maskormenacelogs | so deliver me from evil 'cause the little things relieve us.

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so deliver me from evil 'cause the little things relieve us.

WHO: Residents of the Meadows & OPEN to visitors
WHERE: The Meadows outside De Chima
WHEN: Throughout September
WHAT: Day-to-day encounters at the magical farm commune.
WARNINGS: Look to the subject headers.
NOTES: This is a mingle/catch-all log. Start your own threads! Tag around!

The Meadows, being a place largely created from magic, has a subtle strangeness to it. From the outside, it could be taken for any old Appalachian farm: scattered barns and stables, a lakeside castle, a roomy wooden farmhouse, a 19th century stone chapel that some hoodlum graffitied. There's evidence that the farm is home to unsupervised teenagers, too, in the donut tracks that mar the grass and the remains of regular bonfires. As long as the monsters are out of sight, everything seems ordinary.

Once inside the farmhouse, however, the odd discrepancies become more apparent. The layout of the rooms doesn't quite match how the house appeared from the outside. There are windows where windows shouldn't be, stairways like vertical mazes to secluded rooms, and views from rooms that look into other worlds entirely. Half of the appliances work without any source of electricity, fresh coffee's always waiting in the pot without anyone having to brew it, and the refrigerator never seems to run out of leftover pizza. Things are simply wrong about the place, for all the cozy warmth of its design.

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"Good," Ronan exhales, as if he'd been holding his breath. His fingers follow the line of Murphy's jaw, feeling along his throat as those muscles get to work. He caresses along the crook of Murphy's neck, then back up his nape, weaving fingers into his hair.

Ronan's pleasure is Murphy's pleasure, too. They're a shared mind here, so Murphy can feel the results of his own work. He makes up for his inexperience with his earnestness, his little mouth so intent on doing a good job. And Ronan assures him in hushed tones, "You feel amazing. You're perfect."

His hand applies gentle pressure to the back of Murphy's head, not shoving him down but urging him to take more, to take as much as he can of Ronan's cock, though it might seem impossible to take all of it. At least, in the real world it'd be impossible. There's nothing Murphy can't accomplish here.

A hand keeps Ronan's cock steady, angling it just right to guide it deeper into his mouth. Murphy would be impressed with himself, eagerly taking Ronan into his mouth. He knows this is a dream and in his dream his tight throat as enough room to hug Ronan's cock, nice and warm.

He's sloppy, unsure of what to do, and tries to let himself shift into pure instincts. Not only that but feeling what he's doing to Ronan is throwing him more than a little off-kilter. His throat rumbles, noises muffled with Ronan's cock in his mouth. He puckers his lips, making a nice and tight ring. The gentle praising urges him on. If Ronan has his hand on Murphy's throat, he'd feel the outline of his cock.

There's nothing wrong with sloppy and unsure. If anything, Ronan's more aroused by the clumsiness, the indisputable knowledge that he's the one guiding Murphy through this for the very first time. With one hand still twisted up in Murphy's hair, the other slides along his side, cradling Murphy closer.

A moan shivers out of him as Murphy's mouth squeezes around him. "Like that," he whispers. "You're doing so good." Ronan's hips roll forward, a subtle thrust deeper, seeking more of that tight heat. His fingers rake through Murphy's hair, gently adjusting his angle and clearing the way to keep fucking Murphy's throat in minute thrusts.

"All you have to do is relax," Ronan instructs, his hand dropping to Murphy's throat again to hold his jaw wide. "Just take what I give you. Drink all of me down. That's what you want, isn't it? You wanna be full of me."

His other hand is behind Ronan, grasping a fistful of sheets. A low sound rumbles in his throat, a response to the moan he pulls out of Ronan. It has his whole body shuddering, wanting so much of Ronan all at once.

Murphy is slowly getting down to the root of Ronan's cock, throat easily stretching to fit his cock comfortably, warm and tight. Subtly, Murphy nods his head. He wants this so bad, his body is blissfully aching.

The grip on his sheets loosen and his hand is free to slide between his legs. Murphy takes a hold of his own cock, squeezing it to ebb away the climax that was creeping up on him. It's a tremble down his spine.

"Good boy."

Ronan pulls Murphy closer, keeping him draped across his lap in a way that's safe and comforting, even as Ronan fucks into him with harder thrusts. Though his hand holds Murphy's head firmly in place, his fingers caress Murphy's cheek with the utmost tenderness. He buries his cock deeper and deeper with every push, taking full advantage of the tightness of Murphy's throat, his breath escaping in bursts as he approaches his peak.

A rough groan chokes out of him as he comes, and he manages to pull back just enough that he spills onto Murphy's tongue rather than directly down his throat, so that Murphy can have the privilege of tasting his seed. There's more of it than there ought to be, by virtue of the fantasy Murphy's crafted. The height of the orgasm drags on for a prolonged moment, Ronan's cock pulsing until Murphy's mouth is absolutely full of him - as promised.

Murphy gives his mouth to Ronan, gives him a warm hole to fuck. Each buck of Ronan's hips wedges his cock deeper down Murphy's throat. In this dream, Murphy doesn't need to come up for air.

And suddenly Ronan is soaring through his orgasm with Murphy coasting with him. He feels it, every second of it and for a quick moment, he thought he'd come simultaneously. But, if Murphy had, he would be awake.

The cum is warm on his tongue, thick and creamy. Bitter, salty and sweet. There's so much that it starts to dribble down the corners of his mouth, but most of it gets swallowed. Murphy leans in, pressing his lips on the head of Ronan's cock. It goes back into his mouth, his tongue sweeping around in a circle for one last taste.

Slowly, Murphy straightens himself. He feels himself nearing his own climax, it's right there. "I don't want to wake up yet." It almost sounds like he's begging.

As Murphy rises, Ronan takes his face in his hands. He swipes a thumb across Murphy's swollen lips and leans in to clean what's left of himself on Murphy's skin with slow laps of his tongue. "Then don't wake up yet," he murmurs between languid licks, leaving space in the laziness and the haze of his comedown for Murphy, too, to have a chance to last just a little longer.

Ronan touches anything but Murphy's cock, then. He runs his hands down Murphy's neck, following his narrow shoulders and his skinny little arms. He pulls Murphy into an embrace and massages his way down Murphy's back with his palms.

"It'll be okay," Ronan assures him with nuzzled kisses to his cheek. "You'll dream about me again."

His lips are swollen and bright red from Ronan fucking his mouth, from sucking Ronan's cock.

"Okay," Murphy whispers onto Ronan's lips. That's all he wants, just a little bit longer. He saviors however long he has left. The gentle and affectionate touches mean so much, more than Murphy is able to confess. It's not the right time for that. He also doesn't know when it would ever be a good time. These are things that Murphy packs away and shoves in the dark parts of his mind.

"This feels so good." Ronan already knows this but this is something that Murphy is willing to say. " I never - I never wanted - besides -" Words are hard to find. Murphy doesn't want to talk, he wants to feel. He lets himself melt onto Ronan, giving himself fully to any and all affection that Ronan offers him. "Are you going to fuck me in this dream or the next?"

Murphy doesn't have to confess anything. He can try to bury those desires as deep as he likes, but Ronan is a god in this place, and he sees all. Besides, there's no wrong time to crave love, and Ronan overflows with it, so ready to love his dreamers. He keeps Murphy safely enveloped in his embrace, enormous in its feeling as well as its physicality, like he could swallow Murphy up and hold him in his heart forever.

"Do you want me to?"

One hand glides over Murphy's hip, touching bare skin. Sometime between now and earlier, Murphy's protective layer of boxer-briefs vanished into thin air. And though Ronan just came, he's still hard as a rock, perpetually ready to answer Murphy's need.

"Do you wanna know what it's like to have me inside you right now?"

Murphy hadn't realized his only piece of clothing had materialized out of existence. Something that he had done himself if he knew about it or not. It was an answer to Ronan's question but:

"Yes - please, " he begs. Even in his own dreams, Murphy felt like he has to ask for things. Asked to be fucked again.

Just like Ronan's, Murphy's cock is erect. Hard and throbbing. "I wanna know," he lets out a breath. Murphy is close enough that Ronan can feel it against his lips.

With that request, Ronan eases Murphy over, drawing him onto his lap, with Murphy's thighs hugging his hips and their cocks making brief but electric contact. Some other time, Ronan will pursue that route, take both of them in his broad hand and stroke them together, guide them more gently into climax. Right now, they're too far gone for toying any further.

So instead Ronan pulls Murphy closer and slips himself under. He finds his way into Murphy without fumbling, without probing or preparing. Somehow, what's left of Murphy's saliva is slick enough to lubricate an immediate penetration. Ronan's cock slides right into him, painless despite the enormity of it, stretching him without the slightest discomfort. There's only pleasure here, in the tight squeeze of Murphy around him, and Ronan shudders and moans like he might climax again there and then.

But he holds out, sinking to the hilt inside Murphy, hugging him against his body. Though this is a dream and Ronan can't hurt him, he scatters reassuring kisses across Murphy's cheek, anyway. In more than one sense, this is a lot. Ronan isn't sure if it might be too much.

He moves with Ronan, settling on his lap, legs straddle at his sides. Though it was brief, their cocks touching, Murphy lets out a slow breath. When Ronan adjusts himself under Murphy, he lifts slightly to make it a simple motion.

Murphy jaw goes slack the moment Ronan slips into him. It's an explosion of pleasure. "Oh fu-" his words are caught in his throat, strangled out by the moan that Ronan pulls right out of him. The ring of muscle flutters around Ronan's cock, hugging it just a little tighter.

Spindly arms wrap around the back of Ronan's shoulder, keeping himself steady, keeping himself close enough to feel soft kisses on his face.

Ronan purrs as Murphy clenches around him, the wave of resulting pleasure reverberating through both of them. He brings his mouth to Murphy's ear. "Holy fuck, you feel amazing," he whispers, rough with heat.

His hips sway as he begins to pump into Murphy with small, subtle thrusts, just to get Murphy used to the churning movement inside him. It takes a great deal of willpower, even in the dream, to hold himself back from the greedy urge to pound into Murphy now that he has him. No, he's going to build slowly. He's here to pleasure Murphy, not himself.

Coiling his arms around the small of Murphy's back, Ronan cradles him warmly, locking their bodies together. He resumes his kissing in a trail along the crook of Murphy's neck and shoulder. Between them, he asks, "Do you like that? Do you want it harder?"

"Wait," he breathes out, hot and thick in Ronan's ear. Straddled legs squeeze Ronan's thighs because he needs a moment. And, for that moment, Murphy is sitting on Ronan's lap, filled up from tip to root with his cock. It is a lot, so so much, but Murphy doesn't want to stop. And he sure as hell does not want to wake up just yet.

When he's ready, Murphy moves his hips. Slowly back and forth, lifting himself up for Ronan. Most of him is leaning against Ronan, arms tangled around him.

"Fuck me hard."

Please.

One arm coils tighter around Murphy while the other seizes his thigh, and in that simple move, Ronan steals control of the rhythm away from him. It's possible that Ronan is always this strong. It's also possible that the dream and Murphy's perception make him so. Either way, Murphy's weight is no longer resting on his lap as Ronan lifts him up and flips him onto his back.

He manages it all without slipping out of Murphy, which is either a testament to his size or Murphy's tightness. Now Ronan's looming over him, and he doesn't allow Murphy a single moment to adjust to the new position before driving deep into him. He's still holding onto Murphy's thigh, keeping his body folded into the precise angle he needs into order to bury himself in Murphy completely.

Ronan makes a sound that's either a dangerous snarl or a hiss of relief at finally being allowed to take Murphy the way he's wanted to all along. It's not with the wild speed of a jackhammer but hard and powerful thrusts, winding back then bearing down like the swing of an ax. Again. Again. Again.

It is effortless, how Ronan moves him. Murphy had been on Ronan's lap but a brief moment later his back his flush against the mattress. And, before Murphy can do anything else, Ronan snaps his hips. Murphy's body jolts with the momentum.

The muscles that line his jaw go slack again. Red, swollen, cupid-bow lips become ajar to a little 'o' that's displayed just for Ronan. Calves bear down at Ronan's hips, locking himself at his ankles.

"Fuck, Murphy gasps. It's too much effort to try and collect words when there's so much stimulus coursing through his entire body. His body jerks with every buck of Ronan's hips. It makes a nice and crisp slapping down when he's driven himself inside of Murphy.

Over and over again.

Every detail of this fantasy is designed to maximize Murphy's pleasure. The angle of their bodies is perfectly positioned so that every time Ronan slams into him, he's hitting Murphy at the sweetest spot. He's so tight that there's nothing he can't feel, the drag of Ronan's thick cock working against every constricting muscle. Ronan shivers every time he withdraws and moans every time he dives back in.

Now that Murphy's legs are locked securely around his hips, he allows one hand to slip between their bodies, seizing Murphy's cock. Ronan begins to massage it and stroke it, leaving Murphy wanting for nothing. Everything is for him, and the more pleasure he feels, the more reflects off of him and onto Ronan.

He knows that Murphy doesn't want it to end, but it's going to have to, eventually. Somewhere outside of the dream, Murphy's body is approaching its limit. Ronan picks up the pace gradually, trying to give Murphy as much as he can while there's still time. His other hand takes Murphy by the chin and directs their mouths together for a heated, sloppy kiss.

"You can have more," he promises, somehow uttering the words even though his lips and his tongue are both occupied with Murphy's. "I'll give you anything you want. Always."

Ronan is driving Murphy up to his peak and soon he will be soaring through his orgasm. Murphy whimpers between the moans that Ronan plows out of him. He's drowning in his own bliss. Ronan is giving him more pleasure than he's able to properly process. When they lock lips, Murphy holds Ronan by his cheeks.

"I want -" He shakes out.

And then. And then it happens.

Unfortunately, before a thick stream of cum hits him. Before Ronan has a chance to see stars shooting in Murphy's eyes - Murphy wakes up with a start.

His eyes shoot open, wide and awake. "Fuck," Murphy breathes out, sharp and ragged. The room is empty, just him and the furniture that takes up space in the room. Ronan's gone. He disappeared the moment Murphy had woken up.

Beneath his sheets, Murphy had gotten them messed up. His boxers soaked up most of his cum but it also got into the sheets. Instead of changing anything, since Murphy was much too lazy to do anything else, he strips himself of his cum ridden boxers. It's tossed and Murphy hopes it has fallen where he's put all of his other dirty clothes.

As for the wet spots in his sheets, Murphy just scoots himself at one end of the bed.

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so deliver me from evil 'cause the little things relieve us.

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srry srry for older murphy pic but o face

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