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Tango's mountain is impressive - his cock isn't bad either from what Joel's heard.
Enough that he can wander it and be left in hauntingly blissful isolation for quite a time. He usually hates being so alone on the server, the voices in your head can only keep you company so long… but does provide some opportunities: like descending into the depths of Tango's corrupted mountain with his cock and hole out, adorned in only a set of frilly white thigh highs and opera gloves.
Passing under one of the large skulk tentacles, a shiver dances along the base of his spine and his cock thobs at the engorged, thick, monstrous tentacle gently swaying in the mountainous winds.
Look, how can he not get a little a lot turned on by such an impressive build?!
When the idea errantly crossed his mind he chuckled it away, outlandish and silly, but the more it floated back into his mind, the more Joel found himself drifting towards the mountain. He puts his clothes into a ender chest and puts on his new garments, and even just standing a little outside his home, a dangerous rushing warmth fizzles across his back and loops round to his chest like warm arms hugging him.
The sensation is quickly intoxicating. The idea that anyone could find him on the side of the mountain and tease him for being such a pervert, maybe even proposition him for a quickie - he clearly must be in the mood if he is prancing round like a prismatic slut - has his breathing floaty and crackling with a barely restrained excitement by the time he is descending into Tango's personal crypt: and it isn't just from the climb.
Descending down, his hard cock throbbing and slapping against himself as it bounces with each step, Joel pokes his head into Tango's personal crypt and a shiver ripples across his shoulders. Such shivers are expected in a place as haunted as Greywick and it's mountains, but these are not conjured by the terror of the place, but by the preserve excitement at the sight of Tango's coffin and what he has been thinking about.
Clambering atop with a racing heart, Joel places the dildo he has been carrying with him on the flat top of the coffin Tango rests in - the thought of his slumbering in there while Joel bounces atop it makes a dribble of pre spurt from his cock - before drowning it in a bucket of slick lube.
Although calling it just a 'dildo' would be a disservice to the work Zed put into it. In actuality, it is a toy replica of Tango's pelvis region, complete with a short length of spread thighs, a near accurate replica of his cock, a soft squishy hole to slide into, and even his tail which until now was bundles up but Joel unfurls it and let's it drape over the coffin and onto the floor. Truth be told it was a little weird when Joel first saw it… but now, head swimming with wanton desires as it is, its easier to imagine the good count under him.
It shines in the flickering light of Tango's personal residence and Joel can feel himself salivating and hear his heart roaring in his ears, his antenna quiver with a exhilarating mix of nerves and lustful want. Tango could come back any moment, find him debasing himself, making a mess atop his coffin like some slut… Joel whines-growls at the humiliating thought and exhales with a shudder, looking down at his needy cock between his legs, dribbling pre atop the coffin.
With one hand on the coffin's lid to steady himself, and the other helping guide the abundantly lubed dildo - Tango - to his hole, Joel bears down on it and gasps as it pushes against him. Circling his hips atop it, the rounded slick head teases his hole, massaging embers of warmth into his hips that rise into humming exhales.
Grinding his hips down again, Joel's breath catches as the head of the cock pushes and prods against him and despite how slick it is, it just won't slide into him. Joel's taken big, for better and worse, but something about the nerves and thrills racing his heart has him tighter than usual and even trying to slide the head of it in aches more than he expects.
A little growl of frustrations rattles through his thorax like pebbles down the mountain side - blummin' prepped and everything before this so he could just get to it - grinding against the dildo with determination, a dull ache seeping across his back side as it pokes and prods, starts stretching him and a twang of pain catches his breath.
However as Joel lifts his head on reflex, his eyes fall on the grand portrait of the Count of Greywick and Clank that hangs in the inner chambers - bit vain much T. Regardless, Joel is transfixed by the painting and how it feels as if Tango is looking down on him, perfectly poised in his chair impossible high above him casting a fixed, expectant, gaze over him as he struggles with the toy.
Something about the lustre of those big ruby eyes shoots a shiver down to his hips and with embarrassing ease, the dildo slips into him as if there had never been any resistance, bottoming out with a squelch as Joel's ass spreads and slides atop the slick mess atop the synthetic replica of Tango's lap.
The sudden ease at which he fills him catches him by surprise.
Just as easy as Joel opens for the toy, so too does his throat with a gasping rolling moan that echoes quite someways. Rushing a hand to his mouth, Joel clamps it over his mouth as he settles atop the toy, rolling intensity hitting him like waves as he clenches and squeezes the toy prodding deep into him.
Muffled moans and gasps warm his palm as he starts rolling his hips all too eagerly atop the coffin. Sure no one is on, but it's fine to pretend it is, like anyone could come and find him.
It's not long before Joel is riding in earnest and his hand joins the other in resting flat against the coffin as moans past his bottom lip held captive by his teeth. The slick sound echoing makes him shiver, pleasure kindling throughout his chest and down his spine. With each rise and fall, a crackle of a steadily roaring pleasure begins to fill him, his only companion the sounds of his own pleasure and slick debauchery.
Joel wastes little time in keeping a slow rhythm once he feels just how easily his hole swallows the toy.
He keeps looking at the painting of Tango, hanging above, watching him reduce himself to a moaning shivering mess atop his coffin, bouncing atop the toy even harder underneath the count's gaze. If he could see this… would he be mad, or would he bend him over the coffin and take out all his frustrations on him - the though has Joel lips faltering and a hearty moan booming into the air.
Roaring bliss and the squelching of ecstasy flood the air as the head of the toy brushes against a tender stretch. The intensity of the pleasure seizes his lungs and Joel gasps before instantly grinding into that spot, pressing against it hard caring not the obscene noises it pulls out of him as the rounded head works it until it feels like it will bruise under the intensity.
The debauched symphony spills out and Joel can feel a tightness knotting beneath his gut. He's actually gonna… His lungs swell with the feeling until it feels like he can't breath with how frantic the noises spilling out of him stuff his mouth: his hips start to burn and the coffin creaks and groans from how hard he is slamming down on the toy atop it, hammering deep until his head cranes back and a obscene cry of pleasure spills out of him. His orgasm crashes into him. Clenching around the toy, his orgasm washes through him while his cock throbs and spurts lines of cum across Tango's once exquisite coffin. Each tight throb as he spurts cum only tightens his insides around the toy and presses down on the tender bruise his feverish riding has earned him, sparking a rush of tender twang of overstimulation that only pulls more noises and mess from him.
When his head eventually drops forward, fuzzy and cottonous, once his orgasm begins to simmer, seeking to look at the painting, instead a new set of ruby eyes greet him.
Tango is standing there, in the stair well to the crypt, looking at him, naked atop his coffin making a utter mess with a synthetic replica of his hips.
There is a thrum of mutual awkwardness in the room, like a errant heartbeat shaking the precise delicate paint on the canvas of space. Fantasising about getting caught is one thing, actually getting caught is another. His heart races until the world is a distant fuzz in his ears, and quickly he shifts his thighs to cover his cock but as he does a bleating shuddering moan sneaks past his lips from how his thighs adjust jostles the toy inside him.
"So… nice to see someone is enjoying Decked Out Three already," Tango laughs, and it's awkward but there's something effervescent lingering beneath it.]
Joel blinks like a deer caught in headlights.
"I thought I was the only one online." And he did, he checked multiple times. And everytime, somehow he missed Tango's greyed out name.
"I was waiting around my farms, just came back for a few redstone bits and bobs and what nots and well..."
A glob of lube spills from the coffin and adds to the swill on the ground around it. Dark streaks down from the mess beneath his thighs. His cock flickers half hard squeezed between his legs as Tango's eyes graze over him, attentively curious more than frustrated or alarmed.
"There's a perfectly good explanation for this sort of thing."
Tango makes a noise of humming agreement as he steps forward.
"To be honest, just wanted to see you build up close, and wowza, is it a nice one," Joel chuckles, although his boisterous charm can only masquerade so much when the dildo is jostled inside him a moan trembles through his mouth.
The count's face lightens at the compliment and he is quickly standing next to the coffin, looking at his neighbour and the mess atop it.
"So, that's how you would ride me?" Embarrassment scorches on Joel's face as Tango leans close and the warm dark scent of the overlord and his deathly cold breath has his antenna quivering and drooping and skin rippling with goosebumps that make his heart skip a beat.
"Flippin'… ah gosh, Tango I -" Joel shudders when Tango's hands settle atop his thighs, gently trapping him in place. The vampiric lord leans close like a animal inspecting prey and a dangerous warmth rushes through the tender aches of his muscles.
"Hush now thrall," The words are so smokey and rich that Joel almost chokes as they grace his ears, Tango's mouth close enough to draw blood or hear the jackrabbit thrum of his carotid. The ease at which Tango claims him as a thrall swims with a nauseating mix of subtle authority and tenderness that makes Joel feel as if he could fall from the coffin, "didn't say you were doing bad, so quick to rush to the negatives when good is happening."
He leans close and Joel is sure Tango is going to take a bite out of him, but instead his hands encourage him to seat himself back on the dildo and a tarnished moan catches on the roof of his mouth.
"But, I didn't stay stop did I?" there's a little flick of something sadistic on Tango's lips that Joel has never noticed before, like looking at a painting from a new angle, but he has little time to focus on it as the over lord encourages him up and down, "if you're gonna make such a mess with your bits and toys, least you can do is put on a good show for me… do you need help or are you going to be good pet?"
"Just… sit back and blummin' watch," Joel groan, voice tightening as he lifts his hips of his own accord, dragging the the dildo over the tenderised muscles still flickering with the embers of his last orgasm, before sinking down with a breathless shiver.
Tango does not, instead he remains leaning into the crux of Joel's neck as his hands meander across his thighs.
"If I'm honest, I like the view from here."
The closeness makes his pulse race more than it should, and Tango nuzzles into it, feeling the thrum of his heart on his lips as he works his overworked muscles over and over, bouncing on the toy for his amusement. The syrupy edge of the orgasm's remnant starts to turn hard and brittle as he works himself up and down the toy, wincing as the sensitive walls of his ass are worked over and over and pleasure starts to become gilded by pain.
Fortunately Joel has always had a bit of a masochistic streak.
And the pain is sweet. So sweet.
The twisting sting of pleasure wound too tight digs deeper into him each time he meets the synthetic balls which only only encourages him to ride more ardently just to feel that saccharine overstimulating sting seep further into his muscles. The humiliation, being caught red handed and made to keep going in his own mess, only adds to the heightening of the roaring intensity filling him.
Breaths drag across the floor of his mouth, wince brittle moans soaring out as he bounces works every inch of the dildo into him over and over again.
"Someone's eager to please" Tango hums, voice like molasses in how it seeps into him through his feverishness, exhausted, panting and moaning.
"Yeah, you are, so blummin' shut up and bite me," Joel growls before a fresh blissful agony pulls on his lower ribs and almost threatens to unseat him.
Fortunately Tango is there to hold him and when his hazy, half lidded eyes meet his again, there is a quiet surprise glittering and shiver of something dangerous racing beneath his cloak. The suddenness and the harsh rasp of Joel's voice and that dark glint in his eyes has quite the disastrous effect on Tango: a soft pink colours his pallid cheeks and his bottom lips disappears behind his fangs to suppress whatever unholy noise wants to reanimate itself from the graveyard of his chest.
"Blummin' hells you're easy Tango!" Joel barks.
"Shuddup Jerk…"
"You just gonna gawk like some old perv or are you gonna - Blummin' hells Tango fuck!" Eager to please, Tango sinks his fangs into Joel's neck with no warning: he did ask for it. He jumps in place as a sudden, visceral pinpoint pain stabs into him and his blood chills at the sudden deathly presence. Crackling tightness afflicts his thorax and for a moment he feels like he can't breathe as Tango's lips press flush against him as he sinks into him deep - and just as easily as the toy had slid into him when he met the portraits eyes. The ivory scalpels of teeth delight in the panicked thrum of his muscles squeezing them and Tango moans against his neck, rippling a ineffable roll of pleasure through him. "Fuck… that's it, come get it blood slut."
Joel's broken moans fill the air, halfway to unintelligible pleasure and whimpers of pain as the dual barrage of serrated edged pleasure and cottonous pain blur the boundaries of his mind and body. Mewling sweetly against him, Tango drinks deep and the harsh sharpness of his bite also melds and melts away into something numbing. A blossoming comfort blooms across his neck and beneath a bed of thorns coils thorough his arteries as lashings of bittersweet pleasure cut into him.
The world blurs beneath the insurmountable sensations piling over him: all Joel is sure of is the rushing of blooding through his body and the fact his aching body is still riding the cock like he was asked to, still putting on the show of shows until his climax hits him in the gut like a sledgehammer.
His hips jitter and stiffen as cum spurts out of him and streaks across Tango's dark suit pants.
The sound that comes out of him worries Tango with how painfully over saturated it is. He pulls out of his neck and thin crimson rivulets spring forth from the wells left in their wake. And when it starts to fizzle and the world comes back in a blurry miasma swimming around him, Joel's head is pleasantly fuzzy and drowning in the buffet of sensations.
He opens his eye a wink and see's Tango looking over to get a health potion, a cloth, something to start taking care of him. But Joel has no such plan. Before Tango can pull away, Joel grabs the shoulder of his cloak, half to steady himself and half to keep the count there.
"Didn't say you could stop… did I?" Joel pants, voice ragged but eyes blazing, "after you made such a mess of me… least you could do is put on a good show for me."
Tango shudders, chest tightening as if all the air has been wrung out of him as he follows Joel's eyes to the dark neglected outline cast against his trousers, now splattered with streaks of cum.
The wardens of the mountains would surely have a auditory feast for the rest of the night…