This ass? This ass right here? [You know, the one Sampo has in his hands, the one that’s firm and well-muscled and shapely? The one that can only be called the platonic ideal of an ass in the philosophical sense, because nothing Sampo wants to do with it could ever be called platonic?] This, my dear, my friend, is not just an ass.
[He presses a kiss to one of those lovely, porcelain-pale cheeks, then pries them apart to have a look at the most hidden parts of him. Sampo is a man of many tastes, and sometimes those tastes are nasty. But they both know what they’re here for, and it’s not a gentlemanly affair.]
Somebody should carve a likeness of this ass and put it in the Museum for all posterity. [Put it up for show, like all good art. Sampo laughs, his stupid little giggle.] Not that it’d be on exhibit for very long before I’d take it.
[He’s got an eye for expensive things, what can he say. And if you carved a nude of Gepard out of marble and put it up in a museum, no one would doubt that he’d fit in amongst all the ancient art of heroes and demigods. It almost makes Sampo wish he could draw.]
[Sampo gets a better view of what’s between Gepard’s cheeks when he leans in and blows a soft stream of air over his hole. Wink for him, Geppie.]
But I’m getting off track, aren’t I?
[Focus up, Koski. Get your head in the game! Or at least get your face in that ass.]
[Which is exactly what he does— buries his face between those pretty pale cheeks and goes right for it, tongue to hole. Messy, because there’s no real way to eat ass daintily, and heedless of his own eventual need to come up for air.]
[Yes, that ass. That ass right there. And Gepard whines as Sampo rhapsodizes about the merits of his ass, glad that he's staring out at Belobog and not at him. He's sure his face is burning up. He could probably be thrown into a snowbank and turn it into water. His face feels so hot and if there's any mercy at all, Qlipoth would dump a snowbank onto his head right here and now.
There is no such mercy. Sampo says someone should carve a replica out of marble and he moans, half turned on, half wishing Qlipoth would dump a snowbank on Sampo instead. He had thought that Sampo would just get on with it. And apparently no. No.
There is, once again, no such mercy. Sampo follows up by saying he'd steal it and Gepard aims a half-hearted kick (more of a nudge of his leg than an actual kick, really, the implication of resistance more than actual resistance) at Sampo because the last thing he wants to imagine is Sampo Koski with a marble statue of his ass. The resistance is quickly lost when Sampo blows a stream of air at him? He slumps, the only things keeping him upright his grip on the railing and a certain stubbornness, that he's not going to be wrecked by Sampo apparently wanting to thoroughly tease him. A death of a thousand cuts, except those thousand cuts are Sampo being Sampo.
And then Sampo starts eating his ass, and Gepard goes boneless, in full surrender, all tension- bad tension gone, because there's really no way of holding back when it comes to eating ass, is there? And Gepard can hear himself moan out some choked-back noise which suspiciously sounds like Sampo's name, one hand clutching the railing like it's a lifeline, the other one reaching back blindly, fishing for Sampo, what he can touch of him, which turns out to just be hair? But his hand grabs a hold of it, tugs it, fisting in it. If he was in his right mind, he'd probably feel bad. But right now, he's got a tongue in his ass, so thinking is far from Gepard's concerns at the moment. All he's trying to do is to keep his legs steady enough.]
[Gepard, really, is a natural. It's almost a shame that he's gone this long without being touched, without ever knowing how beautifully he takes to pleasure. But Sampo can't be too upset about it, because he's the first person here and, like he said before, it's kind of an honor. Geppie's given him so many of his firsts-- let Sampo deflower him in all these different ways. Of all the people that he could have picked...]
[Well, he really shouldn't get too sentimental while he's in the middle of such an important task. This is Gepard's inaugural ass eating, he can't get distracted. If he doesn't do a good job, it could color Gepard's opinion of getting eaten out for the rest of his life, and that's a lot of pressure to put on a guy. If his skills are subpar, the good Captain might decide that he's just not that into getting eaten out like a stuffed cream puff, and the whole universe would be the worse for it.]
[Based off of the hand that blindly reaches back and tangles in Sampo's hair, though, he's doing something right. Gepard's legs have these fine tremors in them that Sampo can feel all the way up in his thighs, like he isn't very steady; there might have been a few noises, but considering his position, it's not exactly easy to hear. Sampo can imagine, though. Maybe another time, he can convince Gepard to sit on his face and then he'll have an easier time listening to him-- or he'll die, and, honestly, that's how he'd want to go. Crushed beneath the glorious ass of Gepard Landau.]
[He delves greedily and deep; Sampo's just as good at eating ass as he is at sucking cock. There's a skill to it, because a tongue doesn't have the reach of fingers or a cock, but you can make up for that deficiency with flexibility and enthusiasm. And there's a certain appeal to how filthy it is, especially when he's doing filthy things to a man like Gepard. Curling his tongue in him, feeling the way his body shudders and clenches. Reaching a hand around his hip to loosely cup his cock, giving him something to rut against and relieve a little pressure.]
[Lovely. An absolute joy, a pastime that Sampo could really get used to-- even how it makes him ache, since his hands are too busy to reach down and give himself a little self-service.]
[He feels hot, and not in a sexy way - Gepard feels like he's blushing so red that people can see him from halfway across the snowfield, like a red beacon in the cold. It's terrible. It's embarrassing. He feels like an idiot for assuming that Sampo wouldn't take the opportunity to wreck him in every single way which matters. (And, for that matter, in quite a few ways which don't, but Gepard privately assumes that Sampo is going out of his way to do just because he finds it funny. Because that's the punchline of a lot of things - Sampo Koski finds it funny.)
He still can't help himself, though, not the noises (quiet, getting louder, Gepard tries to bite his hand- the one that's gripping the railing? he tries that, and then immediately staggers, and his hand slams down again) nor how much he likes it. He can't help rutting against the hand so helpfully provided for him, oblivious to the faces he's making- he's making faces, and Gepard would probably start kicking Sampo if he can see them and react to them. Sampo can't, and Gepard's oblivious. Everyone wins here.
His hand, the one tangled in Sampo's hair, loosens, and then grips again.]
Sampo, please.
[Don't ask him what he's asking Sampo to do, Gepard doesn't know, he's getting his ass devoured by a master and it's driving him mad.]
[Sampo does a lot of things for shits and giggles, it's true. And he's slept with plenty of people for no deeper reason than being bored or because it was necessary or, a few times, for leverage. But with Gepard, dear, stalwart Geppie? He's doing it because he wants to, wrecking him for the sheer pleasure of wrecking. He's doing it for every little noise, for the way his hips twitch, for the hand that grips his hair. For that voice, throaty and desperate, begging him for something even if he doesn't know what he wants.]
[But that's okay, because he doesn't have to know. Sampo will give him everything anyway.]
[Everything, in this case, is a finger slipping into him alongside Sampo's tongue, pressing smoothly against his slick insides. A three-way assault on Gepard, everything that he could do to him short of sitting the good Captain on his own cock-- and hopefully that'll come later, if he's done a very good job. A gift for them both for a job well done.]
[One of the only times that Gepard will get to see Sampo putting in an honest effort, and it's all to eat him out.]
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no subject
[He presses a kiss to one of those lovely, porcelain-pale cheeks, then pries them apart to have a look at the most hidden parts of him. Sampo is a man of many tastes, and sometimes those tastes are nasty. But they both know what they’re here for, and it’s not a gentlemanly affair.]
Somebody should carve a likeness of this ass and put it in the Museum for all posterity. [Put it up for show, like all good art. Sampo laughs, his stupid little giggle.] Not that it’d be on exhibit for very long before I’d take it.
[He’s got an eye for expensive things, what can he say. And if you carved a nude of Gepard out of marble and put it up in a museum, no one would doubt that he’d fit in amongst all the ancient art of heroes and demigods. It almost makes Sampo wish he could draw.]
[Sampo gets a better view of what’s between Gepard’s cheeks when he leans in and blows a soft stream of air over his hole. Wink for him, Geppie.]
But I’m getting off track, aren’t I?
[Focus up, Koski. Get your head in the game! Or at least get your face in that ass.]
[Which is exactly what he does— buries his face between those pretty pale cheeks and goes right for it, tongue to hole. Messy, because there’s no real way to eat ass daintily, and heedless of his own eventual need to come up for air.]
no subject
There is no such mercy. Sampo says someone should carve a replica out of marble and he moans, half turned on, half wishing Qlipoth would dump a snowbank on Sampo instead. He had thought that Sampo would just get on with it. And apparently no. No.
There is, once again, no such mercy. Sampo follows up by saying he'd steal it and Gepard aims a half-hearted kick (more of a nudge of his leg than an actual kick, really, the implication of resistance more than actual resistance) at Sampo because the last thing he wants to imagine is Sampo Koski with a marble statue of his ass. The resistance is quickly lost when Sampo blows a stream of air at him? He slumps, the only things keeping him upright his grip on the railing and a certain stubbornness, that he's not going to be wrecked by Sampo apparently wanting to thoroughly tease him. A death of a thousand cuts, except those thousand cuts are Sampo being Sampo.
And then Sampo starts eating his ass, and Gepard goes boneless, in full surrender, all tension- bad tension gone, because there's really no way of holding back when it comes to eating ass, is there? And Gepard can hear himself moan out some choked-back noise which suspiciously sounds like Sampo's name, one hand clutching the railing like it's a lifeline, the other one reaching back blindly, fishing for Sampo, what he can touch of him, which turns out to just be hair? But his hand grabs a hold of it, tugs it, fisting in it. If he was in his right mind, he'd probably feel bad. But right now, he's got a tongue in his ass, so thinking is far from Gepard's concerns at the moment. All he's trying to do is to keep his legs steady enough.]
no subject
[Well, he really shouldn't get too sentimental while he's in the middle of such an important task. This is Gepard's inaugural ass eating, he can't get distracted. If he doesn't do a good job, it could color Gepard's opinion of getting eaten out for the rest of his life, and that's a lot of pressure to put on a guy. If his skills are subpar, the good Captain might decide that he's just not that into getting eaten out like a stuffed cream puff, and the whole universe would be the worse for it.]
[Based off of the hand that blindly reaches back and tangles in Sampo's hair, though, he's doing something right. Gepard's legs have these fine tremors in them that Sampo can feel all the way up in his thighs, like he isn't very steady; there might have been a few noises, but considering his position, it's not exactly easy to hear. Sampo can imagine, though. Maybe another time, he can convince Gepard to sit on his face and then he'll have an easier time listening to him-- or he'll die, and, honestly, that's how he'd want to go. Crushed beneath the glorious ass of Gepard Landau.]
[He delves greedily and deep; Sampo's just as good at eating ass as he is at sucking cock. There's a skill to it, because a tongue doesn't have the reach of fingers or a cock, but you can make up for that deficiency with flexibility and enthusiasm. And there's a certain appeal to how filthy it is, especially when he's doing filthy things to a man like Gepard. Curling his tongue in him, feeling the way his body shudders and clenches. Reaching a hand around his hip to loosely cup his cock, giving him something to rut against and relieve a little pressure.]
[Lovely. An absolute joy, a pastime that Sampo could really get used to-- even how it makes him ache, since his hands are too busy to reach down and give himself a little self-service.]
no subject
He still can't help himself, though, not the noises (quiet, getting louder, Gepard tries to bite his hand- the one that's gripping the railing? he tries that, and then immediately staggers, and his hand slams down again) nor how much he likes it. He can't help rutting against the hand so helpfully provided for him, oblivious to the faces he's making- he's making faces, and Gepard would probably start kicking Sampo if he can see them and react to them. Sampo can't, and Gepard's oblivious. Everyone wins here.
His hand, the one tangled in Sampo's hair, loosens, and then grips again.]
Sampo, please.
[Don't ask him what he's asking Sampo to do, Gepard doesn't know, he's getting his ass devoured by a master and it's driving him mad.]
no subject
[But that's okay, because he doesn't have to know. Sampo will give him everything anyway.]
[Everything, in this case, is a finger slipping into him alongside Sampo's tongue, pressing smoothly against his slick insides. A three-way assault on Gepard, everything that he could do to him short of sitting the good Captain on his own cock-- and hopefully that'll come later, if he's done a very good job. A gift for them both for a job well done.]
[One of the only times that Gepard will get to see Sampo putting in an honest effort, and it's all to eat him out.]