i am the firechild: archangelswag: iamthefirechild: archangelswag: i am the firechild:…
i am the firechild: Open RP: So a trickster walks into a cloud of sex pollen…
Anonymous asked: M! A: Sex Pollen. You are uncontrollably horny and feverish for the next 3 days, or until you’ve had three orgasms, without masturbation.
“Oh…shit.” The archangel’s skin quickly becomes flushed and his breath hitches. He feels an erection coming on and…
“Summer – oh fuck – of all people to see me like this-” His face is full of panic, but his eyes wander all over her body with a hungry shine to them. “Sex pollen. Can’t fix it alone – can’t stay in control – if you don’t want me to jump your bones, run.” He pants, turning to face her. His boner is painfully obvious, and his hands are clenched into fists with the effort not to play with himself in front of her.
“I can’t leave you like this!” It was almost insulting, that he thought she could be concerned about a thing like that right now. Granted, she can’t block him out now, and that’s having an effect on her thinking as well, but compassion alone would demand she help him find a way out of this. “What do you need?” It’s that simple.
“Have to cum. 3 times. Masturbation not effective. Otherwise, pain gets worse.” He falls to his knees, gripping the ground hard enough to crack stone in an effort to stay in control. The sudden drop causes the fabric of his pants to rub up against his shaft, and he lets out a whimper. “Please… Summer…” His eyes glaze over with golden light, his jaw going slack with need as he looks at her with pleading eyes.
“Not here.” Her voice is decisive, that instinct that controls her almost utterly in the face of pain taking over. It is, oddly, the one circumstance when emotion and empathy take a backseat. She strides to him, kneeling and clasping his shoulders tightly, her own wings fading into sparks and smoke. “Take us to my bedroom, Gabriel. Now.”
In this state, Gabriel can’t resist the authority of a young attractive woman and he teleports without hesitation.
Summer pushes him over, careless of whether they made the floor or the bed. “Gabriel. Gaberiel. Listen to me. I’m going to take the edge off.” Despite the sharpness of her voice, her hands are gentle, undoing his pants and sliding up his erection. With this much tension, she knows, softness is not the way, nor is patience. When this is over, when he is himself again and making his own choices, then they can tease each other into delirium. Firmly, she grasps him, stroking and twisting, hoping in the part of her mind that is thinking and not reacting that it will work.