[ the first was mildly horrifying, but eren ceases to show distaste ever since getting his second (an accident) and third (not so much an accident) sample. he’s finding it more irresistibly provoking when his sensory system gets hit with the gush of iron taste, magical in its own right and, well. it feels good to have it. there was no need for use to stabilize him when eren . . . was not going feral, not even close. this was just a party to his tucked draconic nature, being allowed to safely spread its wings and act without having to hurt anyone in the process.
a little bit of blood won’t hurt them, and the intent tied to it, imprinted with mikleo’s lovely magical signature— it says come for me, and eren hears it. so loud and so sweet, as his moans are, as his nails scream against the raking across his scalp and close, too close to his new appendages: the sleek black horns, with soft bases that would knock into mikleo’s palms and insist on fondling them the way he did his head. ]
Leave marks—
[ he growls, but it’s the kind that follows another chorus of noisy pleasures, he doesn’t care. he loves what he hears, and could even repeat his action to hear them again. eren gradually descends counter clockwise as mikleo pops open his pants before he could shred them a second time. he doesn’t give him a break, from twisting tongues to taking his path down mikleo’s jugular, where primary veins coarse with blood that he could practically visualize without the true need to look. by the time his fangs graze against the beauty of his skin in such a soft spot, eren’s drawn himself to the other’s lap, a hot hand shamelessly dragging up what he’s exposed of his length and part of the inside of his thigh over fabric. it’s slow, but the force he uses to press down against growing hardness is deep.
he doesn’t seem to be taking it all off, but there is a mild change when mikleo makes his demands. in one swift tumble of action, mikleo would feel the raise and drop of his body into eren’s lap, arms around him only to disappear under his loosened shirt, and a swelling firmness grinding right under him. oh, it makes him moan, shiver underneath his bonded’s body when he teases himself, then both with what they could have. at last, points prick the seraph’s collar, and eren’s tongue slabs furiously across it. sucks at it, drinks it, explores higher and lower, enough to eventually leave the area purple, for a fact. his mark would be there for show, along with any other place he could find. ]
đź‘€
a little bit of blood won’t hurt them, and the intent tied to it, imprinted with mikleo’s lovely magical signature— it says come for me, and eren hears it. so loud and so sweet, as his moans are, as his nails scream against the raking across his scalp and close, too close to his new appendages: the sleek black horns, with soft bases that would knock into mikleo’s palms and insist on fondling them the way he did his head. ]
Leave marks—
[ he growls, but it’s the kind that follows another chorus of noisy pleasures, he doesn’t care. he loves what he hears, and could even repeat his action to hear them again. eren gradually descends counter clockwise as mikleo pops open his pants before he could shred them a second time. he doesn’t give him a break, from twisting tongues to taking his path down mikleo’s jugular, where primary veins coarse with blood that he could practically visualize without the true need to look. by the time his fangs graze against the beauty of his skin in such a soft spot, eren’s drawn himself to the other’s lap, a hot hand shamelessly dragging up what he’s exposed of his length and part of the inside of his thigh over fabric. it’s slow, but the force he uses to press down against growing hardness is deep.
he doesn’t seem to be taking it all off, but there is a mild change when mikleo makes his demands. in one swift tumble of action, mikleo would feel the raise and drop of his body into eren’s lap, arms around him only to disappear under his loosened shirt, and a swelling firmness grinding right under him. oh, it makes him moan, shiver underneath his bonded’s body when he teases himself, then both with what they could have. at last, points prick the seraph’s collar, and eren’s tongue slabs furiously across it. sucks at it, drinks it, explores higher and lower, enough to eventually leave the area purple, for a fact. his mark would be there for show, along with any other place he could find. ]