cock.

[ingeniar]

Worse things to be. At least you're alive. I don't mind that you want to use me.

[nightsung]

Mm. If I were dead, you'd go down with me.

How should I use you, then? In detail.

[ingeniar]

Right now? I'd let you climb into my lap. I'd touch you wherever you wanted to be touched, get you good and warm, though I bet you're probably feeling that already. Then you can do whatever you want. I think I'd want to see your face while you work yourself up and down. The wizard can watch too.

[nightsung]

I'll let you come inside me, if you lick it all up after.

Or maybe Stephen should get the privilege of tasting you on my lips. If he's putting his hands to good use, like I asked.

[ingeniar]

He's rubbing my foot. Going to give it a 5/10, don't know if I'd recommend it.
Hold on.

[ He's going to turn this into a phone call, actually. And put it on speaker on the couch next to him. Once she picks up: ]

Still there, little cricket?

[rehandle]

[ A disgruntled mumble - the betrayal: ]

She doesn't get pet names while she's holding me hostage.

[ Petty, but not upset. At least not about anything other than the impromptu interruption of his sewing project. ]

[ingeniar]

[ Immediately, sorry Shadowheart: ]

Hey, I'm pretty sure I remember you volunteering -- ow, watch the toes! Who taught you to give foot rubs? You need to go back to school. Wizard massage lessons.

[nightsung]

[ Little cricket sparks the smallest warmth in her, even as her ever-present grey threatens to snuff it out. Shadowheart holds fast, the ember burning her hands. ]

Surely you can do better than a five out of ten, Stephen.

If you can't, I can always keep Tony to myself when I get home. You can listen through the door, if you like.

[rehandle]

[ He's about to argue that she's got his hands, not his legs— then recalls that doors have handles.

😤

No verbal retort, but he jabs a thumb hard into the arch of Tony's foot in silent protest before following it with a more appropriate, focused application of slow, sweeping pressure. ]

[ingeniar]

[ The poke earns another ow!, but Tony is an easy mark for the rest of it. With an effort, he turns his attention back to the phone. ]

Hey, tell me more about what we're gonna do when you get home. Or what you're doing right now. Paint us a picture.

[nightsung]

[ She listens to the quiet creak of the sofa, the shift of fabric as the two men settle together. Hers. ]

I might ask for a foot massage, if Stephen's technique improves.

I'd like to lie down when I get home. So I'm wondering which one of you wants his head between my thighs, ass up on the bed while the other fingers him open.

[ingeniar]

Whoa, okay -- [ Over and around any contribution Stephen wants to make to that particular idea. ] Can I volunteer? Do we have to fight over it? Feel free to get interested, by the way, if you need my permission --

[ The last part directed at the man next to him, as he pointedly presses his foot more firmly into his lap. ]

[rehandle]

[ Which is fine, because Stephen was busy stuttering into a stunned stillness and wide-eyed silence that Tony's swift interjection does very little to remedy. His foot does, though, breath huffed out over a flinch, eyes gone unfocused for a second as he weathers the two-pronged attack of contact and verbal welcome.

Of course meaning he has to get his own back. One hand locks the offending foot in place, thumb working firmly, precisely now into the ball of it while his other hand circles Tony's ankle, journeying up under his pant leg, mapping out a trail along his calf. ]

He can have it. [ He says, trying not to think too hard about literally anything while endeavouring to make direct eye contact with the he in question. ] I might as well test out your teaching.

I promise to remind him how you like it once he starts getting sloppy.