"There you go," he rumbles approvingly, and like a reward for good behaviour his thumb is back on Molly's clit, rubbing up and down and in circles until it's hard and swollen and then flicking it, oh gods. Molly screeches. It's fucking embarrassing but he can't help it, can't hold it back any more than he could stop the sun from going up, and Fjord laughs at him, the bastard.
"A little more, c'mon, you're doing great," he coaxes, probing with a third finger until it slips in alongside the other two and takes Molly from nicely full to stuffed. He can feel his pulse throb around those fingers, clenching uncontrollably, leaking slick down Fjord's hand. The flexing of them makes his breath punch out of him in an overwhelmed huff and the feeling spikes from his crotch up his spine to the inside of his skull, over and over again until his toes are curling, thighs trembling and tightening, and just when he thinks he's due to come for sure Fjord changes the pace up on him.
Suddenly his fingers are straight and driving into Molly deep with what feels like all the force of his powerful arm behind it. Somehow Molly doesn't come on the spot, but he's being fucked in earnest now, rocked back and forth by it, his back hitting the tree behind him on every stroke. If it weren't for his death grip on Fjord's shoulders, he'd be on the ground by now. He's not sure any more if this is supposed to be a punishment or a reward but he loves every damn second of it, loves being played like an instrument as every time he gets close the stimulation changes on him again and throws him off. Stiff fingers fucking him silly, crooked fingers pushing in behind his pubic bone until he sees stars, so fucking good every time but always just out-of-step enough that he loses the peak just before he reaches it.
He can't beg for it without talking and he can't talk, isn't allowed to and couldn't find the words anyway. So he just whines, insensate and needy, half-shuttered eyes casting a red glow on his cheeks.
"That's good, that's real good, I knew you could be good," Fjord says, and his calloused thumb is back rubbing Molly into a frenzy while something in him greedily drinks up the praise, and finally, finally. His whole body just goes taut. Everything is red and rushing pulse and waves of violent wrecking pleasure, sweet fire burning outwards in clenching convulsions. He hits his head on the tree again and doesn't notice or care.
He doesn't exactly black out, but between barely standing up on trembling legs and sitting down on the ground in a thoroughly fucked-out pile of limbs there's a bit Molly doesn't remember too clearly. Fjord has sort of gathered him against his broad chest, which is very nice and considerate of him after making him come so hard he's not quite sure which way is up and which is down.
"Nnng," he says, and "oh, ohh," and this has fucking done him in, this is it. He can feel the vibration as Fjord chuckles, doesn't say anything for a while, then laughs again.
"Look at that, it worked like a charm. Now I know there's at least two ways to shut you up."
"Oh, yes, you should try this the next time we're all in tavern, I'm sure the others will appreciate that trick," Molly snaps back without heat, glad to realize that his wits haven't been totally fucked out of him.
"Aha, there it is. It was nice while it lasted."
"Mmh, that it was." His hand settles on Fjord's thigh, squeezing the corded muscle there, then slowly wanders higher. If he was feeling pent-up before, Fjord has got to be absolutely dying for it by now. Molly tilts his head up and winks. "...If you give me a moment to catch my breath, we can try the second way."
Fill: Two known ways to make Mollymauk Tealeaf shut the hell up (2/2)
"There you go," he rumbles approvingly, and like a reward for good behaviour his thumb is back on Molly's clit, rubbing up and down and in circles until it's hard and swollen and then flicking it, oh gods. Molly screeches. It's fucking embarrassing but he can't help it, can't hold it back any more than he could stop the sun from going up, and Fjord laughs at him, the bastard.
"A little more, c'mon, you're doing great," he coaxes, probing with a third finger until it slips in alongside the other two and takes Molly from nicely full to stuffed. He can feel his pulse throb around those fingers, clenching uncontrollably, leaking slick down Fjord's hand. The flexing of them makes his breath punch out of him in an overwhelmed huff and the feeling spikes from his crotch up his spine to the inside of his skull, over and over again until his toes are curling, thighs trembling and tightening, and just when he thinks he's due to come for sure Fjord changes the pace up on him.
Suddenly his fingers are straight and driving into Molly deep with what feels like all the force of his powerful arm behind it. Somehow Molly doesn't come on the spot, but he's being fucked in earnest now, rocked back and forth by it, his back hitting the tree behind him on every stroke. If it weren't for his death grip on Fjord's shoulders, he'd be on the ground by now.
He's not sure any more if this is supposed to be a punishment or a reward but he loves every damn second of it, loves being played like an instrument as every time he gets close the stimulation changes on him again and throws him off. Stiff fingers fucking him silly, crooked fingers pushing in behind his pubic bone until he sees stars, so fucking good every time but always just out-of-step enough that he loses the peak just before he reaches it.
He can't beg for it without talking and he can't talk, isn't allowed to and couldn't find the words anyway. So he just whines, insensate and needy, half-shuttered eyes casting a red glow on his cheeks.
"That's good, that's real good, I knew you could be good," Fjord says, and his calloused thumb is back rubbing Molly into a frenzy while something in him greedily drinks up the praise, and finally, finally. His whole body just goes taut. Everything is red and rushing pulse and waves of violent wrecking pleasure, sweet fire burning outwards in clenching convulsions. He hits his head on the tree again and doesn't notice or care.
He doesn't exactly black out, but between barely standing up on trembling legs and sitting down on the ground in a thoroughly fucked-out pile of limbs there's a bit Molly doesn't remember too clearly. Fjord has sort of gathered him against his broad chest, which is very nice and considerate of him after making him come so hard he's not quite sure which way is up and which is down.
"Nnng," he says, and "oh, ohh," and this has fucking done him in, this is it. He can feel the vibration as Fjord chuckles, doesn't say anything for a while, then laughs again.
"Look at that, it worked like a charm. Now I know there's at least two ways to shut you up."
"Oh, yes, you should try this the next time we're all in tavern, I'm sure the others will appreciate that trick," Molly snaps back without heat, glad to realize that his wits haven't been totally fucked out of him.
"Aha, there it is. It was nice while it lasted."
"Mmh, that it was." His hand settles on Fjord's thigh, squeezing the corded muscle there, then slowly wanders higher. If he was feeling pent-up before, Fjord has got to be absolutely dying for it by now. Molly tilts his head up and winks. "...If you give me a moment to catch my breath, we can try the second way."