[Mikleo hasn't been happy with how his training has gone lately. For some reason his magic never worked properly around the full moon. His little tussle with Eren had been proof of that-- not enough water and certainly not enough aim back then. Still, it seems like the city's abuzz with whatever omen this is, and he's not inclined to give them any reason to blame him by laying around idle. He lets Eren know about what's going on over the watch, and then he heads down to the hubbub to see what's happening for himself.
That's... a maze? Multiple mazes! At once his explorer's spirit is revived, and he almost takes off running into it alone. Wait, no. This was-- for Monsters, to help curb the feral instincts that might get people in trouble otherwise. He glances around and looks for Eren, though at this point he can probably feel his proximity with the bond.
He adjusts his hat. He's feeling particularly witchy tonight even if his magic won't cooperate. At the very least, they can explore the maze and see what's waiting at the end for them.]
[ this full moon was just a little different from the last. eren’s aggression was absent, a good thing! but the day before was . . . a little arduous. he grew more scales, and now bares more patches of human skin rather than the other way around. it hurt and it bled, to the point that he resorted to self harm to claw and yank at what skin felt in the way. his head could almost fissure with the migraine that followed the complete structuring of true horns, not too short or too long, curving ever so slightly and snaring in some places like vines would, before meeting to form pointed tips.
it was hard, maybe, to coax him out of the safety of his burrow under their cottage. a little effort and he’d crawl out in a peculiar fashion, only to burrow himself in the blankets of their bed. he wasn’t feeling well. he was nauseous and sensitive and too anxious to sleep. he might’ve gotten stuck somewhere? he might’ve.
today, though, as he sleeps through most of the day to regain what energy was lost, by full moon’s true day— he forgets there’s such a thing as a watch in his belongings. he doesn’t need to read the message, truly, his first instinct was to find mikleo as he stirred awake. his tongue is a blue tint now, flicking more than it does to catch his scent’s lead and follow. and so he follows, but a blatant shift in demeanor is palpable the closer they’d come.
eren doesn’t question what the maze is doing here, the commotion of witch and monster interacting— eren is more than willing to show off among them as he searches for mikleo’s final destination. shirt is off, to display scaled musculature, so much that he doesn’t need to do push ups to let people know he’s strong, and “i’ll beat the shit out of you”. his scales are bright, taking over most of his figure; the red and orange accents over black are just as much of a warning as they are a visual call.
he’s been panting, salivating the more he approximates, and when he does finally catch sight of mikleo waiting for him . . . oh, his thoughts are a raging mess. they’re incoherent but they’re ablaze. he can’t think straight beyond mikleo mikleo mikleo, the pupils to his slit eyes dilated and the chemicals produced from the seraph’s gaze alone— he can taste it all, and his own posture reacts. there’s a readiness to him that’s far more intense than the day they sparred and savored each other, and perhaps the times after that.
his attraction is on high, and even though they’re amongst many, to eren, it only felt like it was just him and his bonded, standing there. the rest could fall, crumble in front of their faces and he’d still be inattentive, hyperfocused on just one person and one thing.
eren shifts, a small tug in the way the muscles in his arms and legs pull and contract under scales, a tell tail sign that he was about to burst with movement any minute.
run, says his intent stretching out to mikleo, if not the light crouch his legs are in. ]
[The sulky lizard thing was cute for about five minutes before. Now, Mikleo was just that much more worried that Eren might deeply hurt himself alongside the uncomfortable changes. When he can, he brings home salves for the irritated skin, but there's only so much he can do. Just kiss it and hope it... gets better.
He feels Eren close and almost immediately notices a difference in that palpable demeanor. He lifts his gaze to find Eren standing some yards away, shirtless and magnificent and incredibly fierce. His breath catches-- not from fear, but awe, and the heat rising as he realizes what this is.
It's the hunt.
Mikleo laughs lightly and splits. He's not afraid at all; this is exactly what he wanted to do anyway. He takes off down the third maze which is lined with roses of every color besides red, even daring to snatch a blue one as he passes. He's going to tease Eren right back if he's going to keep beaming feelings like that at his back.
Mikleo isn't strong but he's fairly fast. He can't expect his magic to help him here but that doesn't stop him from murmuring an incantation for speed. It's just a little boost but it gives his long legs that much more distance as he rounds a tight corner.
[ as deep as his expression was, the second mikleo bounds, his laugh, the colorful roses being picked as he ran and the sweet aromas of him and the blooms— it makes eren dart after with thoughts lagging far behind. he’s aware even of the dust lifting from the earth when the seraph zips a corner too sharp, of the way his chest moves as he breathes and how— fluttery, it is (for the both of them). his teeth show, a simper spreading as the challenge was accepted an hour or so earlier. run while you can. because it wouldn’t last long, he implies.
mikleo’s certainly faster than him with a charming boost, but how much would his stamina hold? eren skids the short corner, hand throwing into the grassy wall’s of the maze to fasten on twigs and soften his momentum without losing it. though he had no tail, his body weight shifts perfectly to accommodate the possibility of a fall, resembling the curves of a slither.
the snaps of tiny branches echo behind mikleo some meters away, and straights are where eren may seem to close the most distance before slowing (only a little) at the next turn. explosive muscle works in his favor, and this is not only an exercise. it’s another dance. it’s a rollercoaster ride that’s making his heart pound and scream with joy. ]
[Mikleo did not spend the past several decades gallivanting about ruins just to lose his first footrace to a lizard. A cute lizard, mind you, with an irresistible grin and magnetism that pushes him onward while anticipating the inevitable conclusion. But, still a lizard brain-- nothing to be done about that even if he were inclined to change it. Mikleo is certainly regretting wearing a cape along with this hat because Eren can reach him that much easier.
Eren is gaining despite Mikleo's head start. As the seraph darts faster he finds the path opening in two directions, one of them an obvious dead end. That could be useful. He undoes the fastening of his cloak and tosses it behind him, giggling breathlessly. He's counting on Eren to be enamored with the scent and catch it, if not with his hands then with his face. A classic cape ploy.
It's a second or two he might not have otherwise. He takes off down the actual open path, quick strides interspersed with the petals of the flowers he claimed. He's not tired, not at all, but there's a sense that this particular path is about to open up somewhere wider than previously.]
[ the flow of fabric, no matter the distance, made eren feel like he could reach out and simply take it. yank it back in his arms, through mikleo down, tumble into plant walls and lap at his jugular until he found blood and wet lips— oh, lizard brain. the death of him. because that’s exactly what it is! his death, his end, his weak point in this chase.
eren does better than mikleo expects. he lunges head first for the cape thrown regardless of his frame being there or not. his sense of taste and smell rule over his vision, too high on fed impulse to make the connection— or maybe he did, he just didn’t realize it himself at a human standpoint. he’s burying his face into the cloak as he picks it up, savoring the sharp sample of mikleo’s neck, he knows it’s his neck, of a blue rose’s petals, breathing in every inhale like the whiff of a drug that’s so close. mikleo would certainly enjoy the sight, and while he might not see it, he’ll definitely feel that eren is getting into the joys of foreplay all on his own. the part-dragon was nearly getting off at his scent with heavy sighs, most of them out of relish. half his face rubs into it as he’s found to do with mikleo but what presses back is fiber, and the weight of his palm.
he realizes, a split second after, that that’s all this actually is, though. a cape with his smell and nothing more than that. ]
. . . Damn it—
[ he was played like a lizard. by now, there’s distance between them, too much of it. a single flicker of his tongue tells him which path to take, and eren bends the next curve with stormy urgency, off and away he follows, the cape left behind.
it was dumb, and he fell for it like a rock.
but he was passionate, and there was still an inexplicable adventure to this all enough that he just can’t be upset. if anything, he’s smitten by mikleo’s audacity. ]
[Mikleo is surprised but pleased to see Eren's distraction over his shoulder. Honestly, he almost feels bad at how happy Eren is to have "caught" him, nuzzling into his scent and finding it perfect-- and the inevitable betrayal.
The seraph finds himself breathing hard despite being full of energy, and he knows from the tingling flush that it's because of his Bonded. Granted, Mikleo was enjoying the chase too, but it was a different sort of anticipation for him. He likes the thrill of solving a puzzle, of making a new discovery. And he's getting that in spades as he spends time here.
The chase is going to end soon though, and he knows this because the path he so cleverly took from the fork has suddenly opened up into a secluded spot away from the festival. He can still hear the noises of people preparing for Litha, but this place is meant to be relaxing. There's a big warm oak tree with a blanket at the base of it, and there's a telescope for stargazing. Most interesting is the fact it's only lit by the full moon and a collection of fireflies.
It's so beautiful that Mikleo forgets he's being chased for a moment-- and then he startles, remembering the hot breath of pursuit as he darts over to the tree and hides behind it.
His hat lays where it fell some feet before the picnic blanket.]
[ it has become a top ten anime betrayal. eren almost seems to burst through the maze’s last aperture before the path stretches into leveled land. instruments await a new user, a blanket under the shade of a tree illuminated by their night sky. it was fairly romantic, to say the least, though for eren, it was’t touched upon just yet, not even in thought.
a summer breeze sways towards his face and carries with it the scent of faint ozone, flush and sweetness, first to the discarded witch’s hat. it won’t distract him as much this time, there’s a greater source just up ahead. the tree, his tongue directs, but he doesn’t go without picking it up and collecting the particles of the seraph’s hair to savor.
eren attempts to still his inhales, approaching from behind the tree’s grand trunk, and allowing his heart to ricochet madly around his ribcage. he’s awfully quiet as he places his steps, one by one and slowly even if he could explode from the anticipation (it was actually the good sort of torture, oh he couldn’t wait but he adored to give them both another adrenaline spike). eren doesn’t quite . . . think, he simply does, and that’s latch onto the bark and climb it, in a slight upwards spiral. he lets his body do what it already knows and what he didn’t, rotating his hands in the slightest of ways to attach and detach as he made his way.
he doesn’t climb high, that curiosity could be saved for another hour. the wood chips and creaks under his progress, until all goes still, as if the air knew. eren was nowhere to mikleo’s left, nor his right— but the wetness of a blue tongue flicking just above his head could be heard if you’re sharp.
he’s smelling him, he’s found him. the inexplicable satisfaction to that washes over him, but is not yet reveled in full. there’s something building in the shifter, a small voice that says not yet, but expectancy to see the eyes of his “prey” bringing him far too close to eruption. ]
[Mikleo stifles a noise as he hears Eren enter the little hideaway. He's breathing hard and not just because of the running, which he'll need to take care of soon. For now he wills himself to be quiet even as he feels similar anticipatory dancing in his chest. It's the cat winding up his legs before pouncing, the breath before the flight of an arrow, and he feels Eren's desire like his own. He doesn't hear Eren approach unless he strains for it, but that's not needed; simple logic tells him that he must be nearby.
There's no escape now but there doesn't need to be. Mikleo quietly slips his fingertips over his collar and chest, undoing the hidden clasps and exposing his white throat to the air. Then he slides his hand down his stomach to the front of his tight dark trousers.
He knows where Eren is. Lavender eyes roll upward as he tilts his head back against the tree trunk. As soon as he has eye contact, he gives himself a nice thick stroke and shivers.]
[ the best bit of strip tease a lizard could ask for.
captivating like a moth to an ember, luring like the scent of a meal to a man who fasts; eren was hooked to the sight of his neck exposed, and he swears he can feel his heart pounding in his ears by the time the seraph’s face dips back to meet his. the way his hand pleasures himself, shows eren what could be in his grasp instead. the inside of his thighs burn enough that he’s got his belly to bark as he inches lower, hips creating a small moment of friction, contact, to soothe how he ached even if only for a few seconds. he knows that’ll just make it all the more tantalizing, but that’s where thrill soars. ]
Got you.
[ the hair that isn’t tied back into a messy bun falls over mikleo’s face, tickles him with loose strands as the wisp of his tongue does. in seconds, they breath the same breath, hot and hungering. chests rise and fall at the same time, even swallows align. not long after is eren pinning the back of mikleo’s head to the tree (he won’t have to worry about his neck cramping), upside down, to press the first kiss: definitely rough, an animalistic touch he doesn’t quite have during his regular days, but plenty desirous.
all he needed was one hand to start dragging his fingers from his jugular to his chest, to the hem of his pants. ]
/18+ warning but honestly anyone reading our threads should know better by now
[Just those two simple words send something indescribable shooting through him, searing pleasure mixing with Eren's own so strongly that he almost makes a mess of himself right there. The brunet's breath becomes his own or maybe it's the other way around, he's not sure, but they're one and the same for a moment and it's glorious. To a seraph who once curled himself around the soul of his best friend, this is the absolute peak of intimacy. He fills that first kiss with a needy, noisy moan. This angle is different and he has to be careful of-- ah, too late; he cuts the tip of his tongue on a canine and simply moans more.
Is giving his Bonded blood really so bad if they're into it? A question for the ages.
His chest rises into the touch, followed by hips. Mikleo helps by undoing his own button this time and bringing himself into the open. His other hand twists into messy hair, tantalizing him with nails. The seraph breaks the kiss for a brief moment so he might offer a suggestion-- okay, more of a command.]
[ 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. ]
[It feels too good to stop, and honestly, he wouldn't dream of it. Mikleo has never felt more possessed than in this moment. Typically he's the one possessing, but this is amazing the way it is. He's eager to touch those horns and he doesn't need Eren to tell him to do it. He gropes them with soft fingertips and then switches to nails, especially around the base, and if Eren isn't going to be gentle about his neck then he might as well return the favor.
Part of him thinks he could come on that alone, just that sweet mouth against his neck, tasting him with multiple senses. He gasps and whines at the fangs only to lose a rough cry in the shape of Eren's name, hips and everything else twitching beneath Eren's hand. The command, the growl-- it's all so good.
He could get used to this.
And then he's in Eren's lap where he belongs after a display like that. He's already grinding against him, wanting to feel that generous hardness goddamn everywhere. The brunet is back at his neck and this time, this time Mikleo shouts as he claws all the way up Eren's back.]
Oh, fuck! Eren!
[His nails move back to Eren's hair and comb sharply, relentlessly, until he finds those newly minted horns and holds on.]
G-gods, I want--
[He finds one of Eren's hands somewhere and covers it with slender fingers.]
I have a-- a spell I've been working on just for this, if you wanted to take me here.
[ if eren’s reactions say anything about his horns: continue like a clapping encore. the applause mikleo receives is an open tilt of his head, about ready to dip back uncontrollably and curve the way one would their toes. he hunches his spine, his nape bends, he takes to the seraph’s collar bone and drags his fangs with him, lips hanging and eyes fluttering to gasp. to gasp, he does, the groan, almost like an indecent whine (eren, whining) dribbles from his throat. mikleo could make him twist and turn in any way like that. from the burns of clawed lines to the imprints of crescent nails— it drives him mad, absolutely so. ]
Mikleo— [ his horns, oh he’s grabbing his horns again. eren partially melts, his groping, exploring hands and fingers on his bonded’s bottom wind into fabric that feels too thick. a heated, panting mess already, eren pulls on them in a dangerous way, as if he’s forgotten his pants work— it’s not long before emotion is far too high, and his draconic strength works the second his pulls at both front flaps of mikleo’s trousers. rip.
it’s too urgent. he’s made a spell just for this. ]
Sh-show me, I can’t, [ his brilliant colors flare with just how far along he is, lusting for his bonded and grating his arousal underneath him a second time. a dry thrust comes third, drawing a thick, pleading hiss. his hand finds mikleo’s hardness, wraps his fingers around the base, then thoroughly smoothes him for his yelps. ] wait, much longer—
[Oh it's too good. Eren makes a sound Mikleo hasn't heard before, so of course he keeps doing what he's doing, alternating between thick massages of his scalp and nails pressing deep, deep into the sensitive skin about those horns. First one, then the other. He wishes he had three arms just for this, right now, gods, he's fantastic. The fangs earn a bright, ardent cry that sounds like they're already in the midst of their lovemaking, owing perhaps to the heightened emotions for both of them. Mikleo doesn't care. All he knows is that if Eren doesn't take him in the next five minutes, he will absolutely take himself and make him watch.
He pauses, hearing the trousers rip. Decides he doesn't give a fuck when he's been practicing the mending spell precisely for this reason. He grinds against Eren hard and groans his name breathlessly, red eyes flickering beneath dark lashes.]
G-gods, me neither, [he murmurs, and he tilts his head to give Eren as much of that neck as he wants. Make him purple and blue-- he doesn't care. He doesn't care. A bit of concentration, just a little, and Eren's fingertips become warm and slick with something akin to lube. Mikleo wastes no time freeing the brunet's length after that, and he gives Eren a nice long stroke to apply the same substance to his cock.
Breathe. Breathe. Mikleo dismisses the spell and presses his forehead to Eren's, both hands combing through his hair, spoiling his horns from base to tip.]
Let me ride your fingers and I'll come as much as you want tonight.
[He's fairly certain that if they're impatient here, more impatient than their first time, he will end up hurt. So, fingers only, for now.]
[ the most torturous of all end games . . . but luckily, eren never specified what he wanted besides wanting mikleo— whatever way it was, split pleasure between them would quench what his thirst felt completely vital under the summer lunar pull. his fingers would do now, no questions asked; it may not do in five minutes, in ten, in twenty, a half hour, but.
they’ll think about that when they get there. it’s not a worry. eren’s sole concentration were the hands that fondled his horns (he’ll call upon all existing gods to say gods he wants to come), the moon kissed jugular being offered to him, the heart that pumped the blood coursing through it and the body that held it all (and more) together. he suckles first, drawing wetness along his collar and across the raw bite he had left behind earlier, catching a wonderful aftertaste of blood that still lingered. he hurriedly pulls down at what’s left of his pants, a needy arousal free from restraints that have become too cramped for his size.
the glaze between his fingers were instantaneous, and eren rubs them together, head bobbing and only removing his mouth from his bonded’s jawline to offer a hazy glance. just— he’s taken already. his breath is hot and puffy, and mikleo receives a strangled curse to the stroke that welcomes his erection. no frustration, none of that. the sound melts in his mouth and vibrates right across the flesh his lips touch. his hips tip readily into the seraph’s grasp, and his own hand begins a trip down his lover’s shaft and to his entrance, coating it plenty in circular motions. ]
Just don’t, [ the smallest of sighs, oh it’s so good, ] make me come like this. [ he’s and easy target right now truly, and more prone to stopping his activities when he spills, so— he’d rather not. he wants to indulge in pleasure with him all damn night if he could. with a shaky inhale, raising his head enough to press it to the side of mikleo’s face, right under his ear, eren’s middle digit prods in, his thumb curling into his perineum and toying with the fall of his rounds. ] I want to fuck you every way I can.
[It's not hard to tell that Eren really loves having his horns handled, so he keeps it up. He only hopes that the fondling alone isn't enough to waste him. Like Eren, Mikleo wants to go for as long as possible, and they can't exactly do that if they jump the gun too early. Thoughts both half-formed and coherent flicker in and out of his consciousness as he focuses more on the gorgeous creature beneath his hands; he squeezes Eren's thighs between his knees and gasps again, immediately wanting more. Nothing feels like enough.
The lovely attention to his neck leaves Mikleo's breathing in tatters, already heavy with the vowels of Eren's name. It's not as good as hearing Eren make his own noise of frustration (and he wonders if he can make the brunet growl again). When his lover's hand teases down his manhood and beyond, Mikleo arches his back and whimpers in a way he'd be hard-pressed to admit after this, but he readily accepts the massage and relaxes in his hold.]
I won't. Not yet, [he murmurs. He only strokes Eren enough to take the edge off and keep him hot, though he longs to touch him more. It'll be better when he has Eren inside of him. Then he feels Eren's finger press inside and-- and curl, and the seraph keens wordlessly as he grabs onto Eren's horns. That and that voiced desire go straight to his core and... elsewhere, as he's hard enough to twitch.] Eren! H-hahhh, y-yes, right... right there... It feels like you're taking me twice.
[It's incredible, really, how he tightens around that finger only to relax after. He's coaching his breathing and reminding himself how to stretch. As long as Eren is pressing into that spot, Mikleo will ride his hand with slow determination, moaning thickly every time. It's not long before Eren could fit another finger or two. It's hard to breathe unless his head is tilted back, so the dragon still gets his show; his face is all silver curls and red wine eyes framed by kiss-bruised pink skin.]
Even your fingers feel good... [He pants hard between lazy rolling thrusts, tightening about his lover's fingers each time. He tucks his mouth against Eren's ear and offers a torrid sort of whisper:] I want-- [nngh] I want you to fuck me until we're both dry.
[ the hotness around him was wonderful already, and while not as erratic as mikleo’s, his breaths are hefty. with words being so sweetly given to him, he’s imagined, with the image already against him, his wanting shaft driving into his bonded at once. the tightness, the heat. oh, how mikleo would cry out. eren moans to this, husky and unabashed to mikleo’s own hearing. ]
I’ll take you more than twice.
[ he was laying with an eleutheromaniac, of course he wants to hear his desire detail by detail. would he scream the same way, if his full girth were inside him? would he clench around him and crack out breathless moans? the way his bonded tosses back and contorts a little is what plays in his real time thoughts, asking him, begging him to screw until they only had the energy to sleep.
eren’s mouth glides to his earlobe in the meantime, heavy sighs and insistent grunts that follow his cock twinging. pressing three more digits close to mikleo’s access, eren pulls his hand back, only to penetrate the seraph with another finger— only one more, his index, to make sure he can make him writhe plenty with the rest he had. more surprises and more time, that way.
the knob inside him, the rough one that makes him scream, is eren’s primary focus, and when he presses into the roundness again, he makes sure it’s slow, measured, to pull out and back in at the angle that felt best. ]
[Eren's words earn a shudder from the seraph in his hands and a shivery moan to go with it. He's sure, at the back of his mind, that Eren's feelings are leaking into his half of the bond. But it's the full moon and he doesn't care. Mikleo just wants sweet release for both of them at this point, and they can be sore later, but they won't regret a single damn thing.
He keens soft and thready at the mouth on his ear, loving that attention as much as teeth on his neck. He sucks in a breath as there's another finger-- not because it's too much, but because he wants more. He gets it though not in the way he'd like-- Eren's entire length slamming into him, for starters-- but this is still enough to make Mikleo clutch at the fingers inside him. His cry is as drawn out as that wicked measured motion, and he rubs that much harder at Eren's horns.]
Haaaahhh, E-Eren—!
[Mikleo wants to ride him until he forgets his own name, wants to touch that incredibly out of reach place where he's unaware of anything but heat and blood in his ears. He writhes in his lover's hold, desiring that much more friction, his legs spread as wide as he can from this angle. He's nothing if not impatient even when it comes to this, so he scrapes his nails down Eren's spine and right back up, just as slow and merciless.
[ eren’s sensitivity to his new appendages down to the irresistible towing of his back is torturously luscious, as is the way the part-dragon arcs between what remained of his skin to the bumps of his scales being played with. the rigidness to their surface dulls the exhilarating burn that nails would leave on soft skin, he’s . . . much more covered tonight, but it doesn’t make things any less flat— contrary. mikleo should notice, when he drags upwards once more, the scales tck against the hooks his fingers create, causing them to mildly fan out rather than fall flat against him, as they would usually stay.
the deed (and his bonded’s climb) makes him soar, a hiss festering from his throat until it dissolved into an encouraging growl that drums behind his fangs and causes his free hand to sink into the other’s ass and adjust his legs until— fuck, his hips. his cock, dribbling at the tip and craving grinds. it bumps into his bonded fiercely as he dips them just a little more sideways, against the soft skin of his belly or what was left of fabric, parted lips seek mikleo’s out to hum into him as he uses the tree’s bark as a crutch, tongue gunning for slips around the seraph’s teeth, gums and more when they’re hotly sealed.
his fingertip contact with the swollen bundle doesn’t stop for even a moment. the more he uses his hand, the more they aren’t enough— but he relents to his third as it drove inward to join the other two. he curls, pulls, enters, finding rhythm and force that was not gentle, but perhaps necessary to fill their lustful gap just a little more. he’d keep his eyes closed, but— hazily, they stay open by a fraction to keep from missing the show.
he’d be fucking him like this, soon. no— he’d do better. ]
[Mikleo does notice, and it only makes him want to scratch harder. Especially with how Eren seems to love them, judging by that thick and lusty growl, and of course that command: leave marks. Oh, he absolutely will try, at least, and he repeats the motion again on the other side of his back so that he doesn't get numb to the sensation. His other hand scrapes nails into the place where his horns meet his head, sometimes pumping the growth like something else. Everything about Eren is so heated right now that Mikleo can't help but melt against the onslaught, that deep growl somehow making him even harder; he wants to be possessed under the full moon, wants to possess Eren in turn, wants to be the scales adorning Eren's body and the air he breathes.
If that grip on his ass is supposed to hurt, it doesn't. It's all bright, bright pleasure, colored pinkish-red on his tongue like the marks on his skin. He gasps and cries out his lover's name, wanting friction just as much. Eren is so hot and ready and it takes all of Mikleo's strength not to jump him right then. Instead he makes an effort to satisfy that need, even if it means grinding his stomach against his lover's considerable thickness. Just the thought of riding him makes Mikleo clench in anticipation.
He loses another moan, and another after that, more needy and enthusiastic cries at the searing kiss. He returns what he can with teeth against his tongue, his lips, whatever he can take in return, but he's also happy to just let Eren take whatever he wants. It's a good way to keep his noise down as those fingers are anything but merciful. The seraph tightens around Eren's hand each time he presses into that starry spot, accompanied by a rough shout of pleasure.
Mikleo, for his part, can't keep his eyes open at all. Eren has barely begun but all the marks and being taken by fingers have left him with wet eyes and trembling limbs. He tries to hold back for a while, but then it becomes impossible to ignore. He has to break the kiss.]
I-I'm so close, I'm going to--
[He managed a half coherent sentence with everything going on. He deserves an award.]
[ his horns being grasped and handled the way his arousal would lights yet another fire to gasoline— a smoldering one. eren’s cock visibly throbs to both the sensation as his fantasized imagery only unfolds into a future that was too near, a breathy snarl coming only to crack at its end into something of a mewl. he has to give him his head, all of it, curving his neck up and down, up and down, then again to aid mikleo’s palm in gliding along the spikes. more, please more.
the notice, if anything, is what makes eren even more a compassionate lover. he won’t deny the other’s freedom, he’s charged him exclusively to feel his pleasured convulsions, chain after chain, and piggyback on smaller afterwaves of mikleo’s climax. he ceases the rhythmic, often raucous thrusts from his arm to focus entirely on the other’s knot, keeping to a beat that was not quite keen on stopping after his first full-body experience.
no, eren keeps going, and going, and going to take mikleo to an innermore barrage with him. he would use his mouth more on him now, if he didn’t need it breath as quickly as he was, cradling the other’s back off the tree and to the angle of his free arm propping him up with poise. ]
Let go with me, [ his lips are curling, agape to pant and whisk out husky chortles against the curvature of the seraph’s graceful jawline, contorting his own body to his bonded’s spin. ] Mikleo, [ he fights to keep his eyes open, to still watch him, but the foreseen something’s coming is so upon them, even eren shares in an exclusive high. ]
[He's so wonderful. That's the only thing Mikleo can think as he has such lovely horns shoved into his hands, and gods, the noises he's making... Eren is truly incredible. Every time Eren feeds off his pleasure, Mikleo feeds off that in a wonderful loop of endless bliss. He shifts both hands to those horns, then, so he can properly rub and scrape and pump them like a certain member.
With his admission comes no mercy. Eren seizes onto the opportunity to fuck Mikleo thoroughly with his fingers and Mikleo loves it. He unravels as if the brunet had found his one loose string and pulled and pulled until his guards came down, writhing in his grip, trembling and screaming whether he's shushed by lips or not. His eyes squeeze shut against the pleasure and the tears that come with it.]
Y-yes, ohhh, please, please—
[With Eren's insistence, Mikleo finally gives up control. He arches against his lover, toes curling like the lovely arch in his back, and loses himself in a shriek of Eren's name. He clenches so tight around those fingers that he can't breathe, but it doesn't matter. He's gone, vision white and synapses firing in a way he only really knows when Eren takes him like this. He grips those horns until his knuckles turn white, and then his hold abruptly slackens.
When his wits return, the first thing he tries to do is surge into a messy kiss. Just because he came doesn't mean he wants to stop, especially with Eren so obviously wanting. He wants to ride him to hell and he isn't leaving this little pocket of paradise until he gets what he wants.]
[ the full body experience is phenomenal— he wants it, to say the least. he wants mikleo’s fingers in him, he’s already done it himself when he wasn’t around, giving eren plenty of time to get to know himself before applying what he knew. and gods is he glad he did. he clings to the lovely seraph’s current, a euphoric quirk to his lips that stay agape as his neck exposes completely, as he arches and clings and gasps at what he could feel. it wasn’t the same as a first hand experience, but it was good. oh was it marvelous, but more than that was the bending body to the will of his fingers, and how much he seized them as he did his horns.
mikleo, he breathes after the almost electric discharge begins to subside, but his spent words are sealed, head dipping straight into the kiss. nose to cheek, he breathes his scent and delves with sloppy wildness, allowing their tongues to twist and mingle, to feel his gums and scrape across teeth. mikleo might not be the only one to receive more minor cuts and pricks, eren cuts himself plenty on his own fangs. given that he doesn’t stop for even a second, lazily gliding his tongue across a source of witch blood only to moan as it gives him a succulent, five-second high— no, he doesn’t care. who would, at a time like this? the way the other’s body feels like jelly against his is. completely alluring.
mikleo’s body doesn’t go unattended; he wants to chain another orgasm for his bonded, fingers still relentlessly inside him to build up another tremendous wave. he won’t touch his cock, as much as it calls him to, full and dribbling and pleading as much as his. alas, he said he’d take him too many times to count. eren’s still free hand adjusts the slender body to his lap, spreading his ass as much as his single hand could. it’s there where eren purposely drifts his hardness adjacent to mikleo’s access, where his digits still work. oh, he’s so impatient he wants him. hazy eyes flicker open to see the foggy brilliance of his bonded, thrusting against his backside. ]
Ride me, [ he snarls, but not quite aggressively— it’s with an edge that’s going mad for him. him. he was gorgeous and incredible and everything right now. he’d find the right angle, he’d make him come again. but eren’s fingers pull out of him in a rush to grab and guide the tip of his member, or at least try to, whilst holding him up. he’ll need help. ]
[He loves how Eren breathes him in, as if Mikleo's a fine mist and Eren wants to commit him to memory. Mikleo's having enough fun that he would certainly like to remember this night for a long time to come, though if Eren fucks his brains out like Mikleo's been begging him to that may or may not happen. It doesn't matter right now because Mikleo's centered in this moment, this timeless feeling Eren gives him; he's transcendent and real all at the same time, focused precisely beneath the brunet's fingers and little more than a weight on his lap. He's free even though he's chained to this human body he didn't ask for. It's dizzying and it's amazing, and he keeps riding Eren's hand as long as it's there.
He moans richly with the possessiveness of the kiss, trying to taste everything Eren puts within reach as if desperate and hungry for scraps. There's blood and he isn't sure if it's his or Eren's, and he decides he doesn't care, because the dragon's pleasure is his now and Mikleo just wants.
It's the kiss that keeps him muffled but not quiet. Eren's fingers haven't forgotten and Mikleo's body hasn't either. He's shivering with every thrust and crying out, the pressure building all over again; when his lover splays him he goes as wide as possible until he feels a nice stretch, all while clenching around those fingers. He doesn't come, not a second time, not before Eren finally grows tired of the tease and removes his fingers.
Gods gods gods, Mikleo wants him so bad that he can't think of words at first.]
I-I'm going to ride you-- [He chokes out a frustrated noise as he shifts, until he feels Eren's thickness against his entrance.] -- until I break. [He doesn't ask if Eren's ready. There's no gentleness here, no tender lovemaking, only the intimacy afforded between gasps for breath. He takes one in, and then sinks down onto the brunet's manhood.
He's so goddamn thick. Mikleo forgets to breathe for a second but he's committed and stretched and hot as hell. He takes all of it in one motion and arches from head to toe, nails digging into Eren's scalp without apology, and he only has a scream to show for it:]
Eren—!
[Leave marks. He draws his hands over Eren's broad back that he's come to learn so well, until he can scrape and rub at the scales as much as he wants. Mikleo wants to move so badly but he's afraid one of them will come too soon, and Mikleo himself is trembling to keep it all in.]
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6/17; action; EVENT TIME
That's... a maze? Multiple mazes! At once his explorer's spirit is revived, and he almost takes off running into it alone. Wait, no. This was-- for Monsters, to help curb the feral instincts that might get people in trouble otherwise. He glances around and looks for Eren, though at this point he can probably feel his proximity with the bond.
He adjusts his hat. He's feeling particularly witchy tonight even if his magic won't cooperate. At the very least, they can explore the maze and see what's waiting at the end for them.]
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it was hard, maybe, to coax him out of the safety of his burrow under their cottage. a little effort and he’d crawl out in a peculiar fashion, only to burrow himself in the blankets of their bed. he wasn’t feeling well. he was nauseous and sensitive and too anxious to sleep. he might’ve gotten stuck somewhere? he might’ve.
today, though, as he sleeps through most of the day to regain what energy was lost, by full moon’s true day— he forgets there’s such a thing as a watch in his belongings. he doesn’t need to read the message, truly, his first instinct was to find mikleo as he stirred awake. his tongue is a blue tint now, flicking more than it does to catch his scent’s lead and follow. and so he follows, but a blatant shift in demeanor is palpable the closer they’d come.
eren doesn’t question what the maze is doing here, the commotion of witch and monster interacting— eren is more than willing to show off among them as he searches for mikleo’s final destination. shirt is off, to display scaled musculature, so much that he doesn’t need to do push ups to let people know he’s strong, and “i’ll beat the shit out of you”. his scales are bright, taking over most of his figure; the red and orange accents over black are just as much of a warning as they are a visual call.
he’s been panting, salivating the more he approximates, and when he does finally catch sight of mikleo waiting for him . . . oh, his thoughts are a raging mess. they’re incoherent but they’re ablaze. he can’t think straight beyond mikleo mikleo mikleo, the pupils to his slit eyes dilated and the chemicals produced from the seraph’s gaze alone— he can taste it all, and his own posture reacts. there’s a readiness to him that’s far more intense than the day they sparred and savored each other, and perhaps the times after that.
his attraction is on high, and even though they’re amongst many, to eren, it only felt like it was just him and his bonded, standing there. the rest could fall, crumble in front of their faces and he’d still be inattentive, hyperfocused on just one person and one thing.
eren shifts, a small tug in the way the muscles in his arms and legs pull and contract under scales, a tell tail sign that he was about to burst with movement any minute.
run, says his intent stretching out to mikleo, if not the light crouch his legs are in. ]
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He feels Eren close and almost immediately notices a difference in that palpable demeanor. He lifts his gaze to find Eren standing some yards away, shirtless and magnificent and incredibly fierce. His breath catches-- not from fear, but awe, and the heat rising as he realizes what this is.
It's the hunt.
Mikleo laughs lightly and splits. He's not afraid at all; this is exactly what he wanted to do anyway. He takes off down the third maze which is lined with roses of every color besides red, even daring to snatch a blue one as he passes. He's going to tease Eren right back if he's going to keep beaming feelings like that at his back.
Mikleo isn't strong but he's fairly fast. He can't expect his magic to help him here but that doesn't stop him from murmuring an incantation for speed. It's just a little boost but it gives his long legs that much more distance as he rounds a tight corner.
Catch me if you can.]
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mikleo’s certainly faster than him with a charming boost, but how much would his stamina hold? eren skids the short corner, hand throwing into the grassy wall’s of the maze to fasten on twigs and soften his momentum without losing it. though he had no tail, his body weight shifts perfectly to accommodate the possibility of a fall, resembling the curves of a slither.
the snaps of tiny branches echo behind mikleo some meters away, and straights are where eren may seem to close the most distance before slowing (only a little) at the next turn. explosive muscle works in his favor, and this is not only an exercise. it’s another dance. it’s a rollercoaster ride that’s making his heart pound and scream with joy. ]
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Eren is gaining despite Mikleo's head start. As the seraph darts faster he finds the path opening in two directions, one of them an obvious dead end. That could be useful. He undoes the fastening of his cloak and tosses it behind him, giggling breathlessly. He's counting on Eren to be enamored with the scent and catch it, if not with his hands then with his face. A classic cape ploy.
It's a second or two he might not have otherwise. He takes off down the actual open path, quick strides interspersed with the petals of the flowers he claimed. He's not tired, not at all, but there's a sense that this particular path is about to open up somewhere wider than previously.]
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eren does better than mikleo expects. he lunges head first for the cape thrown regardless of his frame being there or not. his sense of taste and smell rule over his vision, too high on fed impulse to make the connection— or maybe he did, he just didn’t realize it himself at a human standpoint. he’s burying his face into the cloak as he picks it up, savoring the sharp sample of mikleo’s neck, he knows it’s his neck, of a blue rose’s petals, breathing in every inhale like the whiff of a drug that’s so close. mikleo would certainly enjoy the sight, and while he might not see it, he’ll definitely feel that eren is getting into the joys of foreplay all on his own. the part-dragon was nearly getting off at his scent with heavy sighs, most of them out of relish. half his face rubs into it as he’s found to do with mikleo but what presses back is fiber, and the weight of his palm.
he realizes, a split second after, that that’s all this actually is, though. a cape with his smell and nothing more than that. ]
. . . Damn it—
[ he was played like a lizard. by now, there’s distance between them, too much of it. a single flicker of his tongue tells him which path to take, and eren bends the next curve with stormy urgency, off and away he follows, the cape left behind.
it was dumb, and he fell for it like a rock.
but he was passionate, and there was still an inexplicable adventure to this all enough that he just can’t be upset. if anything, he’s smitten by mikleo’s audacity. ]
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The seraph finds himself breathing hard despite being full of energy, and he knows from the tingling flush that it's because of his Bonded. Granted, Mikleo was enjoying the chase too, but it was a different sort of anticipation for him. He likes the thrill of solving a puzzle, of making a new discovery. And he's getting that in spades as he spends time here.
The chase is going to end soon though, and he knows this because the path he so cleverly took from the fork has suddenly opened up into a secluded spot away from the festival. He can still hear the noises of people preparing for Litha, but this place is meant to be relaxing. There's a big warm oak tree with a blanket at the base of it, and there's a telescope for stargazing. Most interesting is the fact it's only lit by the full moon and a collection of fireflies.
It's so beautiful that Mikleo forgets he's being chased for a moment-- and then he startles, remembering the hot breath of pursuit as he darts over to the tree and hides behind it.
His hat lays where it fell some feet before the picnic blanket.]
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a summer breeze sways towards his face and carries with it the scent of faint ozone, flush and sweetness, first to the discarded witch’s hat. it won’t distract him as much this time, there’s a greater source just up ahead. the tree, his tongue directs, but he doesn’t go without picking it up and collecting the particles of the seraph’s hair to savor.
eren attempts to still his inhales, approaching from behind the tree’s grand trunk, and allowing his heart to ricochet madly around his ribcage. he’s awfully quiet as he places his steps, one by one and slowly even if he could explode from the anticipation (it was actually the good sort of torture, oh he couldn’t wait but he adored to give them both another adrenaline spike). eren doesn’t quite . . . think, he simply does, and that’s latch onto the bark and climb it, in a slight upwards spiral. he lets his body do what it already knows and what he didn’t, rotating his hands in the slightest of ways to attach and detach as he made his way.
he doesn’t climb high, that curiosity could be saved for another hour. the wood chips and creaks under his progress, until all goes still, as if the air knew. eren was nowhere to mikleo’s left, nor his right— but the wetness of a blue tongue flicking just above his head could be heard if you’re sharp.
he’s smelling him, he’s found him. the inexplicable satisfaction to that washes over him, but is not yet reveled in full. there’s something building in the shifter, a small voice that says not yet, but expectancy to see the eyes of his “prey” bringing him far too close to eruption. ]
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There's no escape now but there doesn't need to be. Mikleo quietly slips his fingertips over his collar and chest, undoing the hidden clasps and exposing his white throat to the air. Then he slides his hand down his stomach to the front of his tight dark trousers.
He knows where Eren is. Lavender eyes roll upward as he tilts his head back against the tree trunk. As soon as he has eye contact, he gives himself a nice thick stroke and shivers.]
Eren...
[What fun is a chase without a little teasing?]
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captivating like a moth to an ember, luring like the scent of a meal to a man who fasts; eren was hooked to the sight of his neck exposed, and he swears he can feel his heart pounding in his ears by the time the seraph’s face dips back to meet his. the way his hand pleasures himself, shows eren what could be in his grasp instead. the inside of his thighs burn enough that he’s got his belly to bark as he inches lower, hips creating a small moment of friction, contact, to soothe how he ached even if only for a few seconds. he knows that’ll just make it all the more tantalizing, but that’s where thrill soars. ]
Got you.
[ the hair that isn’t tied back into a messy bun falls over mikleo’s face, tickles him with loose strands as the wisp of his tongue does. in seconds, they breath the same breath, hot and hungering. chests rise and fall at the same time, even swallows align. not long after is eren pinning the back of mikleo’s head to the tree (he won’t have to worry about his neck cramping), upside down, to press the first kiss: definitely rough, an animalistic touch he doesn’t quite have during his regular days, but plenty desirous.
all he needed was one hand to start dragging his fingers from his jugular to his chest, to the hem of his pants. ]
/18+ warning but honestly anyone reading our threads should know better by now
Is giving his Bonded blood really so bad if they're into it? A question for the ages.
His chest rises into the touch, followed by hips. Mikleo helps by undoing his own button this time and bringing himself into the open. His other hand twists into messy hair, tantalizing him with nails. The seraph breaks the kiss for a brief moment so he might offer a suggestion-- okay, more of a command.]
Make me yours.
👀
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. ]
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Part of him thinks he could come on that alone, just that sweet mouth against his neck, tasting him with multiple senses. He gasps and whines at the fangs only to lose a rough cry in the shape of Eren's name, hips and everything else twitching beneath Eren's hand. The command, the growl-- it's all so good.
He could get used to this.
And then he's in Eren's lap where he belongs after a display like that. He's already grinding against him, wanting to feel that generous hardness goddamn everywhere. The brunet is back at his neck and this time, this time Mikleo shouts as he claws all the way up Eren's back.]
Oh, fuck! Eren!
[His nails move back to Eren's hair and comb sharply, relentlessly, until he finds those newly minted horns and holds on.]
G-gods, I want--
[He finds one of Eren's hands somewhere and covers it with slender fingers.]
I have a-- a spell I've been working on just for this, if you wanted to take me here.
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Mikleo— [ his horns, oh he’s grabbing his horns again. eren partially melts, his groping, exploring hands and fingers on his bonded’s bottom wind into fabric that feels too thick. a heated, panting mess already, eren pulls on them in a dangerous way, as if he’s forgotten his pants work— it’s not long before emotion is far too high, and his draconic strength works the second his pulls at both front flaps of mikleo’s trousers. rip.
it’s too urgent. he’s made a spell just for this. ]
Sh-show me, I can’t, [ his brilliant colors flare with just how far along he is, lusting for his bonded and grating his arousal underneath him a second time. a dry thrust comes third, drawing a thick, pleading hiss. his hand finds mikleo’s hardness, wraps his fingers around the base, then thoroughly smoothes him for his yelps. ] wait, much longer—
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He pauses, hearing the trousers rip. Decides he doesn't give a fuck when he's been practicing the mending spell precisely for this reason. He grinds against Eren hard and groans his name breathlessly, red eyes flickering beneath dark lashes.]
G-gods, me neither, [he murmurs, and he tilts his head to give Eren as much of that neck as he wants. Make him purple and blue-- he doesn't care. He doesn't care. A bit of concentration, just a little, and Eren's fingertips become warm and slick with something akin to lube. Mikleo wastes no time freeing the brunet's length after that, and he gives Eren a nice long stroke to apply the same substance to his cock.
Breathe. Breathe. Mikleo dismisses the spell and presses his forehead to Eren's, both hands combing through his hair, spoiling his horns from base to tip.]
Let me ride your fingers and I'll come as much as you want tonight.
[He's fairly certain that if they're impatient here, more impatient than their first time, he will end up hurt. So, fingers only, for now.]
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they’ll think about that when they get there. it’s not a worry. eren’s sole concentration were the hands that fondled his horns (he’ll call upon all existing gods to say gods he wants to come), the moon kissed jugular being offered to him, the heart that pumped the blood coursing through it and the body that held it all (and more) together. he suckles first, drawing wetness along his collar and across the raw bite he had left behind earlier, catching a wonderful aftertaste of blood that still lingered. he hurriedly pulls down at what’s left of his pants, a needy arousal free from restraints that have become too cramped for his size.
the glaze between his fingers were instantaneous, and eren rubs them together, head bobbing and only removing his mouth from his bonded’s jawline to offer a hazy glance. just— he’s taken already. his breath is hot and puffy, and mikleo receives a strangled curse to the stroke that welcomes his erection. no frustration, none of that. the sound melts in his mouth and vibrates right across the flesh his lips touch. his hips tip readily into the seraph’s grasp, and his own hand begins a trip down his lover’s shaft and to his entrance, coating it plenty in circular motions. ]
Just don’t, [ the smallest of sighs, oh it’s so good, ] make me come like this. [ he’s and easy target right now truly, and more prone to stopping his activities when he spills, so— he’d rather not. he wants to indulge in pleasure with him all damn night if he could. with a shaky inhale, raising his head enough to press it to the side of mikleo’s face, right under his ear, eren’s middle digit prods in, his thumb curling into his perineum and toying with the fall of his rounds. ] I want to fuck you every way I can.
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The lovely attention to his neck leaves Mikleo's breathing in tatters, already heavy with the vowels of Eren's name. It's not as good as hearing Eren make his own noise of frustration (and he wonders if he can make the brunet growl again). When his lover's hand teases down his manhood and beyond, Mikleo arches his back and whimpers in a way he'd be hard-pressed to admit after this, but he readily accepts the massage and relaxes in his hold.]
I won't. Not yet, [he murmurs. He only strokes Eren enough to take the edge off and keep him hot, though he longs to touch him more. It'll be better when he has Eren inside of him. Then he feels Eren's finger press inside and-- and curl, and the seraph keens wordlessly as he grabs onto Eren's horns. That and that voiced desire go straight to his core and... elsewhere, as he's hard enough to twitch.] Eren! H-hahhh, y-yes, right... right there... It feels like you're taking me twice.
[It's incredible, really, how he tightens around that finger only to relax after. He's coaching his breathing and reminding himself how to stretch. As long as Eren is pressing into that spot, Mikleo will ride his hand with slow determination, moaning thickly every time. It's not long before Eren could fit another finger or two. It's hard to breathe unless his head is tilted back, so the dragon still gets his show; his face is all silver curls and red wine eyes framed by kiss-bruised pink skin.]
Even your fingers feel good... [He pants hard between lazy rolling thrusts, tightening about his lover's fingers each time. He tucks his mouth against Eren's ear and offers a torrid sort of whisper:] I want-- [nngh] I want you to fuck me until we're both dry.
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I’ll take you more than twice.
[ he was laying with an eleutheromaniac, of course he wants to hear his desire detail by detail. would he scream the same way, if his full girth were inside him? would he clench around him and crack out breathless moans? the way his bonded tosses back and contorts a little is what plays in his real time thoughts, asking him, begging him to screw until they only had the energy to sleep.
eren’s mouth glides to his earlobe in the meantime, heavy sighs and insistent grunts that follow his cock twinging. pressing three more digits close to mikleo’s access, eren pulls his hand back, only to penetrate the seraph with another finger— only one more, his index, to make sure he can make him writhe plenty with the rest he had. more surprises and more time, that way.
the knob inside him, the rough one that makes him scream, is eren’s primary focus, and when he presses into the roundness again, he makes sure it’s slow, measured, to pull out and back in at the angle that felt best. ]
I’ll take all the times you want.
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He keens soft and thready at the mouth on his ear, loving that attention as much as teeth on his neck. He sucks in a breath as there's another finger-- not because it's too much, but because he wants more. He gets it though not in the way he'd like-- Eren's entire length slamming into him, for starters-- but this is still enough to make Mikleo clutch at the fingers inside him. His cry is as drawn out as that wicked measured motion, and he rubs that much harder at Eren's horns.]
Haaaahhh, E-Eren—!
[Mikleo wants to ride him until he forgets his own name, wants to touch that incredibly out of reach place where he's unaware of anything but heat and blood in his ears. He writhes in his lover's hold, desiring that much more friction, his legs spread as wide as he can from this angle. He's nothing if not impatient even when it comes to this, so he scrapes his nails down Eren's spine and right back up, just as slow and merciless.
He can heal that later.]
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the deed (and his bonded’s climb) makes him soar, a hiss festering from his throat until it dissolved into an encouraging growl that drums behind his fangs and causes his free hand to sink into the other’s ass and adjust his legs until— fuck, his hips. his cock, dribbling at the tip and craving grinds. it bumps into his bonded fiercely as he dips them just a little more sideways, against the soft skin of his belly or what was left of fabric, parted lips seek mikleo’s out to hum into him as he uses the tree’s bark as a crutch, tongue gunning for slips around the seraph’s teeth, gums and more when they’re hotly sealed.
his fingertip contact with the swollen bundle doesn’t stop for even a moment. the more he uses his hand, the more they aren’t enough— but he relents to his third as it drove inward to join the other two. he curls, pulls, enters, finding rhythm and force that was not gentle, but perhaps necessary to fill their lustful gap just a little more. he’d keep his eyes closed, but— hazily, they stay open by a fraction to keep from missing the show.
he’d be fucking him like this, soon. no— he’d do better. ]
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If that grip on his ass is supposed to hurt, it doesn't. It's all bright, bright pleasure, colored pinkish-red on his tongue like the marks on his skin. He gasps and cries out his lover's name, wanting friction just as much. Eren is so hot and ready and it takes all of Mikleo's strength not to jump him right then. Instead he makes an effort to satisfy that need, even if it means grinding his stomach against his lover's considerable thickness. Just the thought of riding him makes Mikleo clench in anticipation.
He loses another moan, and another after that, more needy and enthusiastic cries at the searing kiss. He returns what he can with teeth against his tongue, his lips, whatever he can take in return, but he's also happy to just let Eren take whatever he wants. It's a good way to keep his noise down as those fingers are anything but merciful. The seraph tightens around Eren's hand each time he presses into that starry spot, accompanied by a rough shout of pleasure.
Mikleo, for his part, can't keep his eyes open at all. Eren has barely begun but all the marks and being taken by fingers have left him with wet eyes and trembling limbs. He tries to hold back for a while, but then it becomes impossible to ignore. He has to break the kiss.]
I-I'm so close, I'm going to--
[He managed a half coherent sentence with everything going on. He deserves an award.]
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the notice, if anything, is what makes eren even more a compassionate lover. he won’t deny the other’s freedom, he’s charged him exclusively to feel his pleasured convulsions, chain after chain, and piggyback on smaller afterwaves of mikleo’s climax. he ceases the rhythmic, often raucous thrusts from his arm to focus entirely on the other’s knot, keeping to a beat that was not quite keen on stopping after his first full-body experience.
no, eren keeps going, and going, and going to take mikleo to an innermore barrage with him. he would use his mouth more on him now, if he didn’t need it breath as quickly as he was, cradling the other’s back off the tree and to the angle of his free arm propping him up with poise. ]
Let go with me, [ his lips are curling, agape to pant and whisk out husky chortles against the curvature of the seraph’s graceful jawline, contorting his own body to his bonded’s spin. ] Mikleo, [ he fights to keep his eyes open, to still watch him, but the foreseen something’s coming is so upon them, even eren shares in an exclusive high. ]
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[He's so wonderful. That's the only thing Mikleo can think as he has such lovely horns shoved into his hands, and gods, the noises he's making... Eren is truly incredible. Every time Eren feeds off his pleasure, Mikleo feeds off that in a wonderful loop of endless bliss. He shifts both hands to those horns, then, so he can properly rub and scrape and pump them like a certain member.
With his admission comes no mercy. Eren seizes onto the opportunity to fuck Mikleo thoroughly with his fingers and Mikleo loves it. He unravels as if the brunet had found his one loose string and pulled and pulled until his guards came down, writhing in his grip, trembling and screaming whether he's shushed by lips or not. His eyes squeeze shut against the pleasure and the tears that come with it.]
Y-yes, ohhh, please, please—
[With Eren's insistence, Mikleo finally gives up control. He arches against his lover, toes curling like the lovely arch in his back, and loses himself in a shriek of Eren's name. He clenches so tight around those fingers that he can't breathe, but it doesn't matter. He's gone, vision white and synapses firing in a way he only really knows when Eren takes him like this. He grips those horns until his knuckles turn white, and then his hold abruptly slackens.
When his wits return, the first thing he tries to do is surge into a messy kiss. Just because he came doesn't mean he wants to stop, especially with Eren so obviously wanting. He wants to ride him to hell and he isn't leaving this little pocket of paradise until he gets what he wants.]
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mikleo, he breathes after the almost electric discharge begins to subside, but his spent words are sealed, head dipping straight into the kiss. nose to cheek, he breathes his scent and delves with sloppy wildness, allowing their tongues to twist and mingle, to feel his gums and scrape across teeth. mikleo might not be the only one to receive more minor cuts and pricks, eren cuts himself plenty on his own fangs. given that he doesn’t stop for even a second, lazily gliding his tongue across a source of witch blood only to moan as it gives him a succulent, five-second high— no, he doesn’t care. who would, at a time like this? the way the other’s body feels like jelly against his is. completely alluring.
mikleo’s body doesn’t go unattended; he wants to chain another orgasm for his bonded, fingers still relentlessly inside him to build up another tremendous wave. he won’t touch his cock, as much as it calls him to, full and dribbling and pleading as much as his. alas, he said he’d take him too many times to count. eren’s still free hand adjusts the slender body to his lap, spreading his ass as much as his single hand could. it’s there where eren purposely drifts his hardness adjacent to mikleo’s access, where his digits still work. oh, he’s so impatient he wants him. hazy eyes flicker open to see the foggy brilliance of his bonded, thrusting against his backside. ]
Ride me, [ he snarls, but not quite aggressively— it’s with an edge that’s going mad for him. him. he was gorgeous and incredible and everything right now. he’d find the right angle, he’d make him come again. but eren’s fingers pull out of him in a rush to grab and guide the tip of his member, or at least try to, whilst holding him up. he’ll need help. ]
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He moans richly with the possessiveness of the kiss, trying to taste everything Eren puts within reach as if desperate and hungry for scraps. There's blood and he isn't sure if it's his or Eren's, and he decides he doesn't care, because the dragon's pleasure is his now and Mikleo just wants.
It's the kiss that keeps him muffled but not quiet. Eren's fingers haven't forgotten and Mikleo's body hasn't either. He's shivering with every thrust and crying out, the pressure building all over again; when his lover splays him he goes as wide as possible until he feels a nice stretch, all while clenching around those fingers. He doesn't come, not a second time, not before Eren finally grows tired of the tease and removes his fingers.
Gods gods gods, Mikleo wants him so bad that he can't think of words at first.]
I-I'm going to ride you-- [He chokes out a frustrated noise as he shifts, until he feels Eren's thickness against his entrance.] -- until I break. [He doesn't ask if Eren's ready. There's no gentleness here, no tender lovemaking, only the intimacy afforded between gasps for breath. He takes one in, and then sinks down onto the brunet's manhood.
He's so goddamn thick. Mikleo forgets to breathe for a second but he's committed and stretched and hot as hell. He takes all of it in one motion and arches from head to toe, nails digging into Eren's scalp without apology, and he only has a scream to show for it:]
Eren—!
[Leave marks. He draws his hands over Eren's broad back that he's come to learn so well, until he can scrape and rub at the scales as much as he wants. Mikleo wants to move so badly but he's afraid one of them will come too soon, and Mikleo himself is trembling to keep it all in.]
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