etrayalogs | December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

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December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

WHO: Barnabas, his Behemoth (the monster, not the, oh nevermind--), and YOU!
WHEN: All through December baby!
WHERE: Mostly Stonhyrr, but some threads could be elsewhere too!
WHAT: Oh you know, big ol' fortress showed up, there's also a giant muscle cat, maybe people wanna see the fortress. Maybe they're gonna get mauled by a cat. The world is our oyster. Also going to use this for general purpose threads, doesn't have to be Behemoth related!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Will update as necessary!

While Barnabas has never proven himself the social sort, ever intending to remain as such, when people come to Stonhyrr to inspect it, they will not necessarily find him there to greet them. This does not mean that Barnabas is not within the bounds of Stonhyrr, he most assuredly is, but he has no interest in playing host. That is, unless he is given reason to.

What most will find is a singular bridge that connects the imposing fortress to the mainland, and the waters around it prove unnaturally violent. As if the very place itself causes the waters to churn and clash wildly against the jagged rocks which act as the foundation for the whole thing. The bridge is wide enough to adequately fit a pair of carriages, or cars if that better serves. The stone is sturdy, so there isn't any worry about weight being an issue. Most certainly not when one arrives at the arena that acts as a mid-point for the bridge.

There are no guard rails around it as the bridge possesses otherwise, just a sheer drop off into the treacherous waters below. Certainly a poor fate to any, whether they survive the fall or not. A fate all the more possible given the snow and bits of ice that has accumulated upon the structure. Even furthering the difficulty to avoid it, should they find themselves greeted by the bridge's guard: the Behemoth. From its rocky perch it will land with the grace of a feline, but with the impressive force of a creature befitting its size. More than twice the height of an elephant, and thrice as wide, the hulking beast will stare down the interloper(s) with murderous intent. Intent it means to make good on.

However, not everyone who crosses the bridge will meet the beast there, and should they find themselves able to make it to Stonhyrr proper, getting through the metal gates and into the winding outer paths that encircle the central castle, they will find it depressingly...empty. What living quarters there seems to be are indeed stocked with beds and linens, oddly enough, but as all else in Etraya that is not inhabited by those whisked away from their homeworlds, there is no one. They are modest, however, what one might expect for those living as communal soldiers in a medieval era.

Though, should they linger for too long, they might hear the telling breaths and foot steps of a prowling beast searching for the scent its picked up. Perhaps hiding isn't a terrible option, but who knows how much the creature cares about the architectural integrity of whatever part of the fortress they're in! Only one way to find out.

Some of the internal buildings are not merely for housing soldiers or weaponry (though said weaponry is distinctly missing presently). One may find themselves stumbling upon an podium of some sort, with six-legged horse statues on either side. The shape of the room almost suggests an arena of sorts, and the podium seems to embolden this suggestion. Perhaps it might have been a room to judge contests of combat and the like. Who is to really say? Should one linger here overlong, they might find themselves no longer alone. At least, they certainly feel as though someone is in the room with them. Someone watching them, perhaps from the shadows, or from above...

Those lucky enough to make it to the docks will find them bereft of any ships of any kind. It's clear that there probably should be some, but whoever brought this fortress in clearly did not bring any of his ships along! Though, one might take an interest in the surrounding area, and the structures nearby. Most will be empty, some with myriad things like rope, or scant pieces of wood, perhaps an empty crate or two, but it is, like most else, otherwise hollow. There are more of those weird horse statues though... The place is anything but bereft of them.

If it weren't for the behemoth prints left in the snow throughout the wide outer paths of the fortress, and its eagerness to find (and remove) intruders, the place would otherwise seem completely abandoned. Between the snow, angry waters, flashes of lightning, and claps of thunder...the place is cold, oppressive, and desolate. Should one find a way to reach the entrance to the castle, they will be stopped short from reaching the door proper. Not by the behemoth, but by the sudden emergence of Barnabas himself. A billowing pillar of black mist will form from the ground, reaching roughly the height of a man, before Barnabas takes form and the mist disperses and dissipates.

There he will stand, staring down the intruder, waiting for an explanation.

(ooc: Feel free to place your character wherever around Stonhyrr, not only just the places mentioned. Barnabas will keep an eye on any aerial intruders as well (he can also fly). Just date your top level for when this is happening, and if you wanna plot something specific or have any questions, please do not hesitate to hit me up at

Zornsable or on Discord(Zanono)! Feel free to have your own threads here too if multiple people are wanting to explore the grounds of the fortress (just specify in the subject line), I can provide information, a kitty, or an old man should it be needed! Anyway, enjoy this weird haunted-ass looking place, it sucks!

I will match style, prose or action are both good ✨)

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[Cid swipes his tongue over his lower lip as his eyes meet the other’s. He closes his eyes and tilts his head to kiss him. Fire rolls in his belly as they meet, his hands slide down to either side of his neck. He slowly breaks the kiss, forehead against the other man’s.]

Go to the bed. Sit.

You would command me.

[It isn't a question.

A wry huff leaves him as he contemplates obeying, and part of him knows he shouldn't. Yet, when their contact breaks, it is not in the defiance that he should be expressing. Instead, he indeed makes his way to the bed, the soft plat of his bare feet against stone sounding the trek as he then seats himself upon the expansive bed as it sinks beneath him. He watches Cid like a feline admiring a curiosity, though whether it is something meant for him to play with or kill is shrouded in the ambiguity of his dark gaze.

He cannot shake the certainty that Cid must be up to something. This all seems so...well, not out of form for his former Lord Commander, but he is being rather sweet in a way that he cannot help but analyze and grow suspicious of. It doesn't help what the man interrupted, besides.]

And you would obey.

[What if he is up to something?]

[Cid chuckles warmly as he watches him, enjoying every moment of it. This already felt like he had the upper hand in comparison to previous encounters. He rounds on him with his usual swagger, straddling his lap while still fully clothed, enjoying for a moment how he can look down at him. He plants a hand on his chest to shove his well-muscled back into the mattress. ]

[He doesn't deny his obedience, though blade to his throat he might. Yet, here Cid comes to straddle him as if his lap were Sleipnir's back, the rough leather of his clothes rubbing against his exposed skin—a weaker man might have reacted. Barnabas only watches him with those sharp, steel eyes of his, but as he is pushed back onto the bed, he allows himself a little resistance, before the mattress would catch him, his heart beating slightly more emphatically for it all.

His hands find themselves on Cid's thighs, fingers spread and firm in their hold. More to feel than the grab. Still his eyes are upon the man over him, his shaggy hair laying haphazardly against the bedding beneath him, all around his head like a lightless burst.]

You are overdressed, Cidolfus.

[Was he going to need the cuffs at all? He’s eager- or, well. as compliant as he ever gets. He complained plenty the last few times too, though eventually buckled. Though not fully. Cid moves his hips side to side against Barnabas’ hands seductively, like he’s charming a snake. He manages not to look at his bag with the cuffs, laying like a snare beneath the forest leaves. ]

Don’t you worry, I’ll strip down properly for you.

[He says this sweetly as he places his hands on Barnabas’ own, lacing their fingers together. He tilts his palms inward to take each hand properly in his own. He squeezes them, bringing each hand up to kiss his knuckles. ]

Just be patient, eh?

[And then he plants Barnabas’ arms above his head, shifting to hold them in one hand before coming down to kiss him again. ]

[This is a ploy, a voice in the back of his mind insists, and yet Barnabas is not worried.

There is little power that Cid could hold over him, in fact, none at all in truth. Save that annoying warmth he feels in his breast at times, but nothing physical. Cid is worn down, half petrified as it is, he is not the firebrand he once was, and while his power was certainly something that spark something akin to hope in Barnabas ages ago, it does little to serve that purpose now.

So as his arms are placed above his head, he does not think that there is anything that Cid could do to keep them there beyond what Barnabas himself allows. Even as Cid kisses him, and he kisses him back, he scarcely imagines the fetters that Cid has in his bag. Those fetters, specifically?

Barnabas considers them far too late, the dim light of the room meaning little with his eyes closed as they are, his groin responsive as it is proving to be, particularly with Cid's hip movements. He is a beast starved of faith, and while this is a poor substitute, it is a distracting from the void that is otherwise gnawing at him.]

[Cid knows profoundly that he has no edge over Barnabas without the cuffs. He doesn’t even feel shame about it, really. This is what man made inventions were for- leveling the playing field.]

[He deepens the kiss and rolls his clothed groin against Barnabas’ naked one. He reaches up, cool and smooth and silent… and bites Barnabas’ lower lip as he slips one cuff on, and then the other, releasing his wrists only long enough to latch his bonds. And then he braces for the other man to fight it.]

[The first cuff is a bit odd, but at first he considers the performance of what Cid might be after here. The idea of Barnabas being his captive, that perhaps that will heighten Cid's enjoyment of whatever it is he's doing. After all, he took to commanding Barnabas, and so this might be proving to be some manner of bedroom play. It isn't as if he and Benedikta had not done their own form of it before, though less with cuffs, and more with how they acted with one another. A deception, one that Barnabas did not fall for, yet Benedikta did...

The second clasp, and the mechanism clicking to life is what confirms that this is not simply an act. He feels it, feels how it painfully takes control of the aether that pumps through his body, and for all that grinding that Cidolfus did to elicit an his excitement, Barnabas finds himself quickly forgetting it as something nearing panic seizes him.

This is not a mere restraint of power, this takes away much more than that—it is only the dimness of the light that conceals what his fading glamour did, how his skin greys as the illusion fades to reveal truth. Barnabas' eyes flash open for a moment, then he casts them downward to not reveal their subtle glow, his body otherwise rigid, his teeth grit.]

...So this was all a ruse after all.

[He sounds disappointed, though there is a thread of anger laced through the words as well.]

… Hardly. This is meant to help you. How many times were you going to choke, unable to take what you really wanted?

[He gazes down at Barnabas and heaves a sigh, like it was all in a day’s work. He sits back onto Barnabas’ lap and begins to strip- pulling away belts and clasps at a leisurely pace.]

I’m not a monster. And I’m not here to trap you if you don’t want it. Say the word and I’ll let you go free. … But stay a while, and I’ll show you something worth your time.

[He pulls his jacket open and lets it pour down his arms behind him. He unhooks the front of his shirt, contorting his arms slightly to wriggle out of the form fitting garment. He rolls his shoulders, his neck, then lifts his hips to undo his trousers. ]

[There's a long pause from Barnabas. Which might seem like he's contemplating what Cid just said, but in truth he's...surprised that Cid doesn't seem to be reacting to him. Can he not see him? His bare form before him? His skin grey and lifeless, not unlike the stone which marred his own? It could not be that Cid didn't care that Barnabas is akashic, right?

Again he flashes his gaze at Cid a moment, then keeps his eyes lowered, and he realizes that the warmth of the fire's dim light might make the color difficult for him to parse. Perhaps this secret main yet be maintained if he keeps Cid busy. He cannot help but notice how the dampening on the aether seems to dampen some of its effects, how much more aware he is of sensations both physical and...emotional.

The way Cid moves to undress, and how his eyes linger on his body as it continues to be exposed, bit by tantalizing bit. Barnabas' mouth presses into a line.]

I do not see how it will help me. These fetters only assist you.

[But he doesn't try to pull his arms free, part of his mind wills for the fire to go out completely, but it stubbornly continues to burn, beating back the safety of darkness as the flame ever has proven itself wont to do.]

...But very well. You have my attention.

Excellent.

[Cid stands, turning his back for a moment to take off his boots and pull his pants off completely. His mind goes to last time, how he couldn’t allow himself to go all the way, so to speak. And Barnabas’ little half answers were precisely what he was trying to break through with this.]

Just trust me, would you?

[he drops his trousers to the ground and steps out of them. He stretches and turns back around to face Barnabas. It was indeed entirely too low of light to really see him. Sure, he could make out edges of things, but that didn’t help any. His voice is searching, truly curious, gentle.]

I’m not sure what it is, why you resist something you clearly want.

[He comes back to the bed as he says this to give Barnabas’ arousal a pointed squeeze.]

[Barnabas watches as Cid fully undresses himself, unblinking in his silent admiration of his form, yet there is something mournful to it as well. Taking in his body, the state of it, each time it does not get any easier. That he had taken such terrible care of himself up till the end is...a shame, really. He should have known better—he did know better. All of Waloed knew how to weather the cost of their powers, and yet here he stood, half stone.

Though to be asked to trust Cidolfus is a jest, really, but still he remains where he is, arms above his head where Cid left them. He sucks in a sharp breath at the squeeze, his cock throbbing from the attention, but so too the longing he feels aching in his chest.]

My present state should say enough on the matter.

[Had he ignored those troublesome desires which still seem to linger, he would not be fettered right now...]

[All rewards have their risks, unfortunately.]

Indeed it does.

[Cid gives him another squeeze as he considers what to do with him. He thinks about last time, the way he put his mouth on him with such eagerness- only to stop short and fuck his thighs. Cid stares down at him for a moment, making resolute what he had already thought to do. ]

Left me teased last time. Well, I won’t do you the same disservice.

[Cid pushes Barnabas’ legs up as he slides off the bed, knees on the carpet, immediately going to return that particular favor. He tongues down the crease of his thigh until he finds the pucker and drags the flat of his tongue over it. ]

[With his breath held without notice, Barnabas does not fight against Cid as he pushes his legs upward, though the breath does not find its release until that traveling tongue drags across the sensitive skin of his entrance. He tenses slightly, flexing the muscle there, his abs likewise tightening as the breath aborts itself but is quickly drawn back in.

The sight of Cid between his legs, just beyond his own erection is erotic in ways he cannot explain—ways he has not dared to envision. He casts his gaze away, closing his eyes so that he might continue to be spared Cid's impending revelation of Barnabas' nature now. The dim light of the room and the warmth of the fire does enough to mask him, he cannot allow his eyes to ruin this...

Not with that blissful tongue on his hole. He eases against it, melts against the feeling, shame and euphoria battle within his mind, but there is something animal within him that hungers for it and more.]

[Cid’s own eyes are closed. It’s not like he’s at a normal viewing distance- much less light situation. He makes tender, careful work of it, enjoying how Barnabas sounds and reacts against it all. It’s damn near peaceful, really. He casually oils his fingers as he rises from there to take each of his balls in his mouth, one at a time, teasing and rolling them across his tongue. He eases a finger into him as he takes his shaft in the opposite hand to give it an affectionate stroke.]

[He would have him undone and begging before he continued. That would be the only way to make a real case for his use of the cuffs. He searches with his oiled finger- in that tight heat, searching for that spot he’d only touched once before.]

[His nerves ignite from the sensation, both the heat and gesture of his mouth and tongue working him over in ways even he finds difficult to describe. Not that he needs to, when really he is meant to lay here, captured, and manipulated by the pleasure Cid is intent on inflicting on him.

His head rolls back against the mattress, against his arms which lay above his head. Burying his face against his bicep, he breathes out a hot breath against damp skin as Cid's well-oiled fingers find his hole while he attends his balls. One at a time, sucking on them with such pointed care that Barnabas can feel a fire burn in his belly and face. That stroke to his throbbing cock only driving this further into that tantalizing flame...

Yet, it never seems to burn enough, never seems to scorch him to his soul. Leave him as nothing but a cinder, used up and spent, but the thought of it, the fantasy, makes his hips twitch and his cock throb. His inner walls clench around that finger which presses into him just right...]

...Cidolfus...

[He more hisses the name than says it, his hips quaking slightly as he tries to hold maintain control of himself. Some semblance of maintained discipline.]

Edited 2025-02-23 02:25 (UTC)

[And all according to plan, so far. He’s incredibly hard in his hand and pliant otherwise. He thrusts another finger into him as he releases his ball from his mouth. He tilts his cock over towards his thigh, kissing lazily up his shaft. He opens his eyes, gaze flicking over the halo of firelight captured against his silhouette.]

[He listens carefully for his breaths, rests his palm against his pubis to feel every twitch and jolt of his body- letting his cock swing back against his cheek. He lets it connect before finding the head with his slackened jaw, pulling it in with tongue and lips.]

[He shoves a third finger in, testing him.]

[He doesn't dare open his eyes, keeping them closed with his face pressed firm against his arm still. He even bites the flesh of his bicep as he feels himself swing against Cid's cheek, feels the way Cid's fingers press into him with blinding pleasure. Then his warm, wet mouth engulfs him and he's uncertain if he will breathe again.

His hips shake with his want to buck against his mouth, to grind against those fingers inside him that are driving him towards an edge he can't seem to cross. Even as a third stretches him, he wants more. He feels as though he is a yawning chasm and nothing will be enough to fill him, yet every spark of electric-like pleasure that surges through him with each well placed press, suck, or stroke he finds himself drawing closer to finding satisfaction which has ever eluded him.

His face is hot as his teeth continue to trap skin between them, legs shaking as he breathes out a soft, almost imperceptible whine. His cock oozes pre-cum, the taste of it being Cid's primary indication of that. Shakily, Barnabas' hips buck forward, his balls swaying with the movement, and he finally releases his arm... which he's nearly broke the skin of.]

What are you waiting for—Cidolfus!

That.

[He replies simply as he pops off of Barnabas’ cock. He withdraws his fingers and grabs Barnabas firmly by the hip- and flips him with as much of his strength as he can commit to. Barnabas is heavy, but Cid is energized. He reaches in between his legs to fish his cock out from underneath him, pulling it straight back to be pinned against the bed by his weight.]

[He watches the firelight glint off of the cuffs desirously for a moment, moth to flame, before looking away- busying his hands and cock with the oil.]

[And then he pulls his ass cheeks aside and lines himself up with legs on either side of Barnabas’ muscular thighs, holding his breath as he slowly nudges against that ring of muscle. As soon as he can feel himself slide in, he relaxes, dropping his weight against the give of Barnabas’ insides to sink into him.]

[There is both relief that fills him and dread that grips him as Cid flips him over. The mere moments the action takes feels like eons as his sensitive cock is fished out from beneath him (which he angles his hips to make the task simpler). He shudders at the feel of the fabric of the sheets and Cid's warm hand against it, but there is almost something more alluring about it being pinned back this way, otherwise neglected. Save for how his own balls rest upon the shaft of it.

That he can bury his face into the bed while Cid buries his cock deep within his core is its own blessing too. Barnabas is almost alarmingly easy to press into, the way he opens to Cid misrepresents his actual inexperience. Despite everything, Barnabas finds his body relaxed, wanting, and accommodating for Cid in ways he did not quite imagine himself capable.

His eyes are screwed shut, but his mouth hangs as his forehead presses against the mattress, hot breaths panting against it as his back flexes and his core begins to grip Cid once he's fully inside. His own cock leaking its excitement in a small wet spot at the tip, but he keeps himself still.

He wants Cid to properly claim him. If this is what he's truly doing, right now...]

Go on, then...

[Cid’s breath hitches as he bottoms out, deep inside the other man. He drops his weight onto Barnabas’ back, fully meeting him skin to skin. He lays against him, head against his broad back as he lifts and tilts his hips to fuck him. It’s close, it’s intimate, it’s almost cuddling- Cid snakes an arm underneath him in any gap he can find. And then he’s just rolling his hips against the other man, fucking him like this is a private affair, like he’s fucking a pillow in the dark. Or like a rutting beast, taken by instinct alone.]

[He screws his eyes shut as he enjoys it, the press of their skin fully together, the heat of him. The smell- He groans as he adjusts his legs, finding a way in that strikes even deeper. He picks up the pace, fucking him hard and desperate, chasing, his hips slapping loudly against Barnabas’ soft ass.]

[He snarls against him, gripping him tight around the middle as he bites the flesh under his lips, animalistic in its intensity. ]

Edited 2025-02-23 03:18 (UTC)

[The animal yet intimate nature, something driven by the physicality, the almost gentle domination of it makes something snap in Barnabas' mind. The feel of Cid's bare skin to his, the smell of his scent, of their sex, the sound of their breath as Cid slides into him again and again...

His mind blanks and his body and soul gives into him. An euphoric haze infiltrates his mind, his senses, and the only thing that seems to keep him grounded into reality is every brush of Cid's cock against his prostate. Except each hit against it only feeds deeper this frenzy of pleasure, and he feels he might never escape this ruin.

He's not entirely sure he wants to.

Barnabas' body moves with Cid's, almost in perfect tandem, each rock he meets, each press he welcomes. His muscles flex and his hips quiver, but he accepts him each and every time. His hand grip at the sheets in lieu of anything better. and the fiery heat of Cid's hands upon him is truly transcendence.]

I...I am... [He huffs the words out, breathless and whining.] ...Claim me... Release yourself...

[A pleased groan as Cid hits his prostate again, his cock near ready to burst.]

[Cid kisses down his spine as he lifts himself onto his hands for leverage, each on either side of Barnabas’ head. He adjusts his hips, and though he lifts himself, he does not move far from the other. The damp heat still runs from him to Barnabas, closing him in against the bed.]

[He fucks into him, Barnabas’ words grabbing his mind and flooding it. The desperation, the begging to be taken- how different this was from every time before when his words ran almost directly in contradiction to what he wanted, what they did.]

[He wants to resist, hold out, continue to fuck him at this punishing pace- But it feels entirely too good. When was the last time he did this? He doesn’t even bother to check on Barnabas. He would either come or he wouldn’t, and that was a problem that could wait.]

[Cid shifts once more, his nuts resting on top of Barnabas’ ass as he hammers into him, shallow and frantic, chasing his orgasm with single-minded focus. Cid moans, deep and reverberating against the back of Barnabas’ skull as the heat and friction finally builds and he begins to spill.]

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December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

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