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[personal profile] ossie_oswald

"Send me a kiss by wire~"



A floral old-fashioned telephone with roses

Date: 2024-02-25 09:01 pm (UTC)
goodweather: (shaman of the shadows!)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Phil exhales softly as the shoe comes up against him. He places a hand over top of it, then presses his lips down to kiss it through his fingers. His other hand peeks into Ossie's pant leg, his broad grasp sliding up the calf.

"I did, didn't I?" he hums as he pulls at the laces, hooking a talon into the lip and maneuvering it off of his foot; he leaves Ossie's ankle resting on his shoulder as he goes to take off the other. "Why don't you tell me more about that daydream of yours? Tell me aaall about it."

Date: 2024-02-26 12:15 am (UTC)
goodweather: (who can see today)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Phil takes off his socks with a claw sliding against skin; not much to be had tearing those off, but after that, Phil lets Ossie's feet slide off of him as he advances in, lowering himself down.

"Maybe some of us have a bit of a weak imagination," he purrs as his chin slides over the bump of his crotch, hands moving across his hips. "Or would love to have a little tale spun of it."

He hooks his talons into his waistband alongside his teeth, still holding eye contact.

Date: 2024-02-26 12:50 am (UTC)
goodweather: (74)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
There's a shift in Phil's posture. Good. Okay. Further elaboration and permission of what Ossie wants, what he's allowed to do here.

He lifts his head, and he spends a while looking thoughtful while his claws knead a bit on Ossie's stomach, winding his shirt out from being tucked into his pants. "Mmm," he says eventually. "I think I understand the moral of the story here."

... And then pauses again, rather more actually thoughtful rather than just for show. "Say--what're your thoughts on animal-looking people?"

Date: 2024-02-26 12:59 am (UTC)
goodweather: (shaman of the shadows!)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
"Mmm--I have this little trinket that I thought I should bring with me, just in case."

He pulls it from his jacket pocket: a beautiful jet-black watch with gold accents, which he deftly fastens to his own wrist. The moment he puts the tail under the little fastening strap, there's this soft flash of moonlight, and when it fades, Phil is looking remarkably different.

"I used to turn into this regularly back in the last world I was stolen into." He grins with a mouth full of predatory teeth. "Something about a magic moon. Bit of a werefox. If you like this better...?"

Date: 2024-02-26 01:15 am (UTC)
goodweather: (emerging from his burrow!)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Phil barks out a laugh, delighted at this reaction and that he's still wanted. "Oh, let me have my fun first," he hums as he lowers himself down again, head and hands settling for a moment on Ossie's stomach.

Then teeth and gold claws scrape down on Ossie's skin as they catch into his pants' waistband, and Phil tears one side from the other with a growl of effort, the fastener popping clean off and the seams splitting as if the thread was cheap and the job was shoddy.

"I only have an hour of this," he says as his claws dig into one of the pant legs and he tears that open too, "so I'll be a little quick about getting these off, if you don't mind."

Date: 2024-02-26 01:41 am (UTC)
goodweather: (woodchuck chuckers!)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Off goes the other pant leg, and the only thing in his way from the hips down is the man's undergarments, visibly tented. Phil makes this low sound in the back of his throat as he closes his right eye and turns his head slightly so he can look at it without interference from his cataracts.

"Aren't you pretty," he huffs. He has a brief thought about just taking that all in his mouth right now. Having a muzzle means it won't reach his throat, and he can press it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue--no, but it means he wouldn't be able to put these teeth to good use.

Which, Ossie's sweater and tie are in the way of that, so don't mind Phil as he moves up and presses his knee in against his crotch so he can reach up and tear off the sweater vest, not a care for any bruising or scratching he leaves along the way. His head twists to the side for better leverage like an animal ripping skin from a carcass.

Date: 2024-02-26 03:05 am (UTC)
goodweather: (74)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Good, good, all good sounds; Phil had been playing up the whole animal hunger thing for the theatrics of it, but now he's finding it becoming a little less of an act. Ossie makes himself awfully enticing, and there isn't much reason for Phil to resist. He wants it rough.

"Ng--" Phil is tugged out of his building frenzy by a tug forward on the neck, a breath escaping him. Phil blinks at him, with his stilled hands bunched up in the shirt he was about to tear the buttons from. Ossie wants his attention. For what? Does he need to pull back, dive in harder? Be redirected?

(It's not intentional, but the whole fox thing makes him look remarkably like an animal leashed and brought to heel.)

Date: 2024-02-26 10:44 am (UTC)
goodweather: (30)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Phil grins at the praise. Doesn’t even try to move to take his tie out of Ossie’s hand as he goes back into it, claws digging into his sternum as he reaches in to tear his shirt open. Ossie’s tie gets undone with impatient hands, and then his smooth body is all free reign.

(Except for where Phil’s left his undergarments on, of course.)

A yellow tongue licks a slow stripe from navel to collarbone, claws pressing into ribs. When he’s at the top, he sits up a little. “Right, so—for my own ease of mind, just let me know how far I can go. I’m not biting your dick off, but, do you expect… I don’t know, blood drawn?”

Date: 2024-02-27 07:14 pm (UTC)
goodweather: (emerging from his burrow!)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
"No, no, this is good. Thank you, that makes me feel a lot better."

And for that, of course, he's going to go ahead and make out with Ossie, muzzle and all. It's the natural course of action. Bit messy, too, considering he hasn't really got cheeks.

And then back to business. Phil pulls away and removes his knee; bending down, he grips Ossie's undergarments with his teeth, meeting his eyes, and jerks upwards with a grunt to tear it away in tandem with his claws.

Date: 2024-02-27 11:35 pm (UTC)
goodweather: (20)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Phil feels the wind knocked out of him at the sight. He’s—Christ, shit, that’s—where on the ship did he even get that, did Friday hand him a box straight out of the Erda—?

“Jesus Christ,” he marvels breathlessly, as he realizes that Ossie had that in him that the whole time while they were in the bar. Was walking with it. Was sat in his arms with it. If Phil wasn’t hard already, that’s definitely done the job. “I, um—yeah, that’s, I was wondering—very considerate, thank you.”

He spends another beat just staring hungrily at Ossie before his hand reaches down to undo his belt, metal clinking as the buckle comes loose. Off comes the clasp of his pants, the zipper, the boxers, until his own cock meets the air; it’s kind of a lot of layers, but he always enjoyed being unwrapped.

Phil produces a condom from his jacket pocket and slips it on, and picks up a bottle of lube from the end table to drizzle it over his fingers. He meets Ossie’s eyes and, just for show, runs his tongue over the back teeth as he slicks himself up.

When he’s done, the same hand brushes against Ossie’s entrance, leaving wet traces. “M’kay. Ready, darling?”

Date: 2024-02-28 12:13 am (UTC)
goodweather: (58)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
Phil puts his claws around the plug, and slowly, carefully, slides it out. Watching Ossie fold around it as it’s removed is—hell, he hasn’t laid with anyone in a year and a half and he’s pretty sure it shows. There’s not much he can do about the hoarse noise he makes or the tightening grip of his other hand on his hip.

Phil puts it down on the end table. He settles in between Ossie’s legs, gets comfortable, makes sure he’s lined up; his tip finds the entrance, and when he pushes in, he holds his breath.

Date: 2024-02-28 12:40 am (UTC)
goodweather: (63)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
He only exhales when he’s well and seated in. Sex isn’t a need by any means, no, but it sure as hell is nice in his book, and after so long on his own, just sitting here with the feeling of Ossie around him is doing weird and new things to his brain chemistry.

“The wait,” he chuckles, “gee, what a compliment. I’m doing great.” (A massive understatement, if the Glamour he’s bleeding is anything to go by.) “What about you? Good so far?”

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Oswald Wuthridge

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