Brighella, 10th of the Fatui Harbingers (
primordialice) wrote2024-10-30 07:17 pm
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PSL - NSFW, approach with caution
- If you're looking to make an appointment to speak with the Administrator, please speak with Ms. Marette at the front desk.
- If you're looking to schedule a boxing match with the Administrator, please speak with Mr. Roussimoff in the Pankration Ring.
- If you have a really, really urgent matter that desperately needs the Administrator's attention right now, please find a senior guard and relay your information to them.
- If you have a new tea variety you'd like the Administrator to try, please leave it with Ms. Marette at the front desk or knock to the rhythm of the first movement of Furina's Benevolence and he will be with you shortly.
All other matters are first come, first served.
- If you're looking to schedule a boxing match with the Administrator, please speak with Mr. Roussimoff in the Pankration Ring.
- If you have a really, really urgent matter that desperately needs the Administrator's attention right now, please find a senior guard and relay your information to them.
- If you have a new tea variety you'd like the Administrator to try, please leave it with Ms. Marette at the front desk or knock to the rhythm of the first movement of Furina's Benevolence and he will be with you shortly.
All other matters are first come, first served.
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His eyes open slightly, just slits, and he assesses, hazy as his mind is - Mezzo is distracted, lost in his shattered body. Brighella can focus, pain is just pain - he learned this lesson a long time ago. It means nothing to his will. The moment to strike is... now.
As Mezzetino roars with pleasure, Brighella seizes the gearshaft, pulling it out of his chest and slamming it upwards, aiming for Mezzo's throat with all his strength, hoping to jab the jagged edge through it. Chains of primordial ice wrap around his limbs and yank him backwards, slamming him to the ground as they bury themselves deep in the floor to anchor him.
Brighella pushes himself up slowly, surrounded by the iridescent glow of his power as he heals, taking a few steps forward before he rests with one foot leaning his weight on Mezzetino's chest. He grins, teeth still covered in blood as he takes hold of the gearshaft. "That's... better."
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It only takes a few moments to heal, even for damage this extensive, and Brighella straightens up, wiping some of the blood off his face. "Situational awareness, Mezzo. Bad time to lose it." He chuckles, wrenching the gearshaft out and tracing the sharp end down his chest. "I suppose I shouldn't blame you for taking what you wanted... but now it's my turn." He traces the point of the gearshaft up Mezzetino's cock, admiring the size of it. That whole thing fit inside him? Fuck, he can't wait to feel it again. "I haven't fucking come yet, after all."
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He shudders at the sharp scrape of the broken gearshaft against his cock. "What will your pleasure be?" He can't wait to find out.
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Brighella licks his lips. "I hope you can get hard again, Mezzo, because I'm not done with that dick yet." He's here to help, of course - he kneels between Mezzetino's splayed legs, setting the gearshaft aside as he wraps his hands around Mezzo's massive cock, stroking slowly as he leans in to lick his own blood off the head.
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He works him up to fully hard again, using nails and teeth liberally to tease him with bright sharp bursts of pain. He pulls away, climbing on top of Mezzetino's body to straddle his groin, resting his knees on his hips and rubbing against the hard shaft. "Lie still now. This is all for me."
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The size makes it a little difficult to get into position, but Wriothesley is quite determined to get that cock back inside him. The ripping pain is glorious as he finally sinks back down onto it, his breath stuttering out in a gasp and his head falling back.
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And they both get what they want now--he groans, hips jerking, as Brighella impales himself on his cock. He can feel him tearing inside again, but now he's doing it to himself. Taking what he wanted from him was good, but... this might be even better.
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The pain as he pushes himself down, determined to take it all the way to the hilt, is incredible - he can't imagine what kind of damage it's doing, because it all weaves together into a scorching wave of pleasure that rolls over him as he finally takes it all. It feels like the tip of Mezzo's cock is resting in his lungs, and it's perfect. It's easier to push himself back up, the blood lubricates the way, though he doesn't slide all the way back off, just partway before slamming back down to begin riding him in earnest.
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(He could call fire, could try to free himself. He doesn't. He won't. Why would he, when Brighella uses him like this?)
(He almost wishes for the weight of the collar around his throat. But the slowly healing destruction of it by the gearshaft is almost as good.)
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Convenient for him, to have a healing factor so strong that it lets him do things like this, enjoy things like the gearshaft through his lung and Scar's claws curled into his ribcage. And how much more must it hurt, tearing open anew on every stroke, than if he just stayed injured?
Scar envies him the ecstasy of it. He'll never know what it's like to have his head ripped off and come back laughing.
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He goes limp for a moment before he can summon the strength to pull himself off the huge shaft, the reluctant sucking sound of his body releasing it making him groan before he lies down on his chest, teasing the hole in Scar's neck with his finger. "Very good, beast."
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He wants to keep it, clutch it to him, devour it like the salt-burning bites of Brighella's flesh.
He wants to be his, like this. His beast.
"Thank you, Lord Brighella," he rasps.
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He feels sweat dripping down his temple and frowns, wiping it away. Keeping this form is starting to become an effort, which means he's spent an incredible amount of energy tonight. Well, it was worth it. It just means he has to get back to his bedroom before he reverts to his natural form. "I suppose I have to let you out at some point..."
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He doesn't want to be stuck here alone without Brighella, certainly. Though he could just go back to human form and the chains would be too big to hold him, he'd rather wait to be let free.
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He wipes more sweat away, looking around for his clothes. Absolutely nothing's in wearable condition - he'll have to start stashing clothes here if this is going to be a regular thing. Tearing him apart means his clothes get torn apart too, after all.
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