𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒

[saltburntmods]

MISFIRES

a rambunctious duo in salt has stuck their nose where they shouldn't and now you can all reap the rewards! this is a MISFIRES meme. post a header for your character, and receive accidental texts from your local saltburntian guests. nudes, nasties, confessions of a certain persuasion? things you'd otherwise never write or send? they're all on the table. (meme threads aren't game canon, but they're not not game canon either, right)

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[mygoodsir]

That's alright. I'm only teasing you.

[Especially because speeding things up pushes him closer, too.

He keeps his grip as it is.]

Go on.

[deadnerve]

Hmph.

[But despite the grunt, Kieran's in a good mood about it - he uses the next few minutes to work himself up, gyrating his hips to the right angle and rhythm and rising and falling on Harry's cock while feeling the best of his hand around his own, softly sighing and biting into his lower lip. It's not for show, surprisingly, because he's so locked in on getting off he doesn't even stop to think of the little lewd noises and needy shake that builds in his thighs right before...]

F-Faster, just a lit-little...

[mygoodsir]

[Happy to oblige, Harry moves his hand quickly and firmly instead of keeping it passive. His hips rise at much as they can of their own volition, his breath coming quicker now.]

Come, Kieran.

[deadnerve]

[Ugh, he's getting a Thing for Harry ordering him to nut, he can feel it. He rides Harry like a prize bull, hips rolling and body moving with fluidity to every rise of Harry's hips, head jerking back when he spills into his fingers and tightens around him as that warmth floods through his body like a summer wave.

His head slowly lolls forward, hips slowed but still moving, and he's breathing in little pants.]

Fuck.

[mygoodsir]

Indeed.

[Said breathlessly because he's only moments behind - the tightening and spasming of Kieran's body is impossible to ignore. Harry's fingers all grab for his skinny hips, digging in as his own snap up and grind. He grunts and comes hard and deep.

Tension unspools from his body gradually and he blinks his vision clear before tapping Kieran's thighs.]

Up and off.

[deadnerve]

[There isn't even enough of a braincell in Kieran's head right now to form a snarky or crude comment, he's just pleasantly dazed until Harry tells him to move and he reluctantly does so. He can feel himself still pulse a bit as he slides off Harry's cock, feeling the emptiness left behind with a soft grunt and a trail of warm cum down his thigh.

He just sort of topples to the bed, next to Harry, cheek against the sheets and body made of rubber. He'll worm closer in a second - just...]

I needed that.

[mygoodsir]

Did you?

[He reaches over to ruffle Kieran's hair.]

[deadnerve]

Yeah.

[He likes that touch, and snuggles in like a cat before sighing and putting his chin on Harry's chest.]

I need a cigarette. You want one?

[mygoodsir]

No thank you. They're awful for you, you know.

[But he won't stop him.]

[deadnerve]

You know, doctors are allowed some bad habits.

[But he snorts, squirming to sit up and fish his cigarettes and lighter from the night-stand. He manages to light one while laying flat on his back a second later, swatting at the smoke his first puff brings to keep it away from Harry.]

[mygoodsir]

Obviously, or I wouldn't be here.

[He sighs and just lays there, basking in the sweaty afterglow.]

I ought to show you pictures of lungs. Scare you into quitting.

[deadnerve]

[Kieran snorts again, enjoying that - and giving the most weak, playful shove with his palm against Harry's chest for good measure.]

You think that'd work? I hate to say it, but I'm real healthy - I know you're gonna laugh, but I just know I'm gonna be fine. Can't say why, just that I know, y'know?

[mygoodsir]

That's called being eighteen, dear boy. When I was your age I was convinced I'd live forever, too.

[deadnerve]

Annnnd you're still alive, so that theory's yet to be disproven.

[He says, knocking ashes off the side of the bed with a flick of his hand, before returning his cigarette to his lips with a laugh.]

[mygoodsir]

[Harry shivers once, violently.]

True. But I think you know what I meant.

[deadnerve]

[He chuckles, taking another drag of his cigarette before blowing a smoke ring up toward the ceiling. He then decides in a fit of adhd to stub out his half-burnt cigarette on the headboard, leaving it there for later, before pivoting back toward Harry.]

Roll over, I'll give you a massage. I know I'm too early to ask for more dicking.

[mygoodsir]

Thank you for your sensitivity to my advanced age.

[Said dryly, but he rolls over and pillows his head on his arms.]

[deadnerve]

Mmmhm, you're welcome old man.

[So fondly said, as he climbs on to Harry to straddle his ass and start massaging his shoulders.]

Tell me another story. Fantasy or reality, I don't care.

[mygoodsir]

Bitch.

[He exhales, grateful for the touch.]

Another story? Very well. In the year of 1518, in what is now France, a woman started to dance. You might think this was not unusual, but what was was this: she couldn't stop.

[deadnerve]

She couldn't stop 'til she got enough?

[He jokes, working on what feels like a minefield of tight knotted muscle, pressing the heel of his palm in sharply to rake them out. All the while he is engaged in listening, looking up at any lulls in the story.]

[mygoodsir]

Indeed.

[Oh. That feels good. Harry is tense literally all the time.]

Now, people saw her dancing, and they began to dance as well. Like her, they didn't stop but continued on for hours and hours without food or rest. In a matter of days, dozens of people were so afflicted.

[deadnerve]

[Left shoulders done, he moves over to the right - pausing only for a moment:]

... Yeah, then what?

[mygoodsir]

Well, within a month's time the affliction spread to hundreds of people. They would dance until they collapsed; some died from exhaustion or heart failure.

It being 1518, naturally some people thought the cause to be possession, or divine punishment. Physicians suspected overheated blood. Nowadays we think it was mass psychogenic illness, or perhaps ergot poisoning.

[deadnerve]

[Kieran is so predictably engaged by simple storytelling. He puts his weight into Harry's shoulderblades.]

What's ergot? And what's psychogenic mean?

[mygoodsir]

Ergot is a fungus. It grows on grains, so some theorise that it made its way into bread.

Psychogenic means that the mind is the cause. So stress that manifests in the body as illness - or in this case, unwanted movement.

That never did figure out for sure what was causing it.