ph_logs | November Catch-All

Who: Lord Erik Osborne & You
What: Open post for November shenanigans
When: Thru Nov
Where: All over town
Warnings: General vampire warnings that blood drinking is always possible for discussion/depiction, NSFW warning in some of these because he is, you know, the town whore, discussion of death. Will warn as needed.

Well, I don't know where they come from
The morning after his demise at the hands of Chris, during that carnival duel to the death, Erik finds himself sprawled out in the alley behind the Oak & Iron looking for all the world like a drunkard in a gutter. And, ew, why is he wet?

"Ugh," he groans as something steps on his chest. Something... alive? "A-ah," he sits up lightening fast, causing the cat that was treading on his chest to yowl at him indignantly as if he's being the rude one.

It isn't just one cat, either. There's a whole mob of them. They are rubbing up against him now, standing up on his legs and headbutting his back, meowing insistently like they are expecting something from him.

"What do you want?" he asks them, annoyed. "I don't have anything for you to eat."

But they sure do come
These cats are relentless. He's walking back to his home now looking like the pied piper with a parade of loudly meowing cats following behind. No matter what he tries to do to shoo them away, they just won't leave.

"I already told you, I don't have any food!" he practically pleads to them. "Just leave me alone!"

I hope they're comin' for me
A new notice goes up on the bulletin board:

Seeking:
Someone to help test the sturdiness of my new writing desk. Open to all comers, but especially certain newspaper employees who know the value of a good, hard endorsement. Call on me at any time.

Your Premier Whore,
Lord Erik Osborne.

Wildcard
Hit me up with anything at all. I love surprises.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, is that so? If I'd known that, I might have prepared some rope to tie you down to that desk with. Perhaps another time." He's confident in his work, clearly.

"I have one I use for myself, 'Ophelia,' but if you've got another you prefer please tell me. I am flexible and I want you to be as comfortable as you can be."

"We can discuss rope later, for next time, if there is a next time. This time, I'd rather you be hands on." Pun intended. "As for safewords, I would use 'Khoshekh'. Ophelia has too many syllables for my taste. Though I'm also good to use traffic lights for check-ins."

Cecil moves to sit on the desk with a mischievous smile lingering on his face.

"Next time," Erik says with a cheeky grin. He's confident. And, oh, that pun does make him nostalgic.

"Khoshekh it shall be. And, I assume you mean red to stop, yellow to slow, and green for good to go?" He's not been introduced to these formally, oddly enough, but the concept is easy to guess.

His eyes follow Cecil as he moves to sit on the desk. What a wonderful smile that is. Time for mischief to be rewarded with more mischief. He stalks closer, slowly--agonizingly slowly--circling around the desk.

"Why don't I keep you fully clothed and simply pull your pants down to take you right here over this desk? We'll pretend we only have so long before you have to get back to work, hmm?"

"That sounds perfect." The thing about sitting on the desk is that it lowers, if not eliminates, the height difference. So Cecil's not looking down at Erik, right? If he leans back a little, he can look with the lazy smile, the one that's also a bit of a dare.

"Anything else you want to discuss before we begin, Lord Osborne?"

Cecil has, it seems, already picked up on why Erik likes to involve furniture in these scenarios so often. He's had long enough to get over most of his shortcomings (heh) but it's still nice when he has a chance to loom. He's doing that now, leaning in over Cecil while propping himself up on one hand.

"Condoms, yes or no?" If the answer is yes, Erik has already prepared by adding a few to the top drawer of the desk next to the lube. "I'll mention that I can neither catch nor carry communicable diseases thanks to my undead body, but I do still ejaculate."

"Given that, no condom." Cecil looks up into Erik's eyes, naked lust written all over his face. "I want to feel you inside me, and to think about you when I shower afterward."

Eyelashes bat playfully. "Anything else we need to discuss before we move to the hands-on portion of tonight's program?"

"I'll give you plenty to reminisce on."

He leans in until the tips of their noses can almost touch. "No. I believe we've done enough talking. I'm ready to use your mouth for something else." He's giving the 90 all Cecil has to do is give him the 10.

Cecil gives it with the same exuberance he brings to everything. He doesn't kiss like some blissful innocent who lives in a world free from pain. He kisses like a man who wants joy to be louder than pain, grasping the front of Erik's shirt as he does so.

He gets 110 instead. It's so delightfully forward that it drags a low moan from Erik's throat, one that isn't even staged. He matches that fierce energy by gripping the back of Cecil's shirt and balling it into both fists until the two of them are locked together. He's not the one who needs to breathe, so the game becomes how long can Cecil stay under before their lips must inevitably part?

When Cecil finally wrests his lips from Erik's, it's with a desperate gasp and a moment of soft panting, before he dives in again, as if he hadn't learned anything at all from that experience. And maybe he hadn't.

Erik expels a laugh against Cecil's lips as he comes right back in for a second helping. Nothing as trivial as lightheadedness can stamp out this intrepid radio host's enthusiasm, clearly.

Erik tugs Cecil's shirt tails out and slides his cool fingers down the inside of the man's trousers, cupping his rear and squeezing possessively. He'll go as fast or as slow as Cecil wants, but this makes it clear he's ready to take so much more than just his mouth.

There is a gasp when Erik squeezes, and Cecil shifts on the desk slightly as he finds the fit of his pants to be a bit less comfortable than it was a moment ago. Too tight, too tight.

"I've been anticipating this. In the good way, not like a visit to the dentist or an employee review."

He can't help a snicker as Cecil feels the need to clarify that it's the good kind of appointment. "I've been looking forward to this as well."

Hm, yes, these pants really are too tight. Allow him to fix that, by slowly undoing Cecil's fly and then beginning to shift them down off his hips.

Cecil wiggles, trying to shimmy out of the pants helpfully. There is nothing dignified about the motion--which is okay, when did he ever need dignity? He is wearing some local form of underwear, but he won't be for long, so let's not linger on that.

"I like hearing you laugh, you know. I want to make you do that more, even if that's not the point of this visit."

November Catch-All

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