(no subject)

[selfwound]

WHAT Last chance for timefuck except not really
WHERE Wherever
WHEN Day 127, whenever

[So, you've been messing around with time.]

[Okay, we've actually been doing that, yeah. Quiet Mounds is still a bit unpredictable, with the seasons and the clocks a little haywire. Today, there's another little pulse of magic. Maybe some of you find yourself back to normal? Or maybe more people are suddenly the wrong age or timeline. Maybe Deadpool shows up. I don't know.]

[Last post for deage/age-up/etc event, though obviously you can continue to backthread or play at your leisure after this.]

Comments

[curatorrid]

[lips parted, gazing at him hazily]

[turnonmycharm]

[starts to step backwards into the apartment, drawing Booth with him, clasping his hands]

Alright?

[curatorrid]

Y-yes, I'm. I'm alright.

[just so turned on he's probably gonna lose it before he even gets touched but you know]

[turnonmycharm]

Bedroom—?

[kissing him again before he can answer, and Booth can just feel the warm wave of desire coming back at him]

[curatorrid]

P- [fine ok just kissing back]

[turnonmycharm]

[let's get you onto this bed. how did we get here? nobody's paying attention.]

[Tristan leans heavily over him, still kissing]

[curatorrid]

[arches up under him, almost coming just from that] Nn...

[turnonmycharm]

Mmh—

[he could . . . say something? but why say something when he can just kiss Booth, hard and deep, over and over]

[curatorrid]

[kisses him messily and breathless and needy]

[turnonmycharm]

[slides his hand slowly down Booth's chest, well aware that he's not going to be able to make this last]

[curatorrid]

[I mean, you're a demon, you can do what you want. But he's just whimpering]

[turnonmycharm]

[well, that's not fun]

[dipping his hand into the front of Booth's pants, shoving them haphazardly down]

[curatorrid]

[yelps and grabs onto him]

[turnonmycharm]

[draws back so he can make eye-contact; gaze fond, grin lascivious, hand stroking him firmly just once, then jerking him off relentlessly]

[curatorrid]

[He's gone. Absolutely, not so much tipped over the edge as thrown over]

[turnonmycharm]

[shudders, groaning softly, wanting to just gulp him down but holding himself back, looking at Booth with incredible need]

[curatorrid]

[panting through it, overwhelmed]

[turnonmycharm]

Good . . . that's good . . .

[softly, murmuring against him]

[curatorrid]

[oh i'm still alive. I might even have a soul? who believes in those tho]

A-ah, you...

[turnonmycharm]

Liked that . . .?

[curatorrid]

Y-yes, I. Er. B-but. About you?